#... these men will be the fucking death of me

[superbdragoncollection-stuff]

They also did it because they loved that he killed "commies". Something I think people forget is how much in the famous poem, so many people approved of the deaths of some but not others. That is the point of the poem, yet I think it's something society has not dealt with properly.

am disappointed by the lack of connections to another period in history.

You know who else really loved to scream about immigrants, how bad the government was, how bad public education is, really loves to kill people, and threw a fit because they lost an election?

The Rebellion against the united states, AKA the so-called confederacy. They ALSO, claimed that the economy would be lost. They ALSO claimed that without slaves they couldn't compete. They ALSO said EVERYTHING THE CONSERVATIVES DO NOW, BECAUSE THEY ARE ALMOST THE SAME PEOPLE.

their leaders, a lot of rich white men from the south, insisted the progressive party of 1860 was unconstitutional because it was abolitionist.

They IMMEDIATELY seceded when Lincoln won. he DID NOT DO ANYTHING. HE WAS NOT EVEN INAUGURATED YET.

They said in their declarations of secession that the abolitionist majority of the country had taken over. as in... they complained that they lost the election. THAT IS WHAT THEY SAID.

The South seceded because a man associated with the abolitionist party got into the white house. They had control of it for DECADES. IN fact, before Nixon, the worst presidents we ever had were Zachary Taylor, Franklin Pierce, and James Buchanan, the guys who led up to Lincoln.

The South HAD NO LEGITIMATE COMPLAINTS, AND NO RIGHT TO SECEDE. "MOMMY, THE BIG BAD VOTERS OFFENDED ME BY SAYING I COULDN'T OWN SLAVES". They killed 3 out of every 100 Americans over a fucking TEMPER TANTRUM, and have the GALL to pain themselves as victims ever since.

You know what the difference is between former US Army Colonel, mass murderer, and terrorist Robert E Lee, and Osama Bin Laden is? LEE HAS A HIGHER BODY COUNT. Lee is the biggest murderer of Americans in a single day than anyone else in history, and putting up statues to him is tantamount to putting up bin Laden statues. Former US senator and terrorist leader Jefferson Davis led the war that killed more Americans than anyone else COMBINED.

These are the greatest traitors, murderers, and MONSTERS in American history. they were cowards, and got off practically scot free. Lee, "blood dripping with the hands of murdered innocent's" in the words of judge underwood, tolerated plenty of abuse of POWs in that time, and when questioned, pretended to not know a thing.

So, the greatest white supremacist mass murdering slavers, who went into battle screaming "I'M A BAD PERSON" while wearing t-shirts saying "I hate democracy and freedom", are idolized in the US as bastions of freedom and liberty. They were authoritarian bastards who wanted to plunge millions of American citizens into never ending slavery, they were the worst monsters the US ever fought outside the Nazis. Fighting them, bashing their damned skulls in, burning their cities, and finally subduing their damn white supremacist skins was one of the greatest things the US ever did.

And half the country idolized these OBJECTIVELY MONSTROUS PEOPLE for a century.

The roots of the current crisis lie not simply in WWII, in the white supremacist history that came from letting these jackals, these murderers, these monsters in the shape of men get off, and allowing their white supremacist children to write the history books.

Yo, correct me if I am wrong please, but didn't Hitler rise to power because he promised to fix the German economy and people really liked that so they looked past everything else he was doing??? Like exactly what's happening in America right now???

So many people said they voted for Trump, put a truly evil person in power, because he said he'd fix the economy, and a little voice in my head is going, "Isn't that what happened with fucking Hitler??"

But I've seen no one point that out so maybe I'm miss remembering???????

[luxiomahariel]

NEED people to understand that when you say that transphobes think trans men/mascs are "worth saving", that thats an incomplete picture of whats ACTUALLY happening.

"worth saving" means that transphobes think its ok to inflict LIFELONG TRAUMA onto trans men/mascs until we detransition and/or commit suicide. it is still a fate that can lead to death, and if it doesnt then it WILL lead to lifelong disabilities. yet all of that is somehow "easier" to deal with?? give me a fucking break.

[artficlly]

sweetpea [one-shot]

post-apocalyptic marvel au

retired!hero!bucky x fem!reader After the Riftborn War, Bucky Barnes seeks to retire from his past as a hero and settle down, you might just be the peace he’s been looking for all along.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, p in v, against tree sex, outdoor sex, no protection, vague primal vibes, very consensual, kissing, underwear ripping, if you squint, there's some plot, teeth-rotting fluff, it's so cute, bucky barnes is the sweetest, beefy bucky, yelena meddles, steve rogers is horrified, spring festivals, paganism, masks, drinking, mentions of past violence, death and war, mentions of readers previous relationships, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8.9k

A/N: hello! it's nearly my birthday so heres a treat for you all. i've been sitting on this idea for AGES. i've been working hard on the daughter of the rotsál first draft, so i decided to take a break from the angst for some fluffy, cute smut!! please let me know if you enjoy and your thoughts! sorry for any typos - not proof read. permanent tag list: @globetrotter28

main masterlist

Being fucked over the table was not unwelcome but rather surprisingly pleasant, even if it derailed your breakfast plans. 

Leif had always been a rather attentive lover, skilled at pulling orgasm after orgasm out of your needy cunt. He possessed stamina and a hint of roughness that stirred warmth within you, yet something still felt absent. This elusive quality lingered throughout your year together—an unexpressed awareness that simmered between you. Leif was kind, diligent, attractive, and strong. He was considerate, often surprising you with gifts and regularly praising your looks and cooking. Your friends approved of him.

So even if that brief and passionate session had been perfect, him thrusting into you from behind so intensely that your toes curled and you had to press your face against the wooden surface to keep from screaming—you realised it was all somewhat melancholic. The thing that was missing between you and your Springbond was that fabled spark.

The decision to part ways had hurt, but you both knew it was right. A week before you had made the decision, on Mayflame he would move out, and the both of you would be single once more. The morning sex had been a goodbye of sorts, in typical Leif style. Even if you aligned perfectly, you inevitably amassed a long list of differences that broke the perfect illusion. You desired to settle down, concentrate on your work and home, and build connections with those nearby.

In contrast, Leif craved adventure and excitement—obviously, the Bleeding Age hadn’t brought enough danger and activity into his life. He later confessed that he was eager to sleep around more, as he was still a young man exploring his possibilities. This revelation didn’t necessarily shock or hurt you; you had captured his attention for the entire year, far beyond your predictions. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder... were you boring?

After years of undue stress, survival, and several near-death experiences, you were eager to take advantage of the calm that followed the defeat of the Riftborn and the end of the Bleeding Age. You had to remind yourself—somewhat bitterly—that Leif was not the first and would not be the last. 

“Did you see who that was?” Yelena exclaimed from beside you, her hand gripping your forearm tightly. You nearly leapt in surprise, abruptly pulled from your thoughts. Your head turned as you looked back, tracking Yelena’s gaze. “I swear to the fucking gods that was Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes—”

You squinted at the backs of the two men who had passed you by. 

They walked like soldiers—steady, assured, their movements streamlined but commanding. No hesitation, no wasted motion, just the certainty of men who had spent years on battlefields, who had fought and bled and survived when others hadn’t. They were massive, even under their coats, their broad shoulders and thick arms unmistakable beneath the heavy fabric. Towering over the people around them, they carried themselves with the kind of presence that didn’t demand attention but took it anyway.

“The captain and the sergeant?” You shot back, doubt curling around your words as your brow furrowed. “I thought they were stationed in Stonebrook until the village was built.”

“They were… but last I heard, Stonebrook’s finished.” Yelena’s voice had an eager edge; her gaze locked onto the two figures even as they disappeared around a street corner, swallowed by the cobbled streets. “They were invited back for the Mayflame celebrations. The word is that they want to retire from the soldier business now the war is over.”

You rolled your eyes, tugging at her arm with a huff. “Come on, we’re going to be late—”

“But do you think they’ll run in Mayflame?” Yelena pressed, barely budging under your pull. 

“I mean, gods, can you imagine if Steve Rogers was your Springbond?” She exhaled, almost breathless at the thought, her fingers tightening around your sleeve as if the mere idea was enough to set her heart racing.

You grit your teeth, heat rising in your face—not from excitement but from secondhand embarrassment. A group of older women lingered outside your destination, snickering between themselves at Yelena’s loud ponderings. With a sharp yank, you pulled her off the street and into the village hall, the heavy wooden doors thudding shut behind you, sealing away the crisp morning air and her starry-eyed ramblings.

“There you two are! I need all the hands I can get!”

A flustered-looking Pepper Potts intercepted you and Yelena before you could fully step inside, already ushering you towards a large pile of decorations. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, auburn hair pinned haphazardly at the nape of her neck, a sure sign that she had been running herself ragged in preparation for the festival.

“I’ve got half the boys working on the course and the bonfire,” she said, exhaling sharply. “Can you please cart these down and get started on the flowers?”

“Of course,” you replied with a quick nod, already sizing up the pile, considering how best to carry everything down in as few trips as possible.

Yelena, however, had other priorities. “Pepper, are the captain and sergeant joining the Mayflame?” She asked shamelessly, barely masking the anticipation in her tone.

But Pepper had already turned, swept away by the tide of arriving villagers, barking orders as she moved—clearly too busy to entertain Yelena’s curiosity.

You scoffed, sinking your hands into a collection of freshly cut flowers, their stems already bundled neatly for easy transport. You had grown and picked them yourself, much to Pepper’s praise. In recent years, you found comfort in your gardens and flowerbeds. The scent of wild blooms filled your nose, the petals soft against your fingers as you began sorting through them. “Yelena, stop meddling and help me.”

“Fine, but you are no fun!” Yelena groaned, throwing herself down beside you with dramatic flair. Then, as if compelled by some unseen force, she added with a wistful sigh, “I know you’re upset about Leif, but at least let me dream of a raunchy, hero-filled Mayflame.”

Her voice carried farther than she likely intended. Several nearby villagers—some heaving chairs, others hauling tables—stopped mid-task, casting curious glances in your direction. 

Mortified, you didn’t dignify her with a response. 

—

“I mean, you keep saying you’re not upset about Leif, but you’re obviously upset.”

Yelena’s voice drifted up from below, thick with scepticism. She was not taking her duty of stabilising the ladder very seriously. The wooden rungs wobbled beneath your feet, shifting with every careless movement she made. A quick glance down confirmed your suspicions. She was barely gripping the beams, more occupied with craning her neck up the hill, no doubt hoping for another glimpse of the fabled Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes.

You sighed, your arms burning from the strain. You had foolishly volunteered for the painstaking task of weaving flowers through the towering wooden archways that framed the festival’s entrances. The Mayflame decorations were meant to be intricate and beautiful—braided vines, bundles of wildflowers, bright ribbons fluttering in the evening breeze—but at this rate, you’d be lucky if you made it out of this task without breaking a limb.

“I’m not upset,” you grumbled, though your voice lacked conviction. You worked the soft stems of sweetpeas and baby’s breath into a sturdy braid, securing them with twine against the wooden frame. “We made a mutual decision. It wasn’t working. Just a Mayflame fling...”

Yelena snorted from below, unimpressed. The ladder swayed as she shifted, and you tightened your grip, heart stuttering. “You two lived together for a year. I think it was a little more than a fling.”

You exhaled sharply, your fingers tightening around the flowers. “If he wants to run off, sleep around, and travel, who am I to hold him back, Lena? He wanted something different than I did. It never would have worked.”

“I just…” Yelena hesitated. “I just don’t like thinking about you living up on that farm by yourself.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you reached for another bundle of flowers. “Then come visit me more often instead of spending all your nights at the tavern, bothering Nat. I need all the help I can get wrangling those weeds—”

The words barely left your mouth before the ladder jerked violently beneath you.

Your stomach lurched as you wobbled. You instinctively reached for the wooden arch to steady yourself but overcorrected. The shift in weight sent the ladder tilting dangerously, its legs twisting beneath you. The basket of flowers on your hip slipped free, tumbling towards the grass below in a flurry of petals.

“Yelena! The ladder—!”

“There’s a bee in my hair!” Yelena shrieked, her grip altogether abandoning the wooden beams as she flailed wildly. “Gods, if it stings me, I swear—”

You had no time to process her nonsense. The world lurched violently as the ladder lost its precarious balance, tipping sideways with terrifying speed.

Air whipped at your cheeks as you plunged downward. Your arms shot up in a feeble attempt to protect your head, your entire body bracing for the inevitable collision with the earth below.

But the pain never came.

Instead, you collided with something solid—something warm.

A pair of strong arms locked tightly around your middle, yanking you against a broad, muscled chest. The force of your fall sent both of you toppling over; your breath knocked from your lungs as your saviour twisted to absorb the impact. The two of you crashed into the grass in a tangled heap.

A startled squeak escaped your lips as you landed atop them, hands splayed flat against their chest. Their sheer size was dizzying—hard muscle beneath the thin fabric. The steady rise and fall of their breathing made you acutely aware of how firmly you were pressed against them.

For a long second, neither of you moved, your heart pounding as you processed what had just happened. Then, slowly, the arms around your waist loosened. A deep, low voice rumbled beneath you, quieter than you expected yet laced with a restrained amusement.

“Careful, angel. Keep this up, and people will talk.”

Your breath hitched, pulse stuttering as you realised who lay beneath you. Bucky Barnes.

A cold rush of realisation hit like a shock to the system. Your eyes widened in alarm as you took in the situation. Your hands braced against the solid plane of his chest, his body beneath yours, broad and unmoving. Worse, your legs were hooked around his hips, the warmth of him seeping through your clothes—oh gods, were you sitting on his—?

Panic jolted through you. Without a second thought, you scrambled off him in a flurry of movement, heat rushing to your face. Your hands shot up instinctively as if you could wave away the mortifying situation.

“I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Bucky didn’t move immediately. He remained where he was, lying on the ground, one arm bent behind his head. The dappled sunlight filtering through the trees cast shadows on his face, highlighting the defined angles of his cheekbones and the depth of his blue eyes. There was no teasing smirk, no cocky remark—just a quiet, lingering patience.

Finally, with a slow, fluid motion, he pushed himself upright, his expression unreadable. 

“It’s fine,” he assured, his voice smooth but low, edged with something thoughtful. Just a quiet confidence that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

You took a hurried step back, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but the erratic beat of your heart refused to settle. You’d always known of Bucky Barnes—the colder one, the quiet one. The man whose name carried a reputation as cutting as winter’s first frost. Yet now, looking at him, the weight of that reputation felt at odds with how he carried himself.

There was something measured about his movements, deliberate and careful, as though he were wary of taking up too much space.

The silence stretched between you until his voice, softer this time, broke through. “You’ve got a little something…”

His hand shot up before you could reply—quick yet remarkably gentle. His fingers delicately moved through your hair, his careful touch igniting a familiar warmth in your gut.

You froze.

He plucked something from your hair and turned it over in his fingers. A single sweetpea, its delicate petals trembling in the breeze. Bucky studied it with quiet intensity, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Sweetpea,” he murmured, as if the word carried weight, his gaze flicking back to meet yours. How he looked at you—calm yet piercing—made your breath catch. For a fleeting moment, the world felt impossibly still.

Your cheeks burned. You didn’t even know why.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Something flickered across his face, subtle but there. Not quite a smile, but something close, something softer than you would have expected from a man with his reputation.

“You don’t have to apologise,” he said simply. Then, after a beat, quieter: “You could’ve hurt yourself.”

It was such a small thing. Barely even a kindness. You were glad the hero couldn’t sense the throbbing between your legs. Maybe this break-up with Leif had indeed done a number on you, lusting after the first man who showed you kindness... but there was something rather magnetic about the sergeant you couldn’t quite understand. 

You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus and gather the scattered remnants of your pride. Your gaze turned to the abandoned basket of flowers at your feet, a welcome distraction.

 "Right, well, thank you,” you muttered. “I should probably—” 

You motioned vaguely toward the half-finished floral arch, eager to redirect the moment into something less intense. But before Bucky could respond, a sharp, frantic voice shattered the moment.

“Oh, gods! I’m so sorry, there was a bee, and I just—are you okay?” You barely had time to brace before Yelena was upon you, hands gripping your shoulders, her wide green eyes scanning your face as if she expected to find a gaping wound. You squirmed under her touch, cheeks still burning.

“I’m fine, Lena,” you mumbled, trying to pry her hands off you. “Really.”

“Yes, of course! This gentleman saved you—” Yelena cut herself off mid-sentence, her entire body freezing as she finally got a good look at him. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in unfiltered shock. “Wait. You’re Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, barely, but you caught it. A flicker of something. Not quite discomfort, but something close. His posture stiffened, his fingers flexing once before settling back into stillness.

He didn’t confirm or deny it. He just gave a slow, short nod. You saw the way his throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed, the way he held himself—not defensive, exactly, but closed off as if he had already braced for whatever reaction was coming next.

Yelena’s gaze darted between you, her sharp mind working fast. Too fast. There was a feral glint in her eyes, one you knew well. You could practically see the cogs turning in her mind, a meddling scheme already in action. You held back a groan.

Before she could say something truly insufferable, a sharp, shrill voice rang out from across the unlit bonfire.

“There you are! I need more flowers—can you believe it? I thought we’d have enough with all that you grew. Please tell me you have more in that garden of yours!” You blinked, grateful for the interruption, and immediately turned towards the sound of Pepper’s voice. 

“Yes, of course,” you called back, relief flooding through you. “I grew extra just in case. I had a feeling this might happen.” 

“Wonderful! Oh, you’re a lifesaver today,” Pepper’s voice rose in excitement. “Leave the floral arches for now. I’ll have one of the girls help finish them up. If you could just run up to your garden—” 

You didn’t need to hear the rest. 

“Of course!” You cut her off a little too eagerly, desperate to get away from Yelena’s looming interrogation. It was almost like an escape route had opened, and you weren’t about to hesitate. Pepper barely seemed to notice your enthusiasm as she continued.

“Oh, but you won’t be able to carry them all alone, will you? Yelena, you’ll help her, won’t you? And, oh, Bucky, I didn’t realise you were down here already. If I send you and Steve up as well, can you help these lovely ladies?”

You turned towards him instinctively, almost uncertain of what to expect. Bucky, who had been silent throughout the exchange, lifted his head slightly. His eyes jumped towards Pepper, then towards you. His blue eyes were unreadable, his expression impossible to decipher.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Yeah.”

That was it. No unnecessary words, no wasted breath. Just a quiet, steady answer, the same way he seemed to carry himself, like a man who only spoke when it was worth speaking.

Yelena, on the other hand, was already on you like a hawk, latched onto your arm, nails digging through even your clothing as she grinned in excitement. Instead, you held back any protest that wanted to bubble to the surface, donning a hesitant smile. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the afternoon was about to take a turn for the absurd.

There was no way out of this now. 

—

The sun sat high in the sky as the four of you climbed the hill towards the garden. The path was uneven, the dirt packed down from years of footsteps, the scent of wildflowers and earth thick in the warm air. You focused ahead, gripping the empty basket, determined not to meet anyone’s gaze—especially not Bucky’s.

Of course, Yelena had no such reservations. She walked beside Steve, hands clasped behind her back, the picture of feigned innocence. You could feel the question brewing before she even opened her mouth.

“So,” she began, her tone laced with a familiar mischief. “You two were some of the great heroes of the Blooded Age.”

Steve huffed a small, almost bashful laugh. “I wouldn’t call us heroes.”

“Really?” Yelena raised a brow. “Because I’ve heard plenty of stories that say otherwise. You fought monsters, saved villages, built armies—sounds pretty heroic to me.”

Steve glanced at Bucky as if expecting him to jump in, but the other man remained quiet, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. Steve sighed and shrugged. “We did what needed to be done. It wasn’t about being heroes. People were dying, and the world was falling apart. We just... fought to keep it together.”

Yelena hummed, unimpressed with his humility. “And now you’re here. Retired.”

“That’s the plan.”

“You must be very tired.” She smirked. “All that fighting. Saving the world. Carrying such a heavy burden on those broad, broad shoulders.”

You choked on absolutely nothing, coughing into your hand as warmth flared in your cheeks.

Steve cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was time to put the war behind us.”

Yelena turned to Bucky, who had been walking a step behind, silent as ever. “And what about you, Barnes? Tired of fighting too?”

Bucky finally glanced her way, his expression unreadable. 

“War doesn’t leave much room for a future.” His voice was low, quiet, but firm. “Figured it was time to start thinking about one.”

Yelena tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle she was determined to solve. “And New Fernwick is the place to do that?”

Bucky didn’t answer immediately. His attention turned to you—brief and mysterious—before he looked back at the trail. “Seems as good a place as any.”

Yelena smirked, but you reached the garden before she could push further.

“Here we are!” You announced, a little too brightly, desperate to change the subject.

You set your basket down and knelt to gather the flowers, focusing intently on the task. Yelena crouched beside you, plucking a few stems with ease. Steve busied himself as well, his hands surprisingly gentle as he worked.

Bucky, however, remained standing with his arms crossed as he surveyed the field of blooms. After a brief pause, he crouched, reaching for a flower near your basket. You watched as his fingers brushed over the petals carefully and deliberately.

Yelena noticed too. “Didn’t peg you for a flower guy, Barnes.”

Bucky plucked the stem and twirled it between his fingers, his expression unreadable. “You learn to appreciate the small things when you don’t see ‘em for a long time.”

The words were simple, but they settled in your chest, something unspoken lingering beneath them.

Yelena, for once, said nothing.

The silence stretched as the four of you worked, the baskets gradually filling, until until Yelena, as always, shattered it with a single sentence—one that made your stomach drop the moment it left her mouth.

“So, are you two going to do the Mayflame Run?”

Your fingers tightened around the delicate stems of the flowers in your hands, nearly crushing them. Heat flared up your neck, and you snapped your head towards her. “Yelena.”

She only grinned, tilting her head in mock innocence. “What?”

 She batted her lashes. “It’s a fair question.”

Bucky and Steve glanced up from where they were crouched, picking through the wildflowers. The question had caught them off guard. Steve’s brow furrowed, curiosity laced with hesitation.

“What exactly is the Mayflame Run?” he asked.

You parted your lips, scrambling for a way to downplay it, but Yelena was already launching into her favourite pastime—oversharing.

“It’s a spring festival all about welcoming in the new season... new life... fertility and all that.” She wiggled her fingers for emphasis, an impish smirk tugging at her lips.

Steve blinked, his expression shifting into one of wary understanding. “Right…”

The mischief in Yelena’s eyes deepened as she continued.

“The main event is the run. We call it the Springbond Run, but let’s be honest—everyone knows what it’s really about. See, after the Blooded Age, people kind of… forgot how to date. Or just didn’t bother.” She waved a hand as if brushing aside years of devastation. “War, famine, monsters—it put a real damper on romance. And, well, people aren’t exactly repopulating at the rate they should be, so...” 

She shot Steve a pointed look. “The elders decided to encourage things.”

Steve still looked uncertain. "And how does it work?”

You exhaled through your nose, adjusting your basket.

“The women carry torches and run through the dark forest,” you explained, keeping your voice even as possible. “The goal is to reach the clearing on the other side and light the bonfire.” 

You hesitated, dreading the next part. “The men chase them.”

Steve’s brows lifted. “They chase them?”

You nodded stiffly, but Yelena was the one who answered.

“If you get caught,” she said breezily, “you have to date the guy who caught you for a week. You’re now each other’s Springbond. After that, you decide if you want to keep seeing each other or go your separate ways. Most end up sticking it out. Either for marriage or, at the very least, some fun.”

Your stomach twisted as Bucky’s gaze flickered towards you. He hadn’t spoken yet or reacted outwardly, but you felt the weight of his attention pressing against your skin like an unspoken question.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, clearly processing the information. “And what happens to the women who manage to light the bonfire?”

“Oh, then they get to choose who they spend the week with,” Yelena said. "Which honestly makes the whole thing even more exciting. It’s so dark, you don’t always know who’s chasing you until they’re right on top of you, pinning you to the ground—”

Steve choked on his own breath, shifting awkwardly. You clamped your eyes shut, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“Yelena.”

“What?” she said, all false innocence. 

“It’s true. And let’s be real, some people don’t even wait until after the run to start celebrating.” She smirked. “All that adrenaline, all that tension, out there all alone in the woods—”

Steve made another strangled sound, and you wished, for the first time in your life, that you had the power to smite Yelena where she stood.

“And this is normal?” he asked weakly.

You let out a long breath. “Yes. It’s… tradition.”

Yelena’s smirk stretched wider, and a pit of dread opened in your stomach just before she delivered the final blow.

“Oh, she would know,” she said airily. “She’s done it three times.”

Silence.

You felt the shift in the air before you even looked up. Steve was already glancing away politely, but Bucky—Bucky’s gaze was steady, unyielding, waiting. His expression was unreadable, but there was something sharp beneath it, something that made your pulse stutter.

Your mouth went dry. “I—uh—yeah.”

Yelena cackled, delighted. “And she had quite the reputation for it, too. She and Leif turned it into a year-long one-night stand."

Your stomach dropped. Heat flared at your ears, mortification wrapping around your ribs like a vice. Steve coughed into his fist, visibly uncomfortable, but Bucky—Bucky still hadn’t looked away. The weight of his silence pressed against you, heavier than any words could be. He didn’t flinch, didn’t frown, didn’t even raise a damn eyebrow. He just watched as if waiting for you to offer something. An explanation. A reaction.

You swallowed hard.

Yelena, meanwhile, had absolutely no shame.

“Some people take the week actually to get to know each other,” she continued with a smirk. “Others treat it like a festival fling. A week-long one-night stand, if you will.” 

She turned to Bucky then, eyes glinting. “You seem like the type who’d do a Mayflame run.”

Bucky finally exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “You get that from watching me pick flowers?”

Yelena leant in. “No, I got it from watching you look at her.”

Your breath hitched.

Bucky didn’t flinch. Didn’t react at all. He just held her gaze for a long moment before standing, dusting the dirt from his hands with deliberate ease.

“We should get these back,” he said.

That was it. No denial.

Your pulse thrummed in your ears as Yelena shot you a triumphant look, nudging your arm with her elbow. You shoved her back harder than necessary, grabbing your basket with too much force.

—

You had braided sweetpeas into your hair, their delicate petals—a cascade of soft pinks, purples, and whites—woven carefully through your strands. The fragrance clung to you, sweet and fleeting, barely noticeable except when the wind stirred just right. You didn’t know why you had done it. Maybe it was a whim, an idle distraction while you got ready for the Mayflame. Maybe it was some quiet hope you refused to name, a foolish sentiment born from the strange afternoon. Or maybe, worse than all of that, it was the loneliness of returning to an empty house.

Leif had left while you were gone. You hadn’t seen him pack or even heard the door shut behind him. Just silence, so much silence. His absence had been waiting for you like a ghost when you stepped inside. No trace of him remained, save for a few scuff marks on the wooden floor and a half-finished bottle of cider in the kitchen. You had stared at it for a long time before scrubbing the house clean in a fit of confused energy as if sweeping away the dust might sweep away the ache in your chest.

Did you even want to run tonight? If it always turned out this way?

Leif had been inevitable—his leaving, even more so. The one before him barely lasted the week. And the first... gods, the first. You didn’t let yourself think about that one.

Yet here you were, standing in the dark forest, a burning torch in your hand.

The other women huddled together, whispering in excited clusters, their laughter soft and secretive beneath the trees. The firelight flickered over their masked faces, catching on the gilded edges and painted symbols of the goddess of spring. Yelena was causing trouble somewhere in the throng, as always, her voice carrying through the dark.

“I swear, I can pick them out. I just need a second,” she was saying.

You sighed, already knowing exactly what she was up to.

“It’s a useless pursuit,” you had reminded her earlier. “They’ll be masked, everyone will. That’s the whole point.”

And yet, she was determined. You caught a glimpse of her through the shifting bodies, her blonde hair twisted into an elaborate crown braid behind her fox mask, taunting the gathered men. They stood on the opposite side of the clearing, a sea of darkened figures illuminated only by flickering torchlight. The line between hunter and hunted might have blurred if not for their masks.

You fiddled with the edges of your own mask, adjusting it once more against your face. Each mask bore the likeness of a creature of the forest—the women had prey animals: deer, rabbits, and foxes. You had chosen a wide-eyed doe, its carved wooden surface smooth against your fingertips. The men, in contrast, wore the guises of predators: wolves, bears, and great hunting birds.

A shiver trailed down your spine as you scanned their ranks, the shadows swallowing their bodies.

This was fate, they said. A tradition older than the Blooded Age. The goddess of spring would take the helm, guiding her children together. 

Destiny, not choice.

You weren’t sure you believed in fate anymore.

Still, you craned your neck, searching for Yelena again before the race began. Some women had already lined up at the start, their torches raised, waiting for the signal. You pushed through the crowd, weaving past a group of masked rabbits, your torch casting long, twisting shadows over the forest floor.

Yelena stood at the edge of the men’s group, utterly unbothered, her fox mask tilted slightly as she studied them. The smirk you couldn’t see was undoubtedly plastered across her face.

“Lena,” you called lightly.

She turned towards you, still distracted. “You’d think we’d be able to recognise them even with the masks, right? They should be massive, but it’s so hard to tell in the dark—”

You grabbed her wrist, pulling her away. “Come on.”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled.

As you turned, your torchlight swept over a lone figure standing at the edge of the men’s group. Half-shrouded in shadow, his wolf mask glinted in the firelight. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, yet there was an unmistakable intensity in his standing and watching.

You swallowed hard and averted your gaze.

Tugging Yelena along, you stepped towards the start line.

The time was near.

You gathered your skirts with one hand, feeling the rough fabric in your fist. The cool night air licked at your skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Around you, the other women shifted in anticipation, their torches flickering like stars in the dark. Somewhere beyond the trees, the men waited. Watching.

A hush fell over the gathered crowd. Then—

The drum sounded.

The tension snapped, and you ran.

Flames bobbed wildly as the women surged forward, feet pounding against the forest floor. Laughter rang through the night, breathless and high, voices calling to one another before being swallowed by the trees.

Yelena was gone in an instant, lost in the chaos.

You barely had time to register it before you were weaving between trunks, torchlight bouncing wildly in your periphery. Your skirts whipped around your legs, the rough fabric catching on twigs and undergrowth, but you didn’t slow. The forest stretched wide before you, vast and shrouded in shadows.

Adrenaline surged through your veins, heart hammering against your ribs.

It was exhilarating.

You could hear the others somewhere to your left, their laughter spilling through the trees, echoing their footfalls blending with your own. And behind you, somewhere in the dark, the men had begun their pursuit.

The sound of movement grew. Leaves rustled, and twigs snapped. 

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t dare look back.

Instead, you pushed forward, your torchlight slicing through the thick night. The distant hum of music reached your ears, the festival, just beyond the treeline. You were close. So close.

Then—impact.

A weight slammed into you from the side, knocking the air from your lungs. Your torch flew from your grasp, landing somewhere in the brush, its flame sputtering but not extinguished.

You hit the ground hard, back pressing into the cool earth, the scent of moss and crushed leaves filling your senses. Above you, a broad figure loomed, breathing heavily from the chase.

The dim torchlight barely illuminated him, casting jagged shadows across the carved wolf mask that stared down at you. The smooth, wooden surface gave away nothing—no expression, no hint of who was beneath it.

Your pulse thundered.

Around you, the chase still roared on. Footsteps pounded the earth, laughter echoing as others darted past, unseen but near.

You swallowed hard, your breath coming fast, your chest rising and falling. You had been caught.

But gods, it was thrilling.

The figure above you didn’t move, as if waiting—for what, you weren’t sure. His hands were braced on either side of you, caging you in, his breath still heavy from the chase. Yet he didn’t press his advantage or seize you like the others would have. Instead, he lingered, watching.

Then, in the flickering torchlight, he reached for your hair.

You barely breathed as his fingers tangled into the strands, the movement deliberate, almost reverent. Slowly, he plucked one of the deep violet sweetpeas from your braid, twirling it between his fingers before your masked face. The petals fluttered slightly with the motion, fragile between the ridges of his calloused fingertips.

A beat of silence stretched between you. Then, finally, his voice, low, deep, rough with exertion.

“Hey, sweetpea.”

The nickname sent a shock through you, something warm curling in your chest even as your breath hitched. Recognition dawned, sharp and sudden.

“Bucky?” You murmured, stunned.

Even if surprise coursed through you, it made sense. The sheer size of the body hovering above yours, the weight of him pressing into the earth, the controlled stillness…it was him. A reversed echo of your earlier position that day.

“How did you—”

“Your hair,” he interrupted, his voice quieter now, rougher. “You put flowers in your hair. I recognised it.”

He reached up, fingers catching the edge of his mask, and in a smooth motion, he pulled it free. The last flickers of the torch beside you cast just enough light to reveal the sweat beading on his brow, the shadows cutting across his sharp features—and the unmistakable, almost feral gleam in his eye.

Something deep inside you clenched at the sight.

You exhaled a breathless laugh, your hands instinctively sliding up his broad shoulders, fingers curling around the back of his neck. Beneath your palms, his skin was hot, his pulse hammering. “I didn’t think you were running.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He hesitated, head tilting slightly as footsteps dashed past, followed by an excited shriek from one of the other women. The sound faded into the trees, leaving you in perfect darkness, only the two of you remaining in the silence. “But—”

He trailed off, his voice thick with something unspoken. His weight above you was solid, immovable, and gods, you liked it.

“Do you want this?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Instead of answering, you twisted your arm, pulling your mask off. You weren’t sure he could see the grin curling your lips in the dark, so you let your actions speak for you. Tugging him closer, your chests collided, heat blooming between you.

“Yes,” you breathed.

And then his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was molten, searing through your veins like wildfire. He wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t uncertain—he kissed you like he had been holding himself back for far too long, like the chase had only wound him tighter, and now he was unravelling against you.

You gasped into his mouth as he shifted, his weight pressing down on you, one hand sliding to your waist, fingers digging in, anchoring you to him. His other hand tangled in your hair, gripping just enough to make your head tilt back, giving him full access. He took it eagerly, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a slow, devastating stroke.

Heat pooled in your stomach, your legs shifting beneath him, but then—

With shocking ease, he moved.

For a brief second, you were weightless, a startled sound escaping your lips as he lifted you effortlessly from the ground. You barely had time to react before your back hit rough bark, the solid tree trunk now bracing you. His hands were firm as they guided your legs around his waist, pinning you in place. You could already feel his cock growing hard, pressed into one of your thighs as you squirmed beneath him.

A shudder wracked through you at his sheer strength, the way he handled you like you weighed nothing. The last remnants of your composure shattered when his lips found your throat, the scrape of his teeth ghosting over sensitive skin. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders, the sensation overwhelming and utterly intoxicating.

"You run fast, angel," he murmured against your skin, his voice dark and teasing. His lips trailed lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. "But not fast enough."

A breathless laugh escaped you, your fingers threading into his hair, pulling just enough to make him look at you. In the darkness, his blue eyes burned.

“I didn’t want to get away.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, and he just looked at you for a moment. Then, his grip on your waist loosened, fingers slipping beneath your skirts. He let out a deep groan as his digits navigated past your underwear, sweeping through the wetness already gathered. “You’re so wet already.”

You threw your head back at the small act of friction, your skull pressing hard into the rough bark as your chest heaved. He did one final pass, stroking through your folds. In the close distance between your faces, you could see a smirk lingering as your hips rocked involuntarily, begging for more. 

Bucky brought his fingers to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours as he pressed them flat against his tongue, dragging them slowly past his lips. His eyelids fluttered briefly, his breath coming heavier as he tasted you, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his chest. “Mmm.”

Heat coiled in your stomach at the sound, something deep and electric winding tight inside you. 

“Bucky—” The whine clawed unexpectedly from your throat, raw with desperation.

He smirked, his expression both teasing and dark, his hand slipping between your bodies.

“I know, sweetpea,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His fingers fumbled blindly with his belt, metal clinking softly in the hush of the forest. You could feel his hunger in the way his body pressed against yours, restless, taut with restraint he was barely clinging to.

You rolled your hips against his hand, a breathless sigh spilling from your lips as friction sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs. He inhaled sharply, his head tilting slightly as if savouring the way you reacted to him.

“Tell me,” he coaxed, his voice lower now, almost commanding.

Your fingers curled against his shoulders, nails digging in. Your head tipped back against the tree's rough bark, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your lips parted around the words.

“I need you,” you whispered. “Now.”

Something snapped in his expression.

Bucky didn’t hesitate.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as his fingers hooked into the delicate fabric of your underwear. His patience was fraying. No careful undressing, no gentle peeling away. His grip was rough and decisive, a growl slipping from his throat as he gave one sharp tug. The fabric tore effortlessly beneath his fast fingers, the sound lost beneath the hammering of your pulse in your ears. He didn’t even bother pulling them down—too impatient, too consumed by need.

You could practically feel your wetness dripping down to your thighs as he blindly lined himself up, cock pushing into your needy heat. Your head dipped, your mouth finding the top of his shoulder as you bit down lightly with a soft cry. The world beyond this moment—the festival, the music, the laughter—blurred into nothingness. The only thing that existed was the feverish press of his body, the way his fingers dug into your skin, anchoring you to him as if he never wanted to let go.

“Fuck.” He hummed low in your ear. His voice strained as he slowly rocked in and out of you. You could tell he was restraining himself, his muscles taut along his back. You hooked your legs around his waist tighter, pulling your bodies flush. 

Bucky tilted his head, his lips ghosting over your jaw before finally finding your mouth, desperate and all-consuming. His pace faltered for a moment, a quiet groan slipping from his throat as you tightened around him.

“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ perfect—” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer. Your breath was hot against his neck and ear as you whispered. “Then don’t stop.”

Any type of restraint the hero had been holding snapped, his hips immediately jerking into action, beginning a relentless pace, withdrawing from you only to slam back inside. Each thrust sent sparks through your body, pleasure coiling tighter, overwhelming in its intensity. One of his hands roamed, sliding down your thigh to where you connected.

You let out a gasping moan into his shoulder as his thumb found your clit, the added circling motion sending a spike of pleasure up your spine. You felt your cunt tighten around him again as you jolted from the sensation, back arching inward. 

“Bucky—” You groaned into his ear, head tilting as you laid hot, sloppy kisses that were all lips and tongue along his neck. You could taste salt on his skin, sweat beginning to mist both of you. The squelching and slapping sounds of your connected bodies echoed through the dark forest,  the both of you barely holding back the pleasured moans and gasps. 

“You gonna cum for me, angel?” Bucky growled against your throat. Your toes curled in delight. His strokes were already growing frantic and sloppy. You pushed yourself back against the trunk, chest heaving as you used your grip around his waist to grind yourself upon his thumb further. A coiling sensation grew in your gut, a knot beginning to tighten. You closed your eyes with a gasp, chasing the sensation. 

“Y-Yes.” You stammered through your pants, nails digging into his shoulders as your body began to shudder around him. Bucky let out a dark chuckle, straining through his grit teeth as he continued to plough into you. His thumb circled once more, gentle but practiced. You felt your back arch involuntarily—

You moan his name as every wave of pleasure washes over you. Your hips buck and your thighs shake, but he doesn’t let up. His cock strokes inside of you at a continued relentless pace, and he moans right along with you. Bucky’s hand began to roam along your legs, gripping your flesh tighter as he chased his own release. There would be finger-shaped bruises all over your hips and thighs by the time this was over. 

You’re panting above him. Eyes closed, the grip on his shoulders slackening as ropes of thick, hot cum fill you. His cock throbs, each pump releasing even more, only stopping as his hips stutter and his heated moans in your ear fade. 

The two of you panted in the aftermath. Bodies still pressed together as the sounds of the forest slowly filtered back into your ears—the distant thrum of festival music, the rustling leaves overhead, the occasional laughter of those still running through the trees. Your heart hammered against your ribs.

Bucky shifted first, pressing a lingering kiss to the base of your throat, his lips warm and soft against your sweat-dampened skin. His breath fanned over your collarbone as he slowly and carefully lowered you to your feet. Your knees nearly buckled when they touched the earth, your legs trembling with exhaustion. A startled gasp left you as you clung to him for support, fingers curling into his shirt.

“Easy, sweetpea,” he murmured, a quiet chuckle rumbling in his chest as he steadied you, one strong arm wrapping around your waist. His touch was grounding and reassuring, though the heat in his gaze told you he wasn’t entirely done with you yet.

You huffed a breathless laugh, tilting your head to look at him. 

“You know we have to go to the dance now, right?” Though amusement laced your tone, you could already picture the knowing smirks Yelena and the others would shoot you when you finally emerged.

Bucky smirked, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“Even better,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “All I’ll be able to think about is those little noises you make... and that mess between your legs.”

Your breath hitched, a shiver rolling down your spine despite the lingering warmth in your limbs. You swallowed hard, heat pooling low in your belly once more at the thought of his hands on you again, the way he had unravelled you so easily.

He tilted your chin up with a single finger, pressing a teasing kiss to your lips before stepping back slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 “Come on, sweetpea,” he murmured, his eyes flickering with mischief as he laced his fingers with yours. “Let’s go dance.”

—

By the time you and Bucky arrived, the festival was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced cider, and the smoky tang of bonfires. Laughter and music filled the clearing, the rhythmic beat of drums and the sweet hum of strings carrying through the night. Couples swayed to the music, feet shuffling against the packed earth as villagers danced in loose circles, the warmth of drink and celebration evident in every movement.

You barely had time to take it all in before a chorus of knowing smirks and raised brows greeted your arrival. Yelena, seated at a long wooden table with a tankard of something strong in hand, nearly choked on her drink when she spotted you—your slightly dishevelled hair, the flush still clinging to your skin, and Bucky’s possessive grip on your waist.

“About time,” she called with a grin, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Did you get lost?”

Bucky, unbothered, merely smirked and tugged you towards the dancing. “Something like that.”

You shot her a look, but it was impossible to ignore the amused glances and hushed whispers behind you. You tried not to think about the wet mess—a combination of both your fluids nesting between your thighs. Bucky had offered you a handkerchief to clean up, but the small square of fabric had done little against the wetness dripping down your thigh. What didn’t help was the thought of that handkerchief he casually tucked back into his pocket before you could protest. Your lips parted, ready with some half-hearted excuse, but Bucky spun you into his arms before you could respond.

The moment he pulled you into the dance, the rest of the festival seemed to fade into the background. His hands found your waist, guiding you through the steps with ease, music thrumming beneath your skin. Everything was intoxicating, with the warmth of his palm against the small of your back and the gentle pressure of his fingers as he led you.

His lips dipped close to your ear as you moved, swaying to the rhythm. “So, who is this Leif guy?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but then sighed, your fingers tightening slightly against his shoulder. “Oh—just… my last Springbond.” 

The words felt foreign on your tongue now, distant. “It didn’t really work out in the end.”

Bucky hummed, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles over your hip. “Why not? Sounded like you lasted longer than a week.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, tilting your head back slightly to meet his gaze.

“Well… we just had different paths. He wanted to explore, adventure, sleep around…” You trailed off, gaze flickering to the firelight dancing in his blue eyes. “I was looking to settle. I’m just tired after everything. I feel you would understand that.”

His grip on you tightened ever so slightly, his gaze dark and steady as he murmured, “I understand you completely, angel.”

Something in the way he said it made your chest ache, warmth curling in your stomach in a way that had nothing to do with the fire or the wine or the exhilaration of the chase. He understood.

You held his gaze, the firelight dancing over his face. There was something ancient in his eyes, something heavy, worn by time and battle. You had known, of course, what he and Steve were before they arrived in New Fernwick—everyone did.

And yet, when the war ended, when the Riftborn were vanquished and peace finally settled over the world, they had simply walked away. But peace was a fickle thing, and you often wondered if it had truly found them in return.

Bucky’s fingers flexed against your waist, grounding you back in the present.

“You ever think about it?” you asked softly.

He tilted his head slightly, the movement curious. “Think about what?”

You hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “The way things used to be. Before.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t look away.

“Sometimes.” His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “I don’t miss it. But it’s hard to let go of something that shaped you.”

You nodded, understanding. The past had a way of clinging to people, no matter how far they ran.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. 

“Steve took to peace like it was always meant for him. I think he’s been waiting for it his whole life. Me…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a faint line. “I think I’m still figuring it out.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest. He deserved peace just as much as anyone else.

As the music slowed, your hands slid from his shoulders, fingers tracing the length of his arms before settling over his. His grip tightened instinctively like he knew what you were about to say.

“Come home with me.” The words were quiet, tentative, but certain.

Bucky stilled for half a beat, and then his lips parted, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No doubt. Just certainty, as if he had been waiting for you to ask.

—

The door creaked softly as you pushed it open, stepping inside with Bucky close behind you. You moved awkwardly through the space, glancing at the walls, the furniture, anything but him, as though it could distract from the knot forming in your stomach. The house felt both too small and too big now, the empty rooms amplifying the tension in the air.

Bucky stepped in after you, his boots echoing softly on the wooden floor as he glanced around. His gaze lingered on the fire's warm glow in the hearth, he seemed at ease. His eyes scanned every corner of the space, taking in the simple comforts of home. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

You shifted nervously, breaking the silence with an anxious laugh. “You don’t actually have to do the full week if you don’t want to... I mean, most people just use it as an excuse to get off work—” Your words stumbled out, and you cut yourself off, realising how ridiculous you probably sounded.

Bucky turned toward you, his eyes dark with amusement but softened with something else, a quiet intensity. He was silent for a long moment, focusing entirely on you. Finally, his lips quirked up, and his voice was low and deliberate.

“Sweetpea, I love the sound of your beautiful voice, but just shut up... and kiss me.”

Before you could respond, his hands were already pulling you close, his mouth slanting over yours in a searing kiss that left no room for hesitation. You melted against him, your body pressing into his with a soft urgency, both of you stumbling as you navigated the space towards the bed. His grip on you was firm and reassuring, yet there was a rawness to it, an unspoken need that made your heart race faster.

You fumbled through the room together, bumping into furniture. Your hands sought purchase on his broad chest or tangled in his hair as you kissed desperately, blindly. The dim light from the hearth barely illuminated the path ahead. His lips were warm and hungry, pulling at yours with an intensity that made your pulse spike.

There was a quiet reassurance in how his hands roamed over your body, the steady pressure of his touch as though he wanted to anchor you in the here and now. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t treating this like a fleeting moment. You laughed softly against his lips as you stumbled into the bed, falling together in a tangled heap of limbs and tangled sheets. For a moment, all that mattered was the warmth of his skin against yours, the unspoken understanding that this was something different, something real. 

Something that could last.

[ts-janus-rp-blog]

Remus chuckled at hearing that squeal. He washed the rest of his legs, then he stood back up so he could pull Emile into a deep kiss. "Dammit, when you make that noise I just wanna fuck your brains out. I love it when you make that noise so much." He blushed, "I'm not nearly as wonderful as you are, ems."

"Got it. I'll get it arranged in no time. Oh, it definitely will! So many people across the world will be willing to pay big bucks for those videos, that's for sure!" The man shrugged, "You can do whatever you want, that's just my cup of tea..." He suddenly chuckled, "Or should I say, my cup of coffee?" He lifted up his coffee cup.

"I know if I do anything like that to Roman you'll have my neck for it. I'm not willing to sign my death wish just yet. And don't worry, I'll make sure it's just me doing the procedures. There won't be anyone else in the area." He snorted, "I just know to not act stupid. Most people don't think before acting, but I do." He nodded, "Thank you though, sir. Thank you for trusting me." Then he thought about it for a moment, "Would it be possible if I can do the exams tonight, by any chance? The only reason why I ask is that I just know I'm going to be busy dealing with Remy and Remus. I would rather get it done and other with, you know?"

His eyes light up when Virgil reconsiders, a sickening grin spread across his cheeks. "Well, I can tell you right off the bat that it's going to be extreme. Very extreme. But I'll do it your way, with just bondage. But thank you, I'll do it to one of the mutts that are brain dead. It's not like we're going to miss one of them, right? If the hypnosis doesn't work, there are other methods I can try that's not...extensive. but I understand, that's what I want to avoid too. Mhm..." He chuckled, "I would love to send a video to Remus of the men having fun with his mutt. That'll scare him for good, won't you think?" He smirked, "Actually, I can do that without waiting to see if anything works... I could test the hypnosis on him afterwards too, to make him forget it even happened."

Patton knocked desperately at the strangers door, praying someone, anyone was home. His heart beat as fast and loud as the rain thundering against the sidewalk. He was sure he was being followed, they were going to catch him. They were going to drag him back. He wasn't sure if whoever lived here might be worse, but he was willing to risk it at this point. Anything to escape.

{@moralpuppylover2}

Janus didn't know who would be at the door. It was late, but his master won't surely be home at this time. He normally doesn't get home until the sun starts to come up.

So, as the dog hybrid walked up to the door and opened it, he wondered who it could be. And if he should open it at all... Who knows, he may get in trouble with his master for opening the door. But, his curiosity was getting the better of him-

He stopped when he saw the soaking wet cat standing at the doorway. He could tell that this cat needed help almost immediately. Well, if his poor state of clothes were anything to go by. His eyes flickered up and down the sidewalk before he grabbed pattons arm and pulled him inside.

"are you alright?" Janus nervously asked as he grabbed a towel from the mud room. "Well, that's a stupid question, of course you're not alright! Are you...running away from your owners?" As Janus walked, the collar around his neck would jingle loudly. And even though it was cold outside and even in the house, he only had a pair of boxers on. Because of that, Patton would be able to see the numerous large scars that covered his body...and the countless amounts of fresh bruises.

@moralpuppylover2

[cristaq]

“If you are reading this Mac, it means I am dead. It also means that you still are a nosy bastard.”

Captain MacMillan slowly makes his way through the WW3 remembrance monument. Thousands of ceremonial tombstones riddle the landscape, demanding silence and respect. This is a place where only ghosts may speak.

“I guess there is not much to say that you don’t already know. Assaulting Makarov’s place was intentionally reckless and I went there with the expectation that I would die. I wanted to die. I couldn’t survive the peaceful times that were to come without him, Mac. Loved him too fucking much. So, in a sense, you were right. He was the death of me in the end.”

He eventually reaches his destination. Row 11, column 85.

 “I will get to the point. Unfortunately for you, I must call in any favours you still owe me. Firstly, I suppose they never found Soap’s body. Burn mine then, and scatter what’s left. I will do the rest and find him on my own.”

All tombstones in the monument bear the name of a soldier, but this one’s special as it has two names hyphenated on it. John MacTavish - John Price.

“Secondly, pull whatever strings you need to, but make sure that wherever they decide to write down our names, they are placed together. His name should always come first.”

The media covered this story for a whole month. The same peculiarity can be found on the clock tower in Hereford, where the names of fallen SAS soldiers are placed. Everyone’s name stands written alone, except for these two.

“Lastly, I don’t want you to miss us. So name one of your grandkids John, will you?”

He lights up a candle and places it on the warm stone.

“I wasn’t one to believe in the afterlife. Soap managed to convince me though… and I intend to find him there. That’s my happy ending. Thanks for everything and take care.

Price”

Two robins land on the headstone, chirping and hopping. It’s truly a beautiful day outside. Somehow, MacMillan truly believes that the two men are reunited up there somewhere.

[venusbyline]

HEADCANON: Sugar Daddy!Aegon

— pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x sugar baby!reader

— type: smut, fluff, modern AU

— tags/warnings: female!reader, sugar daddy!Aegon, age gap (older man/younger woman), class difference, family issues, vaginal sex, rough sex, semi-public sex, doggy style position, degradation, slight dumbification, limousine sex, spanking kink, butt slapping, creampie, exhibitionism, mentioned consensual underage sex, dom!Aegon, sub!reader, CEO!Aegon, college student!reader. no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

❥ Aegon II masterlist • HOTD masterlist • ASOIAF headcanons

❥ about me • main masterlist

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who felt so lonely after taking over his father's company, even though he had a lot of money to keep supporting the luxurious life he had since his birth.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who listened to his close friends joking about this type of arrangement, and decided to try the luck on some app suitable for that.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who had no patience with most of the annoying girls on the site, who seemed more interested in just fucking with him than in his money and company. After all, even with an almost insatiable and unhealthy lust, he could fuck any girl he wanted without having to pay for them, so he put the idea aside for a while when he noticed so many messages there didn't correspond to what he was really looking for.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who was surprised seeing the description on your profile saying that you weren't interested in casual sex or sending nudes, and threatening to block anyone who pissed off you with harassment. Then he immediately texted you.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who became attached to your talks after the first moment. He listened to your story, listened to your limits and what you wanted in that arrangement, and that same night sent you a great amount of money as a "free sample" of what was coming.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who always likes to spoil you even more than what was agreed in the contract. It doesn't matter how many thousand dollars he sends you monthly or the credit cards he gave you. Did you simply texted saying that you saw a picture of a new Tiffany & Co bracelet? He'll buy it to you. Did Aegon smell a good Cartier fragrance on a secretary of his company? He'll immediately buy and send it to your home as a surprise, only to listened to your many audio messages thanking him for the "unexpected" gift.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who loves receiving your photos and videos wearing everything he bought you or showing how you're using the money. He doesn't really know how to react to your thanks, but you know he's happy when he sends you a cute emoji that's probably only used by older men. Noticing the age difference between you always makes both of you smile.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who loves to listen to you talk about your college matters, how your professors are being unfair or how some of your friends are annoying you. He even offers you a job at his company and you just chuckle, thinking he's joking. But he's never joking about that.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who sometimes manages to open up to you, exposing the issues he's facing running the company. How his father's death caused chaos in his family, breaking bonds. How he's sure that his half-sister is planning to take legal actions, how he believes that their father's will, in which she was left with just a small part of the inheritance, was forged or manipulated while Viserys was still alive, but ill. Sometimes Aegon also talks about his issues with his mother and grandfather, who thinks he's a terrible businessman and will sink the entire Hightowers empire in the not-so-distant future. You always understand Aegon and give him good advices, so he feels like he can open up to you more than anyone else in his life.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who only took three months to give in to his desire to see you face to face. He didn't wanna admit it, not even to himself, but he was so fucking nervous that you might reject the invite to the fanciest Italian Restaurant in the city. Aegon knew that you would've every right to deny him, as it wasn't an demand written in your contract. So as soon as you said yes, he was desperately excited, he went crazy thinking about how not to ruin it. He might be a disgusting womanizer when it came to other girls, but he really wanted to impress you, his Sugar Baby.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who was a complete disaster since the beginning of your "date", trying to impress you with anything fancy and expensive, but in the end he got so drunk on wine that you had to help his private driver put him inside the limousine. You even thought that you would've to go back to your modest house and wasted the debut of that fancy dress, heels and jewelery that he bought you the day before. However, Aegon even in his drunken state begged you to come with him to the mansion, saying he didn't wanna be alone and also needed to apologize.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who felt sucks when he woke up and saw you lying on the other large couch, asleep and looking kinda lost. That sight made him feel like the worst Sugar Daddy and the worst man too, so he admiring you sleeping for a while, being careful not to wake you and asking the mansion's cooks to make you the best breakfast possible, and asking two other employees to buy you more jewelry and flowers, as well as a new Prada bag.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who would wait for you to forgive him (which occurred without any resistance by your part) before finally kissing you, feeling much more hesitant and nervous than when he lost his virginity with his father's random secretary, when he was just a teenager with hormones raging.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who from that day on would start taking you on every trip. You might even miss some college classes, but who cares? Do you wanna know Greece? Do you wanna go to Venice? Spend the summer in Copacabana? Winter in Tokyo? Aegon will take you anywhere you want and fuck you in all those expensive hotels, even if that's not part of the original arrangement.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who doesn't wanna put a label on your situationship, because saying that you're his Sugar Baby sounds less complicated to him than admitting more feelings beyond that. However, when you mention being at a frat party with some people from your college, Aegon immediately goes after you, not caring about the confused looks from the young students when they saw an extremely rich older man coming towards you, picking you up as if you were a little child, throwing you into the limousine seat without his typical care, realizing that you did it all on purpose as soon as he saw your smug look afterwards.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who will order the driver to roll up the partition so he can climb up the tiny dress you were wearing at the party, slapping your ass several times, the expensive rings he wears on his hands making red marks on your soft flesh. He doesn't need to prepare you, the way you chose to dress the Victoria's Secret lingerie he bought you most recently sends his mind into a frenzy, and all the driver can hear as he drives are the muffled sounds of your loud moans and the sound of your skins hitting each other, plus Aegon growling and degrading you as if you were nothing but a brainless whore.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who will ask you to be his girlfriend during the following weekend, preparing a trip to Paris and spoiling you with a Birkin Bag, also making your relationship official with a Cartier ring made of gold and decorated with 72 white diamonds, which cost at least $7,000.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who even though he's your boyfriend, will still keeping spoil you as he did before, when the bond between the two of you was just the Sugar Daddy and Sugar Baby agreement. Actually... It will be much better, because the gifts will be even fancier and the fancy trips will be more expensive. Also... You'll be able to fuck with Aegon at his office whenever both of you want to, especially if you give in to his desires and drop out of college so you can just be his Sugar Baby during the day and his cockslut at night, not having to do anything but stay home and shop, or walk around the city, and then wait for your Sugar Daddy to fill you after he gets home from work, eager to feel his cock fucking your warm pussy while he presses you against the mansion's windows, already picturing the millionaire neighbors jerking off to the sight of your pretty breasts almost crushed against the glass and his cum dripping from your swollen and tight core.

[trippinsorrows]

made for me

authors note: so, the combination of roman's hair and seth's fiendish attack on tribal daddy during the rumble inspired one scene that turned into this. i tried super hard to get it to fit with og ltye, but that wasn't happening. so, it's set in the world of this random au i wrote forever ago.

warnings: fluff, angst

words: 5.4k

It’s not that Roman hates Seth and Punk.

Hardly. 

No, hate is not a strong enough word to describe what he feels toward those two men. Too much history, too much betrayal, too much pain is imbued in the past and connectivity of all three men for Roman to water it down by just calling it hatred.

They haven’t created a word to accurately describe what he feels towards and about them. The visceral emotion that courses through his big, heaving body as he destroys his entire locker room. Chairs turned over, tables smashed against the wall, the same wall that has a decent sized hole following Roman smashing his fist into it.

Same with the door. 

A form of rage burns and rips through him as he lays waste to his room, unable to settle himself and push away the flashes of the interference. Of how he was in the zone, laying blow after blow against his opponent, McIntyre. As expected, Roman was in control, once again proving his prowess in all the areas, his dominance and authority.

All of which was challenged by interference. Fucking Punk and Rollins. 

Roman doesn’t know how they made it past security, but someone will die for such a big fuck up. Because they’d tried, and to some extent, jumped Roman. Calling themselves trying to prove Roman’s mortality, trying to deface the legacy and imprint of the Tribal Chief.

It didn’t work, of course, just like it didn’t last time. But, Roman still got roughed up in the process, sustaining a few injuries he knows are only going to be exacerbated by his violent outburst, but he can’t bring himself to care.

This level of…..fury needs to be released. 

It has to. 

Three, tentative knocks to the door rip Roman from his hateful ruminating while also spiking his irritation. “I said I want to be alone!”

Obviously, someone has a death wish, because the next thing Roman sees is the same door opening slowly. The flustered, red face of his chief advisor—potentially former—appears in the ajar doorway, his eyes filled with well-deserved fear. “Sir—”

Roman has never been so tempted to murder someone so close to him. “Get….out.”

The redness deepens, the fear exponential, as he stutters, “I—si—you—”

Roman starts stalking toward said door when Paul disappears, the door opening wider to reveal that he’s not alone. 

Instantly. 

Instantly, Roman notices the shift. He feels it more than anything. The way the unlimited rage starts melting ever so softly, still strong and pungent but dissipating. 

He’s still livid, still filled with so much fury he doesn't know what to do with, but it’s tucked away just enough for him to grit out. “Leave us.”

Paul doesn’t need to be told twice, his Wise Man disappearing like a thief in the night leaving Roman alone with the one person he both does and doesn’t want to see. 

She turns to shut the door. Quiet and gentle. Much like herself. He hears the click of the lock and watches how she surveys the room, expression unchanged. Like the destruction that surrounds them is something familiar and normal to her. And, then she’s looking at him, studying him. Head tilted, small smile on her pretty face, she closes the distance between them.

Roman looks away and closes his eyes when she’s close enough for her sweet, gourmand perfume to hit his senses. Still refuses to look at her as she lifts her hands to his face. Assessing him, assessing the extent of his injuries.

“You need stitches.”

Something he already knew but didn’t care to address, much preferring to unleash all of his rage and beyond in the setting before them.

“What are you doing here?” Because that’s the better question. The most important one. The thing that has his anger spiking once again. She shouldn’t be here, and she knows it, and yet, she stands before him.

But, it’s when she answers quietly, vulnerably, that his anger dwindles just a bit.“I wanted to see you.” Roman sighs. Another thing he already knew. It’s the only reason she would go against the protocol of things. “Afia took me….”

That makes all the sense. He knows how close they’ve become, just like how he knows that his sister-in-law marches to the beat of her own drum. She does what feels right and aligns with her convictions. 

Even it goes against all of the protective precautions Roman has set in place.

He ignores the way she lifts her hand to his hair, pushing some of it back and out of his face. “This isn’t the way to see me.” A calm counter to match the soothing effect of her touch, a balm to his vexation. “I don’t….I don’t like you seeing this side of me.”

“And what side is that?” There’s a hint of humor in her voice as she transitions to massaging his scalp in that way she knows he likes. Loves, even. “Have you forgotten how we met?”

At that, a chuckle is emitted. The first thing he feels outside of the anger range since the start of the evening. 

Never.

Never could he forget that first of many run-ins they had until Roman grew tired of short interactions, grew tired of teases and taunts that led to nothing more but constant wondering and thinking. About her. The way she occupied so much mental real estate should have been studied, especially for someone like himself who never looked for anything more but sexual satisfaction from women. 

But, not her. 

She was different.

Then 

Roman was pissed, a conversation with his cousin escalating into something unnecessary, largely due to the alcohol coursing through Jey’s system. What started as a night of Roman and his two right hand men—and cousins—spending some rare free time at one of the Bloodline owned clubs turned into Jimmy playing mediator, separating his twin, Jey, from their cousin, Roman.

Two titans needing space before leveling the establishment. Hence Roman being the one to walk away, to find a slice of solace outside, aided by the surprising breeze. He’d run his hands over his face, reminding himself that nothing was gained by making an enemy out of one of the few people on this earth he trust.

Jeu was irksome, but he was still family. And at the end of the day, Roman knew this would pass over just as it had the times prior.

Didn’t make it any less fucking annoying to have to deal with the shit though.

Finally feeling settled and calm enough to be around his family without it turning into round two, Roman was making his way back inside the club, going down the hall when he spotted his other cousin, a distant cousin, Tama, talking to a woman. One hand planted on the wall, the other at his side, it was obvious he was trying to sweet talk her, something Roman paid no attention to.

Until in passing them, he heard it, heard the woman’s voice. Lighter and softer than anything he’d ever heard. 

“I’m not interested,” she’d protested, something else present in her tone that gave him pause. Fear.

She sounded scared.

“Can you please move?”

Tama said something in that slithering voice of his that Roman always found annoying as shit, but he didn’t move. No, when Roman turned around, he’d in fact moved closer, reaching to touch the woman who turned her head away.

“I said move.” A bit firmer, less scared, but the anxiety was still audible. 

Tama said something else, edging closer, prompting her to lift her hands to push him away, but she was too slow. One wrist in his tight grasp. “Let go—”

“Leave her alone,” Roman interjected, his voice surprisingly calm despite the anger flowing through him. The Bloodline has strict rules when it comes to women and children, and his cousin was violating just about every one of them.  

Tama looked over, boredom and irritation on his face. “This doesn’t concern you, Roman.”

And just like that, whatever lid Roman managed to cap on his anger was being toyed with. Dangerously close to being lifted. 

Roman took a step toward them, the woman turning to look at him. Brown locking with brown. Fear with determination.

For a brief second, Roman found it hard to look away, her beauty something he hadn’t seen in some time. 

If ever.

“Did I ask you a question?” Was Roman’s harsh retort as he stared at his cousin. “Or, did I give you a fucking order?” Once more. The last time. “Let…her go.”

The influence of alcohol clearly had to be on his cousin, because the last thing Roman saw was Tama rolling his eyes as he prepared another disrespectful disregard of Roman’s command. “Come on, I’m just—”

Roman never found out just what Tama’s excuse was. He was too busy snatching him up and away from the woman and slamming him so hard against the wall that Roman was certain he was concussed. Lifted up, legs dangling, Roman had his forearm over Tama’s neck, severing oxygen. 

His cousin’s wide eyed look of shock and horror much more pleasing than it probably should have been. “When I say to do something, you do that shit, you understand me?”

Tama continued to look terrified, struggling to reply due to lack of oxygen. Roman held him up long enough to see his skin turn red and his eyes bulge until he dropped him. 

Tama fell to the floor, coughing violently, as Roman nodded away. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Out the club. Out his life. Hell, out the Bloodline for all Roman cared, so long as he was away from the nameless woman with captivating beauty and enchanting eyes. 

That time around, Tama didn’t need to be told twice. Scrambling to his feet, he made himself scarce, leaving just two instead of three.

Rolling his eyes, already done with this shitty night, Roman turned to her but found himself staring once more.

Despite his disagreement with Tama’s approach, Roman could understand why his cousin was interested in the first place.

Not only was she beautiful, but the body matched in every way. Nice, full breasts accentuated by the open neckline of her dress, full thighs and a bountiful ass to match. Stacked in all the right places even with her short stature.

It was momentarily distracting, but Roman found it in him to ask, albeit gruffly, “you alright?”

Her eyes were wide this time around, though filled with less fear. More confusion than anything. Still, she nodded, opening her mouth with a quiet reply. “Th—thank you.”

Something unfamiliar filled Roman hearing her voice again. Much too sweet. Far too innocent. 

All the intriguing. 

Roman’s expression intensified as he found himself unable to keep from asking, “what’s your na—”

“Sola!” Another interruption, this time female, but an interruption nonetheless. Roman turned to see another woman, about the same height as the woman she called “Sola.” She cast him a glance, nervousness unmistakable. Shuffling over, she grabbed the woman’s arm, harshly whispering something in another language. She then offered an apologetic glance. “So sorry to bother you, Tribal Chief.”

The bothering was the interruption of his planned introduction, and Roman planned to say as such when she ushered the woman away, all while continuing to harshly scold Sola.

The same Sola who kept looking back at him. 

The same way he was looking at her. 

Now

Roman saw her three more times after that, each occurrence happening the most serendipitous of ways. 

Then

Jimmy’s ass was always hungry. Had been that way since they were kids, always snacking, wanting to snack, or thinking about snacking.

Always at the most inconvenient times, too. Like, when they’re supposed to be headed to a meeting and time to spare equals time to eat for his tapeworm having ass cousin.

“Man, you know I love Mexican food,” was Jimmy’s excuse as he, Roman, and Jey walked into the Mexican restaurant they spotted while trying to find a place for takeout.

“You love all food,” was Roman’s disgusted resort. He’d much rather arrive ahead of time than right at time, but he was outvoted by his cousins. Hence his presence. 

The three of them walked through the partially crowded restaurant, up to the counter where Jey didn’t hesitate to ring the bell.

“Someone will be with you, shortly,” someone, an employee cleaning off unused tables, informed. Jimmy nodded as a sign of thank you, while Roman continued to type on his phone, at least relieved by the fact his Wise Man was already present and waiting.

Some kind of Bloodline representation was better than none.

“Hola!” His head lifted the minute he heard it. The same saccharine tone and the same pretty face he’d laid eyes on a few weeks ago. Their gazes locked, recognition dawning on her end as well. A different setting. She wasn’t as dressed up as she was that night, sexy little dress traded for an apron covering a short sleeved shirt that hugged her ample chest.

Roman hardly ever found himself dumbstruck, but he was most definitely feeling as such in that moment.

“Hola!” Jimmy’s jovial voice broke their stare, something only Jey seemed to notice, Jimmy too consumed by his hunger. Like they didn’t eat before leaving the damn house. “Never been here before, but—” He sniffed the air, rubbing his hands together. “Sure does smell good.”

Shock continued to settle until eventually wavering. “Uhh, yes, sorry. We—it’s good.” She added, almost nervously. “The food, it’s….it’s good.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Jimmy winked and looked over at the menu. “Now, uhh, I usually stick with my chimichanga’s, but I’m in the mood to switch things up.” 

Jey glanced at her, making a mental note to ask Roman what that was all about once they got back in the SUV. “What do you recommend?”

She was flustered, face turning red as she pushed back flyaways. “Ummm……” Eyes shut, she opened again with a renewed sense of focus, clearly trying not to think of how Roman continued to look at her. Only her. “The Tacos De La Calle are pretty popular.” She turned to point to the menu, and Roman wasted no time setting his gaze on her ass that sat up nice and round in her jeans. “You can get steak, chicken, al pastor or carnitas topped with diced onions and cilantro. And, it’s served with rice or Elote Mexicano.”

Jimmy and Jey shared a knowing glance. “Shit, sure sounds good to me.”

She smiled, and Roman wasn’t sure he’d ever seen something so pleasing. “So you want to try it?”

“Hell yeah.”

Laughter. Laughter that had Roman pushing something down that was foreign, unfamiliar, but also…..light. 

She wrote down rapidly on her notepad, asking a few more questions of Jimmy and Jey before her attention shifted to Roman. “And you?”

Truth be told, Roman wasn’t focused on looking at the menu to figure out his order. He was too busy with the woman taking said orders. “Whatever they’re getting.”

She nodded with a small smile, writing something down before informing, “should be up in about twenty minutes.” Turning to leave, Jimmy beat Roman to the question on the tip of his tongue.

Well, one of them.

“Do we pay after or?”

She shook her head, eyes locked with Roman. “It’s on the house.”

Now

Roman was pressed for time by the time the order was ready that he didn’t have the chance to further talk with her, but he knew where she was, and that was all that mattered.

But, it didn’t. 

It didn’t because the next three times he found himself “craving” Mexican food, she was nowhere to be found. And because he’s him, stubborn and prideful, he refused to ask any of the workers about her working hours. 

On the fifth visit, he stopped trying. He had much more important things to do than to try to track down some random woman.

Even if random woman continued to cross his mind more than he would like to admit.

But, it was while sitting in the back of his SUV, looking out the window, trying to tune out the sound of the twins bickering, he saw her. 

She was walking down the sidewalk in front of strip malls, deep in laughter along with another woman. They were both wearing scrubs and holding cups of coffee while making their way past the stores. In the moment, Roman was tempted to order the driver to stop, to take advantage of this most unexpected opportunity. But, it was in being far past her that the thought left him.

Stupid, silly. 

What did it look like for him? The Tribal Chief, The Capo, The Head of the Table, to be chasing after a woman? 

He had to let that shit go.

And for all intents and purposes, he tried. He tried damn hard.

And, then he saw her again.

Then

Clubbing had never really been Roman’s thing. Maybe in his early twenties, to some extent, to score hookups. But, as a grown ass man in his mid thirties, he was over it. Which was why he was prepared to call it a night, informed his cousins that he was headed home when he saw it.

Saw her.

She was with the woman who’d whisked her away from him that night and the other whom he saw her walking with that day. 

The three of them were laughing and dancing, all beautiful, but there was something about her that drew him in, that had him unable to ignore this unexpected opportunity. 

An opportunity he found himself feeling fading away when the three of them moved from the dance floor to the bar. He watched how she said something to the other two women before squeezing her way through the bodies, headed somewhere else.

The same place Roman was headed. 

He waited to see she was moving toward the bathrooms before also heading in that same direction.

Did he feel like a fucking creep standing outside the women’s restroom, leaned up against the wall, waiting for someone he’d only seen a few times? Sure. Did it stop him from waiting for her?

Absolutely fucking not.

And he felt vindicated with his decision the moment she walked out. The way her eyes initially widened with surprise only to settle into something similar to joy.

Like, she was happy to see him.

As much was confirmed when the corner of her lips lifted into a small smile. “Hi.”

That voice.

Roman should not have been so satisfied to hear a single word leave someone’s mouth. But, he was. “Hey.”

He watched how she looked down, almost shyly before crossing her arms, acknowledging the nature of everything. “We keep running into each other.”

He nodded, agreeing. “We do.”

Her smile widened. “Solana.”

Roman’s eyes gleamed with all of the curiosity that’d consumed him since their meeting almost two months ago. “What?”

“You were going to ask my name that night,” she explained. “My name…..is Solana.”

Solana

Roman wasn’t sure he’d ever heard a prettier name. 

It fit her. 

“Roman,” he offered, noticing the way her smile deepened.

“I know who you are,” she shared, cheeks tinged pink. “Kinda hard not to.”

Fair. 

Still, it left him wondering something, something he hadn’t allowed himself to think too much about for the mere fact that it acknowledged the…..complications of the whole thing.

“You know who I am,” he stated. 

Not a question, but she answered like it was. “I do.”

Roman kicked his foot off the wall, taking a step toward her. He expected her to step back. She remained unmoved. “And you know what I do.”

Solana lifted her head, needing to do so because of their height difference.  The same answer. “I do.”

The curiosity was at an all time high. He had to ask. “And you’re not scared?”

Of him. Scared of him is what he really meant, but something in him wouldn’t allow him to ask it.

Most likely because he didn’t want to know said answer. 

Especially if it was anything other than no.

Solana smiled, voice just as soft. “I think if you planned to hurt me you would have done so by now.” Wise words, words that shocked him, even if he maintained a poker face. “So no…..I’m not scared.”

An unexpected answer, but one he was more than pleased to hear.

Maybe even relieved.

“Come with me.”

Roman was unsure what he planned to say to her, how he was going to respond to her confirming a lack of fear, but it certainly wasn’t that.

Something akin to indecision filled her face as she asserted, “I’m not going to have sex with you.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to.” An honest, rare thing. Roman couldn’t recall a time he’d invited a woman to his place for anything other than carnal reasons. 

“And what are you expecting?” The return of her smile was relieving to Roman as he found himself reaching to gently move the back of his hand over her cheek, unsurprised to find she felt as soft as she looked. 

His answer was sincere and truthful. “To talk.”

She agreed to leave with him, to go back to his place where they did, in fact, talk. They talked almost the whole night. Roman learning that the two women he’d seen her with were her cousins, one on her mom’s side, the other on her dad’s. Her best friends, was what she called them.

He also learned the reason he didn’t see her again at the restaurant was because she only worked there occasionally. It was owned by her grandma and where she worked all throughout high school and college, so her returns were solely when her grandma requested extra help.

And, that was one of those days.

She told him how her main job was at the local hospital where she worked as a pediatric nurse. There was no missing the way her face lit up as she discussed her love for her job, for her family, even her dog, Dulce.

And Roman soaked it all in. Took in every bit of it. Absorbed her light and radiance, such a contrast to his world. 

She was so different from his world. 

And, he found himself liking it. Liking her a lot. Liking the way they ended up on the sofa, her perched up against him, his finger trailing up and down her arm as they spoke, learned anything and everything about each other.

It was then he knew she was special. That this, whatever had already been building between them, was special.

And, that he didn’t want to lose it.

Lose her. 

It was why he found himself cutting right to the part he’d been dreading the moment he realized this was more than just random run-ins and that she was more than just a random woman.

“You know if we do this….” He’d started, waiting for her to look up at him. “It can’t be public.” Her confused expression forced him to elaborate. “You being with me automatically puts you in danger. I won’t have that, so if we do this, it has to be in secret. We can’t go out in public. I can’t have you seen with me, because it puts a target over your head, and I don’t want that.”

Just hours of actually being able to talk to Solana, to get to know her, had Roman already convinced he’d be fucking sick if something happened to her. And her being paraded around as someone close to him, let alone a romantic partner, would bring on exactly that.

So, it would have to be just as he described. All of their interactions with one another, dates even, would have to take place in private. They could never have a traditional relationship. 

Ever.

He studied her, assessed how she took in his explanation, as she was mulling it over in her head. Part of him was prepared for the most obvious response. That that wouldn't work for her, and he wouldn’t fault her. It wouldn’t work for most women.

But clearly, she wasn’t most women.

Smile small, voice lightly teasing, she replied after a good two minutes of silence. “It’s a good thing I like being low key then, huh?”

Now

Looking back, Roman is almost certain that was the same night he fell in love with her. He didn’t know it then, of course. Just knew he liked her, enjoyed her, enjoyed being around her even if the moments ended up being spaced out as time went on due to his schedule as well as hers. 

Regardless, in the times he couldn’t be with her physically, he made sure she always knew that she was always on his mind. He spoiled the hell out of her, surprising her almost daily with delivered flowers, chocolates, and any and all designer items he could think of. She wasn’t materialistic. Liked simple things like art, books, and music, but she also appreciated the things he did for her. He could always see the appreciation in her face whenever he could go visit her. 

She didn’t ask for it, didn’t expect it but was utterly thankful and grateful. Though what most pleased her was the time they could spend together, in person. He craved that too and took advantage of every opportunity that arose to do just that.

To see her.

To feel her soft body pressed against his. 

Even the nights where he stayed over at her place, stayed with her throughout the night. That was the other thing about it, that made it all so different.

Sex.

There was no sex in the relationship when it first started. Solana had confided in him that she was still a virgin and wasn’t prepared for that to change. Not for someone she’d just met.

Another way Roman knows he’s loved his girl from the moment he laid eyes on her, because no way in God’s green earth would he ever pursue a relationship with someone he couldn’t fuck.

All he did was fuck. Sex was just a thing for him, an enjoyable, pleasurable thing. But, what he easily found more enjoyable was her, just spending time with and being around her. 

It was almost as if that absent part of the relationship didn’t make a difference so long as he could just be around her. 

That was what he wanted from her. Just her time. That was it.

But, it didn’t take away from the way their relationship reached a completely different level, became something deeper, something stronger, something unbreakable almost when intimacy was added into the mix.

The night she allowed him to take her virginity, the first time “I love you” trickled out of both their mouths as she held onto him while he thrust into her, vowing his love and devotion for her, the same way she voiced the same for him. 

That was the night he knew. 

The night he realized he couldn’t live without her.

The night he realized he wouldn’t.

That next day, he started preparations on her ring. Custom. Of course. A month after that, said ring was done and ready. Roman can still recall the sound of her scream that awakened him from his sleep as she stared at him and then the stunning engagement ring he’d slipped on her finger while she slept atop him. 

Yes.

Her answer was yes. 

And a month later, after deep, honest discussions as to what they wanted their big day to look like, they tied the knot in front of only their closest family and friends. The few people who knew of their relationship. 

He didn’t care, because truth be told, Roman would have married her in a fucking gas station if that’s what it took to make her his. To give her his last name.

To make her his forever.

Roman moved her out of her condo and into a beautiful mansion about half an hour away from his penthouse. Not too close, but not too far. Not his preference considering she was now his wife but a necessity for her safety, because that was what mattered most. Keeping their relationship a secret from the public.

Keeping that target from appearing over her head.

Solana lifting her hand to his temple pulls Roman from traveling down memory lane. She frowns. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re not concussed.”

He’d be surprised, too. That fucker Rollins stomped the fuck out of his head. But, that’s not a priority right now.

“Sol….”

“I know,” she sighs, eyes dropping to the ground. “I know I shouldn’t have come, but like I said, I wanted to see you, Roman.” At that, he finally looks at her, opening his eyes and taking her in. “I’ve missed you….”

Three words that leave her mouth more than he’d like to admit.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he shares, quiet and true. Resolve crumbles as he brings his hand to the small of her back, pulling her to him. With an almost sense of hesitancy, he takes his other hand and moves it under her baggy hoodie. There’s an indescribable feeling that showers him the minute his palm rests against the smooth skin of her swollen belly. “How is she?”

Solana’s smile is bright as she moves her own hand over his. “Good.” Solana guides it around, clearly wanting him to feel the movement. “She’s definitely active….”

More or less the same thing Solana has shared with him via their phone calls, texts, and Facetime conversations. All normal symptoms for his six-month pregnant wife. Symptoms he’d give anything to be able to experience in real time with her.

Not being present for her during this exciting time in their lives has also had his stress levels on the higher end. Hence the shitshow that was tonight only exacerbated things. 

Roman darts his focus to her, asking with all seriousness. “And you?”

He sees it, the way she’s clearly downplaying her answer. Watering it down. “Always better when I get to see you.”

It’s not a direct answer, but it’s an answer, nonetheless. Roman will revisit the conversation later. Right now, he has other priorities he’s put off long enough.

Solana bringing one hand to the back of his head, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck is exactly the soothing gesture that he needs. He sighs, content and comforted. “You always make me feel better…..”

More than better.

Loved.

She makes him feel loved.

Solana’s eyes twinkle with something close to adoration. “Then my job is done.” She leans up on her toes to kiss his cheek. Stroking his beard, she asks, “let them tend to you….please?” A heavy sigh followed by a nod of agreement. Another kiss as she moves back to her feet, Roman’s hand never once leaving her belly that houses their firstborn. His little girl. “I—I’ll go back to the house.”

“No.” She frowns, prompting him to take his free hand not feeling her baby bump to her face, cupping her cheek. “Wait for me.” Her face lights up with some form of excitement. “I’ll stay the weekend with you.”

Roman sees it. Sees the relief and appreciation that fills her pretty, glowing face. “Really?”

He nods and leans forward, kissing her temple. “Give me an hour.”

Roman can’t recall the last time he spent more than a day and a night with her, always having to leave, never wanting to stay too long. To risk too many people inquiring and wondering where the Tribal Chief disappears off to.

His wife.

He disappears off to be with his wife and unborn child. 

The same as he’ll do this weekend. To get away from it all. To continue to cool down, to find sanctuary and solace in the one person who always provides him so. Unlike anyone else. 

Because no one else can. 

He’ll stay with her, continue to help her with the nursery that’s just about done, narrow down options for his little girl’s name, finish going over safety protocol for when she gives birth and just be with her. 

Because as hard as he tries, he can’t give her everything. 

But this, he can give her this.

[lvicevlk]

#mdzs#mdzs meta#nie mingjue#jin guangyao#meng yao#nieyao#of course the inherent tragedy is that nmj is totally THE guy to ask if you want your death to mean something#nmj's reaction the the fact that most ppl's deaths are meaningless is to go: yes and I should change this.#If everyone thought like me this wouldn't happen anymore I simply need to get EVEN MORE HARDCORE about justice to MAKE them care#and this quality- which makes him the one person perhaps capable of making jgy's death mean something- also makes him a threat to his life#so jgy kills him because he needs to live. And then his beliefs about the meaninglessness of his own death are doomed to be true#what else was he supposed to do? just die and TRUST that someone would make it mean something?#like his mother trusted that his father would come back for them?#of course he can't do that.#just like how nmj's upbringing means that by the stairs he can't see how jgy- son of a sect leader and extremely capable-#is any different from the men who wrung their hands and told him that wen ruohan is just *too powerful* they can't do anything about him.#(*guy who killed wrh and wil go on to kill jgs voice* i just can't do anything about my dad being evil)#if jgy had agreed to risk his life and asked nmj to make it mean something if he died nmj would have said yes.#which is why he can't understand jgy wouldn't just ASK that.#jgy meanwhile has not been informed that was a fucking option and if he was wouldnt be able to trust that it'd actually happen.#for reasons outlined above#ahhh tragedy and inability of characters to understand each other i love you (via OP)

So I've said multipe times now (here and here) that thinking nmj is just so blinded by privilege he doesn't undertand that acting out of line gets people killed is, in my opinion, a misunderstanding of his character that ignores the part where he's, you know, actively dying the whole time and thinks that's a good thing. But that doesn't mean I don't think privilege plays no role at all in how he views the world.

Specifically, his view that death (at least premature or violent death) means something.

Death isn't always a tragedy to NMJ, but it is always meaningful. If you kill an evil dangerous person for your righteous cause, that death had meaning. There was evil in the world and now there is less of it. Similarly, if you die in the pursuit of your righteous cause, that death has meaning, because the sheer dedication you gave to it that you were willing to die for it will further that cause, and your bretheren will be invigorated by your sacrifice to fight even harder.

If a death isn't meaningful, that's an injustice and it is up to the living to give it meaning. That's what cuts so deep about his father's murder. There were no consequences, no changes, no meaning. Wen Ruohan was just going to get away with it! He fights and wins an entire war to make it mean something, to make it so that the unjust murder of Nie Mingjue's father is part of Wen Ruohan's downfall.

But this is a view he can only hold because he's the kind of person who's death will be meaningful. Most ordinary people's deaths are meaningless. Not ontologically, not inherently, but they are made meaningless because no one cares. For death to be meaningful you either have to be so powerful that anything you risk your life for will be impacted in some way. (Like, say, if you sacrifice a long life for immense martial power in a faustian bargain with a blade) Or if people with that kind of power care enough about you to do so for you. For most people, this isn't true. A starving street kid has no power to change the unfair world that put them there, even if they risk their life trying, and no one will do it for them once they die.

Nie Mingjue knows this in abstract, and of course rightfully believes it's wrong. But all that does is make it yet another righteous cause people should be willing to die for. Everyone's deaths should mean something, we'll make it so or die trying!

This is what the conflict between nieyao is about at its core. Because Jin Guangyao, fundamentally, cannot conceive of his own death as meaningful. Nie Mingjue grew up around powerful men who could change the world but refuse to do so because god forbid they risk a single hair on their perfect heads. Meng Yao, on the other hand, grew up in an environment where no one of importance would blink twice if you died. He was surrounded by meaningless death. Indeed his entire early life is defined by that lack of care.

Meng Shi dies and no one cares. Meng Yao gets thrown off a flight off stairs and no one cares. He has to be the one to do the caring, and once he's gone no one else will do it for him.

So he has to live.

Jin Guangyao eventually gets far enough that he actually does aquire the power to change some things... as long as he's alive. If he changes too much, holds on too tightly to his ideals, he'll die and it'll all be for nothing. He can't sacrifice himself for his goals because doing so would immediately render those goals unobtainable. No one will care about what he tried to do. He won't be a heroic sacrifice, he'll just be trash that finally cleaned itself up.

And well... Nie Mingjue dies, and someone makes it mean something. Makes it mean so much that the entire story of mdzs would not exist without it. Jin Guangyao dies and it doesn't mean anything. Most people are glad to be rid of him, and the few that are not don't do anything to change that.

[cvntroach5000]

LaDS men vs Orange Peel Theory

Xavier

• "Xavier, can you peel this orange for me?"

• "Of course!"

• No hesitation, all enthusiasm to do something for his babygirl. Very good boy.

Zayne

• You don't need to say anything, just place an orange next to him, nudge it in his direction and his muscle memory will take over and he'll peel it without even realising he's doing it.

• Reliable, locked in, responds without verbal prompt. Green flag king.

Sylus

• "Sylus, can you peel this orange for me?"

• "Sure. Do you need anything else? Are you hungry? I can call the chef or if you ask nicely, I'll make something myself."

• Not very good at the actual orange peeling part, compensates by going above and beyond. Attentive, happy to serve. Husband material.

Rafayel

• Uh... So here's the thing; if you catch him in the right mood and ask in the right way... Yeah, he'll do it!

• However, this man would debone a fish for you anytime. Which is exponentially harder??

• All in all, it's a win. He's just built different. Ocean diva exclusive.

Caleb

• LMAOOOOOO

• He literally cheated death for you, of course he'll peel your fucking orange.

• . . .

• The orange might have drugs in it though, so be careful.

• Least you could ask for, really, he'd do much, much worse bigger things for you. Easy peasy. 11/10.

[stollengoods]

He’s a player 230

Requested Nam-gyu fluff~

Warnings: Death, cursing, mentions of: blood, bruising, and drug use.

Summary: Your boyfriend Thanos dies and Nam-gyu tries to give you his Cross necklace to remember him by, but what if you don’t want to remember him ?

P.S. The dog bread Shiba sounds very similar to the Korean curse word Shibal, that’s important for later in the story, okay enjoy💞

————

“…Player 230 eliminated.”

A shiver ran down your spine, eyes wide open now as you sat up in your bed. Thanos was the last player announced dead as the men came back from the bathrooms.

You were trying to take a nap before dinner time and so now you don’t know if you were slowly drifting off to sleep and dreamed that they announced your boyfriend dead or if he was actually gone.

The men were yelling, cursing, and shoving each other. Trying to place the blame for what had happened in the men’s room. You spotted Nam-gyu in the midst of it, dazed and lost. There was specks of blood splattered on his face and jacket.

What really caught your attention was Myung-gi, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He was bruised with colors of black and blue with a coating of blood covering almost half his face.

“Hey y/n.”

You gasped, flinching away from the man beside you, “Oh, fuck, Nam-gyu hey-“ You placed your hand over your chest, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

He tried holding back his smirk, “My bad, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine, what’s up ?”

“Do you mind if I-?” He gestured to the end of your bed and you gave him a small smile, nodding your head.

He sat down on the bed and exhaled, “I’m sure you heared already…”

You held your breath and when he didn’t saying anything else you finished for him.

“…about Thanos ?” You said.

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on your bed, “Yeah.”

“What happened ?”

He closed his eyes and used two of his fingers to rub his eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, if it’s too hard- the last thing I want is for you to cry…”

He ran his hand down his face, “I couldn’t cry even if I wanted too.” He grumbled, letting out a fake chuckle, “I’m way too fucking high right now.”

“Oh ok… um- what did you want to talk to me about then ?”

He raised his eyebrows, “Right.” Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a cross shaped pendant. It was attached to a necklace that was around his neck.

He took it off handing it to you, “I think you should have this.”

You starred at the cross in your hand tracing the outline with your finger.

Nam-gyu bit his lip nervously, “I figured since you are the only person who knew him outside of this place and like really knew him as a person, not as a fan, you should be the one to keep it.”

You popped open the cross and was not surprised to see a different assortment of pills in it. “This is fucked up.”

His head snapped up, “Huh ?”

“Putting narcotics in a peice that is supposed to symbolize our lord and savior, that’s kind of fucked up, no ?”

He blinked a couple of times, not really sure what to say.

“I guess we know where he’s currently resting, not that I’m surprised.”

Nam-gyu just starred at you, half smiling, not sure if your way of coping was to joke around or if you were being serious. You closed the pendant with a snap and tossed the necklace back to him, one of his hands catching it against his chest.

“Thanks, but I don’t want it.”

He looked down at the cross in his hands, “Wouldn’t you want something to remember your friend by ?”

Your eyes narrowed at him, “Friend ?”

Now Nam-gyu was beyond confused, “Yeah… Thanos said you guys dated in college but broke up and have remained good friends ever since.”

You let out a humorless chuckle, “That’s what he told you ?”

“No, we didn’t really talk about anything when we were together, besides-“ He held up the cross, shaking it, making the pills rattle inside. “I overheard him tell Se-mi that one time.” He said placing the necklace around his neck once again.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips, well it started off as a giggle and turned into you full out laughing like a maniac. Nam-guy’s eyes shifted from left to right, like at any minute a camera crew would come out of nowhere and say, “You’ve just got pranked.”

“Am I missing something ??” Nam-gyu asked, “Were you guys not friends ?”

You stopped laughing, “No, he was my fucking boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I just said that, in college-“

“No. Ugh.” You pinched your nose bridge, “Nam-gyu, we’ve been dating since college, we never broke up. Well I guess now we are… until death do you part right ?”

Nam-gyu’s eyebrows furrowed together as he sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. “That doesn’t make any sense… he’s been flirting with every girl since he’s got here. Also why would he tell Se-mi that-“

You interrupted him, “-Because he’s a fucking asshole, that why.”

“Wait. If you guys have been dating since college, which would be majority of his rap career, how come I’ve never heard of you ? Or seen you and Thanos together in pictures ?”

You looked down at your hands as you picked at your fingernails, “Because his label thought it wouldn’t be right for his branding… especially since I’m not famous, I’m just a random person.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“So you were his secret girlfriend ?”

You shook your head, “I wouldn’t phrase it that way. Everyone knew: my family, his family, our friends… it was just hidden from the public.”

He nodded his head, “And he just started acting like this when you guys got in here, why ?”

You snorted, “Fuck no. Ever since his label told him he couldn’t publicly have a girlfriend, he’s been acting like that; but I learned rather quickly that it wasn’t just an act.”

Nam-gyu’s mouth was agape, “He cheated on you ?”

You shrugged your shoulders, trying to be non-chalant about it. This asshole already pissed you off when he was alive, now that he’s dead you were no longer going to give him that power over you again.

“I’m not sure. I never actually caught him in the act, but he’d come home smelling of perfume and his lips would shine of lip gloss.” You shook your head, looking up, “He didn’t even wear fucking chapstick that lying bastard.”

“That sounds really complicated.”

You sighed, “Yeah.”

He placed his hand on top of yours, which was resting on your leg in front of you. “I know you most likely don’t want to hear this, because I know I didn’t, but I’m sorry that happened to you and you deserve better.”

You looked at his hand then made eye contact with him. “I’m sorry- I was just trying to comfort- I didn’t mean-“ He pulled his hand away but you reached for it and held it in yours.

“It’s fine.” You assured him, “You’ve been cheated on ?”

“Yeah.” He bit his lip, “It’s uh- not the best feeling in the world.” He swallowed, “It led me down a really dark path.”

Using his free hand he rolled up his sleeve to reveal a popped vain, “There’s other factors that played into it and I’m not blaming her at all, it’s my doing, but I’m still trying to find the old me again.”

Your eyes were transfixed on the huge black/blue scar located on the inside of his arm. You pursed your lips as you felt your eyes gloss over.

You hated Thanos for treating you like a groupie instead of a girlfriend. You guys would constantly argue and yell at each other. Especially when he’d come back with unexplained scratches on his back and red marks on his neck you would even slap him, shove him, do anything to take your anger out on him and show him how much he was hurting you on the inside.

Nam-gyu didn’t do any of that, he internalized her wrong doing as something he did wrong. He took his anger out on himself and for that you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to comfort and be there for him.

“Nam-gyu…” You whispered.

He pulled down his sleeve, “It’s fine, that was a couple of years ago.” You looked into his eyes, they were enlarged to the point you couldn’t tell where his pupil started and his iris ended.

“You’re high right now, aren’t you ?”

He licked his lips, looking off to the side, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I had mentioned that earlier.”

You held his hand with both of yours now, “You can’t swallow poison and expect the other person to die.”

“What if it’s not the other person I’m trying to kill ?”

You looked at him with concern in your eyes, “Don’t talk like that.”

“Dinner is now being served.” The loud speaker spoke, “Please line up to receive your meal.”

You got up from the bed, still holding on to his hand with one of yours. “C’mon.”

He slipped his hand away, slouching more into your bed, “I’m not hungry right now.”

Your concern only increased, “That’s just the drugs talking.”

He shrugged his shoulders, avoiding eye contact with you. “I’m also a skinny guy, I don’t eat a lot of food.”

“Even if you’re not hungry you should still eat.” You calmly replied, “They only feed us three times a day and the portion sizes are getting smaller and smaller each day. You’ll need your strength, plus you won’t be able to eat anything for another twelve hours after this.”

You outstretched your hand, he nodded before taking your hand and standing up. You walked side by side down the stairs and lined up behind everyone else. Once you both got your food, you headed back towards your bed.

Nam-gyu took a bite of his food and then cleared his throat, “Let’s talk about something light while we eat.”

You nodded, “Okay. You start us off.”

He pointed his fork at you, “What are you going to do with your share of the money ?”

The end of your fork rested on your lips as you pondered your answer, “I’m going to get a dog.”

He grinned, wiping away food from his mouth, “A dog ? What breed ?”

“Hmm, that’s a good question… I’ll probably get a Shiba and name it Thanos, you know to honor him.” You smiled sarcastically.

It took Nam-gyu a second to realize the joke you just said but once he did he spit some of his food out laughing.

“Eww.” You giggled, “You almost got some on me.” You playfully told him, wiping the bits of food off your bed.

“I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to say something like that- but don’t get me wrong it was funny.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” You shrugged your shoulders, “I probably shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

You tilted your head, “Okay, what about you ?” You asked.

He made eye contact with you for a second before quickly looking back at his food, a tint of blush on his cheeks. “At first I was thinking of buying myself a new gaming console, I have the PS3.” He rolled his eyes while chewing his food, “I’ve had it for years, the graphics suck ass, I need a new one.”

You giggled, “So what are you thinking now ?”

“Mmm, I’ll probably switch over completely and get the Xbox One.”

You shook your head, “No I mean, you said at first that’s what you wanted. What do you want now ?”

“Oh.” The blush on his cheeks deepened, “There’s this restaurant in the city I’ve always wanted to try, it’s not that I couldn’t afford it, I just never had anyone to go with.”

He scratched the back of his head, “Would you by chance want to go with me ?”

Your heart beat sped up a bit, “Like a date ?”

You guys made eye contact, “I mean that’s up to you, we could just go as friends if-“

“It’s a date.” You beamed.

He smiled while biting his lip, “Cool.”

You nodded your head, “Cool.” You couldn’t suppress the smile that formed on your lips.

[hee0soo]

When Stars & Moon Align

Pairing — Park Seonghwa x afab!Reader

Summary — Imperial Commander Park Seonghwa is a strict, unforgiving man, ready to follow through with every cruel command he is given... Until the woman he loves reveals herself to be part of the resistance...

Genre — angst, a lil fluff at the end, hurt/clmfort maybe (?) honestly i don't even know anymore

Warnings — death, suicide (?) like bro she asks him to kill her okay, mentions of war, literally every warning that comes with starwars tbh, bloodshed, mention of embyo death(?)

Word Count — 4.1k

Rating — NC-17

A/N — Plsss don't hate me for any inaccurancys! I haven't watched Star Wars in a good while and was simply inspired by this look ⬆️ for golden hour pt. 2

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Not many things were able to throw Park Seonghwa off. He was a well known Commander within the First Order, recognized for his calm, almost cold persona. A man that did not hesitate to kill when necessary or told to do so by the higher ups, cruel almost if one were to ask the victims of his torturous skills of pulling information out of a stubborn rebel. Many had claimed to withstand him and all had failed.

For the First Order, he was an important asset who knew how to get what he wanted and had no qualms about doing what was needed to get exactly that.

And so it was all the more surprising to see the cold façade of ice crack upon coming face to face with the rebels they had managed to catch just a few hours prior. He had yet to see them, only having known about the incomers after getting the order to prepare one of the chambers.

But now, staring into the face of the woman he had tried so hard to hide from his superiors, he had a hard time hiding the storm of emotions brewing inside him.

Had he known that you, his wife, the love of his life, was one of the rebels the First Order and thus him were trying so desperately to eliminate? Of course not! However to say he was surprised would also be a lie.

You had never been one to do as you were told. A true whirlwind that he had to save from getting her ass handed to her more times than he could count. Someone who was able to bring out the softer, more carefree side of his personality with something as simple as an eye bat and a smile that made it look like the stars were sparkling in them.

Hands bound behind your back and on your knees, glaring at the cold grey shimmering ground under you, you sat there. Waiting for what was to come.

“What should we do with them, Commander?” the muted voice of one of the officers cut through the heavy silence that surrounded them even while standing in the middle of a bustling hangar.

Seonghwa, schooling his face as best as he could back into a cold glaring picture of nonchalance, inhaled before staring down at your kneeling form. “Bring them to the interrogation chambers. I will take care of them in due time.”

He watched your muscles tense upon recognizing his voice.

“Yes, Commander!” The troopers roughly pulled you to your feet and if Seonghwa hadn´t had to pretend to be ignorant of whom you were, he would have ripped the trooper to shreds for doing so.

Hiding his amusement over how you immediately snarled at the poor trooper, swearing up and down at him with every insult he knew you knew off, he walked behind you with quick steps. The two men you were captured with were either dragged behind them or just as stubborn as you were being. It was pathetic how much they struggled with getting 3 non force wielders in Seonghwa’s opinion.

“Don´t fucking touch me you bastard!” you snapped when you were being forced forward particularly harsh, trying to hit the trooper with your leg which promptly got you a blaster smacked to the head. Delirious you sagged in yourself, sight swimming ever so slightly as you felt the spot start to bruise.

“Is that how you treat your guests? Were you not taught how to receive any?” The comment, seemingly directed at nobody, Seonghwa knew was for him to hear.

It was ironic because while when he was rarely at home, you almost never received guests in your house and when you did? You had to show him first how to treat them nicely.

You reached the Interrogation rooms. Funny how they were called that when they should have been called torture chambers, if one were to ask you. Sadly nobody did and so you quickly found yourself strapped to the giant, very uncomfortable looking chair that stood right in the middle of the room.

For the first time in ages did your eyes meet your husband’s as he stood right in front of you. Face blank of emotion and hands clasped together as they were resting against behind his back. He stood still, admiring your face and internally wincing when he saw the drying blood staining the side of your face and your busted lip.

“Take care of the others. She belongs to me.”

His words had you cackling in surprise, well knowing how true his statement rang. If Seonghwa was one thing that you could attest to, then it was possessive!

You were left alone with him. Neither of you wanting to falter first.

You silently raised your eyebrow at his still form, his apparent calmness grating on your nerves. Seonghwa felt the same, but knowing you well enough he also knew that if he didn´t break his silence then he would stand there until the galaxy ceased to exist.

“You never told me.”

It was a statement, not a question and you knew that very well. Instead of straight out answering you tilted your head and smiled.

“Should I have? Would you have accepted it?” you asked in return, knowing very well that Seonghwa wouldn´t be able to answer this. Seonghwa relaxed ever so slightly at the sound of your voice. There was no trace of anger or hatred for his actions traceable which left him a tad bit more at peace with the situation.

“You know I can´t answer that.” He sighed.

“No, I guess you can´t… But tell me this,” you began before falling silent. Smile falling a bit as reality began to settle into your bones. “What happens now?”

Seonghwa swallowed, the calm and collected facade now not just crumbling but completely falling. You could clearly see the fear and sadness behind those dark beautiful eyes you had fallen for all this time ago.

“Don´t say it, please don´t say it.” He begged, voice shaking the slightest bit as he took enough steps to stand right in front of you. You felt his gloved fingers gently touching your strapped down ones.

“Hwa… what else is there to say? I work for those you swore to hunt down, there is no other way but for you to-“

“No! I won´t let it come to that!” He didn’t let you speak. Hearing what you were going to say would shatter his resolve completely.

You scoffed gently in amusement. “You have no choice! Ren will kill you if you don´t at least get me to spill some information and you and I both know, that won´t happen. So tell me, what other choice do we have?”

The Commander of the First Order, your ever loving husband yelled, hand running through his neatly kempt back hair. “A different one then me fucking killing you y/n! My star please…”

“I´ll always be your star. But this is not something either of us can change. You either torture me until my heart hives out, or you shoot me right here and now. But please don´t let me wait for my demise in this horrible corner you call Interrogation Room.”

Frustrated Seonghwa turned around and rammed his fist into the hard surface of the wall. You flinched at the sound it made, worrying for his hand more then he seemed to be doing.

“Seonghwa, baby listen to me!” you said and gave him a said smile when he faced you again. A salty tear that you hadn´t notice was ready to be freed rolled down the side of your face. Seonghwa shook his head and came back cup your face in his hands, thumb wiping away the tear while pressing his forehead against yours.

He couldn´t care less if the cameras picked up on what was going on or if his Ren or even Snoke got their hands on the material. All he care about was being as close to you as possible in your position.

“You´ll be okay.” You whispered and received a whimper from the usually cold man in response.

“No I won´t. Not when I do this! I could never live with myself if I did.”

You leaned forward as far as you could, laying your lips on his for a gentle yet heartbreakingly desperate kiss. The tears were coming without anything stopping them at this point, mixing with his own.

“I love you, Park Seonghwa. I did ever since I almost shot you back when we were nothing but teenagers on Niamos,” both of you laughed at the reminder of how you had gotten close. “And I promise that I will do so until all the stars die.”

“My star I can´t-“ he took a deep breath and kissed you once more before backing up to catch himself again. “And I won´t.”

“Hwa!”

“No, I can´t lose you and much less kill you myself! I will find a way, just give me time.” With those last words he wipped the wetness from his cheeks and turned to leave. An anger you had never once felt before took over.

“NO! DON´T YOU DARE YOU FUCKING COWARD! GET BACK HERE AND FINISH IT!” The whoosh of the doors sliding shut could be heard through your screams, leaving you to calm down. “Please baby… just finish us…”

Back on the bridge surrounded by officers and troopers of every kind, Seonghwa fought hard on what to do now. It had been almost 4 rotations since you and your companions had been brought in and just as long since he had visited your cell. He had given the order that no one was to enter it without his explicit permission, reasoning that this was a new technique he wanted to try. Only to give food and a medic droid had been send in as of now.

“Let them stir in their misery.” He had said as if he needed to answer to any of them.

He knew that many questioned him for this, yet none of them dared to say anything out loud in fear of being on the receiving end of the commanders anger.

His train of thought came to an abrupt halt as the Admiral suddenly stood at his side.

“What?” he hissed and enjoyed the reaction he received.

“Lo- Lord Ren wishes to speak to you.” The man stammered and bowed at his waist.

A sigh left Seonghwa’s mouth and he followed even if a bit unwilling.

He stepped closer to the Holo projector, the blue light flickering as the connection shook.

“Commander. Have you made any progress with the prisoners?” The masked man inquired gruffly, causing Seonghwa to shake his head.

“No, none of them have spoken so far. We are still waiting for them to feel a sense of … safety… if you will.”

“You are supposed to break THEM! NOT MAKE THEM FEEL SAFE! This is not a cruise ship you are commanding!” Ren lost his temper and if it were anyone else Seonghwa would have been scared.

“Yes, Lord Ren. I am very aware and will let you know when we have made progress. It will be soon, I guarantee you.”

The Sith apprentice, while not happy accepted the answer, aware that he wasn´t able to do much while being in a different part of the galaxy.

“I hope so, commander. Or this will have consequences…” The threat hanging in the air was clear but the Commander paid it no mind. Whatever Ren had planned for him if this failed could not be worse then what would happen if he didn´t find a way to get you of this ship.

The hologram vanished as quickly as it had appeared and Seonghwa leaned heavily on the projector table when the droid who has been asked to check on you waddled over to hand him the datapad.

“If. You. Have. Any. More. Questions. Please. Don´t. Hesitate. To. Ask.” He stammered mechanically.

Seonghwa took the Datapad and ushered the droid away to read.

None of the located injuries where ones that particulary surprised him. A few bruises, a twisted ankle and a broken finger. Nothing that couldn´t be fixed easily.

The last sentence on the report however left him frozen.

Additional form of life detected.

Could this mean-

FUCK!

He read over it again, hoping that he might have been reading this wrong.

Additional form of life detected.

The words didn´t change, no matter how many times he read over them and something inside him snapped.

Fuck the war. Fuck the First Order and Fuck Ren and Snoke!

This didn´t just change the situation, it changed his entire view on what he stood and worked for. All of a sudden he didn´t care if the Resistance was destroyed or if the First Order won this war over the galaxies.

All that mattered to him was to get you and his unborn child to safety, even if it meant his own death.

And so he began to form his plan.

With hurried steps he marched of the bridge towards where you were being held captive. The troopers hurriedly jumped out of his way and left after hearing the hissed, “Dismissed. And let them prepare my ship!” being thrown their way.

The doors opened with a hiss and closed again behind him.

“Is it time for your daily taunts already?” you drawled out of boredom, eyes shut in resignation.

Guilt clawed at Seonghwa’s insides upon seeing the state you were in. His orders had very obviously been ignored, the black eye and the additional blood that had dried into the fabric of your tunics were a dead giveaway of that.

His eyes fall onto your stomach, the slight swell that he had not noticed in the hectic of the events just a few rotations prior, now very evident if one knew what to look for.

“Oh, my Star… I´m so sorry dear.” He sighed and opened the clasps holding you in place. Hearing his voice again your eyes flew open.

“What- Seonghwa? What are you doing?” you questioned and couldn´t stop the anger from bleeding into your words.

“There is no time to explain! We have to get to the hangar. Quick, there is no time!” he rushed to say and pulled you upright when you swayed a little to much for Seonghwa´s liking.

Gapping at the nothing saying explanation of his you struggled against him. Seonghwa tugged gently on your arm, causing you to fall forward and into his chest.

“We are getting out of here. You and I,” he said, staring straight into your Soul. “And our child.”

Eyes wide open you looked at him.

“You-“

“Know, yes. And there is nothing that will stop me from getting us out of here, so come. Follow me.”

When you had found your footing again, Seonghwa let go of your shocked form and pulled out his blaster from his weapon belt and opened the door. Gesturing for you to step out in front of him.

You felt the blaster being pressed into your back as he led you through the dark corridors towards the hangar. It seemed you were walking for ages past soldiers and droids that were going their own way until you walked into the hangar bay.

“I hate to ask this baby, but what do we do if your genius plan fails and we get caught?” you murmured under your breath so only your husband could hear.

He huffed a laugh. “We will find out when it comes to that.”

“Because that makes me feel so much better.” You rolled your eyes.

-------

“Commander, Sir! Your Ship has been prepared and is ready for departure. However we need identification that you are permissioned to leave with the prisoner!”

Both you and Seonghwa froze when you were stopped. So far everything had run smoothly so you shouldn´t be surprised that luck was now turning against you.

“I was directly ordered by Lord Ren to bring this prisoner to him and now let me trough.”

The two troopers guarding his ship looked at each other for a moment before turning back to you.

“I´m sorry commander but we need to see identification and validation of that order before we can let you board.”

You took a step closer to Seonghwa, slowly reaching for the gun still stuck to his waist. The moment you had it your hands on it you ducked and Seonghwa shoot the two straight in the head. The smell of burning armor filled your nose and you frowned as your stomach churned in protest.

An alarm started blaring through the hangar and the light turned red.

“GET IN AND PREPARE FOR TAKE OFF!” Seonghwa yelled and shot the storm troopers that were trying to stop them before you were gone.

You ran into the cockpit and sat down in front of the control panel to start the engine. The ship shook but Seonghwa managed to sat down at your side just after you took off, followed by 2 TIE/in Fighters that did everything to shoot you right out of the sky.

“Do something!” you yelled at your husband who was busy trying to defend them. Seonghwa, knowing how you could be under stress chose to ignore this and only muttered a quiet “What do you think I’m doing here?” to himself.

The first exploded into nothing more but ruble as it was hit by blaster bolts followed by the second and you suddenly were in hyperspace.

Seonghwa shut of the tracker that would allow the First Order to follow them where ever they went.

“Will we talk about this, my star?” he asked after silence had settle over the two of you.

“Not right now.” You said flatly, knowing that if you did now, you would probably tried to kill him yourself.

“And where are we going?”

“D’Qar.”

Seonghwa realized that he wouldn´t get anything more from you. He knew that you were mad at him for not listening to your request back in that cell but what was he supposed to do? Had he listened and followed through, then could have also simply asked the next trooper to shoot him right there and then.

“You know why I couldn’t do it.”

“Because you’re a coward?”

Now Seonghwa could admit that from anyone else, these words would have probably unleashed a storm of fury. From you? He knew that it was a defense mechanism to protect your pride and he had to conceal a smile. Even after all this time and all this fighting that shook up the galaxy once more, you still were the same fiery personality he fell for.

His face fell when he thought about what he had almost lost. The Commander could forgive you for fighting against his own cause, he could forgive you for fighting for what you believed in and like he said, he couldn’t even be surprised by it. You had always stood for those weaker than him and this was your own way of fighting for them; trying to save those who couldn’t save themselves from this war the first order had brought on.

However he couldn’t help but think-

“Would you really have sacrificed our child for them? To keep their secrets?”

Your stoic face faltered and in even tho he was only able to see your profile, he recognized the horror glimmering in your widened eyes when the realization set in what you had almost done.

It wasn’t just that you had tried to give your self up for the Resistance and what the Jedi fought for. It was the fact that you had also begged him to kill you, full well knowing that you carried the prove of your love under your heart.

Your hand fell onto your stomach which, now that he was aware of the circumstance, did look rounder than last time he had seen you when he had departed again.

“Don’t fret now, my star. Nothing happened to you and our little moon I promise you now, nothing will threaten you ever again as long as I am there to prevent it.” Even if his words were calm, that did not mean he felt as calm on the inside. You knew he was seething on the inside for your failure and protecting what he didn’t even know existed, even if you had not realized what it would have meant for the life growing inside your belly.

Seonghwa reached for your hand, the once still gently brushing over the swell of your stomach. He didn’t pull it away, no he simply added his own gentle ministration to it and you tears suddenly fell freely and without restraint.

Without having to think the man put the ship on autopilot to pull his silently crying wife into his arms. You went without much of a fight, craving the touch of your husband who you hadn’t seen since the baby was conceived. You had missed him terribly, driving those close to you nearly insane in the process.

It hadn’t been easy being pregnant and fighting your aches all alone when you didn’t feel like you could share, more like didn’t want to share the sweet news with anyone but the man wiping the salty liquid away from your cheeks and whispering soothing words into the shell of your ear.

“I’m sorry, Hwa! So sorry! How could I even suggest- how could I not think—?” you wept out between heavy sobs.

“It’s done now, and we shall not think of it again. We are alright. You, me and this little moon of ours and nothing, nothing will ever change this again. How could I let them? Knowing what is waiting for me far away from the battle field…” he smiled, his own tears glistening in his eyes now that the adrenaline slowly settled.

You leaned your forehead against his, noses brushing against each other lightly. You reveled in it like a Loth-Cat getting chin scratches.

Seonghwa closed the gap between your lips, sealing them with yours and it was like coming home before the moment was over far to fast in your opinion.

“So, D’Qar huh? Is that where you have been hiding?” he whispered with a smug grin which in turned earned him a slap to the back of his not so sleek any more ponytail.

[themotherfuckingfox]

Oh. I thought at first that this was from Cassandra, and it just clicked for me that this song is basically the precursor to Cassandra. Cassandra is the Albatross.

It's bad luck to kill the albatross. Like, The Worst luck. Cassandra is the witch they killed. Cassandra's curse is to never be believed when she tries to warn the town about the great evil threatening to take over. The last verse of The Albatross,

You were sleeping soundly When they dragged you from your bed And I tried to warn you about them. 1 So I crossed my thoughtless heart. Spread my wings like a parachute. I'm the albatross. I swept in at the rescue. 2 The devil that you know. Looks now more like an angel. 3 I'm the life you chose. And all this terrible danger. 4

"I tried to warn you about them," is the obvious connection here. Cassandra lives her life trying to warn people but no one ever believes her.

"So I crossed my thoughtless heart," she decides to do the thing despite knowing what the result is going to be. "I swept in at the rescue," she knows that she can save them. She knows the truth and knows she can save them if they'll just believe her.

"The devil that you know," People hate a downer. People hate a party pooper. Imagine if some rando came to your party and was like, "Hey, if you kiss the cute girl your house is gonna burn down." Of course people hated Cassandra and her silly little sad predictions!!! Wtf?? So, "Looks now more like an angel." They kill her, obviously. They kill her and she looks like an angel because she's dead. And what happens when the albatross is killed? Bad things.

"I'm the life you chose and all this terrible danger." It's their own fault for any bad luck that happens to them now, she's saying. She tried to save them. They chose to kill her. Wear her around your neck with pride, bitches! It could have been different!

Also, earlier in the song, the line "Cautions issues, he stood shooting the messengers" also aligns with this. Just 100%.

"She's the albatross, she is here to destroy you," like SHE'S the one causing the problems, and not simply warning about them. "Wise men once said 'One bad seed kills the garden. One less temptress. One less dagger to sharpen.'" Part of her myth is that Apollo granted her the gift of prophecy in return for sleeping with her, but she refused him/rescinded her consent (temptress) and that's when he ADDED the part where no one would ever believe her. The curse is what led directly to her death.

"Locked me up in towers, but I'd visit in my dreams," LITERALLY Cassandra starts out with "I was in my new house placing daydreams," and later is mirrored with the line, "I was in my tower weaving nightmares." It's a direct reference.

"And when the sky rains fire on you," possibly a reference to the fall of Troy, which Cassandra predicted and warned about.

"And you're persona non grata," on a base level this just means someone who was once important who is no longer welcome in the country or place they're in. Which, you know, once your city falls and is taken over by another country, yeah, you're kind of no longer wanted there.

"I'll tell you how I've been there too," See above explanations about being a party pooper and people hating you for it.

"And that none of it matters." She's just self aware here. It doesn't matter what she says or does, no one will believe her. It doesn't matter that no one believes her, because she's right. None of it matters. Like, ALL THIS BIG IMPORTANT STUFF literally doesn't matter because what the fuck can she do about it? Die, I guess. And what can the mentioned persona non grata do now that his city's been taken over despite being CLEARLY WARNED about it? Probably also die, I guess. In this way, yeah, none of it matters. But like, in a petty way.

Anyway, like I said, I saw these images and instantly thought they were from Cassandra before I saw the title. Totally changes the song for me. Also, I haven't stretched my writing muscles in this way in a handful of years so I hope my connections here make sense :P I'm 1000% sure people have made this connection before but I haven't seen it yet.

the albatross | taylor swift

requested anonymously

[talk-danmei-to-me]

So I was thinking about how fun Mdzs would be, if my boy Jin Guangyao was the protagonist.

Then I realised, that already exists:

Shen Lanzhou is Jin Guangyao with protagonist privilege.

Allow me to explain:

Both are the sons of prostitutes and men from prominent clans/families (Jin Guangshan and Shen Wei respectively).

Both are shameless social climbers who will do whatever it takes and are equally clever schemers.

Both are super creative in the way they kill the people who’ve wronged them.

Jin Guangyao literally had prostitutes who were mean to his mother fuck his father to death, whilst Shen Lanzhou chose to skin a man alive.

Both are completely besotted with boys from well established, good families.

Of course I’m talking Lan Xichen and Xiao Chiye. Xiyao is canon. Fight me.

Finally, both have a running motif, Jiggy consistently gets pushed down stairs, Lanzhou gets railed.

Tl;dr Social climbing son’s of prostitutes are my new favourite danmei trope. I may love them more than Shizun fuckers.

Also I guess if you love Jin Guangyao and you haven’t read Ballad of Sword and Wine yet, you should get on that.

[roipecheur]

While the reverse robins trope does not usually Compel™ me (sorry), I was thinking today about keeping the rest the same but reversing Tim and Steph. To be clear, I think this would be 10x worse for Steph and probably at least slightly worse for Tim.

(Warning: this does get a little Bruce critical. I do like Bruce as a character, but part of me liking him is putting him under a magnifying glass and examining his Bastard tendencies.)

So. If Bruce met Steph/Spoiler first. She'd be about 12/13, same age as Tim. Bruce is mourning Jason, out of his mind with grief, and then he meets this bright, fierce kid who reminds him a little of Jason but quips and laughs in the face of death like he hasn't seen since Dick. Since Steph is doing this to fight Cluemaster (her dad) and doesn't want him to figure out who she is, she's pretending to be a boy. This unintentionally goes a long way in getting Bruce to accept her.

Because Bruce was really fucking sexist in the '90s and '00s. I don't know if this was a deliberate character choice or the sexism of the writers/DC at the time or a mixture of both since Bruce of course would've had a bunch of different writers during that time. You only have to look at the difference in how he extended endless compassion and second chances to Jean-Paul Valley and Bane, two men who attacked him and broke his big no-killing taboo, and how he treated Helena and Steph--like loose canon liabilities despite how they were generally doing the vigilante thing and not getting dead. And, to a lesser extent, how Bruce treated Babs especially during War Games, and how he treated Cass.

In Cass, Bruce really wanted a kindred spirit. He wanted someone who lived and breathed the mission like he did, for Batgirl to be who she was in the way Batman is who Bruce is. Bruce Wayne is the mask, and one it seems at times (Fugitive arc) that he'd happily discard. I've only read a few issues of Cass' Batgirl run, mostly while following Tim's appearances, but I've gathered that Bruce gets into a snit whenever she goes off script and does her own thing. It threatens him.

Back to little 12-13 year old Spoiler, who Bruce at this point thinks is a boy. They team up and defeat Cluemaster, and during the fight, Arthur unmasks Steph and realizes he was about to kill his own daughter, which is what allows Bruce to get the drop on him and send him away. Bruce's assumptions have been rocked a bit, but Steph's dad is now in prison (again) and for plot and convenience reasons, let's say Steph's mom is having drug problems and is about to lose custody to the system. Bruce has always solved his emotional problems by taking in wayward children, so he scoops Steph up.

Alfred, Dick, Babs, Clark, and little Tim Drake watching through his camera lens: "What the fuck."

This prompts Tim to track Dick down, which he was about to do anyway, except instead of "hey I think Batman is going to get himself killed" it's "hey I think Batman is gonna get another kid killed because he's got a new Robin already" and Dick, who is hearing about this for the first time, goes home to yell at Bruce. Meanwhile, Steph and Tim have intense rivalry/tension at first sight. Tim's Robin material and a Real Boy, and Steph accuses him of wanting to be Robin in her place. Tim claims he doesn't want to be Robin (but deep down, he kinda does, and he also thinks he could do a better job).

Also. Bruce is extremely hard on Steph because he subconsciously or semi-consciously needs her to make up for the fact that she's 1) not Dick and 2) the Robin after Jason. Part of it is justified because he doesn't want another kid to die on him, and part of it is Bruce forcing her to choose between normal middle school activities and friends and being Robin. He isolates her in a way he didn't with Dick or Jason in the name of protecting her--definitely doesn't let her go off with the Titans or meet the Justice League or anything like that. Steph, desperate for approval and someone willing to spend the time on her, tries to live up to his expectations while chafing under them.

Fun bonus: Bruce makes Steph hide her blonde hair under a short, black wig on patrol in a call-back to making Jason in the pre-Crisis timeline dye his red hair black. He says it's to help protect her identity (and pretending to be a boy was Steph's idea first), but it almost seems like it lets Bruce forget she isn't a boy when they're out as Batman and Robin.

Bruce also keeps letting Tim hang around. He says it's because Tim knows their secrets and has some useful computer skills, so it's better to keep him where he can see him. Privately, he also thinks Tim pushes Steph to become better and work harder. Steph resents Tim heavily because she sees him as a threat--someone to replace her as Robin if she steps out of line--and their relationship improves once Tim starts working more closely with Babs instead. While Babs wasn't willing to take on Steph's training in her Spoiler days in the pre-Flashpoint timeline, Tim's already good with computers. He can provide support on that front and fill in for her in a way that Steph couldn't, so he finds a niche with Oracle.

When Cass shows up, Bruce pits her and Steph against each other and sets Cass up as an 'example' for Steph. It pisses Steph off because she was here first, and maybe she can't fight like Cass and never will, but she can do stuff like talk to people they need information from and pretend to be a Normal Teenager to blend in when the situation calls for it. Despite that, she tries to be friends with Cass...and it works a little too well for Bruce's liking. Steph does something like take Cass on a girls' night to a skating rink and a movie where they wear dresses and do their hair and nails and makeup, and Bruce is furious because they disappeared and weren't answering comms. He benches only Steph for that, which is shitty to Steph and infantilizing to Cass.

Steph could still get pregnant at 15-16--without meaning to, Bruce set her up very well for that. Living with Bruce and being Robin for a few years in those conditions would make Steph want someone to see her as a girl, as the person she was and wanted to be, and not as how well she could fit the mission. Essentially, an easy target for an older guy who told her all the right things. Bruce is angry with her when he finds out....and tells her that she has to choose between Robin and the baby. Steph chooses to carry the pregnancy to term. This happens to correspond with her mom getting better and wanting custody back, so Steph goes back to her mom's house, and Bruce more or less lets her. (Alfred side-eyes him, but we all know that's all the enabler-in-chief will do.)

It's very easy after that for Tim to step into Robin. Bruce was preparing him for this possibility all along. At this point, Tim just started dating Steph--as in the comics, right before Steph found out she was pregnant--and he wants to at least talk to her about it first. But the call comes in an emergency situation, and Tim goes out in the suit, and Steph finds out via rumors or the news. She's upset with Tim, but he shows up later to apologize, and Steph's starting to realize she should be more angry with Bruce.

Steph carries the pregnancy to term, gives her baby up for adoption, and dusts off her old Spoiler suit because she doesn't think she'll get Robin back and isn't sure she wants it. She fills in for Tim when he's at Brentwood and when his dad finds out he's Robin and makes him quit, but it's never the same, and the mantle is never really hers again. As in the comics...Bruce uses Steph when Tim's not around, and he uses her to try and get Tim back.

I don't like the whole War Games arc and I fuckin hate how it treated Steph, so. Since I'm sitting here spinning yarns, rather than Steph stealing Bruce's plans and starting a citywide gang war in a misguided attempt to impress him, she steals information on everyone who trained Bruce in her quest to Find a Mentor Who Gives a Damn. It's the last straw after Bruce fires her--again--for saving his life. Steph skips town, has adventures and misadventures on her training world tour, and eventually comes back to Gotham and becomes Batgirl after Cass gives it up.

As I said. It's Worse.

[syntheticavenger]

Bad Decisions - Six

A big thank you to the commenter who reblogged my little story and gave me the inspiration to write this piece again. I appreciate you so much!

We are at the end of this tale.

Please let me know if you like it and as always, if you were keeping up with this story throughout the years, I appreciate you reading and being apart of my little circle.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, angst, language, HEAVY violence mentions, mentions of pregnancy, murder, a lot of death, angst, mentions of breeding kink.

Mob Boss Bucky Barnes x Right Hand Female Reader

Frank Adler x Right Hand Female Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary | Being Bucky’s right hand gets complicated when he decides to marry a girl from a questionable family that provides no answers to his decision, only more questions.

“It was you all along.”

The betrayal in his voice is strong, his hands up in the air as you follow behind him, hearing the muffled shouts of Dot who is tied up on the ground. You don’t spare her a second glance, the gun still trained on the back of his head as tears well in your eyes.

“What was I supposed to do, Barnes? Let you burn down your empire?”

He stops in his tracks to answer you.

“Yes.“

Gritting your teeth, you look over at Dot, her mascara caked and runny down her dirty cheeks. She’s been there long enough to know he plans on finishing the job, her hands and feet bound. True to his word, there’s not a scratch on her, just her terrified eyes on you, silently begging you to save her.

All you have for her is contempt, remembering how quickly things had fallen apart since she had arrived.

How much you and others have lost.

“Steve needs peace,” you continue. “You spill any more blood and he’ll have it.”

“Did he promise you that?” Bucky fires back, turning around to face you, both your hands gripping the gun as he takes a step closer.

“Don’t,” you demand.

“Steve said no more blood. Is this a bluff? You’ve killed for much less. And deep down, you know I’ll kill her if you don’t. Steve’s threat may be a promise but at least I’d see it through to the end.”

A tear slides down your cheek when you shake your head, trying to keep your cool. Still calm and collected on the surface, as Bucky tends to me, as if resigned to the fate that is in your hands.

“Why her?”

Your resolve is slipping, forcing yourself to focus on something other than his intense gaze.

”It was an expansion. Business,” Bucky says, looking over at Dot as she whimpers.

“Business,” you repeat. “Look where it got you.”

“That’ll happen when you let your guard down. But you didn’t, did you? You’d known all along, trying to warn me. You built your own expansion, turned yourself into a made woman,” he clarifies, looking back at you. “Frank’s proxy and Steve let it happen. That’s fucking poetic.”

He gives a sarcastic laugh, lowering his hands as he takes another step closer, the barrel pressing into his shirt.

“This is your final test, you know. Steve’s not dumb. You kill me and it’s all over. He gets his peace.”

“You could have left it alone. It’s too much loss.”

Cocking the hammer back, Bucky doesn’t move at your action.

“This could have gone another way,” you begin, another tear slipping down your cheek. “I hated it, every minute you were with her, knowing she was going to betray you and you pushed me aside because you knew best. Volstagg is dead, Pierce is going after Steve and it’s all because of your bad decisions. And it’s because I love you that I have to end this the way it should have ended.”

His eyes widen when the gun is turned toward Dot, the flash of the bullet in near slow motion as he calls out to you, anguish in his tone when another pull of the trigger drowns out the noise.

-

Steve looks out at the city skyline, his men in the background as he waits for a phone call. Loose ends should have been tied up already, his fingers gripping his glass in mild annoyance before the phone finally rings.

“Promise me you won’t hurt him,” your voice says on the other end, emotionless as Steve stills.

“He’s still alive?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t think you’d go through with it.”

”I did,” comes your reply. “Natasha will see to handling her body.”

Steve straightens at your words.

“I said no more blood on my doorstep. I’m sure you remember our little conversation, especially since it wasn’t that long ago. You spare him but finish the job,” Steve says, finishing the last of his drink as he rolls his shoulders. “It’s a pity, you know. I liked you. But as I said, I enjoy my peace.”

“I’ll be waiting,” you answer.

“You get no protection. Frank will stand down, Thor will stand down and if Bucky knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay out of this once and for all. I’ll give you a day to say your goodbyes. You can’t hide in this city, doll. I hope you know that.”

“Goodbye Steve.”

Steve smiles, leaning back into his chair as he checks his watch.

“See you soon.”

-

Sam watches Bucky button down his black jacket, armed to the team before he pulls on black leather gloves.

While it’s quiet inside Bucky’s compound, the streets are loud - practically buzzing with the news that you’re on borrowed time.

“You can’t think this is a good idea,” Sam says after a moment. “It’s a suicide mission. You don’t even know where she is. She’s off the grid.”

“And yet, they’re still talking,” Bucky reminds him, adjusting his jacket. “Pierce is still out there.”

“Then he takes care of her and then Pierce. Or Pierce and then her. Steve’s lost his mind.”

Bucky shrugs. His friend hasn’t lost his mind - he’s protecting his assets, something Bucky can understand. He watched one of his own slip through his fingers, your gun carefully placed in one of his holsters after you’d kissed him goodbye, pushing him away before he could register what was happening.

“Dot is gone,” Sam counters slowly. “Steve gets his peace and quiet.”

“He’s a man of his word. More blood spilled, he’s going to keep his promise.”

Sam shakes his head in denial.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Bucky smiles brightly, smoothing back his hair for a moment. There’s a clarity he hasn’t felt in months, knowing his goal is clear.

“Then you take over,” Bucky says, turning on his heels to leave. “Like we talked about.”

“Bucky!” Sam says behind him. “You’re no better than her!”

-

The waves crash around your feet, the first stretches of dawn on the horizon, not a single soul in sight.

Yet.

You’d said your goodbyes, aware of how you’ve been tracked through the city. It’s laughable to think that Steve wouldn’t be invested in your every move - depressing to know that the mobster was a man of his word, sending you a countdown when you were down to twelve hours.

There’s something to be said about the way you’ve been treated. Where there was respect for Bucky’s name and influence, you have your own, doors opening for you and knowing looks where there used to be passing glances. You’ve stood your ground even in the face of impending death and you have no regrets.

If you don’t let yourself feel, it’s almost bearable, knowing your time is almost up. Frank, bucking tradition, has offered to get you out of the country, going against his cousin to keep you safe. Natasha, for her efforts, shed more than a few tears when you had said your goodbyes.

You don’t feel an ounce of remorse for pulling the trigger. Natasha had come quickly but Bucky had helped, something you found out later when the headlines mentioned Dot’s untimely death. A simply placed article, wrong time and wrong place meant that to the untrained eye, nothing was suspicious, no one was the wiser - poor Bucky Barnes who suffered so much loss would no doubt lick his wounds in private.

Nevermind that you had it set in your mind when the tears had come, months of anguish and angst, culminating in his literal confessions of wanting to expand.

You’d built her up, put her on a pedestal that she had never belonged on, Bucky behind the scenes dismantling everything he had done once the truth was exposed.

A truth you had brought to light.

A jogger catches the corner of your eye. An upscale neighborhood like this has no shortage of unsuspecting elite, wanting to get their first run of the day before the rest of the world.

You’ve banked on this.

Staked it out.

The silencer on your ghost gun fits smoothly, not another person in sight when you see him get closer, your back to him as he jogs past, mouthing the words to a song he’s listening to.

Within seconds, his body hits the pavement, your gaze on him only for a moment before the sun begins to rise, walking toward him as you put your gun away. You don’t stop when you walk, snapping a photo of the man before continuing on.

Six more hours left.

-

“You don’t make house calls,” Steve greets his longtime friend, coming down the stairs as he adjusts his cufflinks. “To what due do I owe this occasion?”

It has been too long, this much Bucky knows when he sees Steve. Marriage and impending fatherhood suits him, still armed to the teeth but his eyes show a kindness that makes him want to lower his guard.

“I can’t let you do this, Steve.”

“Are we negotiating?”

“Call it whatever you want. She did it for me.”

Steve finally smiles, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“Love does that to a person. Makes them empowered, makes them feel untouchable. Makes them come to my door to beg for forgiveness.”

Bucky laughs at Steve’s response.

“I’m not here to beg for forgiveness. I’m here to tell you that if you go after her, I’ll kill you.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at his threat. He seems slightly entertained at that fact, merely nodding.

“It’s a good strategy, posturing in my own home, Buck.”

“You said it yourself enough blood was spilled.”

Steve tilts his head to the side for a moment.

“And I wonder who started it? Couldn’t have been the loverboy himself? Drawing a line in the sand to make sure that the one who knew him best didn’t get close to the expansion that you were craving. How did that work out for you?”

“You don’t know how much I paid.”

“But I do,” Steve says, circling him slowly. “My own cousin installing her as his proxy, watching her wield her power over his men without a second thought. She took care of his business and for that, she’ll always have my respect. But this? This cat and mouse game over a goddamn family who came from nothing and back to the dust they came… a mild irritation lodged in the back of my mind. Until you wouldn’t let it go.”

Bucky swallows at the raw anger in Steve’s tone, his fingers rolling into tight fists in his black leather gloves.

“She did what she needed to do.”

“I’m sure she did. Got Thor riled up after Volstagg was killed and he threatened me. Not a good look for the Norseman,” Steve says with a sigh. “That’s still lingering somewhere up here in my head. What he’ll do when he’s back to his full strength. It’s bad enough his wife took charge and killed Helena right under his nose. He never saw it coming. More turf wars when all I asked for was peace. He thinks I had something to do with Helena, you know.”

Bucky knows Thor was pleasantly surprised his own wife could be as cold as he could be, knowing the backstory of everything Pierce had put her through.

But this isn’t about Thor.

It’s about you.

“So then the score was settled.”

“I’m a man of my word, Buck. I said no more blood spilled.”

Steve’s vibrates in his pocket, getting his attention as he pulls it out of his pocket to study it. He’s surprised, a look Bucky hasn’t seen in years. He stares at it for several moments until it rings, Steve answering it quickly.

”Thor.”

After a few moments of silence, Steve nods, smiling brightly as he turns to Bucky.

“Within the hour,” Steve says before hanging up.

-

Pierce hangs over the balcony of his seaside penthouse, blood pouring from his nose and running down his cheek to his eyes.

“Did you think… did you think you would see yourself like this?” Pierce asks with a strained laugh, the waves crashing below. “You call the shots now. Far cry from a… driver.”

“It ends with you and me,” you snarl.

“So we’re dead,” Pierce says with a sardonic laugh, looking at the water. “At least I won’t die alone.”

“I’ll give you a chance to repent,” you pause, Pierce quiet as he attempts to lift his head. You’ve injected him with a muscle relaxer, his body limp as he coughs.

“That’s all you’ll get from me,” he says, saliva dripping from his mouth. “Was it worth it? Knowing the truth and being ignored?”

You think for a moment, fingers gripping his belt.

“Yes.”

With a final pull, gravity takes over, Pierce plunging down onto the sea as you watch. A bullet to the brain was too merciful, watching the waves for a moment before turning back around.

Tears wet your cheeks, your fingers shakily wiping the evidence of your emotions away.

There’s no clean up. Not this time, Pierece’s home in disarray from the scuffle that had ensued. You don’t even check the time, knowing that the hour is drawing close.

You’ve said your goodbyes to Sam and Thor, despite Thor’s wife offering you protection that you had politely turned down.

It’s just you now, alone with your thoughts and the idea of how much blood you’ve spilled as Steve is on the way to make sure you’re finished.

It’s a fitting end, you think, knowing he’ll snuff out one life and welcome another in a few months. That’s the way of life, especially in the business you’ve found yourself in. It shouldn’t bother you but it does, wishing that you’d had more time to talk some sense into Bucky, to not let your emotions get the better of you.

Somewhere your phone vibrates, looking around at the broken frames and vases, finding it on the floor.

Resigning your fate, you answer, wondering how close he is.

“Oakley,” Steve says in a greeting. “I have questions but not at the moment. The more I ask for peace, the less you understand.”

“Loose ends,” you answer.

“Bad decisions get good outcomes. I’m not sorry, Steve.”

“I’ll send my men out later to retrieve Pierce’s body.”

You’re stunned at Steve’s words, silent until you find your voice.

”And me?”

“You have my respect and my protection. Can’t kill someone who did me a favor, can I?”

At your silence, he continues.

“He’s at his wits end, threatening me in my own house. The balls of him,” he chuckles. “But I have to wonder how that will work, seeing as I told him I would dispose of you and told him to wait for my call. Do you think he listened? I guess you’ll find out. Goodnight.’

He hangs up, leaving you speechless as you look around, relief flooding you as you realize you’re not going to die. 

The door flies open, Bucky’s gun cocked and ready, calling out to you before you finally see him. A man deranged, his eyes red as he stops in his tracks. Looking around the fractured penthouse, he lowers his gun.

“Tell me you didn’t do it.”

“I did.”

Bucky looks away from you, muttering to himself.

“Did you want it to continue? To be saddled with the guilt? I finished it for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to. Do you realize he’s coming this way?”

“I did him a favor.”

Bucky shakes his head in denial.

“You did Thor a favor. You settled the score with Volstagg.”

“And Steve’s wife. Oakley was hired to infiltrate Steve’s territory and take out his wife. To finish the job he started when Steve’s wife was a teenager. He killed her father.”

Bucky is stunned into silence, seeing you sigh, your shoulders falling in defeat.

“Spared,” you tell him. “Is that why you were trying to warn me that he was coming?”

“To protect you.”

“Since when do I need protecting?”

When you try to walk away, he pulls you into his arms, his gun clattering to the ground as you look up at him.

“I saved your territory,” you remind him, your voice shaky. “Even when I had nothing, I still looked out for you. Put my life on the line for you.”

“That’s the last time you’ll ever do it,” he promises, smoothing back your hair. “We end this now.”

He gets down on one knee, removing the chain from his neck as you realize what he’s doing.

“No,” you answer softly, seeing him place it into your hand. “I can’t accept this.”

“You take it all. Take the fucking empire, I don’t give a shit. But don’t leave me again. I’ll be your right hand, guide you in any decision when you need the help. I won’t lose you again.”

Your fingers close over his chain as his head settles on your stomach.

“Don’t go,” he whispers against you. “I thought I was lost before. I’ll be done for if you go. Stay.”

Your fingers rest on his shoulders, Bucky looking up at you as tears stream down his face. The fierce mobster on his knees because of you.

“Yes,” you answer. “I’ll stay.”

-

In the middle of the night you wake, the moonlight shining through and luminating the bed you share with Bucky. Whatever dream you had is now forgotten, floating between sleep and awake.

“You have a meeting in the morning,” Bucky says against the top of your head. “The first of many.”

It’s too early to think about that, feeling him rolling over, his hands on either side of you. Your matching chains nearly shine in the moonlight, his lips on yours as you earthly return the kiss, feeling his rough but warm hands part your thighs.

“This empire isn’t going to build itself,” he says with a grin. “We’re behind schedule.”

[panfroggy]

Cherik Apocalypse AU

The time can never stop me from yelling about old gay men

Smallest lil CW for like mutantphobia related violence, death, general zombie things. No gore dw

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OKAY SO. Zombies in this au operate in an evolving and hivemind based infection (Not Fungus). HOWEVER the infection originated with a mutant ability in the world that got out of hand. So in the few remaining survivors, mutants are getting killed on sight or thrown out of survivor camps.

So. The Cast of this au in my head.

Charles (30). Getting his PhD in Genetics when the infection broke out. Currently traveling with Raven and trying to find mutant survivors. (BTW he can walk, No Erik = No Bullet)

Erik (33). Okay idrk what he was doing b4 the infection. Probably working mutant liberation. However! After infection he went through a lot to get his kids (Wanda and Peter). In this he discovers that Wanda is imune to the infection.

Raven (27). Living with Charles and working as a model before in infection in this AU. Now just wants to find and help as many mutants as possible.

Wanda (11). Preteen girl who lived w/ Magda before the infection came and Erik saved her. Imune to the virus. Wants to get the the research centers down south.

Peter (11). Preteen boy same as Wanda. He is theoretically immune to the infection, being twins and all, except they dont know what exactly makes Wanda immune and they aren't keen on testing it. He is frustrated with everything and wants normal back.

Alex (21) Fresh out of jail, fun side effect of a zombie apocalypse is all the prison guards go home. Immediately got Scott and set out. Trying to keep himself and his brother safe.

Scott (14) Happy to have his big brother back! Confused but going with it. Quite the trooper, probably the most well behaved of the kids but also the oldest so yeah.

Logan (???). Girl it's wolverine this is only the third weirdest thing to happen to him. However, he actually cares about living right now because he's somehow managed caring for Jubilee and Kitty. He wants to get them safe, so he's headed south and just hoping.

Kurt (24). Logan's traveling buddy. Was still working in circuses before the infection. Instantly agreed to pack a bag and get moving when first word broke. Now helping in their task to get the girls safe.

Jubilee (5) and Kitty (7). Lumping them together so this post isnt so insane. These two kids were cast out of a survivors group for being mutant and picked up by Logan.

Jean (15). Traveling Alone. PLOT TWIST: Mutant expirimentation on her caused her to freak out and alter someones brain to badly that (mixed with some fucked up biochemistry) created the zombie virus. She's desperately trying to find someone who will help her fix this but is worried that telling anyone will get her killed.

Thats Main Gang TM in my mind. The ones doing all the traveling and eventually crossing paths. Some other group

The Southern Research Facility. Moira and Hank + random scientists. Not important til like the end of all this with the dramas and all that.

First Class. Angel, Darwin and Sean + Other mutants. A small traveling group making camp somwhere around like, Kansas ish. Act as the converging point for the groups as they are a known mutant friendly outpost that is small but open to trade and help.

The Brotherhood. Emma, Azazel, and Toad among others. A group that is Pro Infection and thinks that it will kill all humans so mutants can reign supreme. AFTER the child they hear is a cure.

Okay now for what actually happens. RQ. Alex+Scott originate from like Michigan or Wisconsin. Charles and Raven from New York. Erik and Co. from Washington and Logan and Co. from Canada.

Charles and Raven pretty quickly pick up Alex and Scott when everything starts going down and they become a merry little band that will also pick up Jean. their journey includes a lot more encounters with outside forces and struggles with other survivor groups.

Logan and Kurt stumble into Erik near the begining too and after a quick fight they reluctantly agree to work together. Their journey is dealing with other survivors but also a lot of wrangling four children who are not even teenagers yet.

They converge in Kansas! Meeting up with FC who give them directions to the research base. This is the actual start of Cherik (making yall wait for it IK). Alex and Scott stay with FC but Scott makes Jean promise to come back. The journey there together is mostly personal conflicts and the whole 'Jean caused the Apocalypse btw + we are being actively hunted by a teleporter and a mind reader' thing.

During the traveling they deal with a rly bad swarm and Raven sacrafices herself for them to get out of it. Depression arc! Much hurt/comfort here. Big Cherik leaps made.

When they Get to the facility they are like 'oh yeah Wanda would be super helpful can we cut her skull open?' and Erik gets reasonably angry.

No fear, PETER IS HERE. As a twin he has the same DNA mostly besides mutation. (They arent identical but work w/ me here). He agrees to let the doctors look at him without Erik knowing. Erik gets reasonably angry. Peter ends up not providing anything helpful but they are able to look at his DNA WITHOUT cutting anyone open and find the dyscrepency between the not-exactly identical twins

This is how we discover that the thing that makes them both immune is a genetic glitch carried by the X gene Wanda posesses. Through the amazing world of BioTech they are able to make a serum that will alter peoples genetics to contain the glitch.

Woohoo! Right? EXCEPT the Brotherhood is still totally after Wanda and Jean by this point so they've gotta start schmoving again.

Logan, Kurt and their girls stay back at the research center, not wanting the children to be in more danger. The remainder of the group starts trecking back towards FC when they are intercepted by the brotherhood. Confrontation, Fighting, and Charles getting REALLY MAD happens and the gays come out on top. Cherik love CONFIRMED. The story ending with them walking off into the sunset together, the kids running ahead as FC comes back into view.

UH YEAH! I know the science is actual BS but so it mutants in general so shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. For this just note that Kurt and Raven are #NOTRELATED cuz I ain't justifying their ages.

This would be so fun to write but I'd want it to be so detailed so it'd take FOREVER. Want the dynamics of everyone to be fleshed out. Cherik being THEM. Kurt and Logan being lovers who have stood the test of A LOT leading up to this. Alex being a protective older sibling. Jeans panic, Wanda and Peters closeness and fear of the world, and the girls being patches of joy in a bleak world. not even gonna get into characterization and stuff this is long enough.

I rly hope I explained this half decently. I wrote it at 1 am! Hope you like mayhaps. Maybe I'll write this if enough people are interested. Wanna hear more? Maybe later its bed time

UPDATE: Uh there’s more about this more check it out here👍 and even more here