#god the hiatus brain really is getting to me huh

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

I've seen a couple of theories on what Sir Pentious could've been before he went to Hell, and while I personally don't have any theories of my own, I would like to point out a detail that, despite actually supporting most of the theories I've seen, is often neglected; his hat.

We know that a sinners demon form is meant to reflect/poke fun at the kinds of people they were when they were alive, the most popular example being Angel's families web of crime making them all spiders. There's also how Husk appearently(?) wanted to be a magician when he was younger but gave up on that dream as he grew up, only to end up with a demon form that makes him look like he's a magician anyway. I think Sir Pentious' hat is probably something similar. His hat doesn't seem like a physical part of him, but it DOES reflect how he's feeling at any given moment, even if he's trying to hide said feelings. Basically even if Sir Pentious had the best poker face known to man, you'd still be able to tell he's nervous because his hat would be a dead give away. We also see in the trailer + on the General Pentious card that his general hat *also* has an eye on it, meaning either his normal top hat can shapeshift, any hat he wears(that has room for it I guess) will gain the same eye as his top hat, or he just has multiple hats with eyes on them. This could mean that whatever he did when he was alive required him to lie a lot, or he just lied to people for fun or some shit who knows, and now that he's in Hell lying is a lot more difficult because he literally CAN'T keep a game face without his hat giving him away instantly. Plus, the fact that his demon form is a snake also lends itself to him being a pathological liar, as many people who theorize about him have pointed out, since cunning, manipulative people are often called snakes.

Like I've said multiple times, the most compelling theories about Sir Pentious' life and why his demon form is the way it is usually suggest him being dishonest in some way, and I guess this theory(?) is just kind of an extension of those lol. Idk I just haven't seen many people addressing his hat face and I wanted to throw my two cents in :)

[fioras-resolve]

I beat Virtue's Last Reward, thoughts under the cut

-Huh?

-Okay, not huh as in "I don't understand," I get it fully, I mean "Why was this the ending?" I guess I'll have to play Zero Time Dilemma to find out huh.

-This is definitely the kinda thing I'm gonna have to spend several days processing, similar to 999

-I'm thinking a bit about how the ending of a thing can overshadow so much else in a story, like even though I've experienced the rest of the story, I'm struck by just the ending right now.

-I think all-in-all the main thing I'll say is that this game got me to feel things, it got me to love, to loathe, to betray and be betrayed. I don't think a game has done that this well for me in a good while. It's inspiring tbh. Did I mention I'm a game developer? This will definitely influence my work moving forward.

-I cannot fucking IMAGINE playing this game in 2012 and having to wait 4 years for Zero Time Dilemma to come out. Y'all were hanging on that cliff so long, and it was very possible you'd never get up. As an Ace Attorney fan living on hiatus brain, I know the feeling, but also GOD, at least Ace Attorney had a consistent flow of games when I was most into it.

-I am... mixed, on how this game handles returning characters from 999. The big thing right now is This Is Not My Akane. She's basically unrecognizable, even in her past state where she looks the same. I was thinking during that whole ending, "Okay, but why did it have to be AKANE? She's been through this so many times and probably has six layers of PTSD from the thing, so why would she ever agree to this?" And it feels like the answer is a kind of puzzle-box solution that I find really strange all things considered. Like, yes, 999's ending was a mindfuck, but it also genuinely pulled at the heartstrings because like. Yeah, you were saving Akane, and this is someone that we'd built a connection to both as a character and as a player.

-I guess the thing there is that like, that kind of heartstrings ending is a single route of 999, but it's all over VLR. The ending feels like an answer to the mystery, but not to the themes, or the question of "why does this game exist?"

-It feels like Uchikoshi wanted to follow up on the cult success of 999 by making something Bigger, an even more complex mystery with even more paths and even more moving parts. And he got so invested in making this puzzle box cohere that the game ends up sidelining emotional resonance even when it's trying not to.

-I've been talking to a friend of mine who played it a while ago and felt physically ill after the ending, and like. First of all, yeah, different people just have different tolerable levels of bullshit. But also, I feel like plural systems like myself innately have more of a resistance to it because our minds are already fucky enough. Legit, during the reveal of the swap I was thinking "Oh so he dissociated for 45 years."

-Sidenote, Zero Escape feels intensely gnostic, from what little I know of gnosticism. It feels like these games are trying to use science as a conduit/justification for a philosophy I'm not sure if I vibe with. But I can vibe with it for the purpose of storytelling.

-I think I like VLR more than 999? Like, VLR is definitely playing with bigger ideas and following up on 999 in ways I really appreciate. And in general th--

-Midway through typing the previous thing I realized, holy shit, I have a similar relationship to this game that I do to Final Fantasy XIII-2. They're both sequels that follow up on their previous games with blanket improvements to both story and gameplay, but both have endings that leave me confused as to what these games are actually doing besides filling in plot before the next game. And yes, both VLR and XIII-2 are doing amazing things in the beginning and the middle, but the answer to "what is this leading to" for both seems to be "play the next game, fucker."

-I think the thing I'm pissed about is the justification given for the AB game. Like, the mechanic inherently carries interesting themes about trust, self-interest, game theory, etc. The reveals of what everyone else voted are some of the most gripping moments I've experienced in video games. I was ready for this to be going somewhere with these ideas! And then the reveal is that the reason the game was constructed like this was to give you more moments of choice to time travel through. And like, okay, fine, this game's got its higher level stuff about choice and agency and all that, that all works! But for the Ambidex Game to be primarily about making the player make the exact right choices to lead to the perfect ending, it's... Ugh! I thought the point was to explore all these other possibilities, that's why all the different endings!

-I need more time to process this game, but right now my take is this: Virtue's Last Reward is an amazing game until you realize what it is. It's a game that can raise your emotions high and get you truly fucked up. But as you play more of it, it reveals its true focus is this almost mechanical construction of plot. This construction is beautiful in its own way, but it's not what I come to a game like this for. Despite being a game designer who talks a lot about game mechanics and systems, I care so much about story. I want to get attached to characters, I want to see a narrative unfold, I want to have my heartstrings pulled. And the game seems too sure of itself to remember to pull it off.

-Or maybe this is the wrong way of looking at it? Maybe I'm criticizing what it isn't, rather than appreciating what it is. This game isn't trying to be 999 and failing, it's trying to be Virtue's Last Reward and succeeding. And I'm still along for this ride.

[youhideastar]

WIP Wednesday: Net Impression

Back after a brief hiatus to get Tender out the door! I'm now working on the next fic in the Wangxian A/B/O Bingo series, the alpha LWJ/beta WWX installment, which now has a working title, Fit for Purpose. You can read past WIP Wednesdays for that fic here and here... but the truth is, it doesn't make for a very good WIP Wednesday because the very first scene ends with a big surprise that affects most of the rest of the story, so basically everything except the two scenes I've already shared is a spoiler. Whoops!

So for the next little while, WIP Wednesday will be for stuff that's further up the pipeline in terms of coming attractions. Meaning probably a lot of Net Impression, a.k.a. the Lawyer AU, a.k.a Deastar's Take Your Fandom to Work Fic. 😂 Here's a scene from very, very close to the end of that fic, featuring Lan Zhan being way too much in the very best way. I hope you enjoy!

Wei Ying can't meet her eyes. “I still… sometimes I still think that—that now that Lan Zhan is more experienced, more comfortable… that you’ll… move on. To someone classier. Neater, more sophisticated and calm, better-educated, just—better. And—”

“Wei Ying. Marry me.”

“What?”

Throat tight, desperate, “Bear my children.”

“Lan Zhan—”

“Tell me where you want it, and I will tattoo your name on my body. On my face, if that’s what you want.”

“Lan Zhan, why—”

“I have tried to convey with words that you are everything to me. That there is no one ‘better.’ That I will be yours until the day I leave this earth. But words have failed. So all I have is actions. Symbols. Please, Wei Ying. Accept them. Believe them.”

“Lan Zhan. Oh, Lan Zhan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m so fucked up. I love you so much. I do believe you, I really do—I just get scared sometimes because of my dumb brain but I always know you love me—”

“You didn’t answer,” Lan Zhan says, in a small voice.

“I didn’t—”

Beat.

Voice totally wrecked: “Yes. God, of course yes. Yes, I want to marry you. Yes, you—you already know I—I want to have your babies. I will have your babies. Oh my god, Lan Zhan. What will I do with someone so good? Hm? What can I do with you?”

“Where.”

“Where wha—oh! No, come on, Lan Zhan. I don’t want you to—to get a tattoo of my name. You don’t need to do that. I don’t want you to!”

“Fine. I will respect Wei Ying’s wishes.”

Beat.

“I want it. But I will respect Wei Ying’s wishes.”

“You want a tattoo of my name?”

“I want to carry a piece of you on my body forever.”

“Damn, Lan Zhan.”

Beat.

“Not my name. That’s—ugh, not to be judgmental bitch, but that’s tacky. But if you really want a tattoo, I’ll—I’ll pick something out.”

Kiss.

“Thank you.”

Beat.

“So we’re getting married, huh?”

“I wish to make a permanent and public declaration that I intend to stay with Wei Ying forever.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Mn,” says Lan Zhan, perfectly at peace.

[lore-o-hoe]

Episode: 190 Giant Post Extravaganza!!!

So things went DOWN in the last two pre-hiatus episodes. And if my predictions are correct, things are going to take a turn for the WORSE.

⚠️As always SPOILERS BELOW so read at your own risk⚠️

———————————///——————————

- So first off we have my new crush Eris basically stating that she pulled an Ella Enchanted and gave Persephone a curse in the form of a ‘gift’ and credits Persephone’s sense of purpose and ambition to this gift.

- Oh of course Asspollo to the rescue, he really has the need to be at the center of everything huh? But since this is ERIS wooo boy I don’t think she’s gonna forget that.

- Also is it just me or is this arrow feeling a little forshadowy? Like of course I can’t see into the future, but this kinda feels like it’s going somewhere.

- Y-AS GIRL HIT HIM AGAIN F’CK HIM UPPPPP

- Oh god Eros and Heras faces, the worry is so palatable

- THE KINGS SON???? Wait why am I gasping I already knew that.

- Hera’s FACE oh god, I can’t wait for the next half of the season cause you KNOW it’s already some mess

- But honestly as this chapter goes on, it’s allowing me to cement more gods/goddesses to be Team Persephone when this shit hits the fan.

- For someone who values his power and throne so much, you’d think he’d quit banging his way through the world/cosmos. Red from Overly Sarcastic Productions said it best “Just bag it up if ruling the cosmos means so much to you.” Also he’s a shitty dad to his sons (that we’ve seen) and they’re the ones most likely to overthrow him. HELLO? ZEUS? Man that brain must not be braining 🤷‍♀️

- Nip this in the bud??? Oh god Zeus what are you doin????

- OKAY THIS FR ISN’T FAIR

- How is that supposed to WORK??? Aphrodite is right, a lot of gods have jobs/functions in either realm so how is this all supposed to work???

- Poor Persephone, and god look at Hades in the final panel!!! Y’ALL

————————————///

Okay so it’s time for the too long analysis section:

Okay so things have gone COMPLETELY off the rails but I’ve got some thots sooooo….

A common theme with our favorite goddess is stress. The stress of her trauma, the stress of her actions of wrath, etc. I can’t imagine being the sole goddess running things (in terms of Demeters role) will do anything to help this.

Though don’t think that Zeus is getting off scot free here- like I’ve said time and time again, avoiding destiny is often how you end up finding it.

Much like his father, he’s taken drastic actions to circumvent a prophecy he will likely bring about in one way or another. But he’s crossed multiple gods and goddesses by doing this. Namely his wife, Demeter, and obviously Persephone and Hades.

In a partial sense we’ve seen that Persephone’s powers are somewhat tied to her emotions. Hell her act of wrath sprung from grief, anger, anxiety, etc. She has been forbidden to seeing two important people in her life. Hades and Demeter. Her friend Daphne has become a tree and gone into hibernation thanks to the actions of Apollo and in general her life has once again spun out. I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw an act of wrath part two here.

Also lets get to the messy reveal of Apollos parentage, it seems like Zeus genuinely didn’t know that Artemis and Apollo where his children despite the obvious resemblance (Two purple powerful children spring up from an old fling and he doesn’t question it??).

But that is all to say that he’s becoming like his father, so scared of losing power and their place that they take drastic and cruel measures to keep the top spot but at what cost? You would think that he would put two and two together and figure out that his fathers downfall was caused more by his treatment of his children than anything else. Could his usurpation have happened anyway? Certainly. But making your super-powerful children hate you might speed things up.

And just like his father, he is using cruelty to stave off a similar rebellion without realizing the pattern that’s clearly happening here. And what’s more is he’s got his sons who already have a rocky relationship with him, and one son that’s actively gunning for his throne.

I think that this pressure has been mounting since he realized what Persephone was and went further in Episodes 186 and 187 when Ares had a convo with him and explained his theory regarding why Zeus has a vested interest in making an example of her. As Ares points out, if she was just a less powerful B-grade goddess like Zeus would have others believe, what purpose would this whole circus of a trial serve? No there’s a vested interest in keeping her away from powerful gods (namely Hades and his (Zeus’)own sons). As Ares points out, should Hades decide to pair with Persephone and take him down, there’s very little he could likely do about that. Hades is technically the firstborn son of Kronos, which would make the world and leadership of the gods his birthright, if he so chose. I won’t say that birth order has an effect on power, but its still important to note birthright.

Despite this, it’s sad that Zeus has such little faith in his brother, to the point of causing him such emotional pain on the off chance he’d one day rise against him. While Ares dismisses Hades being the one to rising against him, I haven’t counted out that possibility given the conclusion of the trial. Zeus is failing to learn the lessons of history and will end up paying the price for it.

So lets talk about Hades:

Hades has made it very clear where he stands in terms of Zeus, while he loves his brother, he’ s made it abundantly clear he’s not scared of railing against him especially on behalf of the love he and Persephone share. And Hades is smart, he knows that this sentence is excessive and (with the parentage revelation) an act of desperation rather than a punishment for Persephone’s act.

While he clearly loves his brothers to certain extent, he’s clearly had problems with Zeus in the past, being given the farthest loneliest kingdom despite wishing to not be alone, getting between him and Hera, and now practically forbidding contact with someone who genuinely loves him and in return he loves just as much? Things are getting SERIOUS folks.

I think that we’ll see a very fractured Olympus next time around. While gods are forbidden to interact with Persephone, that doesn’t mean that they couldn’t work on her behalf, this trial was unbalanced and one sided as all hell and most in attendance have their own gripes with Zeus. I mean LOOK at Hera’s face, I can’t count her firmly on Zeus’ side.

With yet another embarrassing scandal that’s been exposed, and since day one she’s had a vested interest in helping Persephone (and subconsciously guiding her away from what Hera has become with her marriage to Zeus). Ares is up for conflict (and he loves his dear momma so), and no doubt that Hades and maybe even Hecate will not stand for something like this.

All in all it’s hard to predict exactly what’s going to go down next season, but no doubt it’s going to get crazy with the fallout of this trial.

—————///————-

Final Remarks:

As y’all know this is the last LO episode while Rachel takes a WELL deserved 4 month long break. But fret not! There’s so many theories, characters, and predictions for the future that the fandom is really hopping. So at least we have each other through the hiatus! ✨

[another-cancer]

Chapter Eight: What's a period?

First Previous Next

Masterlist ao3 

Summary:

Trouble is brewing back at the order as Marinette learns some awkward information in Gotham.

Notes:

Back from hiatus!

Welcome back friends, with a revised outline I can finally confirm the story to be sixteen chapters! This story has grown a lot from the original Maribat march outline that started it all. Thanks for joining me as we continue this journey.

Updates will be back to the regularly scheduled Tuesdays.

This can also be found on AO3 @another_cancer and Wattpad @another_cAnCeR

Enjoy!

///

Stealing was almost second nature to Marinette. After leaving the order, burglary became her way to survive. With her skill set, it was easy. After all, all, once you kill people to survive there isn’t much that is considered challenging within the realm of crime. It was an outlet for the violent side she developed with the order. One that didn’t cause any real harm. She stole from the rich. They weren’t missing any of it anyway, and half the time that didn’t even notice.

She typically pawned the items off to the strangest people and never to the same one. While she may be dead as Ladybug, Marinette has contacts all over the world. Under false names of course. She was extremely paranoid. The girl could rival Batman in paranoia.

On one particular heist, she had a run-in with another thief. However, she wasn’t quite concerned about her surprise partner when Catwoman was standing in front of her.

“Hello,” Catwoman said with curiosity.

Marinette just stared.

“Quiet, huh, well either way that bag looks pretty full, hope you won’t mind if I take from this place too.”

Catwomen took jewels, that was a lot more noticeable than the stuff Marinette took. It would leave a trail. A trail Marinette didn’t need to be connected to her.

“Please don’t take anything noticeable,” Marinette mumbled.

“What was that kitten?”

She repeated slightly louder, “Please don’t take anything noticeable.”

“But what would be the point of stealing unless to piss off the rich people who live here?” Catwoman asked with a grin, “Unless you’re taking for your own personal gain.”

Mental note: Catwoman didn’t like people stealing for their own gain. Marinette wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“I have kids relying on me, I can’t let this shit trace back to me,” Marinette carefully explained.

Catwoman examined Marinette. Truly taking the girl in by slowly scanning her body. She noticed the slightly raggy clothing she wore. Marinette didn’t wear a mask which made her look like a bit of an amateur to Catwoman. However, when the woman arrived at the house earlier no alarms had been triggered suggesting the girl did a good job sneaking into the house. It was risky, the girl clearly wasn’t new to this.

“You live on the streets,” Catwoman said.

It wasn’t a question, just a simple statement.

She continued, “You’ve stolen before. And you aren’t native to Gotham.”

All statements.

“Correct,” Marinette simply offered in return.

“Fine, let's get out of here and you can explain more to me,” Catwoman said as she headed the way she entered.

Marinette followed. She wasn’t quite sure why, but it felt like the right thing to do. On the other hand, Marinette was confused by the fact the notorious thief ended up taking nothing, had the woman really been so easily convinced by her.

///

B a c k i n T i b e t

“Masters,” a teenager greeted as they were welcomed into the elders' chamber.

“[REDACTED] you have been called upon by the gods, we hope you will accept the honor and visit them. They will give you a mission that you shall complete.”

Once again the unspoken words being: if you don’t do it you die.

“Thank you, I will visit them immediately.”

No one was ever called upon by the gods. At least no one is normal. In [REDACTED]’s lifetime, they could only remember one person who ever got the chance to meet them. Ladybug. And now Ladybug is dead. [REDACTED] assumed they were becoming the new golden child. Oh, how wrong could they ever be.

///

B a c k to G o t h a m

They were in a warehouse, mostly abandoned. It would be a good place to kill someone. But Catwoman wasn’t going to kill her and Marinette gave up that lifestyle a long time ago. In conclusion, no one was going to be killed, but Marinette’s paranoid brain kept reminding her this would be a good place to kill someone.

“How long have you been stealing?” Catwoman asked seemingly out of nowhere.

Against her better judgment, Marinette replied, “When I was nine.”

“You’re a runaway.”

“Technically an orphan, but runaway also works.”

“You're not even from around here, god the whole system is broken if kids not from Gotham are running away to Gotham,” Catwoman muttered.

“I’m not a kid,” Marinette corrected.

“You look ten, you’re a kid, who is looking after other kids, god that makes it so much worse.”

“I’m sixteen,” Marinette lied, she wasn’t going to give the woman her actual age.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, you’ve barely hit puberty, kid have you even gotten your period yet?”

“My what?”

Shit. She did not mean to ask that out loud.

Catwoman didn’t expect that. Fuck how was she supposed to explain puberty and periods to this girl?

She decided bluntly, “It’s when you bleed from your vagina.”

“That’s natural? I thought-”

It had never been explained to Marinette in the past. She thought something was wrong with her, but then it stopped. It had only happened twice so far, and the bleeding was always fairly light.

“Kid I think it’s time you had a talk.”

Catwoman gave a basic rundown on periods and puberty, she even pulled out some pads and tampons she had stored in the warehouse. By the end, Marinette had a bag filled with period products and a new talk to give some of the street kids.

“I never caught your name,” Catwoman said.

What the hell she had already told the vigilantes mine as well tell the rogues too. It’s not like they would be able to find anything on someone who doesn’t exist.

“Marinette.”

“You’re a good thief Marinette,” she complimented.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been considering taking in an apprentice lately, you know, try and imitate the bat a bit. And you're the girl who keeps picking fights with Scarecrow right?”

How the hell did she know that. Never mind, it didn’t matter, Marinette had to turn down the offer anyway. She worked alone and wasn’t interested in being a sidekick.

“I won’t be your sidekick, I have things of my own to worry about.”

“Aw too bad, I was really hoping you’d say yes, show that Bat he’s not the only one who can have a bunch of kids following him around, but I get it you gotta keep yourself safe and those kids you said you look after. Good luck!”

And with that, she was sent on her way. What a strange day.

///

B a c k i n T i b e t a g a i n

“Tikki, are you sure about this?” Trixx asked.

“I am sure,” they replied, hushing the other god, “Lila Rossi please approach.”

The teenager kneeled.

“Lila Rossi, you have been called in front of the god due to your mastering of illusions. My chosen Ladybug has managed to gain balance in her soul. Ladybug now holds destruction that rivals creation. You will retrieve her from Gotham City and return with her alive. Do what it takes as long as she lives.”

Lila was stunned.

“But Ladybug is dead.”

“You humans are fools, she never died, I allowed her to roam without informing anyone to see if any of you incompetent fools would notice. However, she has gotten too powerful recently,” Tikki explained.

“I understand,” she stuttered.

Trixx moved to the front of the room, “From this day on you will leave behind the name Lila, and you will become Volpina.”

There was a bright light and then darkness. Volpina was outside the chamber.

“Lila,” an elder started.

“Volpina.”

There was an understanding, the elders bowed down to her, and Volpina’s mission started.

///

“I really don’t like this sugar cube.”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion on my chosen, Plagg,” Tikki sniped back.

///

Notes:

Next week: Marinette has a couple of stalkers and a backstory that goes further back than she remembers.

[t00thpasteface]

I would love to know the top 3 questions you were HOPING to get most! (Also to get the answers to said questions 😝)

(19) What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

The TES fandom has stage IV terminal Hiatus-Brain. I actually would like to elaborate on this as a standalone post, but I'm honestly terrified of starting some kind of batshit drama with it, so I'll try to keep it short and sweet (and if you want me to go on, I will):

I feel like there's a lot of (talented, creative, and absolutely galaxy-brained!!!) artists/writers/worldbuilders in the TES fandom who are SO irritated by the actual canon, who devote SO much time to building their own characters and lore, who are SO desperate for representation that TES just will never feasibly have... and I think these folks just honest-to-god need to Read Another Book, so to speak. I feel like they would be a lot happier for it, and that the canon is just holding them back at this point.

Whether that means putting your energy into engaging with art (I hate the term "consuming media" with my entire soul) you actually love, or creating your own, you have got to break out of the vicious cycle of "wouldn't this be a cool TES lore idea" -> good mood -> plays TES game -> "oh I forgot how much I hate the actual canon" -> bad mood. I've been there! It sucks! And believe me, you are not doing yourself any favors by refusing to let go of something you hate!!

(20) What is the purest ship in the fandom?

LDB/Lydia. What can I say? Match made in heaven. Even though Lydia is just the starter housecarl and doesn't have any grand backstory, something about this ship is just giving "childhood friends to lovers" for me. Which I am always a sucker for. Something about the fact that you're guaranteed to get her at the very start of the game, when you've barely even seen a fraction of Skyrim, and you can keep her with you the whole rest of the way... I don't know, it's very sweet, very pure. And you know I love the whole "mutual pining roadblocked by social hierarchy" trope. LDB and Lydia both thinking the other one is just playing their part as hero or housecarl and worrying that their love is unrequited... Gah!! So cuuuute!!

(21) What are your thoughts on crack ships?

I've said this before, but it always bears repeating: crack ships are a blessing. More people need to just relish in the ridiculousness of crack ships. Modern fandom is defined by speculation, conspiracies, campaigning for headcanons/ships to be "endgame", and even harrassing creators/devs/actors/showrunners for failing to live up to the hype or fanon. Crack ships are a wonderful, uncomplicated pleasure that gives a big ol' fuck you to all of that.

I don't think a ship needs to be feasible within the story itself. I don't even think the characters need to get along, really. As long as you're NOT, like, literally producing cartoon kiddie pr0nz, which should go without saying, I think you should be able to go absolutely nuts and ship whatever the hell you want. And have fun doing it!!

I have a lot of fond memories of the wild west days of the earlyish Homestuck fandom (from the trolls up to the Gigapause), where it was almost kind of a game to come up with the most batshit crack ships and to hoard them like a multishipping dragon. I still love the quadrant system. It's a shame that the culture on Tumblr overall has shifted away from that outlook and turned into what I can only describe as slow-burn racetrack betting. It's borderline soulless!

And yes, I include crossover ships in this. I've enjoyed a few myself, especially as a tween playing Smash Bros and looking up fanart on the family desktop. And remember that Samurai Bravo explosion back when s5 of Samurai Jack was on everyone's mind? In the immortal words of KC & the Sunshine Band, THAT'S the way (uh-huh, uh-huh) I like it!! Just good, wholesome, crazy fun.

[master-sass-blast]

This Life is Infinite: Chapter One.

OH YEAH. IT'S TIME, BITCHES!!!

Summary: The Infinity War Fic aka I do whatever the fuck I want with the Russo's canon.

Get ready for the most ambitious crossover in CHC history.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: M for canon typical violence and death threats.

Word Count: 10k... oops.

Set after "Children of the Gods: Part Three."

Author's Note: Tentatively, I’m back from my hiatus. Things are nowhere near settled with my mental health, but I’m feeling well enough to post again.

I think it mostly goes without saying that updates for this series might be a little irregular going forward; not only do I need to take care of myself, but I also need to find a better balance with posting fanfiction and the rest of my life. As always, I will do my best to be clear with you all about what to expect in terms of updates and wait times.

Thank you again for your compassion and understanding.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

It’s not every day that mysterious, leather-clad men appear –quite literally, considering they teleported in—in your kitchen unannounced.

(Okay, perhaps they don’t qualify as “mysterious” when one of them is your dad, one of them is your brother, and the third is your uncle, but there’s a fourth man with them that you don’t recognize, so you like to think that the principle of the expression remains intact.)

You glance between Nate, Wade, your uncle, and the aforementioned unrecognized fourth man, then lift the box of cereal you’d been pouring into a bowl by way of greeting. “Breakfast?”

***

(The fourth man, as it turns out, goes by the code name “Kronos” –which, in terms of super cool code names, ranks at about an eight.)

“There’s a war coming,” Nate explains while the four of you stand around your kitchen counter. “Apocalypse is stirring. He’ll be sending his allies to Earth to initiate the first stage of the war, so that he’ll encounter less resistance when he comes to rule.”

“‘s called ‘The Decimation,’” Wade interjects as he shovels spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth. He points at his bowl, then jerks his head at the fridge. “D’ y’all have chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah, second shelf on the door.” You take another bite of your cereal, swallow, then ask Nathan, “What… what happens with ‘The Decimation?’”

“One of Apocalypse’s allies, Thanos, will arrive with his armies and generals. He’ll use his own forces to annihilate the heroes of Earth, then he’ll finish assembling the Infinity Stones and gauntlet and use them to wipe out half of all life across the cosmos.”

You purse your lips together and eye your dad warily. “If… if this was anyone other than you saying this, I’d say this all sounds like a hackneyed comic book and-or movie plot.”

“His information checks out,” Kronos says, voice low and gravelly. “Our cross-temporal intel confirms communications between Apocalypse and Thanos. We might have a few weeks to prepare for Thanos’s arrival –and that’s if we’re lucky.”

Wade snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “handwavey bullshit” under his breath.

You look to your uncle. “And you’re here because…”

“Need to talk to Xavier,” your uncle answers, “and then alert the Avengers and anyone else that can help us face Thanos.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “And you stopped here first because…”

“I was hungry,” Wade blurts as he drizzles more chocolate syrup on top of his cereal.

“You have credibility,” Nathan says while shooting Wade an equally annoyed and endeared look. “Xavier and Piotr listen to you, and the rest of the X-Men listen to them. We can’t afford to deal with a bunch of hesitating and infighting right now. We need to get our shit together and defeat Thanos, or the world as we know it is fucked.”

“Question.” Wade lifts his spoon. “Does Donald Trump die in this decimation bullshit?”

“We’ll deal with him later,” your uncle stage-whispers to Wade.

“If you’re all sure…” You wait for all four of them to nod, then sigh and shrug. “Alright. I think most of the X-Men are training right now. Let’s go talk to them.”

***

“This all sounds fucking insane.”

Wade gasps. The eyes on his mask widen as he lifts a gloved hand to where his mouth is under his mask. “James Doohan used a no-no word! My goodness gracious golly!”

Scott Summers scowls, but otherwise ignores Wade. He turns to the Professor, expression incredulous. “Do you believe… any of this?”

Xavier grimaces. “Our sources through Kronos” –he gestures to your uncle’s colleague—“have been confirming the intentions of Apocalypse for several years now. The difficulty was always in determining when Apocalypse would act, and in which timeline –though, now that we have Cable’s intel, we’ve been able to figure those two details out.”

“If Thanos is as powerful as you’re saying,” Ororo pipes up, looking at Nathan, “then how are we supposed to defeat him?”

“Any way we can,” Nathan fires back, expression grim.

“Our intel says that Thanos only has three of the six Infinity Stones, along with the gauntlet,” Kronos adds. “If we can keep the last three stones out of his hands and defeat his armies here on Earth, we’ll have better odds of facing Apocalypse down the road.”

“Right,” Jean says. “And where are the last three stones?”

“The Mind Stone is in the possession of Vision, an android created by Ultron, who now works with the Avengers,” Kronos explains. “The Time Stone is in the possession of Doctor Stephen Strange, who leads an order of sorcerers and magic users in New York. The Soul Stone… has yet to be located.”

“And we’re sure that Thanos is coming here?” Ororo asks, brows raised in skepticism.

“One of the unifying features across the pertinent timelines is a battle that takes place on Earth, specifically in the country of Wakanda,” Kronos answers. “Regardless of the other features in the timeline, there is always a major confrontation between Thanos and the forces of earth there.”

“Great,” Rogue deadpans, expression flat. “Now we just have to convince them to let us in. ‘Excuse me, your Majesty T’Challa, but there’s an evil spaceman that is collecting all powerful rhinestones and he’s going to come here to try and wipe out half of all life on Earth, so we need you to let us into your country with strict visitation policies to we can help you fight him.’ Yeah, that’ll go over real well.”

“We don’t have time to waste on sarcastic bullshit,” Nathan grits out, cybernetic eye flaring as he glares at Rogue. “We’ll handle getting the Avengers and Wakanda on board,” he says, turning to the Professor. “I take it we can trust you to get your team and Magneto collected?”

“I’ll contact Erik,” Xavier promises before looking over at your husband. “Piotr, would you mind calling your family? I believe, given the severity of the coming conflict, having as many hands as possible would be in our best interests.”

Piotr nods. “Konechno –of course.” He looks up at you from where he’s sitting, confusion clear in his sky blue eyes—

“You good to come with us?” Nathan asks, tapping your shoulder lightly to get your attention. “We’ll need help talking to Stark.”

“Huh? Uh –yeah. Sure.” You look back at Piotr; the request to ask for five minutes, just five minutes, to talk to your husband is on the tip of your tongue—

Nate tugs you –gently—a couple inches closer, then says, “Bodyslide by five.”

The room blurs, then disappears from view.

***

You’ve only bodyslid with Nathan a handful of times –and each time you do, you’re always caught off guard by how fucking weird it feels.

Your stomach lurches like you’ve just gone down the steepest drop on a rollercoaster, even though the ground remains steady beneath your feet. In a flash, there’s a brand new room in front of you –sleek, monochromatic cabinets, white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances and fixtures, the works. The space oozes sophistication, function, style –and money. So much money.

Given everything you’ve heard about Tony Stark, it makes sense.

“Deep breaths,” Nathan says. He places a steadying hand on your shoulder while you blink rapidly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You do your best to comply –though it’s a bit difficult, given that your brain is shrieking ‘sensory overload’ while trying to adjust to the new lighting, the new sounds, the sensation of having moved without really having moved at all, at least in the sense of walking or riding in a car—

And then alarms start blaring. Red lights flash, klaxons go off, the works.

Wade swears and claps his hands over his ears. “Christ! For a guy who has literal robots that can wipe his ass with dollar bills, you think he’d invest in something a little easier on the ears!”

“Wilson!” The klaxons and red lights cut out, replaced by various whirring noises and the sound of hurried, angry footsteps. “I swear to God, if you’ve hijacked one of my jets again, I’m gonna –who the fuck are all of you?”

Tony Stark looks… nothing like what you see in the papers. Granted, his face and hair look largely the same, but he’s not wearing the crisp, stylish suits that all the magazines, articles, papers, and interviews feature him wearing. He’s got on a worn, holey Metallica shirt, ripped, grease stained jeans, and a pair of scuffed sneakers that look like they might’ve been purchased ten years ago, for all that they’re barely holding together.

The army of security bots hovering and whirring around him, however, do fit his press image.

“Jon Snow!” Wade chirps, waggling his fingers at the harried “genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist.” “Long time, no talk. How’s Daenerys doing?”

“Summers, would you do me a favor and put your psychopath on a leash?” Tony asks, tone less than polite or pleasant as he focuses on Nate. “Preferably a nice short one that’s far away from me?”

“We’re here to talk,” Nathan says –though he does stop Wade from trying to play with the knives in the block on the kitchen counter. “It’s a matter of life and death. The well-being of the entire universe is at stake.”

“Yeah, been there, done that,” Tony says, looking none too impressed.

“One of your colleagues may have mentioned his name,” Kronos interjects, taking a step forward. “Does the word ‘Thanos’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s expression sobers for an instant, but he hides it quickly enough. “This is private property, and you’re all—”

A red being with a green suit and a yellow gem in the center of his forehead emerges from the floor. He places himself between Tony and the rest of you. “Would you like me to escort them out, Mr. Stark?”

“Ah, Casper the Friendly Android with No Concept of Personal Boundaries Despite the Infinite Knowledge!” Wade fires back, waving cheerfully. “How you doing, twenty-twenty?”

Vision sighs, longsuffering. “You have been expressly forbidden from these premises, Mr. Wilson.”

“Unless he’s here under my direct supervision,” Nathan fires back. “Stark, we need to talk about this—”

“Tony?” A tall, elegant woman with red hair wearing a tailored, navy blue dress walks up behind the man in question. She flashes you all a polite smile, but there’s no missing the way her gaze cautiously assesses each one of you. “I’m guessing these aren’t –oh. Wade’s here.”

Wade waves in response. “Hi, Miss Potts! How’s being a CEO?”

“It’s going very well, thank you,” Pepper replies politely –though, this time, she’s scanning the room for missing objects and-or visible damage. When nothing turns up, she looks back at Tony. “Are we escorting them out?”

“They claim to have information about the end of the world,” Tony says, tone flippant –though the grave expression on his face belies his snark. “About Thanos.”

Recognition flashes over Pepper’s face, though her polite mask never fully slips. She nods, then says, “Are we going to listen to them?”

“Probably should,” Tony replies in the same lackadaisical tone. “I’m not turning off the security drones while Wilson’s here, though.”

“Just for that, I’m pissing in your Ficus before I leave,” Wade huffs.

“That seems like it’s for the best,” Pepper tells Tony, smiling going tight at the edges while she stares at Wade. She takes a breath, steeling herself, then steps past Tony and nods at the rest of you in greeting. “Sorry for the confusion. Would you mind coming with us, so we can talk somewhere more comfortable?”

***

“I started connecting the dots after Thor left,” Tony explains, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he paces back and forth. “He mentioned Thanos briefly –but with the destruction and repurposing of Loki’s staff, the straggling records of Dormammu’s attack and the use of the Time Stone by Strange, the roles that the Tesseract and Loki’s staff played in the attack on New York by the Chitauri…” He sighs, pausing to stare out at the window at some unseen object before grimacing and shrugging. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You’re all gathered in a conference room –which, as with the kitchen, carries the same modern, sleek style. Floor to ceiling windows show off the training grounds and the forest that conceals the base from the rest of the world. A massive plasma TV takes up one of the far walls, while the other walls are taken up by various dormant, holographic and electronic displays (made by Stark himself, no doubt). A black, oblong table sits in the center of the room, with leather, silver studded swivel chairs positioned around it.

“How many are there?” Tony asks, looking first at Kronos, then at Nathan. “How much time do we have?”

“There are six Infinity Stones in total,” Kronos says. “Thanos already has three –the Space stone, which was contained by the Tesseract, the Reality stone and the Power stone. Your colleague, Vision—” he gestures to the android “—is in possession of the Mind Stone already, and Stephen Strange has the Time Stone. Our agents have been unable to confirm the whereabouts of the Soul Stone, but we’re certain that Thanos doesn’t have it.”

“Yet,” Tony adds, tone pessimistic.

“As far as time goes, we have a few days at most,” Nathan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe a week, if we’re lucky.”

Tony grimaces. “That doesn’t bode well for rebuilding international relations on a dime. Or team morale for that matter.”

“Sort it out,” Nathan gravels out. “We’ve got bigger issues.”

“We won’t have time for issues if we can’t even pull a team together,” Tony snaps.

“If it helps…” Kronos withdraws a flash drive from his jacket pocket and holds it out to Tony. “The evidence of Thanos’s collection of the stones and his plans to come here.”

Tony accepts the flash drive. He turns it over in his fingers a couple times –no doubt mentally comparing the drive to the technology he’s created—then pockets it. “And Xavier’s on board with all this?”

You blink when you realize everyone’s staring at you. “Uh –yes. He’s contacting Erik Lensherr for some additional support, and the rest of the X-Men are ready to take on Thanos as well.”

“Great.” Tony stares down at the table for a moment, expression slightly melancholy but otherwise inscrutable, but then he snaps back to his usual self. “Good meeting. I’ll text you with the details.”

“Ooh, does that mean we’re trading numbers?” Wade gasps, pressing his hands on either side of his face. “I’ll put you on my favorites list.”

“I’ll contact Xavier,” Tony amends, shooting Wade a slightly harried look.

“We’ll be ready,” you assure him, at a loss for what else to say as you hook your arm around Wade’s to keep him from messing with the holographic display system.

“Vision will escort you out,” Pepper says with a polite smile and nod.

“I’ll make you a friendship bracelet, Tony the Tiger!” Wade calls as you and Nathan gently usher him towards the door. “Wait –stop shoving me! I need to get his wrist size!”

“Later, gorgeous,” Nate says with a barely suppressed smile.

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh, but the stony foreboding weighing down your gut makes it too hard to even muster up a chuckle –especially when you catch Tony slumping down into one of the conference room chairs with a despairing expression on his face. You force yourself to focus on getting Wade out of the Avenger’s headquarters without stealing anything –though that does little to calm your swirling thoughts. How in the hell are we gonna pull this off?

***

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, instinctively wriggling back against Piotr’s chest as he lays down behind you. “Define ‘okay.’”

It’s nearly midnight now. Between contacting other allies for help –Nathan had you all bodysliding around New York for the better part of the day to reach out to the Hell’s Kitchen figures—and learning up about Thanos’s army and what could be expected in a confrontation against him, you didn’t get home until well after dinner.

You’re in bed now, too tired for anything else. You stare out the windows that overlook the balcony, purposefully trying to keep your mind blank so you don’t grow overwhelmed by the chaos buzzing in your brain.

Because this is insane. This is beyond mutant trafficking or petty grievances between groups of mutant rivals or even being gunned down by the mafia. This is beyond abusive parents, groups of hateful bigots, or anti-mutant legislators.

It’s –quite literally—the fate of the entire world. The entire galaxy. Based on Nathan’s reports of the future, half of all life is wiped out. People, animals, plants –all gone, dissolved into piles of ash… and for what? So some egomaniac can have his moment of glory?

Your stomach curdles when you even try to contemplate a life without Piotr.

“Hey.” Piotr draws you in close when you start crying. “Tische, myshka. Everything is okay.”

“But it’s not.” You sniff, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “Nothing about this is fucking okay, Piotr. Someone’s gonna wipe out half of the damn universe because he wants to jerk off to it later.”

“He has to go through us, first,” Piotr reminds you as he presses soft, sweet kisses against your cheek.

“We don’t have the numbers,” you point out bleakly. “We don’t have the ammunition. We don’t have the time to make a solid plan, or to prepare any extra defenses, or—”

Piotr hugs you tight. He kisses the top of your head. His hand strokes up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

You grip his other hand, holding him close to you. You focus on how warm and solid he is. How wonderful he is and how lovely your life is with him. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and cry some more.

***

The call comes in at five thirty in the morning.

“Stark’s brought around the other Avengers and Wakanda,” Nathan says, sounding far more alert than you ever will at this godforsaken hour. “We’re lifting off at seven.”

“Roger that,” you manage while Piotr turns on the bedside lamp and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll be ready.” You set down your phone when the call ends, then groan and drop your head into your pillow. Why can’t the end of the world ever happen in the afternoon?

***

The Blackbird jets are loaded to maximum capacity. Aside from carrying the X-Men and the X-Force exclusive members, you’re also ferrying the Hell’s Kitchen vigilantes, Piotr’s family and Allison, your uncle and his team, and the younger children and their parents to Wakanda for safe-keeping (your uncle’s reasoning was that an enemy of the institute might notice the sudden lack of protection and decide to attack the younger, more vulnerable students and their families for vengeance, so it was better to be safe than sorry).

You keep close to Piotr or to the cockpit, but there’s still no avoiding the tense, cramped feeling.

You’re not the only “birds” in the sky, either. It’s practically a whole convoy, flying out to Wakanda in what might’ve been a formation if Wade didn’t occasionally grab the control and try to do a “barrel roll.” Magneto and his forces are flying in their own airship, while the Avengers are leading their pack in Tony’s custom, “cutting edge of technology” jets.

You watch the small fleet of jets that belong to the Avengers, lips pursed into a tight line. Your gaze darts over to the navigation board every few seconds, tracking your miniscule progress across the Atlantic Ocean towards Wakanda.

There’s a heavy sigh behind you, and then an even heavier pair of arms settle around your shoulders. “Myshka. You should rest.”

You “hmm” softly to let Piotr know you heard him, but you don’t step away from the cockpit door.

He kisses the top of head and starts gently rubbing your neck with his thumbs. “Will be several hours before arrival, dorogoy. There is nothing you can do until then.”

“It feels like wasting time,” you murmur back –because, naturally, Piotr’s seen to the heart of the issue already. “We’ve got so much to do.”

“And we can do nothing until we arrive in Wakanda.” Piotr kisses your temple, then gently nudges you away from the cockpit. “Come sit with me, lyublyu. You will need full energy when we land.”

And that, above all else, is the only reason you let Piotr usher you over to the nearest seat.

You crawl into his lap once he sits, curling up in his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder and let his warmth combined with the gentle thrum of the jet’s sonic engines lull you to sleep.

***

Wakanda is simultaneously everything and nothing like what you expected.

There’s a force shield that surrounds the inner part of the country that gives way as the convoy of ships pass through it. It almost seems to shimmer out of view before revealing an elegant, shining palace and curved, glimmering towers that comprise the larger part of the city. Lush jungle and towering, ice-capped mountains border the city, split by a winding river and rushing waterfalls.

It almost looks too beautiful to be real.

The awe-inducing visuals and technology don’t stop as the convoy flies out to a glittering, black glass structure that, on the navigation board, is labeled as the lab of Princess Shuri. The convoy swoops around to a massive hangar at the base of the building, landing just inside on the polished stone and metal floor.

Waiting for all of you in the hangar is King T’Challa Udaku; he’s wearing a black robe embroidered with silver thread and a vibrant kente scarf, and generally looks every bit as poised and unflappable as he did in the UN interviews. He’s flanked by his Dora Milaje soldiers –who are undeniably badass with their armor and spears, and you catch Ellie, Yukio, and Kitty all staring at the women in awe—and his partner, Nakia, and his sister, Princess Shuri.

Tony and Professor Xavier handle the introductions with the King, which lets you stretch and take in the hangar and throngs of superheroes. You recognize a few of them –Captain America aka Steve Rogers, Ant-Man aka Scott Lang and his entourage --including a man with dark hair styled like Elvis that you recall seeing in some sort of news interview a while back and a young woman with curly brown hair and warm eyes that’s holding his hand-- and War Hero ,aka James Rhodes, aka Tony’s best friend and “work wife”—but some of the entourage members are new to you.

You take a moment to stretch out your back –sleeping in Piotr’s lap isn’t the worst quality rest you’ve ever had, but given the configurations of the jet seats it was a little cramped—and admire the glimmering, inlaid lights on the hangar ceiling. Swanky.

“We have space prepared for the upcoming preparations and hosting all of you,” T’Challa says, voice cutting through the din of the crowd with ease. “If you would all follow Princess Shuri, please.”

Shuri smiles, then motions for everyone to follow her out of the hangar.

Half of the Dora Milaje break away from the formation, keeping a protective line between the princess and everyone else.

You fall into stride alongside your husband, well-practiced by now at matching your steps to his long stride.

***

The “prepared space” winds up being three massive rooms, each with smaller rooms sectioned around the main spaces, a kitchen-slash-rec area that joins the three massive rooms in the center, and three large, communal style bathrooms with multiple stalls for toilets and showers. The main rooms have several long, workstation style tables at them, with some beds stationed at the fringes, and the smaller rooms function only as bedrooms, mostly for the families with kids and the handful of couples present.

“This interface,” Princess Shuri says as she taps on a small disk embedded into the wall, “will let you contact security and staff if you have questions or need to speak with someone. There’s one in each room, for easy access. It will begin glowing and beeping if someone’s trying to send a call to you; you answer by pressing the base,” she explains, demonstrating on the disk.

“We’re expecting another group of people,” Tony pipes up. “Strange is collecting some of our allies from the South Eastern Quadrant. They should be here in the next sixteen hours, give or take.”

Shuri nods. “We’ll contact you when they arrive.” She offers the group a magnanimous nod and smile, then strides out the hall you all entered through, flanked by the Dora Milaje soldiers.

For a moment, no one moves. You all stand around, hesitating as you all try to take in the new scenery and space.

Alex moves first. She sighs, then grabs her duffel and strides towards the nearest workroom. “No point in waiting.”

Her initiative seems to jolt everyone else out of their daze. Everyone sections off, largely sticking with the groups of their original affiliation.

You amble alongside Piotr, peering around the workroom as you try to decide where to set your pack. Here goes nothing.

***

We’re staring down the apocalypse, you muse as you watch everyone set up shop, and it’s all coming down to sewing machines.

It’d come as a shock when Alexandra had lugged the sleek, white machine out of its carrying case. She’d set it on one of the tables, then lifted bolts of thick, rugged Kevlar out of one of her duffels next. Thread, scissors, measuring tape, and gridded cutting boards follow the Kevlar—

And then the sewing machine jammed as soon as Alex turned it on.

“Ty meshok der'ma,” Alex mutters under her breath as she fiddles with the internal mechanisms of the sewing machine. She glares at the gears, grumbling and swearing while she prods at them with a pair of tweezers. “Kakogo khrena tvoya problema?”

The situation seems mundane in its inanity.

The end of the damn world, and we’re being thwarted by twenty pounds of plastic and metal.

“Day mne poprobovat'.” Nikolai crouches down next to his wife. He adjusts the reading glasses perched on his nose, then aims a small flashlight at the interior of the machine. He murmurs and tuts in Russian while prodding at the machine –and then he makes a soft noise of exclamation. “Broken needle. Pryamo tam.”

“Sukin syn.” Alex uses her telekinesis to draw out the metal shard, then lets out an exasperated sigh and spreads her arms when the machine finally makes the proper start up noises. “Thank you.”

“Be nice,” Nikolai chides her with a teasing grin. “Is uncomfortable, having metal stuck in organs. You would not want to work either.”

“I’ve had metal in my organs,” Alex grumbles as she gets her sewing machine configured. “I still managed.” She smirks when Nikolai laughs, then kisses her husband’s cheek before motioning for you to approach. “Come here, ptitsa. I want to reinforce your suit; I need your measurements.”

You round the table, shucking off your sweatshirt so Alex can measure your torso. “Is there anything I need to do?”

“Just hold still, malenkiy,” Alex murmurs as she runs her tape measure around your waist.

“I make no promises,” you joke.

Alex snorts, then moves her measuring tape up to your ribcage.

***

The waiting is, somehow, worse now.

At least on the plan there was a promise of a destination. A sense of the temporary, that you’d be up and moving and doing again within a few hours.

Unfortunately, reality is so often different from how you envision it, just as it is now. Because the reality of the situation is that there are only a limited number of people capable of helping. Nate and Tony are working with the Princess to configure weapons to fight Thanos’s forces, Hank and the healers are preparing a makeshift medical bay, Frank, Wade, Mikhail, and Neena are cleaning and checking guns, Alex, Piotr and Nikolai are taking turns working on fabricating armor for those who need it—

Leaving you with nothing to do. Aside from keeping those who are working well fed and hydrated and managing the kids, all you can do is sit and watch while everyone else prepares.

It’s agony. Your chest aches from stress, and your stomach’s churning so much you can barely choke food down at mealtimes. I need to help more. I need to do something, dammit.

It’s like being in line for random execution and having no idea whether you’re going to be shot or not.

You stay close to Piotr. You run food and snacks and drinks for anyone who needs it. You help manage the kids when the need arises –but since most of their parents are here, the incidents are far and few between.

You sit. And you wait.

It’s all you can do.

***

“Absolutely not.”

“You need to be reasonable.”

“I am. It’s perfectly reasonable to keep a fourteen-year-old off a fucking battlefield!”

Alex sighs. She leans back in her seat and raises an eyebrow at her eldest daughter. “Normally I would agree, but I don’t think you’ll have much say in the matter. Your ability to control her is notably lacking.”

Artemis huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You try reining in a teenager who’s realized there’s no consequences to her actions.”

“I’m not judging, merely observing,” Alex assures her daughter. “But, at any rate, it’s not unreasonable to predict that she’ll join the fray at some point. Body armor is a necessity.”

“It’s an invitation! She’ll take it as permission!”

“Artemis?” Allison sticks her head into the room, then strides over to her mentor-slash-surrogate mother. “Is everything okay? Who’s getting permission to do what?”

“No one is,” Artemis grumbles, even as she holds her arm out so the teen can lean against her side. “Especially not you.”

Allison lets out a disgusted sigh and rolls her eyes. “I already told you—”

“You’re not fighting.”

“I can handle myself!” Allison snaps. She jerks away from Tatianna, scowling. “You’re treating me like a baby!”

“Compared to me, you are a baby,” the older woman points out drily.

“It’s not your burden to bear,” Alex interjects, fixing the testy teen with an even –though not harsh—stare. “Teenagers shouldn’t have to fight for the future of the world. That’s for adults to handle.”

“No one gets to decide,” Allison grits out, “what my burdens are. And this isn’t about ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t.’”

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. She looks up at Artemis, brows raised.

Artemis sighs. She tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling, then looks down at Allison. “You need body armor to keep you safe. That does not mean, however, that you’ll be joining us in the fight against Thanos.”

Allison sweeps her tongue along the inside of her cheek. She crosses her arms and cocks her head to the side. “Pretty sure you don’t get to decide that.”

“Pretty sure you should listen to me,” Artemis fires back, “since I have more experience and am telling you that it’s too much for you to handle.” She lets out an exasperated breath when Allison rolls her eyes, then waves her hand dismissively as if to say ‘I tried.’ “Get her set up.”

Alex nods, then waves Allison over. “Alright, malenkiy. Let’s get you sorted.”

***

“Are you asleep?”

“Nyet.” Piotr rolls over, drapes an arm over you, and kisses your forehead. “I would ask you the same, but…”

You manage a small chuckle. “Pretty obvious answer, yeah.”

The two of you are in one of the private rooms –if only because (aside from your status as married) it has a bed big enough to accommodate Piotr. There’s a small window that overlooks a cavern beneath the lab. Dim, blue light seeps through the glass pane, but it’s not enough to properly illuminate the room.

Piotr’s fingers skim over your upper arm. “Why are you not sleeping, myshka?”

“Can’t,” you admit, voice wavering. You take a deep breath through your nose and try to calm yourself. “I just… I can’t handle not doing anything. It gives me too much time to think about what might happen.”

Piotr croons gently, drawing you in closer so he can tuck you against his chest. He cradles your head with one massive head. “Dorogoy. You know such things are not good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grumble, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Doesn’t mean that knowledge stops my brain any.”

“Ya znayu,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your temple. “But everything is going to be alright, myshka.”

“Except it really might not be,” you argue, voice shaking. You grip the material of his shirt, as though he might be wrenched away from you at any moment and whisked away into the wind. “It really might not, Piotr.”

Your husband doesn’t say anything in response to that. He merely holds you closer still and strokes his fingers through your hair.

You press your forehead against his chest and start weeping quietly.

***

The second day is much like the first –a slow, agonizing crawl punctuated by overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion.

You linger at the table where Nate, Tony, and Ellie are modifying guns, handing the three various tools and materials when they ask for it. You watch their progress numbly, brain devoid of anything other than wordless worry.

At least, you watch until Nate texts Piotr to come get you.

“Davay, myshka,” your husband coaxes as he lifts you off your stool. He grunts slightly as he shifts you into a bridal-style hold, then carries you away from the table and out of the room. “Let’s have lunch.”

“But—”

“Is important to stay fed and hydrated.”

“—I was helping.” You peer past Piotr’s arm –then sigh when Nathan gives you a sympathetic, concerned smile and waves you along. “Baby—”

“Just for little bit.” Piotr sets you down when you ask, but he keeps a hand on your shoulder, just in case. “Is not good to sit and stew in anxiety.”

You drop your gaze to the floor. “You can’t prove anything.”

Piotr lifts his hand from your shoulder and cradles your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your skin, waiting until you look up at him before speaking again. “Come have lunch with me, moya lyubov’,” he says with an adoring smile (which you’re certain is a deliberate, tactical move on his part to make sure you don’t try and argue, and dammit if it isn’t working). “I would enjoy your company.”

You scuff the toe of your sneaker against the floor, but ultimately acquiesce. “Alright. I guess I should take a break.”

***

The snooping starts after lunch, while Alex is chewing Frank out for spray-painting his bullet proof vest.

“What, are you looking to ruin perfectly good Kevlar?” Alex gripes as she tosses Frank’s “Punisher” vest aside. “You want to break down the material? Get shot out like some schmuck because you decided to be an artist?”

“It’s strategic,” Frank argues with a good-natured, crooked grin. “Keeps my enemies’ line of sight trained on where I have the most protection.”

Alex nods and makes a sarcastic noise of assent. “‘Strategic.’ Is that what it is? Ya ne mogu v eto poverit'. V moye vremya my nazyvali strategiyu pobedoy, a ne stavili svoyu grebanuyu vizitnuyu kartochku na kazhdoye sovershennoye nami proklyatoye ubiystvo. Get your ass over here, drama boy.” She scoffs and starts measuring Frank’s chest and shoulders. “‘Strategiya,’” she scoffs. “What a load of horse shit.”

“Akh akh,” Nikolai tuts as he walks into the room with a plate of food and glass of water. “What is happening here?”

“I’m pretty sure I upset the apple cart, sir,” Frank says, unabashed.

Nikolai chuckles while Alexandra brings up to speed, ranting in irritated Russian. He sets the plate and glass on the table next to his wife, kisses her head, then ambles back out to the kitchen—

And that’s when you notice it. Or, rather, her.

Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Renowned spy, assassin, weapons and espionage expert, and former member of the Avengers if the debacle surrounding the Sokovia Accords is to be believed.

She’s sitting at the kitchen counter on barstool, tapping away at her phone –which isn’t inherently suspicious, but her line of sight lets her look directly into the room you’re all situated in and—

She’s watching Alex.

At first you think she might be watching Frank (which, fair enough, having a mass murderer, somewhat unstable vigilante around is a reasonable cause for caution). But when Frank gets up and walks out (probably to go find Karen), Natasha doesn’t even move. Her gaze –when she’s not looking at her phone—stays fixed on Alexandra while she works at her sewing machine.

For once, you’re grateful Piotr is as large as he is; he makes a great hiding spot to do countersurveillance from.

Natasha approaches slowly, but deliberately. She talks to someone on her phone –whether she’s faking or not doesn’t matter to you, because she still uses it to get off the barstool and amble around while she’s talking. Then, she has a conversation with Captain Rogers, which she uses to get a few feet closer to the doorway.

At some point, you’re not certain if she realizes you’re watching her, only because she gives up the pretense of trying to hide her snooping entirely. She leans against the doorframe, watching Alex intently while she marks, pins, and cuts out fabric.

It’s Illyana who has enough of the whole thing first. Three minutes into Natasha standing in the door way, the blonde sighs, sets her phone down on the work table, and glares up at the red head. “Kakogo khrena ty khochesh?”

Natasha purses her lips slightly. She acknowledges Illyana with a brief glance, then turns her focus back to Alex. “Alexandra.”

“Natalia,” Alex says by way of greeting, not even bothering to look up from her work. “Are you here to help, or are you here to waste my time?”

She grimaces, but recovers and smiles politely. “It’s been a long time.”

“So, you’re here to waste my time,” Alex surmises as she pins a pattern to a piece of heavy black Kevlar.

Natasha swallows reflexively, then turns on her heel and walks away.

***

Half an hour later, it’s Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes’s turn.

The two supersoldiers are far less covert than Agent Romanoff. They stand in the middle of the rec room, a few feet away from the door, and don’t make any attempt to hide their conversation or the fact that they’re watching Alex (and, to some extent, her children and Nikolai as well).

Illyana says something to her mother a few times, but Alex waves her off –and, in general, seems unbothered. “U nas yest' rabota, snezhinka. U nas yest' rabota.”

“Did you know him?” you ask, later, when the Rasputin kids are out of the room. “The Winter Soldier?”

You’ve heard enough through the grapevine to know about the basics of the man’s story –captured by Hydra, experimentation, brainwashing, being coerced into murdering.

(It all sounds chillingly familiar.)

“We crossed paths,” Alex admits with a shrug. She slides a piece of ceramic armor plating inside a Kevlar pouch, then starts sewing the pouch shut. “Overlap was common back in the day.”

“Do you think he remembers you?” you murmur, glancing out at the kitchen (fortunately, Rogers and Barnes are gone for now).

Alex pauses. She purses her lips, then shrugs and resumes working. “I don’t know. He went through a lot with the forced mind wipes. There’s really no way of knowing.”

“Are you going to be in trouble if he does remember you?”

Alex huffs and favors you with a gentle smile. “I’ve gotten out of worse, ptitsa. Don’t worry so much.”

You say that like it’s easy, you think while the knot in your stomach coils tighter.

***

There’s a brief reprieve around dinner. You even manage to relax a little, smiling and chuckling as Piotr and Mikhail bicker and generally irritate each other as much as humanly possible.

Work starts up once more as soon as everyone’s done eating. You nestle yourself against Piotr’s side, relaxed via the virtue of being too tired to be stressed—

And then Tony Stark walks in.

Or perhaps “walk” isn’t the right term. He moves with an air of grandeur and utter self-assurance –which, even with your limited exposure to Tony Stark, you can tell is a “brand standard” for him. He tosses an apple up and down in one hand as he breezes along, expression blasé to the point of looking disinterested as he strides up to the table where Alexandra works.

If it weren’t for Natasha, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes scoping out the Rasputin matriarch earlier, you would’ve pegged Stark’s visit as entirely coincidental.

“What’s your deal?” Tony asks, leaning against the table next to where Alex is stationed at her sewing machine.

No pretense. No niceties. No attempt at subtlety.

Alex’s lips quirk into an annoyed grimace. She looks up and over the top of her machine for a moment, staring at Nikolai (likely trying to find any scrap of his infinite patience for herself), then lowers her gaze once more and says, “Usually, it’s not answering vague, pointless questions asked by nosey individuals.”

“You’ve got half my team twisted up just by being here,” Tony continues, unruffled. “I’ve seen Romanoff stare down the Hulk on a rampage without flinching. What about you is so special that you make her nervous?”

“Interesting,” Alex comments, almost to herself. “And here I thought, after the Berlin incident, your ‘team’ was largely disbanded. Something about ‘not agreeing with your leadership.’”

Tony’s face twitches, mouth briefly stretching into a pained grimace before he smooths it back out. “You don’t exist.”

“Everyone’s concept of self is different,” Alex mutters as she rips out a crooked seam on an armor pouch.

“There’s no record of your birth. Or your parents, for that matter. Your marriage license has no given maiden name. No history of education, doctor’s visits, driver’s license –nothing until you turned twenty-four.” He takes a bite of his apple, swallows, then says, “People don’t just ‘poof’ into existence as full grown adults. It doesn’t happen.”

“Perhaps,” Alex retorts as she resews the faulty seam, “you are just not very good at finding things.”

“I can find anything.”

“Except, it would seem, a way to keep from trying my patience.”

Tony watches her for a moment longer –then, when she doesn’t say anything, he turns and starts striding out of the room. “I’m going to figure out what’s up with you. There aren’t any secrets that can hide from my A.I.”

Alex doesn’t dignify his departure with a response –but her eyelid twitches as she continues her sewing.

You look up at Piotr, only to find he’s watching Nikolai. You look over at the Rasputin patriarch, and your heart sinks when you see the worried expression on his face.

Nick sighs, then stands and rounds the table. He ambles up behind his wife, drapes his arms around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head before he starts murmuring to her in quiet, loving Russian.

You lean against Piotr’s side, giving him a reassuring squeeze even though the only thing you feel is disquieted. You force yourself to take a deep breath and relax your jaw as fear starts crawling up your spine once more. One thing at a time. One thing at a time, that’s all you can do.

Except, it seems, when everything decides to happen at once.

***

Meeting the Norse god of thunder is… intense.

Though, that may have to do with the entourage of people he brings with him.

Around three in the morning, Dr. Strange shows up with the remaining allies –Thor, god of thunder, and his brother Loki, god of magic, Bruce Banner aka the Hulk, a woman by the name of Carol, and a group that calls themselves the “Guardians of the Galaxy” (which happens to include a talking raccoon and a sentient tree).

“Just when you thought, like, it couldn’t get weirder,” Kitty mutters to you as she stares at the newest arrivals.

You nod. Granted, your usual metric for all things weird is Wade, who has basically explored every avenue of zany, bizarre, and disturbing—

But yeah, this is pretty fucking weird.

“Where do we stand in preparations for the arrival of Thanos?” Thor asks Tony.

“We’ve got most of the busywork done,” Tony says, outlining the weapons upgrades and the armor work that’s been done. “We waited for major planning until we had everyone here and better intel.”

Thor nods, then gestures to two women standing with the “Guardians of the Galaxy,” one with green skin and dark hair and the other with blue skin and cybernetic enhancements. “This is Gamora and Nebula, daughters of Thanos. They’ll be able to provide information on the strength and size of his forces.”

“Good,” Steve pipes up from where he’s standing with Sam Wilson and Sergeant Barnes. “The sooner we have a plan, the better.”

“It can wait until we’ve slept,” Alex decides, voice crisp. “We won’t come up with anything good while we’re fried.”

Tony blinks, then scowls. “Thanos could be here as soon as this coming morning.”

“Then we’ll be doubly fucked if we’ve stayed up all night trying to scrape together a plan,” Alex replies, unmoved. She crosses her arms when Tony glares at her. “The younger and less experienced of us need rest if this is going to work.”

“I’m with the lady,” Quill pipes up, brushing past Tony. He gives Stark a smile that, if you had to wager, is supposed to be charming but just comes off as arrogant. “I think you’ll find that we… don’t really roll with plans. It’s not our style.”

Alex stares at Quill for a moment, expression vastly unimpressed. She sighs, blinks slowly, shakes her head, then turns on her heel and strides back to the room she’s been sharing with Nick. “Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”

As if waiting for a cue, everyone else disperses, muttering about being tired and “needing an IV drip of espresso.”

You shuffle off with Piotr, hand in hand, shivering slightly from nerves. Please just let this go well.

***

“Both the Chitauri and the Klyntaar forces number into the tens of thousands. The Chitauri have sentient airships capable of carrying infantry forces while wreaking their own havoc, in addition to chariots that can carry up to five marksmen at a time. He also has tanks the size of this building that can demolish anything in their path.”

Everyone is gathered in one of the main work rooms. A majority of the people present hang back at the fringes, content to watch while Tony, Captain Rogers, King T’Challa, Alexandra, your uncle, Thor, Quill, and Natasha hash out a strategy.

“He’s trying to overwhelm us with sheer numbers,” Steve says in response to Gamora’s information.

“It might work,” Natasha murmurs, gaze focused on the worktable in front of her. “We don’t have near enough firepower to chip away at that many grunts.”

“Not if we play our cards right,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There’s also our siblings,” Gamora adds with a pained grimace.

Off to the side, Nebula scoffs. “They’re hardly family.”

“Thanos collected beings throughout the galaxy to serve him,” Gamora explains. “To act as his eyes and ears and eliminate his foes. Aside from Nebula and I, he has four other ‘children.’ They’ll be acting as his generals and commanders in the fight –and helping him track down and capture the final infinity stones.”

Tension ripples through the room.

“What do we know about these Infinity Stones?” Alex asks after a moment of fraught silence.

“The stones were originally created by the Celestials,” Loki pipes up from where he’s leaning against a wall. “Their magical properties are tied to aspects of the universe –time, space, reality, and so on. Only beings of immense power can wield them without severe consequences.”

“Thanos has the gauntlet that accompanies the stones,” Thor adds. “With it, once he assembles all six stones, he’ll be able to use them simultaneously.”

“He wants to wipe out half of all life on Earth,” Gamora says, voice wavering slightly. “That’s been his single goal ever since I’ve known him.”

“All men want to be gods,” your uncle jokes half-heartedly.

“Can the stones be broken?” Alex asks.

Loki chuckles, incredulous. “These are magical tools created by the most powerful beings ever known to the galaxy… and you want to break them?”

She shrugs. “Best not to overlook the simplest solution.”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no,’” Steve interjects. “So, if we can’t destroy them, how do we fight them?”

“The only thing powerful enough to combat the effects of the Infinity Stones are the Infinity Stones,” Loki answers.

“And we only have two,” Natasha surmises, expression drawn and grim.

“Three.”

Everyone looks up and turns when Illyana speaks.

She smirks, tilting her chin up when Natasha meets her gaze. “We have three Infinity Stones.”

“Vision has the mind stone, and Dr. Strange has the time stone,” Kronos argues, shaking his head. “The soul stone is still missing.”

Illyana’s smirk broadens. She lifts her hand, curling it as if she was holding something.

A sword materializes in her hand –and in the center of the sword, small but unmistakable, is a glowing orange gem.

Your uncle’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Three,” Illyana repeats, looking supremely confident and self-satisfied. “Unless there is elusive seventh stone?”

Loki smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “The Goddess of Limbo pulls through. Well done.”

“Okay, but Vision’s stone is in his head and Strange has his stone in a necklace around his neck,” Tony interjects, gesturing to each person in turn.

“Amulet,” Dr. Strange mutters under his breath.

“Your stone disappears if you’re not holding it,” Tony continues, pointing to the sword as Illyana dematerializes it once more. “What’s stopping Thanos from finding it and taking it?”

“I am only person who can use Soul Sword,” Illyana says, arching her eyebrows. “It is bound to me until the next in my line is ready to take my place.”

“My family has been bound to Limbo’s magicks for generations,” Nikolai clarifies when Tony starts sputtering. “Illyana is the keeper of the sword, which means only she can call upon it. Thanos would need our blood to have access to it.”

Tony grimaces. “Still risky.”

“Better than nothing,” your uncle fires back.

“We have a shot of taking down Thanos with the other three Infinity Stones in our camp,” Steve says, planting his hands against the worktable's surface. “Without them, we’re as good as sunk.”

“Well then,” Alex says, smirking. “Let’s make sure we don’t waste our opportunity.”

***

“For the love of god, stop talking.”

“I’m just saying,” Quill starts, spreading his hands in a defensive gesture.

“You’re not saying shit!” Alex snaps, lifting her head from her hands to glare at him. “You’re just wasting our time!”

Once the planning started, a large portion of the crowd dispersed to help wrap up the last of the weapons modification. The leaders from each faction stayed behind –Tony, T’Challa, Steve, Natasha, Thor, Peter Quill, Xavier, your uncle, Alexandra, and Erik—to plan, along with Gamora, Nebula, and Loki so they could offer up information on Thanos, his forces, and the Infinity Stones.

You’d also hung back, since you didn’t have the skills necessary to do the weapons modification. If all I can do is sit around like a nervous lump, may as well do it where I won’t be in the way.

“This plan just isn’t our style,” Quill argues, either immune or completely ignorant to the exasperated sighs and death glares the others are giving him. “We like to take things looser, add a little pizazz.”

“How many times did your parents drop you as a baby?” your uncle asks, staring Quill down. “No, I’m serious,” he adds when Quill glares back at him and opens his mouth to argue. “I’m genuinely at a loss for how you can be this fucking dense.”

“We’re up against overwhelming numbers and powers no one here has ever seen, let alone fought against,” Natasha adds. “We need to allocate our resources carefully if we want even a chance at victory. The three wave strategy is our best chance.”

“Okay,” Quill says, pressing his hands together. “I think we just all need to relax—”

“You’ll be pretty fucking relaxed when I gut you,” Alex grumbles as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Look, the way I see it, Thanos can’t take us all at once!” Quill reasons. “If we hit him with everything we have—”

“We have to survive his armies, too,” Tony adds, words clipped. “Or there won’t be any of us for Thanos to be hit by.”

“No.” Alex glares at Quill when he keeps trying to argue, startling him into silence. “Look at them.” She points at Gamora and Nebula. “These are your friends, da? Your teammates and companions, da? This is their abuser we’re facing. If we lose, what do you think happens to them? Do you think someone that wants to destroy half of all life will have mercy for them? Hm? If you care about them, you pick the plan that has the best shot of ensuring their safety. Got it?”

Quill swallows reflexively. He stares down at the holographic display of the future battlefield, jaw working. He exhales through his nose, slow and stuttered, then nods. “Alright. We… we do the three wave strategy.”

“So glad we can agree,” Alex says, turning her attention back to the battlefield schematic. “Now, we were discussing where to put our snipers…”

***

“—I need both their arms. Trust me, it’s the only way this is gonna work.”

“Look, I’m normally all for a little dismemberment, but I don’t think forming our own amputee league is gonna net us a win here.”

You shake your head as Wade banters back and forth with the talking racoon –whose name is Rocket, apparently—then look over at Nathan. “How long have they been at this?”

“Going on three hours now,” Nate replies. A soft, endeared smile flits across his face when he looks at Wade, but his expression sobers when he resumes his soldering job. “How’s the final plan looking?”

“Everyone but Quill was leaning towards a three-wave tactic.”

Nathan grunts. “Yeah, he seems like a jackass.”

“Alex threatened to gut him.”

“Hey!” Wade shouts, sounding genuinely wounded. “No disemboweling without me!”

“Quill wanted to do an ‘all for one’ attack directly on Thanos.” You sit down next to your dad, studying his face while he works. “You’ve actually fought against these people before. Do… do you think dividing our forces up will actually work?”

“The issue is the land and air forces,” Nathan says, shaking his head. He attaches a power unit to the base of a rifle, then starts welding the compartment shut. “This time doesn’t have the necessary shielding to repel the Chitauri and Klyntaar forces for that long. We’ll have to fight the grunts; holding some of our people back to make sure we have someone to take on Thanos is our best bet.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll win, though,” you point out.

He offers you a melancholy half-smile. “That’s war, kid.”

Your heart sinks further. “Do we even have a chance?”

“Statistics says we do,” Nathan says he strips a piece of wire before threading it into the gun.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nathan sighs. He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “I think we have the best shot possible with what we have right here, right now.”

You gulp, then nod. It’s still not technically an answer to your question –let alone a positive one—but…

You’ve learned that, sometimes, it better not to dig at these sorts of questions at all.

***

“We’re dividing our forces into thirds.”

You’re all crammed into the rec room post dinner. In the center of the room, by the counter, Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Alex are addressing the crowd in turns.

“The first wave will consist of high stamina fighters and snipers,” Steve says. “There’s a shield system that extends several hundred kilometers around the lab’s perimeter. Wakandan soldiers will join the line of snipers who will pick off any of Thanos’s forces that make it through the shields.”

“We’ll also have any fighters with enhanced stamina on standby, in case there’s a larger breach,” Alex adds. “Their job will be to protect the sniper line from being overrun by the enemy forces.”

“The second wave will be air support,” Tony continues. “Myself, Rhodey, Wilson, and any flying mutants will head out when the Chitauri airships come in. Princess Shuri has a fleet of attack drones at the ready, which can be manned from headquarters in the lab. HQ will have a complete look at the battlefield; all intel will be coming from them during the fight.”

“Third wave is everyone else, save for Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision,” Natasha says. “We’ll join the fray when the second wave of Thanos’s forces arrive. The final three” –she nods to Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision in turn—“will wait in central headquarters until Thanos arrives, to prevent early capture of the remaining Infinity Stones.”

“In the meantime,” Tony says, “we’re going overtime on modifying rifles to be sonic weapons. They’re more effective against the Klyntar forces than regular firearms. All hands on deck. If you can’t solder, you can run supplies back and forth and help perform diagnostic tests at the firing range. Clear?”

Everyone nods, then breaks off to start working on constructing and testing more “awesome guns.”

You slid your fingers between Piotr’s. Your heart’s in your throat, racing a mile a minute. Your mouth feels dry.

If you were the religious type, you’d start praying. As it is, you make a plea with the universe on the off chance it decides to listen to you –for once.

Please. Please just let this work.

***

“So… about the three-wave plan—”

Tony slams down the compartment piece he’d been working on against the table. He glares at Quill, face strained with barely constrained rage and impatience. “What the fuck is your deal?”

“It’s just not sitting well with me,” Quill continues, leaning against the table. “I’m more of a ‘solo moment’ style person. More of a lone wolf.”

You gape at him. “You… you work with a team of five!”

“I just think that there needs to be a more focused confrontation with Thanos. Y’know, for someone to challenge him, man to man—”

“Some get this idiot out of my face,” Tony snaps, looking around for anyone that might be willing to assist –or, at the very least, drag Quill out of the room by his jacket collar.

“You’re not listening to me!”

“You’re wasting my time!”

“Why does every problem come back to you?” Alex stalks into the work room, eyes glowing a dull shade of copper as irritation takes hold in her. She strides over to Quill, looking like a menace in black leather and Kevlar. “How much more of a nuisance can you possibly make yourself?”

“I’m just pointing out some flaws in the strategy!” Quill argues, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m being the devil’s advocate!”

“You’re pointing out dick,” Agent Barton, alias Hawkeye, points out from the side (where he’s modifying some of his arrows to release sonic pulses).

“Look,” Quill presses on, ignoring Clint’s comment. “We need to make sure this thing is airtight—”

“We don’t have time for ‘airtight,’” Nathan growls, cybernetic eye flaring. “The goal is to survive, not to create perfection.”

“I really just think—”

Alex scowls –and then her hand snaps out and closes around Quill’s neck. She slams him against the edge of the table, sneering down at him while he coughs and claws –futilely—against her iron grip. “You���re past the point of being a nuisance. You’re a fucking liability.”

Quill wheezes, face slowly turning red.

“If I was paid every time a man like you told me how to do my job…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Let me make something clear to you, Peter Quill.” Her hand tightens around his neck, which makes some ominous creaking noises as she presses against layers of tissue, cartilage, and bone. “I am not about to have an asshole like you risk the lives of my children, the people who are putting their own lives on the line to protect the world, or the future of the damn universe. If you’re going to keep being a jackass about this…” She smirks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll do it right here, right now. I am not going to have a hazard like you on my team or on that battlefield.” She grins nastily, leaning in closer as Quill’s eyes bug out. “Best thing is, no one really knows you’re here. No tracks to cover, no family to pay off, no authorities to worry about. You’d be an unfortunate casualty in war. No one would fucking miss you.”

A chill runs down your spine. You gulp, stomach twisting as you look from Alex, to Quill, to Alex again. Is anyone going to stop her...

“I really don’t know how to make this any fucking clearer, but since you’ve proven to be thick-headed, I’ll summarize: you stray from the plan in any way, and you’re dead. Got it?”

Quill nods hastily. He gasps when Alex releases him, collapsing to the floor. He hacks and coughs, one hand rubbing at his throat while his skin slowly fades away from an angry magenta color.

“So glad we understand one another.” Alex smirks, then turns on her heel and strides out of the work room like nothing even happened.

You purse your lips, trembling while everyone goes back to work like nothing even happened. You try to focus on sorting pieces into containers for the fabricators to grab from, but with your shaking hands it’s near impossible. You duck your head, gritting your teeth together as your stomach churns angrily. I just want this all to be over.

***

The call comes in a couple hours later.

“We’ve got temporal disturbances outside the shield perimeter,” Kronos shouts while alarms blare overhead. “Thanos’s forces have arrived and are attempting to break through to our location.”

Your stomach drops as everyone starts scrambling. You grab your flight jacket and goggles, throwing them on haphazardly. You start running towards the hangar –then stop and switch directions. “Piotr!”

He pauses when he hears your voice, turning and catching you as you leap into his arms. He kisses you briefly –desperately—then pulls back and cups your face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You give him a quick hug, then pull away and start sprinting towards the hanger where the rest of the air support is gathering. Tears sting your eyes, but you wipe them away and force down your fear and preemptive grief. Focus. You have to focus.

It’s time.

[the-finch-address]

TDY - 🦀 ❄️ and THO - 🤔 🎶 explain at least 5 songs from the playlist

🦀 - A favourite piece of dialogue (The Dog Yard)

"Oh, I see, so you're the little delinquent who took out our phone line, huh?" She scoffs, impatiently tapping a finger against the mug, "Can I ask for a refill or will you burn the place down on your way to the kitchen?" "Havard!" Emily shoots her an expression that says 'watch it', "You leave him alone."

❄️ - Toughest aspect of my WIP (The Dog Yard)

Ohhhh my god the fighting. The fight scenes for sure. I know that's pretty ironic considering the entire wip is about a literal underground fighting ring but let me tell you, my ability to say, "Eh, I'll figure it out later" when starting a new wip far outweighs any other conscious thought.

🤔 - What's the inspiration behind my WIP (The Heir's Odium)

Oh man I genuinely have no idea. I don't often make connections between my wips and outside inspiration, the ideas come and I either act on them or I don't. Obviously, the idea comes from somewhere and is inspired by something, etc, because that's just the way brains work, but I can rarely make the connection myself. The Heir's Odium came to me 10 years ago when my life was going through some heavy changes, so there's really no way to tell what amalgamation of outside sources and life events contributed to its conception haha That being said......... I like dragons, so I wrote a book about dragons.

🎶 - WIP playlist (The Heir's Odium)

This wip, too, has several playlists and all of them are beefy. I haven't taken a fine-tooth comb through any of them since I put the story on hiatus to focus on other wips so I'm not going to link you to a whole playlist, so instead, I'll list the main theme for all 5 characters!

Vestiel: Eight (Sleeping at Last) / The Moon Will Sing (The Crane Wives) I can get away with listing two songs because he's the MC, right?

Both songs look at Vestiel's turbulent relationship with Andi, his pack, and himself. His ability to lead in Andi's shadow, as well as the decisions he makes (and the decisions made for him) play a big part in the plot and overall narration of the story. It's hard to go into details about this one without it turning into a twelve-page essay because I just-- I have so much love in my heart for this character. Honestly. But go check out the songs and they'll speak for themselves.

Andi: Second Chances (Imagine Dragons)

A big part of Andi's character is his guilt. He is shadowed by it, consumed by it for most of the story, but with no way to remedy it without making the situation a thousand times worse he chooses to just ignore it instead and pretend nothing happened in the first place. Obviously, this still makes things a thousand times worse. He figures it out eventually (with the help of both friends and enemies) but it's a bit of a slow-burn redemption.

Caprice: Throne (Saint Mesa)

Being the heir to an empire comes with its obvious perks, but when your own morals begin to conflict with the ruling party (ie. your mom), things can get heated pretty quick. That includes watching your family fall into a rabbit hole and doing everything in your power to not be caught by the ankle and dragged down with them. Throne says a lot about Capri's journey with his own bloodline, and the relationships, choices, and personal growth he makes along the way.

Tupelo: Devil's Resting Place (Laura Marling)

This song, too, is hard to describe without giving too much context. Tupelo has always carried as much responsibility as the leaders of their Pack, and they are careful to never take that for granted, but it's difficult to always do the right thing when you have that much weight on your shoulders. There's a number of actions taken under their name that haunt Tupelo, but nothing keeps them up at night like the thought of inevitable catastrophe becoming a product of their own hands.

Fannar-Haise: Comfort (Julia Jacklin)

Haise is the comfort character of the book, plain and simple. She is the grounding point for the traveling party, the one to keep everyone safe and sane. This effort, of course, carries with it the bad habit of not taking care of herself. She's quick to shrug off the hard times (externally, anyway) and consistently disregards her own troubles. Eventually, she does allow herself to seek (and accept) comfort, but it takes a lot of convincing to get there.

Signe: Cypress Queen (The Last Bison)

Alright, this one's a little harder to explain without giving away too many spoilers. Signe's existence in the book is vital, but she really doesn't show up that often— not until around book three. What little is known about her pertains mostly to her role in the Silence; she is the quiet leader, the one to keep her family (and eventually, Vestiel) afloat and out of trouble, no matter what it takes, but that kind of responsibility doesn't come without its fair share of troubles.

Thank you for the ask I love any excuse to talk about my OCs >:)

[outrebanx]

don’t feel (4)

jj maybank x female reader

masterlist

part one // part two // part three

summary: you and jj go on your surfing date and get to know each other until topper interrupts (terrible summary im sorry)

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of abuse, swearing, topper is a dick (sorry lads), gets pretty angsty at the end (it wasn’t even gonna be an angsty chapter but my brain got the better of me apologies) i also havent read it through so pls ignore the mistakes

—— I am in no way romanticising abuse if you have any issues with my writing pls message me

A/N: everyone say hallelujah because i’ve finally written something!!!!!!!!!! sorry in advance if it’s not the best, i havent written in like a month and i struggled with this chapter before my little hiatus but i want to finish this series so badly so i did some the other day on the train and its kinda got me back into the swing of it :) as always feedback is appreciated

After JJ had left last night, it didn’t take long for you to finish cleaning the pool and then collapse onto your bed for one of the best nights of sleep you’d had in a while.

Your alarm woke you up out of your slumber, and as you reached for your phone turn it off you hissed in pain as your injuries on your side and head throbbed at the movement.

Lifting your pyjama shirt up to inspect your side, you were met with a large bruise and as you looked at it you couldn’t help but feel a little hatred for Topper and his carelessness - no doubt he’d try and talk to you soon enough to apologise, but that was a problem for another day. Today’s problem was meeting up with JJ for your little date, you had no idea if it would even go well but you knew you had to try as you were apparently soulmates. You looked at the bruise on your side again making you realise it would definitely be obvious when you were wearing your bikini so you were going to have to try and find a shirt to cover up, at least for the initial part of the day.

Going through your draws you found a nice black bikini that complimented your body nicely and a large shirt, that was slightly see-through but not enough to really show your bruise, as well as some of the other scars on your body from multiple different injuries. You got dressed, brushed your hair before pulling it into a loose bun, and quickly admired yourself in the mirror before picking up your keys and leaving your room.

You poked your head into your sister’s room, only to be met with her soft sleeping face, you didn’t want to wake her up, but you needed to let her know you’d be out for the day, and hoped she would be too instead of at home on her own.

You walked over to her, lightly flicking her nose, and laughed as she tried to swat your hand away, still half asleep.

“I’ll leave you alone if you open your eyes.” You said, ready to poke her cheeks until she woke up enough to talk to you.

She groaned as she opened one of her eyes, “it’s so early, let me sleep.”

“It’s almost 10, in what world is that early?” You asked, a smile on your face at how incapable she was in the mornings, an almost polar opposite to you who always loved waking up early.

“My world.” She huffed, pulling the covers up over her face.

“Okay well I was wondering if you were going anywhere today as I’ll probably be gone for most of today, but I can try and make it back early if you are on your own.”

“No I’m going to Carley’s again,” she pulled the duvet off her face to raise her eyebrow at you in question, “but where are you off to? You almost never socialise with people.”

You jokingly scowled at her, “Hilarious and if you must know I’m meeting up with a boy for a possible date thing.”

She squealed and sat up to look at you, “Oh my god yes! Who is it? Do I know him? Is it Topper? What are you doing on the date?”

“I’m guessing you’re awake now jesus christ. But you’re going to have to find out about it later, after the date so if it goes badly I don’t have to tell you.”

“Rude,” she pouted, “But have fun!”

You gave her a small wave before heading out of her room and downstairs to grab some toast before you left.

Even though it was tourist season, the beach seemed pretty empty and calm when you arrived, a few people in the sea already catching the waves, and as you looked at all the different groups on the beach the blond hair of JJ Maybank caught your eye.

He seemed to notice you at the same time as you saw him, he waved and walked over to you, “Hi.”

You smiled at him, trying to ignore the pain you felt on your face as you took in his injuries, “Hey, you good?”

“Always, and like I said yesterday I’ve had worse - Topper isn’t exactly the best at beating people up.” He laughed it off, but you couldn’t help but think there was something behind the words he was saying.

“Sure,” you said, fiddling with the hair band on your wrist, “well I hate small talk, so are you ready to be amazed by my incredible surfing skills.”

He laughed, clearly not convinced, “Bring it on Y/N.”

You grabbed your board from your car, and headed with him to the water, trying to pay more attention to the waves than his toned chest, not wanting him to realise how attractive you found him - you didn’t need that sort of teasing.

The two of you walked out into the water, moving to lay on the board as it got deeper so you could paddle out a little further. The waves weren’t as big as you’d like, but at least the sea wasn’t flat, otherwise this whole day would be less than ideal.

Both you and JJ sat up on your boards, waiting for the perfect wave for you to ride, and as you watched the water you could feel JJ watching you.

You turned to him, eyebrow raised, “What?”

“Why are you wearing a shirt?”

“Are you that desperate to see me in a bikini?” You joked, trying to avoid the question.

“Of course,” he winked at you before a look of seriousness came back over his face, “but also a little concerned as not many people where shirts in the water.”

“I bet they do, but if you must know, where Topper elbowed me last night I have a shitty bruise and I didn’t want people on the beach to see and maybe judge, so I covered up.”

“Oh, um, can I see it?”

“A bit of a weird request,” you chuckled, “but I guess so yeah.”

You lifted up your shirt, revealing the dark purple mark across your side, green tinging the outside of the mark, you heard JJ breathe in sharply as he took in your injury, “Holy shit are you sure you’re alright, like obviously I can feel it slightly but it looks awful Y/N.”

You gave him a small smile, “I’m fine, can we surf now?”

He nodded, and as he turned away from you he muttered under his breath, “Just avoid every question I ask huh?”

You looked at him, eyebrow raised, but he was already paddling his board to catch the next wave.

So that’s what the two of you did for almost two more hours, caught lots of waves - showing off the different tricks you could do, which in your opinion you were much better than him, not that he would admit it - and spoke about all the little things you could think of whenever you were waited for a good wave. Even whilst talking, you felt like you weren’t really talking, neither of you really spoke about anything deeper than your favourite colours or films and you were pretty sure he was now beginning to notice how you avoided any question about your home life. But you knew he was hiding something too so you didn’t feel as bad.

It was when you were both out of the water that the day took a turn for the worse. You were heading to where your bags were when you spotted Topper arriving at the beach, his eyes searching for something. And you were pretty sure that that something was you.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” JJ said from where he stood behind you, looking at the way Topper was now manoeuvring along the beach looking for you.

You held out your hand in front of JJ, “Please stay here, I’m gonna talk to him and do not want you to start something.”

“He started it last night not me.” He scoffed, ignoring the way your eyes rolled at how childish he sounded.

“Just stay here. Please.”

You didn’t wait for him to answer, instead you headed towards Topper, bracing yourself for the apology that he was going to try and give you, even if you were far from forgiving him.

He spotted you as you approached him, smiling widely and jogging over to meet you half way.

“Hey Y/N I was looking for you.”

“I guessed that.” You say, crossing your arms as you stood looking up at him.

“Right,” he moved his hand through his hair, “well, um, I know you said last night that you didn’t want to see me, but I can’t stand you being mad at me and I really want to apologise. I really didn’t mean to hurt you and i don’t think I’m like Rafe and hurting you is the last thing I would ever want -and can you please say something!”

You couldn’t help but flinch at his raised voice, his eyes widening at your reaction.

“Shit I’m sorry Y/N, please talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say to you Topper, you hurt me and it might take a while for me to forget that. So I have nothing to say.”

“But-“ he tried to reach for you hand, but was instead met with the empty space as you stepped away.

“Nothing to say.”

You looked at his sad eyes one more time before turning around and heading back towards where you assumed JJ still was.

You didn’t realise you were shaking until you reached JJ and he looked at you with worry, “Woah are you alright?”

“I’m fine, it’s just-” you clenched your fists, “nevermind it doesn’t matter now anyway.”

He stepped towards you, “You know Y/N, this whole soulmate thing means we need to talk to each other about stuff, so it does matter. Please talk to me.”

You tapped your foot anxiously as you considered his words, “Fine. It’s just that in my life I haven’t had many people who care about me, and most of the time if they do care, I either push them away or they leave because they realise I’m not worth it. But never T - he was always there for me and my sister, and I’m just not sure I want to lose that but at the same time he hurt me and yeah that’s pretty much it.”

JJ put his hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as you looked up at him, “Well thanks for telling me but we might have to continue later because the idiot,” he pointed behind you to where Topper was now marching towards you, “has spotted us.”

“Oh for fucks sake.” You muttered, wondering if the angry look on his face was due to seeing you with JJ. It most definitely was.

You waited for him to get closer, no longer in the mood to deal with his shit.

“Really Y/N? You won’t talk to me or spend time with me but you’ll spend time with this dirty pogue?”

“I’ll have you know I bumped into him a while ago and we were just chatting and even if I hadn’t, who I spend my time with is none of your fucking business Topper.”

You could feel JJ tense up beside you as you lied to Topper about why you were with him. You’d apologise to him later but if Topper knew you’d been on a date together then the situation would get much worse a lot quicker than you’d like.

“Funny that I don’t believe you,” he scoffed, “but then again all you do is lie Y/N isn’t that right? Lie to everyone about everything, especially your home life.”

You froze, shaking your head for him to stop speaking, but he was too lost in his own anger and jealousy to realise he was crossing a line that could never be undone.

“Does your new friend know about that? Or should I tell him?”

“Topper please, don’t.” You reached out a hand to try and calm him down. You could feel JJ’s ocean eyes focused on you, his suspicions apparent.

“Well Y/N, you’ve already made it clear you don’t want to be friends with me so I’m just passing the information to the next guy you’ve found so he can pick up the pieces whenever you decide to show actual emotions.”

“Please-“ You tried.

“Her parents beat the shit out of her and her sister, that’s the big reveal,” he told JJ, ignoring the tears streaming down your face, “but what she doesn’t realise is that she is as emotionless and uncaring as them, so be ready for when she gets bored of you and throws you out like yesterday’s trash.”

Topper didn’t even look at you as he left, leaving you crying and JJ staring at you wordlessly. Your whole life unravelled before you, in one of the most to the point and unpleasant descriptions you’d ever heard, ignoring the implications of what he said about you. Is that really what people thought about you?

The silence between you and JJ became too much for you, you steadied your breathing, wiping the tears off your face “Well I think I’m gonna go, it was nice spending time with you, I guess I’ll, um, see you around.”

You looked up to see him open his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but he quickly closed it. You nodded to yourself and headed back home, ignoring JJ finally saying your name behind you, you just wanted to get away from the disaster of your first date with him. Soulmates sometimes didn’t work out and apparently yours was one of those, even if you wanted it to work.

A/N pt2: i was gonna add a bit of JJ’s perspective but im lazy so sorry y’all and sorry again for the fact i haven’t read through it i’m ill and sorry again (i feel like a youtuber making apologies here) that this isnt my best i’m just happy ive posted something and thanks for reading

A/N pt3: (it never ends sorry) I don’t know whether it’s because I’m very unromantic but even if I had a soulmate I wouldn’t feel strong feelings straight away so I tried to portray that but it gets better in the next chapter!!

taglist: @outerbongs @jjaybank @bailspogue @outerbankslut @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @alexa-playafricabytoto @teamnick @k-k0129 @do-not-talk-to-me-i-am-awkward @thoughtsofthestars @http-cherries @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @thesurfingsnail @lonely-kermit @oopsiedoopsie23 @overly-b @lus-shh @xlittlemissydjx @asaks6082 @copper-boom @danicarosaline @deathcompass @jellyfishbeansontoast @butterfliesinthenightsky @iamaunicorn4704 @my-soul-is-the-moon @diverrdown @thorsangel @saintkore @prejudic3 @ponyboys-sunsets @starrystarkey93 @teenwaywardasgardian @celestialmaybank @kaylinfayezink @pixelated-pogues @otrbnks @x-lulu @obxmxybxnk @im-a-stranger-thing @jjmbanks @allycat449-blog @rudyypankow @silverstarsandsuns​ @chaoticbisous​ @realistic-breadstick​ @boldlypessimistic​��

Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you

[brief-candle]

ᴡɪᴛɴᴇss - Yoshikage Kira.

this has been a hiatus and a half, huh?

first of all, i'd like to apologise for the wait on this. and a couple of other requests that i've yet to do, but this in particular. because this is a good couple of months old and,, omg i can't believe it. i'm so so sorry

a lot has happened. college is back, unfortunately, and i've just been taking a lot of time to myself to avoid writer's block! as well as having wrote like 3000 words for this chapter and hating it all so then purging the vast majority of it to make it like twice as dark and gritty. kinda. still kinda iffy on most of it.

hope it's at least passable, and apologies that my long hiatus resulted in,, this.

anyways! here's wonderwall everyone's favourite hand fetishist!

series: jojo's bizarre adventure.

notes: yandere, choking, minor character death, general lack of niceness here.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰ 

Work wasn't exactly stressful, but by god it was boring. Day in, day out; nine until five, nothing was ever different. Not that you'd expected anything different. It just came with the process of being an adult.

You almost snorted sardonically, thoughts wandering back to school. Back then, your head was full of dreams of grandeur, of something far better than some dead end job sat in an office, achieving nothing before death finally arrived. However those ideas were little more than delusions that would never be given the chance to develop to fruitation. Such were the realities of life, that childhood dreams very rarely were given the chance to become a reality. A truth. Something more than an unachievable, faroff pipe dream that could only be experienced through hard drugs or strange dreams that one would shrug off or forget by the time that a coffee is poured. Ah, speaking of, you could really do with one of those right now.

It was like he had read your mind, as per usual you'd found with him, as a cup of coffee exactly to your tastes had found its way onto your desk.

"Ah, thanks Mr. Kira."

You'd found yourself coming almost quite close with the man, despite him usually keeping to himself and separating home life from work. Well, as close as one could get to someone who seemed to distance himself from those who worked with him, anyway. In a way, you'd found it rather admirable. Some colleagues may have thought the same, or disregarded it entirely, with how they fawned over him. It was pretty gross to watch, but you tended to keep such thoughts to yourself. Life was easier that way, as less drama came from it.

Besides, you could see where they were coming from in a way. It was clear to anyone with functioning eyes that Yoshikage Kira was attractive, with immaculate taste that only seemed to compliment naturally good looks. Especially with his smile, which seemed so broad and genuine. You envied him in a way, with beautiful features and a smile that could make many a heart skip a beat.

Though you supposed that you were no exception.

Even now, after so many coffees brought to you and so many small sessions of idle chat, you could practically feel your cheeks redden as he spoke. Voice like honey and smooth as silk, with such a charming expression to match. You could only hope that your cheeks weren't as red as they were warm to the touch. As long as no one noticed, it would be fine. You feared you'd die of embarrassment if your little schoolgirl crush on your coworker was exposed, even at this stage in adulthood. It truly was a pathetic situation. Especially when you couldn't even dream of calling him by his first name else you'd immediately regret it from the sheer embarrassment it could bring upon yourself. Besides, no one called Yoshikage Kira by anything but his surname, seeing as he tended to keep to himself and no one was close enough to acceptably use his given name.

Then that smile emerged, and the revelation that your heart was not immune to the effects of his charm made itself known like a slap in the face. Oh, how the mighty do fall. Or how the pathetic fall further.

"You're welcome."

Just those two words, spoken like they were imbued with the very essence of charm itself, and he was gone. You almost sighed, whether from relief for your heart or some sort of wistful longing was beyond you. Perhaps it was even a combination of both, seeing as that would most likely be your only conversation with the man that day. Maybe even for the next couple of days.

That said, your cheeks felt like they were on fire. This interaction had been different, shockingly so, as there was something more than words there.

It was almost funny how things so quickly changed. From there you'd ended up in what felt like some sort of alternate dimension, as strange and silly as such a thing sounded.

"Don't kill me...! Please- please! I won't tell a soul, I swear!"

It was just a drunken night out; the first in a while and a chance to catch up with some old friends for the first time in a long while. Your separate careers had prevented you doing so for a good few months at the very least. And oh, how you'd wished it had been delayed for a few months longer. How nice it was to imagine how differently it could've all gone, to find comfort in the infinite possibilities of 'if', to seek shelter in it away from the harrowing present splayed out in front of you.

Or the lack of things splayed out in front of you, that is.

You were just a normal office worker who liked their morning coffees a little too much. This sort of strange, otherworldly phenomena were way beyond you. Was this some sort of dream? A sick joke that life had decided to play on you?

It was easy to believe that. Much too easy to fall into disbelief. And yet you couldn't do it, with your throat feeling like it was being constricted torturously slowly, closing in on itself little by little. Fraction of a millimetre by fraction of a millimetre. Tear ducts had long since dried up in your panic and sheer, unbridled fear. How useful they'd be now, adding any sliver of extra punch to your last resort: begging for your life from what you had believed to be your just-as-normal coworker.

His gaze was cold. Sharp as it seemed to pierce you completely, and only further convinced you that it was over. Useless to do anything but sit there on your just as useless, quaking legs and take the death he'd grant and hope to any and all forms of God that it'd be quick. Hell, maybe he'd just erase you completely. Like what had happened to the rest of your friends, drunkenly foolish in their suggestion to follow your coworker for the sole purpose of revealing your mundane, fruitless crush. How childish it was, and how unfathomably huge the consequences were. How what you'd stumbled in on, little more than a hand with no body in sight that he grasped so tightly onto, with a strange smell and thickness to the air. How quickly his head had snapped around as you'd all turned around the corner into the apartment's living area, bumbling and brainless as you'd almost literally stumbled upon such a horrifying sight.

The screams bounced around your head, echoing off each wall of your brain and skull and everything. Vibrating and reverberating through your skeleton, before crashing to a sudden, incomplete halting.

"You weren't meant to be here."

His voice was smooth as always, icy as it never was. You would've described it as uncharacteristically so, if you weren't so firm in your realisation that the Yoshikage Kira that you'd known was little more than a façade for this...

Whatever this was in front of you.

His eyebrows furrowed, perfectly groomed in their shape like every other immaculate thing about him, and you briefly wondered why he hadn't spoken about his obvious displeasure. You would've asked if you could, but the heaving movements of your body quickly told you the reason why.

You were laughing.

"Don't you think," and, as if you weren't already convinced your grave had been dug there and then, you decided to pipe up with your foreign, cracking and hoarse voice, "that I'd love to be anywhere but here, too? You think we followed you asking to..."

Asking to what? To continue that question, rhetorical or not, it'd require you to have an ounce of knowledge as to what was going on. You didn't even have a fraction of a fraction of a clue. And so, hysterical laughter finally grinding to a slow and weak halt, just like the rest of you, you abandoned that train of thought and speech completely.

"Just get it over with."

He was still silent, as if listening to the heightening of pride and lack of fear many humans seemed to have when realising that death at the hands of another was inescapable.

"I mean-" it wasn't even a laugh, more of a dry and desperate huff than anything else, "what are you even waiting for? I bet you're enjoying this, aren't you, you disgusting fuckin--"

Then you were cut off, a force akin to a truck at full speed crashing into your neck and

tightening

its

hold.

The prior panic and fear reared its head again in full force, limbs thrashing and clawing at thin air. You could feel the imprints of ghostly fingers around your neck, silently gasping in a greedy attempt for air and out of groundless shock as they pushed and slammed your already disoriented, powerless form into a wall and pinning you there. It was confusion, panic panic panic panic as you continued to struggle.

Air came just after the darkness threatened to invade, and your aching lungs welcomed it with open arms.

Whatever invisible, untouchable hand had grasped your neck was still present, if the grooves threatening to choke you within an inch of your life again were anything to go by.

"Now, now, now," he'd said, moving closer. Each step seemed to bring the already very present threat of immediate death closer, as if even one step into his shadow could wipe someone off the face of the Earth without a trace nor second glance. And, at this point, you'd believe it.

His mouth was moving, words spoken but drowned out by endless roars and waves of deafening white noise. You had to crane your neck to look at his face, and the hand around your throat used its thumb (? did it have a thumb? you didn't know, and didn't care to know at that point) to do so after noticing your lack of effort to do so. His eyes were daggers, and lip curled in disapproval.

You were looking at him, but all you could see were your friends becoming less than dust.

How their eyes, dull and lifeless, blamed you wordlessly with oceans of contempt. It was your fault for not stopping them, for having such feelings for such a monster. Even if you didn't know; you must've known! It was impossible for you not to notice something so inhumane lurking under that mask of pleasant smiles and warm small talk.

Even sharper than his gaze was the pain in your scalp as he wrenched your head to the side. When had he kneeled down? You weren't aware; you weren't present. But you were. Were you? Through his staring, you could see their tears and the unclosed eyes, wide and frozen in time. Doomed to shock and fear for an eternity.

"It'd be wise for you to start listening." They screamed at you, for you. To join them, that you would join them. To run, to lie down and just let him off you already. To scream for help, as if anyone who'd have offered help in the first place wouldn't have come running by now.

"What's the point?"

You were still snappy, it seemed. As if begging him to send you to meet your friends. Maybe you were. It would probably be better than teetering on the line of panic and terrifying calmness, seesawing between them with too much ease and swiftness.

"This is why you should've been listening."

He released your hair, cool and unsettlingly neutral eyes wandering to one of your hands. They were lay by your side now, having given up on your struggling some time ago. You didn't struggle when he picked one up, either, cradling it and rubbing soft circles into it. There was no reaction from you. Just apathy, letting him continue as he liked. It was easier that way, and would bring a less painful fate.

"It seems your manners need some work," neither of you were sure if you were even listening anymore. You doubted he even cared either way, with the way he tended to your appendage, "but there's time. We can improve it, can't we?"

Surely not.

Absolutely not.

If he was meaning what you thought he was meaning, you suddenly found that death seemed much more favourable. Desirable, even, rather than a resignation of yours.

"Don't stare so dumbly."

Yoshikage was quick to chide you there, and even quicker to strike you not-too-gently upside your head. Not quite enough to black you out, but definitely enough to daze you for a good while. Not that it mattered too much if you weren't fully unconscious; your chance of escaping was incredibly slim to none even if you did know the way. After all, Yoshikage's routine was perfect. Always followed meticulously. All he needed to do to make sure you didn't wander was to slot you in there as well.

Your hands weren't the most beautiful. Definitely not when compared to prior girlfriends of his, but (strangely enough) they weren't his main focus for once. It was everything else, too, from the curve of your smile to the lightening up of your eyes, to the way you styled your hair and the scent of your perfume. A combination of the small, meticulously analysed details that made you... you. And this strange fascination made you one of a kind. Dangerous, really, yet he couldn't yet bring himself to be rid of you.

Maybe one day. It would be easier to continue living that way, without you to confuse him so after a lifetime of being certain about everything he'd done. Having planned his whole life, only for you to upset it all and throw off the delicate balance.

He'd make it work. Until the day he could bring himself to rid himself of you, you'd stay no matter what. Even moreso after what you'd witnessed, after you saw what he hadn't planned you to.

Though you won't be seeing much of anything anymore, really. Three rooms maximum don't really offer much in terms of variation in sights.

[hovee-writes]

Pick-up Lines

Chronostasis x Flirty!reader (suggestive crack) Word Count: 1,192 words Warnings: A lot of cringy pick-up lines, swearing, and some suggestive content.

❥ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────• 

Ever since Overhaul started conducting experiments to create a quirk-erasing drug both you and him were pretty much drowning in paperwork.

Well, mostly you.

You two had a deal of some sort which included him being the brains behind the experiments and you being his scribe. Initially, you thought this would be a lot of paperwork at a desk but it actually involved a lot of cardio.

“But how?” I hear you ask. Well, you see, you had to keep running back and forth between the printer room, Overhaul’s office, and the lab. Unluckily for you, the lab was all the way over on the other side of the building from the office...

However, there were some positives to this: you were getting back into shape, and you ran into Hari quite a lot since he was usually running errands around the lab or the office. This was a good thing because each time you passed him you could annoy the ever-loving crap out of him.

Today you decided to try out pick-up lines on him.

Why? He absolutely despises them. Whenever he hears one he just dies a little on the inside. He never gave you a clear reason for why he thinks so, so you just assumed it’s because he’s heavily emotionally constipated.

When you arrived at the printing room to print a few extra copied of the most recent report you noticed that Hari was in there helping Mimic count up money and do other finance-related stuff.

Prior to enacting your plan, you let Mimic know about your plan to irritate Chrono and he agreed to help you out from time to time. In all honesty, you were only doing this because you had a massive crush on Chrono for the longest time and finally wanted to make your move. And this seemed like the best way to do it.

“Hey, guys! Working hard, huh?” as much as you hated small talk, sometimes you had to bring yourself to use it to break the awkward silence. The men only looked up at you for a short moment and grunted in response.

You noticed a bulge in Chrono’s crotch area and concluded that this is the perfect opportunity to use one of the many pick-up lines you had in store.

“Wow, Hari, is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just that happy to see me?” You said smirking at the arrow-haired man.

This must’ve taken him by surprise because his face flushed red and he hesitated to give you an answer.

Once he composed himself a little he cleared his throat and retorted “Yes, actually it is a gun and I won’t hesitate to use it if you don’t stop with this bullshit.”

“Jeez Chronostasis, why do you have to be such a killjoy all the time?” Mimic piped up, hardly containing his laughter.

Unluckily for Chrono, you weren’t going to stop. In fact, you were just getting started.

You were going to do everything in your power to make this week a nightmare for him. While it is true that you could just grow a pair and ask him out like a normal person, where would the fun be in that?

•┈┈┈••✦ :Time Skip: ✦••┈┈┈•

The next day you decided to continue with your plan and torment him a little more.

You were sitting in Overhaul’s office filling in some paperwork and covering for his secretary who was off sick, meanwhile, he was away doing some “business”, whatever that means

At one point Chrono walked in to quickly fetch something and that was the perfect opportunity to use another one of the fabulous pickup lines that you definitely didn’t steal from the internet

“Hey, Hari? Could you answer a quick question?”

“Hm? Sure, what is it?” He asked.

“Is it hot in here? Or is it just you?” You winked.

“Oh my god Y/N not this againnnn” He groaned and walked out, you chuckled at his reaction.

You don’t know why but there was just something so adorable in the way he’d get all flustered like that, that just makes you want to do that even more.

•┈┈┈••✦ :Time Skip: ✦••┈┈┈•

When it was time for your break you made your way over to the dining area to eat your lunch. To your surprise, the place was almost completely empty. The exception being a certain white-hair male sitting at one of the tables in the corner of the room. Bingo.

“Hey Chrono~” You said in a singsong tone sliding into the seat opposite him.

He just murmured a quiet ‘oh no’ under his breath.

In reality, Hari didn’t mind you using all these pick-up lines on him, in fact, he quite enjoyed it. However, being the tsundere that he is he would never admit to this. He doesn’t want to give you that kind of satisfaction.

“So what have you been up to lately?” You asked.

“Um, work? I don’t really get much time off, Y/N” He responded.

“Well yeah, I know, but is there anything you would like to do? If you had the time?”

“Hm, let me think...” he pondered the question for a few moments before responding. “I suppose I could better my English? I know a few phrases but I’d like to be at least semi-fluent.” He answered truthfully.

Ahh yes. This was the perfect opportunity to use yet another one of your many memorized pick-up lines.

“Oh, that’s very interesting! Well, since we’re on the topic of languages,” You started “They say that kissing is a language of love, so would you mind starting a conversation with me?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him.

At first, his face didn’t show much emotion but once he understood what you were insinuating, his eyed widened and he turned into a beetroot almost instantaneously. The thoughts that were flooding his mind weren’t helping either. He was starting to feel a tightness growing in his pants and he needed to escape. Right. Now.

“Y-You know what? I think- I think I’m going to go back to work. I pretty sure that Mimic could use some help” Thanks to you, his almost always calm façade was shattering.

Right when he said that Mimic came into the room. “Actually, Chrono, I don’t need your help today. I finished most of what I had to do.”

‘Shit.’ Chrono thought. ‘Think of something, come onnn.’ 

“I’m going to the bathroom, bye.” He blurted out and speed-walked away. If he had a list of his most awkward interactions, this would definitely be in the Top 3.

You turned to look at Mimic who burst out in giggles. “Is he okay?” You asked.

“Y/N-” He chuckled. “Are you serious right now?”

“What do you mean? I was just trying another line on him and he just got all weird all of a sudden.”

“Girl, you gave him a boner. That’s why he’s acting like that.” Mimic explained and burst into another fit of laughter.

A quiet ‘oh’ was all you managed to get out. On one hand, you were proud of yourself, but on the other, you kind of felt bad.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Hey guys! So I have been on this hiatus for way longer than I expected, and I’m sorry for that. I felt really guilty for not posting for such a long time so I decided to just finish this piece because I promised it a few months back. I must admit that it is not the best but I suppose I just got a little our of shape with writing? I’ll try to start posting more often from now on. I hope you have a lovely day! :3

[paipayaseeds]

(idk if there was a certain person supposed to be at the door i don’t remember the game oops so i just picked kaede bc they need the cameras or some shit idk)(also there’s alcohol in this so if that’s not okay pls tell me to rewrite it or just end it if you want to! i just want to make sure ur okay dandbrjsjnfndan)(also idk man i only have one experience drinking vodka and i hated it so if it’s weird that’s why LMAOFIDJDJ)

waking up with a gasp, she looked up at the monitor mounted to the wall of her room. she winced at the loud volume of the speakers, and at the unnecessary reminder that her life would be cut short tomorrow night. when the tv turned back off, the uneasy feeling in her chest lingered; there wasn’t anybody there to hold her and tell her ‘it’s okay, it’s just the announcement...’ her arm was asleep, and when she looked down, she was hit with yet another reminder of how alone she was, met with the sight of a detective’s jacket... but no detective.

for a good half hour, she tossed and turned on her mattress trying to fall asleep, but to no avail. once she spent the night with shuichi, there was no way she’d be able to spend another one alone again. so, she got up and took a warm shower: one last attempt at relaxing herself enough to fall asleep. (she wasn’t a stinky little bitch-baby like shuicheese across the building). she didn’t care about her face, she wouldn’t have to see it for much longer anyway. she brushed her teeth and combed her hair before changing into some clean clothes. she was going to slip under blanket until she noticed the uniform still sitting there. i should... give it back. it was really just an excuse to go to shuichi’s room. she folded it over her arms and walked over to his door, leaving her mask in her room since everyone would be in theirs anyway. once she got there, though, she couldn’t bring herself to knock. instead, she just stood there with her knuckles barely brushing against the door while she was frozen. eventually, she backed up and folder the clothes neatly and placed them on the floor right in front of his door for him to pick up in the morning.

-

she managed to get a little shut-eye during the night, but not much. she let out a loud groan at the morning announcement before dragging herself out of bed and cleaning herself up for the day. that included putting on her mask. despite it only being two days, out of habit she waited for shuichi to come and walk with her. but, when she stood outside her door and noticed kaede knocking at his door, holding the clothes she had left there last night, she realized that wouldn’t be happening today. she shook her head before heading out the door and towards the dining hall.

when she arrived, she walked into a very weird conversation. rantaro and ryoma seemed to be arguing.

“nobody will be dying, you hear me?”

“you heard the bear, someone’s gotta kick it if you wanna live another day. i’m sayin’ that someone should be me.”

fumiko was a little shocked. why was ryoma trying to sacrifice himself...? he offered a lot to the group, and he helped out with the chores a lot!

“n-no...! k-kill... kill me instead.” fumiko spoke up, making the rest of the room look over and realize she was there. korekiyo seemed to be very interested in the conversation, how brilliant was it to see not one, but two people willing to give up their lives for the sake of others. “i’m- i’m serious.” because you deserve it. rantaro shot her a look that sent a shiver down her spine.

“i said, nobody will be dying. if any of you try anything... so help me god... just- just trust me, alright? don’t do anything stupid.” the green-haired man said, placing a hand on fumiko’s shoulder as he talked before leaving the dining hall. her gaze followed him, and when she turned around she saw a detective and a pianist standing at the doorway, seemingly watching this whole thing go down.

“fuck this, i’m gettin’ somethin’ to drink! if anyone wants to join me, feel free, hmph...” miu said, following in rantaro’s footsteps out the door before opening the entrance to the warehouse. i’ve never gotten drunk before... fumiko thought. she stood there in thought before ultimately deciding to follow the inventor into the warehouse, brushing her shoulder on shuichi’s as she did.

“h-huh? someone actually came?” miu said when she heard the door open. “Y-YOU...? FOR REAL? HAH! i might’ve underestimated you!” the blonde seemed to have known exactly where to go to find alcohol, as if she’s done it before, and she pulled out a bottle of vodka. fumiko stole the bottle from her hands and started downing it like it was nothing.

“w-w-what are you doing....!? H-HOW?” it tasted awful, and she hated it. but being drunk was supposed to be fun, right? so she squeezed her eyes shut and dealt with the pain. the door to the warehouse opened, and fumiko continued drinking. miu was so fucking out of it, she had no idea what was going on. she saw kaede and shuichi at the door and knew what they were going to ask. before she acknowledged them, though, she ripped the bottle from fumiko’s hand.

“give me that,” she mumbled, “WHAT THE FUCK? YOU DRANK HALF-”

“miu!” the pianist shouted, walking towards her, “are the- are they finished...?”

“yeah, yeah, come with me. i’ll give ‘em to ya.” miu stomped out of the room, open bottle in hand, and led the two visitors to her lab. all fumiko did was sit on the ground and rub her head. her whole body felt shitty already from the idiotic way she drank the beverage, the gross taste lingering in her mouth for much longer than she’d liked. it didn’t help that she got maybe an hour of sleep the night prior, which already rendered her ill. what was she thinking? that she would be dead by tomorrow. that’s what she was thinking.

Opening the door to his room, he was met with Kaede, and... his clothes? How did she get his clothes? Voicing his troubled thoughts, he furrowed his brow at her, "W- why do you have my clothes...?" Kaede blinked, "Huh? Wha-?" She looked down at the article she had held in her arms, somehow forgetting she had picked it up. "Oh! I found this outside your door!"

Taking the folded clothing from her hands, he gazed down at it thoughtfully, racking his brain to try and think of why that had been— "C'mon, let's go! You already made me wait long, we have to get Miu's cameras and then you know," She spoke in a hushed tone, a cheeky smile on her face, "Set up the plan."

--

Shuichi found himself balancing on the line of giving her space, and running to her side to check on her—and you know what? It was stupid! He was stupid. What if she got alcohol poisoning? What if she does something rash? Most importantly, why? Throwing away the barrier that prevented him from interacting with the girl he loved, he concluded she had enough space. 

God knows if she forgave or not for his bullshit, but that was beside the point she had just downed half a bottle of Vodka. As he practically dashed to the girl sitting on the ground, he left the disgruntled pianist behind—sadly, this hadn’t been the first time he had done that. 

Slowing down to a stop, he crouched down across from her, subconsciously trying to see her eyes. It was strange, but he found himself wishing for a flashlight to see if the alcohol had kicked in yet.

Shuichi had to shove down the urge to scold her on drinking alcohol, knowing she didn't enjoy yelling nor was it even an okay thing to do. He had put himself on a permanent hiatus from yelling, he didn't want to see her upset like that, not today, and not ever.

"H- hey, uh..." He flinched at his own shaky and awkward voice, feeling the huge difference to how he talked to her before. Things shouldn't have felt so tense between them, today could've been the last day they— No. No, the plan would work.

"Why did...-" Shuichi pursed his lips; why did he bother asking? He knew why, didn't he? Well, maybe he just... didn't want to believe it. "W- were you drinking because of... what you said earlier? A- about the.." He trailed off, expression slightly saddened as he remembered her self-sacrificial remark.

Clearing his throat, he sat himself down fully on the floor across from her; a safe distance as he was afraid she still didn't want to be too close to him. Forcing words out of his throat, he spoke with feigned determination; despite his soul-crushing fear of 'what if the plan doesn't work?', he tried to remain strong. If not for himself, then for Fumiko, right?

"No one is going to have to die. E- especially not you, never... never you." He tried swallowing the rising lump in his throat, eyes focusing onto the ground as he tried to get rid of his emotions. He cleared his throat again, blinking violently as to rid the tears; he wasn't going to cry in front of her. And especially not Miu. "... S- sorry." Ah yes, the apology he had forgotten to give to her when he yelled near her. This fucking prick-

[war-of-paradise]

[Mun] Thank you for your input! It seems that people would like me to try and keep up what I’m doing right now... But I still believe that I’m gonna need a little bit of a rehaul on the character designs (mostly in artstyle, but it’s not gonna be a big change).

I also wanna keep going with what the story is supposed to be doing, so I hope to come back with less hangout with the Gods and more let’s get back to what’s really happening. The Gods were supposed to be used as a way for people to ask for more worldbuilding or backstory elements, but hangout was fun too! Hangouts can only last so long though with what I’m attempting to cobble together.

I’ve been working on personal pieces, if that’s for some reason what you’ve been wondering about. My brain has been on and off for JSAB, and I’m hoping to flip it back on if possible.

Just get to the point already? I’m gonna be on some sort of on-off hiatus haha, during Shapes of May too, huh. I’ll be trying to redraw old art refs, put together an entrance back into the story, while juggling school and personal projects. But, if I’m lucky, I’ll post some small pics here or there or maybe longer pages of pics+lore of the world, if that’s something that would interest someone.

Thanks for putting up with me! I’ll be back hopefully!

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: Part Two! As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block. 

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Grieving process. Age Gap. Character pregnancy. Unrequited feelings. I believe that is all.

Word Count: Roughly 3,200

“Jared!” You screeched just in time to find your body thrown in the air. You didn't let go, tugging the large, heavy weight in after you. The water rushed around your form. Cradling your fall. An angry cry left your lips as you surfaced. Glaring at your friend as he shook out his shaggy, dark hair. “You're such a shit.”

The sound of kids shouting out their own war cries sounded before they followed. The noise was enough to diffuse the mini war for a moment. They were careening their bodies into the water one at a time. Six cannonballs of various sizes.

“Teach you to sass,” He cackled, wincing every so slightly as you splashed at him in mock outrage. You dodged Shep as you bolted away from him; kicking your feet hard enough that Jared couldn't see well enough to dive at you until you had some distance between your bodies.

“Gen!” Before you could bring his wife into the mix, you were tackled again. Losing your shout in the liquid. Jared's unnatural length had given him the advantage. Again.

“They're going to kill each other,” Jensen muttered to Genevieve at the grill. Watching the scene from the corner of his eye. He'd refused to bet on who would come out on top. Both of you were too determined to end the mutual torture amicably.

“The kids will break it up before it gets there.” She answered with a grin as she watched your leg hook Jared's. The towering height was a disadvantage for the first time as you yanked the limb upwards with your entire strength. It slowed him down. His arms couldn't quite reach you before you threw him off balance. Crashing his bulk backwards. Creating waves that all six kids rode out. The high pitched betting on who would be winner making the brow rise towards his friend's wife. “Or maybe not,” The devilish smile on her love's face made her tsk in shame.

The hiatus-bearded forty four year old beside her stopped watching the meat for a moment. Focusing on his best friend and his nanny. You had promised yourself wouldn't leave. It had been just over two years since Danneel had passed away, and you'd kept your word.

For not knowing how to care for other people full time, you'd figured it out in a hurry. Ouchies were bandaged. Homework was helped. Food was prepared just in time for everyone to slink out of the rooms. You'd gone above and beyond. Taking up a housekeeper role, even. No one could have asked for a better person to fill what had been needed.

“He takes her out? He has kid duty.” Jensen warned; his own grin covered as he took a swig of his beer to compose himself. A recent habit he'd invested in when it came to anything involving you. Too many people found themselves asking questions. He didn't want to answer them.

“Fair enough,” She shrugged as she watched Jared toss you like you were a rag doll. “Overgrown children. The both of them.”

“Keeps life a little interesting,” He acknowledged easily. It really had. Helped keep it all lighthearted when things were anything but. It'd helped him survive the worst thing he'd ever experienced. “They're too busy pranking each other to turn their wiles on us, nowadays.” That brought up Gen's brow.

“She's given you wiles, huh?” Her own drink was brought to her lips to keep her face as neutral as could as she watched her friend turn the deadly chromatic gaze her way. Looking for a sign that would tell him to keep his mouth shut. He didn't find anything. Being in the acting business had its perks, and cons, when it came to their friendship.

“She's decided that I'm too serious, lately,” He grumbled. Finger quotes and all. Pulling on the years of playing Dean Winchester for a way to express his displeasure with adequate emphasis. He'd long ago accepted that the Winchester would pop his head up whenever he needed him to. Almost eighteen years on the job did that to a man. “She gets the kids in on the plots. Got Jared in on a few before they turned on each other.”

Jared had eagerly adopted a new victim in his favorite sport. Jensen had lost the urge to get down and dirty years ago. After an incident that may, or may not have, involved stink bombs in a trailer. He reserved his angst for Misha and other cast members. However, that didn't mean that he didn't enjoy watching his best friend meeting his match.

It was nearly as explosive as when him and Jared had been younger. The only thing that prevented a forced truce was the amount of space and time apart that you two experienced. It never had a chance to build up and become deadly. Or, that's what everyone was counting on, anyway.

“Did it work?” The Winchester's bitch face was turned her way. Two could play the acting game. She just read it better, “So, it did.”

“It's been two years. I don't need checked on, constantly,” He grumbled. Taking another swig as he flipped the burgers and hot dogs. She wasn't quite sure if he was talking about you or her nosing about.

“Jensen-”

“I'm fine, Gen...Really...I'm great.” She didn't look nearly convinced. Impatiently waiting for him to continue. He didn't disappoint. Unleashing the verbal diarrhea in a torrent after a moment of silence. He'd been stewing for too long. “She just...she's something else.” That seemed to catch her attention even more.

“Are you two fighting?” The question was carefully let out, ensuring that he knew she wasn't trying to push too hard. Simply expressing a bit of concern.

“No,” He scoffed. Despite that it's actually what he'd tried to enact more than once. You were just unshakeable. “She's just...she's always there, you know?” He sounded weak to his own ears, but that didn't stop the word vomit leaving his lips. “And she's always... on top of everything. God forbid I tell her what to do.” Every thing that had been itching at his nerves burst forth. “That's another thing! She isn't intimidated. At all. I told her to take a day off, or she's canned. What'd she do? She laughed. Laughed!” He was going to lose his mind over the saucy nanny. That much he was sure on.

“And you don't like that?” Gen's teasing tone made him mentally kick himself in the ass. His long suffering parent face came out at that. She missed the point. “Sounds like the perfect nanny if I'd ever heard of one.”

“She's not just a nanny,” He was aware that he sounded like a sulking child. It made his shoulders straighten even more. His voice deepening in frustration. “She joined the damn family. When she shouldn't've had to. Y/N was supposed to get back on her feet, and moved on.”

The lingering guilt came forward. You hadn't wanted to be trapped in role. Yet, there you were. All for his family's benefit. His benefit.

“Doesn't seem to bother her,” Genevieve noted, nodding her head subtly towards the scene in the pool.

You'd gathered reinforcements. Jensen's three helped you knock Jared under the water again while his own children simply cackled around the attack zone. All it took was a simple bribe from their chief to get them to join in on the battle. Suddenly, the pool erupted into full blown war fare.

Waves crashed over the edge. Floaties went flying through the air. But, everyone knew their limits. Tenderly, you all rode the thin line that would lead to death as you wrestled in the chlorinated pit.

“It should,” He grumbled. It had at one time. The memory of you insisting that you couldn't fill the void echoed in his brain. People didn't change that much. No, if you were okay with it? There was a reason. And there was only one he could piece together enough to make some kinda sense. “She's using us for a crutch. She should be out there. Looking to start her own family.”

He'd painted the image in his mind. Clear as day, it danced there. He could see you in a bar, taking a down night. Later, with your own family after you'd stumbled into some nice good looking chap who'd appreciate you. God knows that you'd earned it.

“Ever think that she doesn't want to?” The idea was dismissed before she even finished it. After all, what woman didn't want someone of their own? “She's a big girl, Jensen...She can decide when she's ready.”

“You don't always get to choose,” His answer was softer that time. Thinking of the turn his life had taken. “You don't always get time.”

His own lack of time still haunted him more than he'd acknowledge. Jensen had wanted forever. Instead, he'd gotten a sliver of it. Best damn sliver of his life, but still. It hadn't been enough. He wanted his wife back. Wanted the life they'd been denied.

“I know,” She would have offered him a hug if his expression hadn't turned back to the mulish expression that often resided in his character's face at the soft words.  It was his way of coping. Emotions turned deadly. He wouldn't- couldn't give into it. Not in front of the kids, anyway. Alone in his room was a different story. “Have you tried actually talking to her?”

“She treats me like one of the kids,” He muttered with a soft scowl that made Gen bite back a laugh. “Actually, that's not true. I get lower. She gives the kids more attention when they take up a problem with her.” The sulking was back in full force as he nudged at the meat, once again. It was the one trait of yours that drove him crazy. That easy dismissal of his concerns.

“I can talk to her-”

“No,” His head jerked her way in dismay. He didn't want anyone fighting his battles. Didn't want you to feel that he was forcing you out. “No,” He cleared his throat; this time speaking more calmly. “I'll figure something out...providing Jared doesn't kill her.” His eyes locked onto your form as you tried to tackle the bigger man, and failed. Laughing as you were tossed around like a rag doll.

–

“I still have water in my ears,” You grumbled back at the Ackle's fortress. Trying to dislodge the liquid by shaking your head. It was useless. You'd have to pull out the cotton balls and rubbing alcohol to try and draw it out. “Your friend is wicked.”

“You started it,” Jensen shot back, setting the dish he'd dried back into the cupboard.

They'd been discarded from that morning, before the small get together. Going to sleep with a dirty sink had turned into one of your pet peeves. So, there you were. At midnight. Cleaning dishes next to your employer and friend...of sorts.

“Fair point,” You relented, passing him the pan you'd just rinsed.

After nearly three years? You'd had no problem taunting the man who'd once intimidated you. The puppy-like beast could truly do damage if he wanted. Jared simply never had the desire to inflict permanent harm. Rather stuck to temporary discomfort.

And, you loved every bit of it. It made you feel welcomed. Placed on equal footing, despite the fact that you were the furthest thing from famous.

“I think it's time to replace this thing,” Jensen muttered as he shifted the thinning towel to a dry spot to work on the metal more.

“I can do this on my own, you know.” You pointed out without malice. After all, that's what you were paid to do. A job that you didn't particularly mind, either.

“Figured Jared kicked your ass enough, today.” The wry grin made your eyes roll before you turned away. Ignoring the way his chuckle made your stomach knot.

It wasn't a new feeling. Simply one that you couldn't focus on. He'd had that soul deep kinda connection that you longed for before. So rare that you doubted you'd ever find it. Not only was he still madly in love with Danneel. But, there was also the issue of him handing over a paycheck weekly. Even if you were willing to bend the rules a bit? He wouldn't. So, you turned back to what you could focus on. The dishes.

“I can take it from here,” You returned when you gathered your wits back to where they belonged. It took longer than you had liked. “Besides, you have a flight in the morning. You should get some sleep.”

“Sure thing, mom.” His dry tone was telling enough. You were being blown off. “You sure you can handle them on your own?”

His anxiety over the trip was both endearing and frustrating. On one hand, you understood it. The kids were his everything. He hadn't left their side for longer than a few hours since they'd lost their mother. On the other, it almost hurt that there wasn't enough trust built up to give him relief for a single weekend. To let you step in and care for his family as if they were your own. Hadn't you already proven your worth?

“I'll be fine,” You waved him off with a sudsy hand. Blowing him off as easily as he had your concern. He and Dee had raised some pretty fantastic kids before you'd stepped in. They'd stay that way over two days without their dad. You'd make sure of it. “You need some time to yourself, Jay.”

“When do you ever get that?” He pointed out, jumping on his opening. Your eyes rolled back so far that it was painful. Rehashing the now familiar argument.

“I'm starting to think that you're trying to get rid of me,” His horrified look your way was ignored as you pressed your point home. Making him understand exactly how it was coming across each time he pushed. “If you don't want me around-”

“Did I say that?” The answer was so Dean that you had to bite back the chuckle. He'd only get more worked up, again, if you did. So, you resisted the urge. The kids were out. Neither of you wanted to wake them. “I just think that you need a getaway- one that doesn't include my kids.”

“Are you kidding? What fun is it to go to the beach on your own?” You'd joined the family on their excursions. Everything from the family vacations to trips to conventions. You'd even stayed in Toronto when it came time to film Supernatural. Ensuring that Jensen hadn't needed to worry for a second about his children. Instead, he'd begun to direct it towards you. “I'm not missing much. Trust me. Been there. Done that.”

“Are you still hung up on-”

“I should have never told you that story,” You muttered before he could finish. He'd never forgotten. Or let you forget that you'd confided in him. It was the first thing that had made him give you a second look. “I have bad taste, Jensen. Notoriously bad taste.” He wasn't going to argue there. The guy in question was a douche. “I'm not bringing anything like that home with me, again. There's not enough sage in the world to get rid of that kind of energy. You really should thank me.” A sad smile lined Jensen's face. Danneel had been known to burn a bundle as needed. The tradition had lived on, even just for memories sake.

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat. Taking the hint, finally. “I shouldn't push.” The look on your face said that you agreed. Silence ensued as the nightly chore was wrapped up before you went your separate ways. The issue only held away for another day.

–

“We're good. Go have fun,” You winked over the snapchat. Jensen could see all the girls in the back. Odette had taken the place of Zeppelin for the night. The boys were all with Gen. The children's own request.

You pulled away from your face to record the dance party that was taking place to Little Mix's Salute. Makeup covered all their little faces haphazardly. Your own face carried the telling marks of a young child's heavy handedness. Boas and frilly pink pajamas filled the room. All had embraced their inner female, looking remarkably fierce as they yelled the lyrics.

You ended it with a little lip sync action and your own, half-assed salute. He found himself replaying it for the simple, wide smile on your face as you turned away in the end. You'd seemed happier than he'd expected. His fingers rubbed over the bridge of his nose. Maybe you and Gen had a point.

“Dude, you okay?” Jared's shoulder jostled his best friend lightly, making the shorter one jerk away from his phone. When he glanced back, his reflection stared back at him. A flower crown rested over his forehead. His back straightened as he locked the screen, and tucked the device back in his pocket.

“Fine,” He answered easily. His hand ran through his hair. A simple tell. “Y/N was just checking in.”

“It's hard to be away from them,” The understanding tone made Jensen's tension fall a bit. It was ridiculous to even try to hide it from Jared. “I get it, man.” The large hand clasped against his arm. “If you want to bail, I'll find a way to cover-”

“I can't do that to the fans,” He shook his head. They'd all been so patient. So damn sweet after he'd lost Danneel. They deserved more than him flaking out. Again. “No, she's got it.” A crooked side smile pulled up his face, “Besides, Gen would kill me if I left you alone. You're practically bursting at the seams.”

“Am not,” The little shit eating grin said otherwise. A look that called bull was the only response he got. “Okay, but number four being on the way is kind of a big deal.” Fatherly pride was contagious.

“Yeah, man, it is.” With a sigh, Jensen pulled himself together. Determined to fall back into old patterns as much as he still could.

Years ago, Danneel and him had said they were done. Hell, even on live TV. Yet, so had Jared and Gen. There was no predicting how life would go. What turns would come forward.

Jensen was happy for his friend. Hell, his brother. He'd be there for them and the kid. Just as they had for him and his brood. But, it didn't settle the pit in his gut.

His focus lingered on the what ifs that life had left him with. Where would they all be if that car accident hadn't happened? Would the man who'd hit her be behind bars for someone else? He even found himself wondering if he'd have a fourth baby if Danneel was still alive...

Part Three

ODAAT: @winchester-ofthe-lord

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @screechingartisancashbailiff

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @malfoysqueen14​

[smol-and-grumpy]

Better Than Fiction

This fic is a re-post.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: You were reading Dean Winchester fan fictions to pass the time. The fic is still very much on your mind when Jensen came home. So much that you let things slip out of your mouth that should have stayed inside.

Warnings: Smut (dirty talk, masturbation, daddy kink (?))

WC: 2228

Fiction is in italics.

She sits on the edge of the bed, her wetness sweeping onto the bed sheet, probably ruining it, but she couldn’t care less. Dean undresses himself before her very eyes and her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip at the sight. The dim light from the motel’s bedside lamp illuminates the room, bringing out the muscle in Dean’s perfect sculptured body when he finally turns to her, letting her see all of him. All of his adonis-like body that was covered with little scars and she loves each and everyone of them. Some of them, she helped patching up, some of them, were from her, from the time when she went dark and tried to kill him. But every time Dean would bring her back, his voice would soothe the way and guide her back from the darkness into light.

You let out an audible sigh, gripping tight at your phone as you felt a tingly sensation running down your spine and ending up at your core. The writer wasn’t wrong. You always felt speechless when you saw Jensen naked. He had less scars than Dean, but he’s not a hunter now, was he? He just played one on television.

He walks closer. Slowly making his way over to her. Too slowly for her liking but what can she do about it. Dean likes to take his time. Always had. He moves as if he’s the predator and she was his prey. And honestly, she’s more than ok with that. His chest heaving and sinking with every breath he takes. His eyes dark with lust and his lips curves into a smile that means nothing but trouble.

Oh, god, yes.

Your fingers scrolled down on your phone display, eager to read more. Jensen liked to take his time too, but only if said time is available. Normally it’s much quicker but only because they were both so turned on and honestly, the weekends when he’s home, time can be a real bitch and it’s more of a rush. You really can’t wait for the hiatus. Anticipating the slow love making that could drag on for days.

It shouldn’t surprise her anymore to find his body sprinkled with faint freckles. But it always does. It never ceases to amaze her and she always hoped that he’ll let her play connect the dots when they were done.

These writers really have wide imagination. But again, they ain’t wrong.

Dean cups her chin with his index finger and thumb to tilt her head up to be able to look into his beautiful emerald eyes. ‘You ready for Daddy, baby girl?’ He asks, his voice raspy and full of need. And she looks up to him, her eyes sparkling with want.

Fuck.

Daddy? Were you really going to go there? When you clicked on the fan fiction, you didn’t notice the Daddy Kink tag and now you’re too invested to get out. But do you really wanna get out, though? It was weird already, reading a fic about Dean. Well, not really weird but it’s actually Jensen who plays Dean and if he knew, he’d probably be mad. Or maybe he’d laugh at you. You don’t know but you really want to see where this is going. You bite down on your bottom lip, contemplating if you should carry on with what you started. “Oh fuck it,” You muttered to yourself as your thumb dragged the fan fiction to the next page.

‘Yes, Daddy,’ She swallows down the excess saliva that build up in her mouth. Dean’s cock is just inches from her face, the smell of precum intruding but so alluring, ‘I want you, I want my Daddy to fuck my face and then I want you to fuck me senseless…please,’

Oh boy, you were really going there, weren’t you?

You sat upright on the couch, your heart beating just a fraction faster than before and you could feel the stickiness dripping out of your core. Getting off the couch, you walked up to the bedroom, thinking about reading the rest in bed where you could do things to you, because this fan fiction is a whole other level.

‘That’s right,’ Dean grins his predatory grin, ‘tell me what you want me to do to you, baby girl. What you want Daddy to do to you,’ He waves his erection in front of her lips and moves a little closer, the precum smeared tip now grazing her lips, painting on it like lipstick with a liquid so sticky sweet, ‘Do you want Daddy’s cock? Want Daddy to fuck you good, plow that enormous dick into your tight little cunt, huh?’

Ok, but that almost made you giggle.

It was slightly too much dirty talk and Jensen would never say things like that, not that you wanted him to. And honestly, how do they know that Dean - well, Jensen - has a big dick? You wouldn’t use the word enormous, but yeah, it was big and it was glorious and just thinking about it made your skin prickle with anticipation. When will he be back? The flights got delayed and you’ve been waiting so long already and you don’t even know how you wound up looking for Supernatural fan fictions on the internet but here you were, adding fuel to your arousal that doesn’t seem to cease.

‘Open up, baby,’ Dean purrs and she did what she was told, opening up her mouth just enough for him to sink in the tip of his cock, the tang of precum salty weird but oh, so familiar on the tip of her tongue. She closes her lips around his head, sucking in all the precum she could, and Dean let out a growl of desperation. She opens up wider, enough for him to sink half of his cock into her wet, awaiting mouth, ‘yeah, that’s it, baby. Just like that, good girl. Always good for Daddy.’ She loves when he praises her, the praise sending arousal right to her core.

Of course she would be a good girl. Dammit. You got out of your pants and tossed them somewhere on the floor. Your panties followed suit and then you were lying there, clutching your phone in your one hand as the other one threaded through your slick, touching you where you wanted to be touched most, right in this moment.

“Babe, I’m home!”

The familiar rumbling bass of his voice came from downstairs, making you jolt up in bed. You tossed your phone next to you as you tried to scramble to your panties and jeans, putting them on before he would be here but it was too late. Damn him and his long legs and the way he always took three flights of stairs at a time.

The door swings open and a bearded, smiling Jensen was looking at you from underneath his cap. They wrapped up a little more than a week ago but he stayed behind to sort out some things with his apartment and honestly, this had been the longest you’ve been apart from him.

“What are you up to?” He came in and closed the door behind him as he dropped his cap onto the bed. You’ve had a hard time covering up your modesty, trying to act normal - well, as normal as you could with a bare crotch and the blush in your cheeks.

And Jensen knew, oh how he knew, because he was strolling over to your side of the bed with a stupid grin on his face.

“Babe, you couldn’t wait? Had to start the party without me?” He tried to sound disappointed but you knew that he wasn’t. Not in the slightest.

“I…uh…” Your brain worked overtime, trying to build up phrases that could get you out of this situation - or at least make it less embarrassing for you. You couldn’t tell him that you’ve read Dean fan fiction and it got you all hot and bothered, could you?

“I’m sorry, I was just… I’ve waited so long already,” You said, grinning as his hand caressed your legs. The touch was electrifying, making you weak in your knees and you were glad that you weren’t standing up.

Jensen moved you, scooting your ass close to the edge of the bed before he bent over you, his lips claiming your mouth as if it was his. It was, technically. Never been anybody else’s since he laid eyes on you. Never wanted to be anyone else’s.

“Fuck,” He growled low, the sound desperate and needy as he ground his clothed crotch into your soaking pussy, rubbing his erection against your wet heat and making you whimper something incoherent. What are words? They were too overrated, “I want to do so many things to you,” He kissed a trail down your jaw, “but I gotta be in you, feel your tight warmth, alright, baby?”

Was that a question you needed to answer? You didn’t know because you couldn’t.

Jensen’s shaking hands found his belt and undid it quickly, his fingers unbuttoning his pants hastily before he dragged the fabric of his jeans and underwear down, his leaking and very much big cock springing free, slapping wetly against his stomach.

He took his time to marvel at you, your dripping pussy glistening in the daylight that shone through the bedroom window. “I would love to taste that, but I’m going to do it later. Now? I just need to be inside of you.”

Fine by you, really.

Jensen fisted his hard cock, running it through your slick, coating the head of it with your juice before he lined up just at your entrance and sank in. Slowly at first until he was halfway in, making the both of you moan out. “So good,” He panted, pulling out again so that only the tip was still inside of you and you whimpered at the loss.

He looked you in the eye, smirking mischievously, before he pushed his hips forward, slamming home in one clean stroke, making you yelp and moan the word that should not be said aloud. “Ah..D-daddy…” It came out before you realized it and you quickly slammed your hands over your mouth, eyes wide agape as Jensen froze inside of you.

“What?” He asked, almost out of breath.

Your heart started to race and all the blood rushed up to your head.

“What?” You countered him, asking him the same question to distract him and you weren’t even sure if he heard it because your hands were still over your mouth.

“What did you just say?” Jensen was still inside of you, he lazily circled his hips just so he won’t get out of rhythm.

You knew that there’s no escape. He heard it and you will never be able to live this down. Oh, Jensen would make sure of that, alright. So the only rational thing to do is to remove your hands from your mouth and face the imminent embarrassment.

“I..uh…” You stammered, “I’m sorry, I read this Daddy Kink Dean fan fiction and I guess I couldn’t shake it off.”

He frowned at you at first because he told you before that he didn’t like for you to go snoop on the internet and read fan fictions. So, you were expecting that he would abort his mission and give you hell for doing it.

“Dean fan fiction? Really?” He asked, his movement completely stilled now.

“I’m sorry. In my defense, it wasn’t Jensen. It was Dean and he apparently likes to be called Daddy in that fan fiction and I was too invested to stop reading.” No matter what you would say, there’s no escape out of the hole you just dug yourself in.

Jensen said nothing for a whole minute and when he opened his mouth again, he started to chuckle, leaning down to kiss you. His tongue grazed at your teeth before he sucked in your bottom lip and opened up wider for him to claim your sweet mouth. He parted after, his forehead still resting on yours, “It’s ok. I didn’t know you’re into it.” He said gently, and then he stood upright, pulling at your top on the way up and twirled his fingers around your nipples, coaxing out moans that sounded a lot like ‘Daddy’ but you managed to bite on your tongue. He rested his hand on your thighs as he pushed them apart and up, almost folding you in half.

“I’m not!” You protested loudly.

“Really?” Jensen did the thing again, where he looked at you with raised eyebrows and that look in his eyes.

“Fuck…” You let out a frustrated groan, “..ok, yeah, maybe I do like it a little bit? Are you satisfied now?”

Jensen threw his head back and laughed out loud and it took him a moment to compose himself. He cleared his throat then, trying to speak but he was still laughing with tears in his eyes.

“I actually am satisfied with your confession, yes. Now, let’s see how many times Daddy can make you come, shall we, baby girl?” He winked and grinned devilishly, one of his hand cupped your pussy, thumbing at your nub before he pulled his dick out to just the tip again and slammed into you, making you choke out another “Daddy…”

[cbseung]

cobblestones: modern prince hyunjin - [part 7]

[masterlist]

[pt 1] [pt 2] [pt 3] [pt 4] [pt 5] [pt 6] [pt 7] [pt 8] [pt 9] [pt 10] [final]

pairings: hyunjin x reader

w/c: 1,198

a/n: hello i’m back i hope you enjoy!!! end of finals so end of my semi-hiatus!! i wanna write something almost every night so we’ll see how long i can pull that off !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑ 

description: an oddly timed confession from the etheral prince himself does not go unnoticed!

the rest of the morning was..

pretty awkward???

for you at least 

after that whole “whoops sorry i accidentally cuddled you in the middle of the night” and “oh no i kinda liked it and it left me a stuttering MESS”

incident..

you kinda felt awkward around hyunjin

and yeah so what you kinda liked it

so what you liked hugging hyunjin

it’s not like you like him or anything

pssh

don’t you remember you like

HATE him

“hey, y/n, ready to go? mother needs me back at the castle, something about errands for the ball? and you’re coming with me! we need to meet with the caterers to make sure all the menu is all set and we need to check on the invitations and make sure they’re up to mother’s standards AND we need to check on our alterations for the outfits AND make sure we have all the jobs set up for all the workers

“.. hyunjin this sounds like a you problem??? are you serious do i really have to go with you 

“yes! so it’s a good thing you love me!”

0_o br0

“whAT? I DON’T!”

“yes you do, it’s written all over your face”

“shut up! i don’t!”

“whatever, you’re still coming with me though”

so you spent the day with hyunjin

once again

and you didn’t hate it! 

he said stuff like

“you’re really pretty when you’re stuffing your face with cake”

LIKE BRO WHAT EXCUSE ME DO YOU HEAR THAT EXACTLY THERE’S NOTHING THERE BECAUSE YOUR HEART LITERALLY! STOPPED 

and he did stuff like

“got you coffee when you were in your dress fitting, it’s not the same as coffee on cobblestone streets but it’s the best we can do!” d=(´▽｀)=b

“oh i got you a sandwich because i don’t think we’re gonna have time to get lunch but i don’t want you to pass out so here”

so like

duh your heart is gonna flutter 

but like you don’t like him

you swear

it’s not like

his smile makes you smile or anything 

and it’s not like his general presence makes you happy

or when he brought you that coffee and sandwich that means he was thinking about you or anything 

a crush?

on prince hyunjin?

... nope not you no way 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

but anyway

by the time you and hyunjin finish all the errands, it’s dinner time

you walk in the dining room

cracking jokes and insults as usual

because i guess that’s your thing now

“bro how can you say that obviously pancakes are better than waffles”

“bro do you ever just shush”

“me? shush? have you met me”

you sigh, “sadly i have”

for the first time, hyunjin’s mom is having dinner with you, hyunjin, yeji, and felix

so you kiinda knew something was up

“have you kids got a date to the ball yet?” hyunjin’s mom asks the moment you sit down

oof there it is

i mean like

you were thinking about the impending ball

and sure going with felix would have been fun

so why did a part of you not want to go with him anymore?

you’ve entertained going to the ball with hyunjin

how can you not? you’ve spent so much time with him the past couple days 

and seen the charm 

yes! charm! you said it

that he has

and you can’t help bu-

“oh yeah! i’m taking y/n!” felix says

but think of him taking you instead

you glance over at hyunjin to see his reaction

for what reason? you’re not sure either

but for some reason

his face kinda..

dropped?

“o-oh um yeah i’m going with felix!” you say as you give a slight smile 

while still looking at hyunjin

you grit your teeth because

why 

do you care about hyunjin’s opinion so much

“ah is that so? i guess i’m asking princess mirai then” hyunjin states

“ah! mirai? she’s so sweet and lovely! you’ll have a great time with her!”

“...yeah” hyunjin dejects

let’s just say

it’s a weird sight seeing hyunjin so quiet for the rest of the night

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

the following day, you don’t see hyunjin at all

and like

you were sad about it for the whole day

i mean

it was just a day? but you’re still sad

oh god why am i so clingy i’m NEVER like this

you don’t see him the rest of the day

or the following day

and the one time you did

he looked really sad

like weirdly sad

“..hey hyunjin?”

“oh ,. hey y/n sorry i can’t stay and chat i have to go”

“but i haven’t seen you in days! you could have asked me for help if you had stuff to do”

“i’m sorry .. i just can’t” he says as he walks away

... that was a weird interaction

like what happened?? 

you try to rack your brain 

but nothing comes up

yeji obviously notices

and drags you two in a room

“okay. you guys have been all around the palace with your sad mopey faces and i’m SICK of it. it’s been so quietly lately, so you two aren’t leaving until you FIGURE. IT. OUT.”

and with that said

yeji slams the door

and you get up to leave

because the silence? no thanks

so you pull

and pull

and pull

and even push for the fun of it

“um.. she really locked it huh.”

“i guess”

.....

...

....

“oookay bro what’s your problem? i feel like you’ve been ignoring me the past few days.. do you wanna talk about it?”

“not really.”

“have you met yeji? you know she really won’t let us leave unless we sort it out”

“ah good maybe then you won’t be going to the ball with my brother” hyunjin mumbles.

wait

what?

did you hear that correctly???

“hyunjin what?”

“nothing..”

“you don’t want me to go to the ball with felix?” 

“.. no i don’t.”

“??? wtf what do you mean i can’t go to the ball with your brother? you heard your mom right? she said we can’t go to the ball without a date”

“yeah i just.. wish you’d go with me”

waaaaaiiiiittttttttttttt

hhaha

hhahahahah

hahahahahhahahahhaha

“i’m sorry?”

“go to the ball with me y/n”

wow 

woW!

“but.. hyunjin..”

“i know, i know you like felix and stuff, and as your friend i should be happy for you,, but i’m not.”

“haha friends? we’re friends?”

“yeah y/n i do.”

“hyunjin i literally don’t know whether you’re kidding or not”

“you know what y/n? that’s okay. i wanted to be friends since paris but i guess you didn’t feel the same way. 

“hyunjin i-

“in fact! surprisingly! i like you, y/n, like i have feelings for you, y/n”

hahah

hahaahahahahahh

what?

feelings?

for prince hyunjin?

a prince? so ethereal as he? has a crush? on you? 

“hyu-”

“no listen, i know i sprung a lot onto you, so if it’s okay with you, i’ll be taking my leave. i hope to see you around.”

and with that hyunjin left you alone with your thoughts

oh boy 

what are you gonna do now

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

a/n: i’m gonna be honest with you, i DO have a direction for where this story is going i don’t know why it’s taking so long for me to write it? i also don’t really like how i wrote it and tbh i kinda wanna do a rewrite but that’s too much 

so i’m gonna finish the story first and then we’ll go from there!!!

n e ways, hope you enjoy!