#But the fact that he literally says its unexpected that the author of a power fantasy about the apocalypse is a woman

[frobby]

The biggest indicator to me that dokja actually just has shit taste in novels is that he was genuinely supprised that han sooyoung(as the first apostle) was a woman

[aroaceleovaldez]

I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on the Percabeth parallel (can you call it a parallel if it is the exact same thing happening twice????) in TSATS (also the travel brochure thing)

The entirety of TSATS is very clearly trying to make Solangelo into Percabeth 2 and its one of the fundamental flaws of the entire novel.

Because immediately, Solangelo and Percabeth are such drastically different relationships and characters to one another that trying to make Solangelo into a cheap mirror of Percabeth results in Solangelo feeling so horrifically warped and out of character that it constantly makes you wonder if either author actually had any idea what Will or Nico's personalities and personal themes are supposed to be going into the book.

(Putting the rest under a cut because it got VERY long)

The plot itself is obviously a very direct mirror in trying to repeat the emotional effect of Percabeth falling into Tartarus, but right off the bat it doesn't work because the contexts of each situation are so different. Particularly the thematic elements to it - Percy and Annabeth are both pulled into Tartarus due to their fatal flaws (loyalty and hubris, respectively). It's emotionally charged, it's unexpected, and it's coming right off the heels of Nico returning from Tartarus and us seeing how absolutely horrible it was for him, which sets us up to have this huge impending fear of how this will impact them because we have zero information about what Tartarus is like besides how it impacted Nico (with no further details). Plus, it has a cliffhanger (literally), so it builds suspense so much better because you LITERALLY have to close the book and open another one to find out what happens. Meanwhile for Solangelo, not only is it physically impossible to hit those same emotional notes or suspense, especially within a singular book, but... the quest itself is entirely pointless. With the Doors of Death and Tartarus in HoO, the main point is a.) Nico entered Tartarus willingly to search for the Doors of Death because the gods couldn't because Gaea's army had found it and taken control of it, b.) Nico located it, but he was the only one who knew where it was, the gods didn't. He was able to pass on this information to the rest of the Argo II crew, and c.) Percabeth did not intend to enter Tartarus, but when they realized they were going to against their will, they knew that was going to be their only way out and that they would attempt to solve the problem while they were there anyways. With Solangelo in TSATS, a.) We know that Hades is in control of who can and cannot leave Tartarus on a general level, and is able to release individuals from Tartarus at will, and b.) basically everyone in the Underworld knows that Nyx is holding Bob prisoner. This is literally how Will and Nico learn of this information in the book. In fact, Hades himself is fully aware of the situation Bob is in, and we are directly told that Bob is an employee of Hades' whom Hades views favorably. There is literally no reason for Nico to have had to go to Tartarus. And before anybody says "But Nyx!" - Nyx's interactions with Nico were entirely retconned/fabricated for the sake of this narrative. Bob was not originally stuck in Tartarus because of Nyx- he was stuck in Tartarus because of Tartarus. They even somewhat acknowledge this in TSATS. Also, Nyx shouldn't be able to affect Nico's dreams like she does when he's in the Overworld, because she's too far away to impact any of the demigods (or else Percy and Annabeth would also still be in danger) and Nico in BoO is established to have very strong dream powers. Also, why was Bob reformed but not Damasen? Bob is a titan, he's supposed to reform extremely slowly. Damansen is supposed to reform very quickly, that's his entire thing, because he's constantly fighting the serpent in Tartarus. Literally no part about the plot itself makes sense with what has been previously established, it's all manifested entirely because we needed an antagonist for some extremely poorly executed heavy-handed metaphors.

Then there's Nico and Will's actual personalities as presented in the book and other random details - the most notable one being Nico giving his ring to Will (which seems extremely ooc to me, personally), which is very obviously supposed to be a nod to Annabeth wearing a ring on her necklace, alongside the coral on her necklace she received as a gift from Percy. Will and Nico repeatedly referencing gifts they gave each other in the most shoehorned-in way possible is also meant to mirror Percy and Annabeth, except they're cramming about ten books worth of relationship development into one. I suspect this may also be why Will is characterized as such an asshole throughout the book - they were gunning for the Percabeth "loving but frequently bickering/sarcastic" couple dynamic, but ended up with it just coming off as Will and Nico almost hating or being extremely antagonizing towards one another but seemingly putting up with it and dropping arguments frequently for no reason - Nico in particular frequently getting more shit from Will than he gives in return, and feeling hurt about it! But then randomly forgetting about it immediately, which is probably supposed to be like how Annabeth frequently gets annoyed by Percy but finds it endearing, except they did it entirely wrong. I'd bet this is also why Nico is so characterized as helpless, weirdly sarcastic and "dark humor"ed, and randomly completely ignorant about Greek mythology (and maybe even his random boat knowledge, despite completely forgetting about his pirate special interest and the fact that because he grew up in Venice that he'd almost definitely know about boats, since the book claims the only boat Nico's ever been on was the Argo II) - because it was trying to shove Nico into Percy's position, with Annabeth/Will being the exposition (which is Percabeth's dynamic in the first place because Percy is the stand-in for the audience as the POV, so Annabeth has to act as the exposition to teach the audience what's going on through the POV. This doesn't work for Nico because when Annabeth isn't able to be the exposition, that role actually often falls to Nico, so it's extremely difficult to put Nico in a situation where he's supposed to be the POV and teaching the audience new information that he is usually the source of. There's no reason he shouldn't know it, so they have to randomly make him ignorant of stuff he should know, which results in him being completely OOC). If you're trying to make him the POV, you can't make him the type of POV that has a secondary figure doing all the exposition for the audience to learn through, because you have to basically make him forget all the information he logically should know in order to excuse him not previously knowing it (this is actually why, on a meta level, Jason and Percy have their memories wiped at the beginning of HoO, because they cannot reasonably function as that format of POV protagonist otherwise). The annoying thing is that you can have Nico be a POV protagonist, it just requires that you use a different format. First person limited would have actually worked great, because then we would not only get Nico and Will's internal voices, we would also get to see how they interact with the audience. It would have also allowed Nico to explain concepts to the audience rather than not know them for no reason (give me Nico struggling to not infodump excitedly to the audience about the Underworld every 20 minutes). I particularly take grievance with this when they're in Tartarus, because not only should Nico logically know about Tartarus before he goes there the first time, but by the second time he should definitely know the landscape rather than him seemingly being lost both times. There's exactly zero reason for Nico to not know Underworld stuff. You can make that excuse with Percy and Annabeth, or Will, but not Nico. If they wanted to play up the feeling lost in Tartarus thing, then they should have tried to stay in Will POVs for Tartarus!

I could honestly go on about even more details that just clearly spell out this being a cheap Percabeth 2 rip-off that's a complete disservice to both Nico and Will's characters, but this is already so long and I've gone over my main points.

One more thing - the travel brochure thing in particular pissed me off, and actually I have the perfect video to explain why it pissed me off (and why I've disliked a lot of the writing in recent Riordanverse books) - Overly Sarcastic Production's video on bathos. The Riordanverse, particularly since HoO, has had a really bad problem of overusing bathos and rarely allowing scenes of emotional sincerity. The travel brochure thing is one such example of this - we're at a very big emotionally charged moment... and immediately it's broken because we jump into a joke. And because we overuse that format so much throughout both this book alone but also the series in general, it just completely ruins the effect of the scene. And this happens multiple times throughout the book! It's downright aggravating.

[lakesbian]

Pact arc 3 question: I feel like Wildbow shines in writing interesting groups of characters. Now that we're off to Toronto, looking back at Jacob's Bell, we've seen a good number of the factions there so far. Which one really stood out to you? Did anyone surprise you from your initial impression of them? This doesn't need to be a rundown of all the factions, just whichever one really caught your eye.

none of the characters in jacob's bell have had any real element of surprise to their arcs thus far--they're all more or less exactly what they're initially presented as. this isn't to say that practitioners (& friends) can't have unexpected twists to their character writing, but i think the fact that they literally can't lie contributes significantly to how transparent they all are. because, y'know, when you can't lie it makes your whole Deal pretty obvious. they can only misdirect, and in addition to how the trick of those misdirections is revealed & easily understood after its impact is realized, the manner in which someone misdirects indicates plenty about them as well.

anyway. already posted about maggie here. from what i hear mara is just one extended wildbow moment which fucking sucks and also completely checks out w/ how her only appearance thus far is it being treated as like. weird and curmudgeony that she's mad about colonialism. briar girl is fun--the base concept of someone who got in over their head w/ a familiar that leads them rather than vice versa serves as a consistent reminder regarding the horror & danger of practicing, and also her familiar's design rocks. like i said a few posts down i enjoy the duchamp's particular brand of Cyclical Familial Violence. i love when theres cyclical familial violence in the cyclical familial violence book.

laird behaim is sort of grating in the sense that. reasonably speaking a Magic Police Officer in his position would not actually need magic to keep the legal system from holding him accountable! it's just like that by default! the fact that he's a constant reason to depict the police as being a fantastically (and i mean in the sense of "would never happen but in a fantasy") decent system full of useful good-hearted people who are failing due to Powers Beyond Their Comprehension is just sooo consistently grating. his characterization would Be Something if he was explicitly forcing himself into a high-ranking police position for the sake of the social authority & capital on state-sanctioned violence it would afford him, but instead his position is written as incidental and near-irrelevant to his power base. not how that fucking works! manifesting i will get to find out about the behaim's own special version of Cyclical Familial Violence soon and that it will be interesting so i can care about him more. bc right now he is getting a bad grade at having a compelling character schtick. his only saving grace is that he has fun magic.

johannes i appreciate 4 his "mechanism with which 2 hammer the horrible cruelty & fatality of the world blake and rose have found themselves in into their heads" swag. i enjoy terribleawful sibling dynamics so andy calling his sister a Relative rather than Family despite her being literally his only apparent connection endears me to the witch hunters. and of course i like padraic and friends for offering to get normalguy blake pregnant. favorite little guys remain blake and rose thus far though

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Five

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 5 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: mentions of male masturbation and boners (lol); strong language; references to suicide, murder, and drug smuggling; abusive parental relationship; mentions of child death in a second flashback; dry humping (smut); 18+ only please!

Word Count: 16,500+

A/N: damn that chapter warning list was a trip to write down lmao

~

Westview, 2023, 1:32 pm

     An uncomfortable silence spread throughout the parked vehicle, daring either of you to take the first step. No one commented on the glares boring into your soul as you drove through the town or how heavily the three of you got patted down by the authorities right outside the state line. You figured it was completely justified - still a little insulting to a bunch of Avengers who literally saved the world three weeks ago. 

With a loud gulp, Bucky was the first to kick open his door and get out of the car. You glanced at Steve from the driver’s seat, biting your lip with a slight quiver as you went over the speech you practiced earlier today. Simple enough, and not too damning. 

Steve’s leg bounced rapidly a few more times before he too kicked open his door, leaving you in silence. You pulled the car keys from the ignition and took in a deep breath. Your legs were numb, the anxiety washing over you in uneven cycles. It was now or never. 

“Wanda, it’s us…”

Her grief seemed to emit from every crack in the sidewalk, every weak beg escaping the townspeople’s throats, every sound from the inanimate objects her powers had continued to turn from gray to red… to green… back to gray. She was crouched on the property, weeds brushing against her black pants and leaving their mark, mascara smudged with each new wet streak. 

Bucky unzipped his jacket, eyes wandering over the deserted plot of land as Wanda tried to control her sobs. She had already caused enough damage, both physical and psychological, the possibility of more government involvement looming over your heads. He carefully walked toward her and wrapped his jacket over her shoulders, all be damned as he held her and began to tear up himself.

“Wanda, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll get through this,” Steve sighed, still keeping a respectable distance from her in case she were to run. But you knew her better - she was all out of fight. One fight after another and yet she still lost her love. 

“I did something really bad,” she sobbed, eyes locked on the spot where Vision had just disappeared. Again.

“No, you didn’t know what you were doing,” Steve declared, shocked by the unexpected scoff from Bucky. 

“Save it, Steve. She may not have known in the beginning but she does now. She still did it.”

No one dared correct Bucky or argue with that logic because if anyone knew about causing harm with absolutely no intention, it was obviously him. Taking responsibility - that was the best course of action. 

Once you heard of a radioactive disturbance in a small town just outside the state, the team almost retired completely. So soon after defeating Thanos, so soon after Tony’s death, so soon after Natasha’s death - the team left it up to the proper authorities this time around. 

But the second you watched the broadcast of Wanda’s fantasies, the sitcom her powers were conjuring, her giving birth to her children… all you could do was wait until she opened the barrier. 

“I still did it,” Wanda said, her upper body beginning to rock back and forth as her fingertips brightened with red tendrils of magical grief. 

You shut your eyes and willed yourself not to cry. You had done so much crying these past few years and you were oh, so tired. You couldn’t possibly take another beating. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Bucky spoke, gently turning Wanda’s face and placing both his hands on her cheeks, mindful of the metal appendage he had forgotten to cover with his glove. “You already did it. It can’t be undone. But you can come with us and grieve properly.”

Wanda reached up and placed her hands over his, tears spilling from her eyes faster now. 

“Let us help you grieve.”

This wasn’t an unexpected goodbye. Wanda knew that. She had just voluntarily given up her husband and children - anyone would crumble from that sort of devastation. But now she had been given a proper goodbye, a somewhat proper closure, and the chance to accept it. “Okay.”

You and Steve remained frozen in place even after Bucky helped Wanda stand. Almost as quickly as you thought it, your feet had a mind of their own. You stood next to Steve, taking in the weed infested, rectangular plot of land - the remnants of Wanda’s fantasy still fresh and creating a tiny, refreshing tingle in the middle of your chest. You looked over at Steve and smiled sadly when you saw him inspecting the area as well. 

“They would have had a beautiful life together.”

Steve’s breath hitched as you finished your declaration, looking over at you and nodding slightly. 

“If I had the chance, I would have wanted a nice house with some decent air conditioning. Some weird, front yard garden where I could plant random flowers. A dog that dug them up and acted like it didn’t do it.”

You giggled, thumbnail between your incisors to try and disguise the wider grin forming. Steve kept speaking. 

“Maybe a kid or two. Never actually checked if I could even have kids after the serum.”

You dropped your hand from your face, your attention completely on him now. 

Steve sighed and kicked a rock over to the other side of the property. “I would have wanted a giant, king-sized bed. With ‘his’ and ‘hers’ towels. And every once in a while we would accidentally use the other one’s toothbrush, a secret we would take to the grave.”

Steve wasn’t even looking over at you as he said this. It was like a one-sided confession, rhetorical, not needing an immediate response or expression in return. And you couldn’t believe he was just saying this in front of you - you of all people - the same person who rolled their eyes whenever Steve struggled to comprehend a modern topic or argued with him when he was in one of his moods. He had been distant the last few weeks after returning the stones, only ever noticing you when other people were around to carry a conversation. 

The tingles in your chest were starting to disappear as the plot of land gave its last few magical rumbles. 

“Steve?”

Steve bowed his head, hands in his pockets and breath steady. “Yes, they would have been very happy together.”

You stared at the back of his head as he slowly walked back to the car.  

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

     The amount of times you reminded yourself to wake up early as you were drifting off to sleep last night was perhaps more than the number of sheep you had ever counted in your life. A quick reminder here and there as your mind got clogged with pointless information, the number eight behind your eyelids all throughout the night. 

And you did it. In the early hours of the morning, knowing Steve would wake naturally in about twenty minutes, you tip-toed out of bed to use the bathroom. Acting completely normal in case he did in fact hear you before your grand plan - an easy escape route if he decided to repeat his horrible morning ritual on you. But he was such an old man, getting older, losing that serum’s boost. This Steve, Steve who refused to call any movie made after 1945 ‘old’ because he literally didn’t get the chance to see them premiere - yeah, this Steve, was passed out like he had been hit by a truck. 

Bladder empty and teeth brushed, you quietly opened the bathroom door and peeked through. He still lay there on his back, wrapped tightly in his blanket, breathing steadily, and face completely unprotected. 

Could you die? Probably. Would this payback be absolutely satisfying? Hell yeah. 

You grabbed the biggest of your pillows and fisted the corner tightly, twisting it a couple times for a better grip. You signed the cross quickly before lifting the pillow above your head and bringing it down to Steve’s face. 

Steve’s eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up, “WHAT?”

His eyes flew around the room rapidly until they landed on you, angry and challenging.

“Payback!” you yelled, lifting the pillow high again for a second hit. But he reacted quicker, grabbing a pillow himself and swinging it toward you. It slammed you in the torso and practically sent you flying. You landed at the edge of your bed, mouth open in shock and racks of laughter bubbling deep within your chest. You stood quickly and hit him repeatedly, trying your best to also block his counterattack. 

He reached for your hip and pulled you in his bed, rolling the two of you over so he was straddling your hips. He brought the pillow down several more times before accepting your plea of surrender. 

You threw the pillow back to your bed and pouted, “Not a fair fight!”

Steve scoffed, “You caught me off guard! You had all the advantages!”

You shuffled beneath him and froze, hips stuck in a lifted position as you were too embarrassed to move them back down. “Jesus, Steve! How do you even sleep on your stomach with that thing?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows as he inspected your face and body, looking down at the two of you before he noticed the way he was pressing into your inner thigh. He scrambled off you, a blush spreading from his cheeks and all the way down his chest. He cupped himself and turned away, quickly shuffling for his suitcase and pulling whatever clothes his flustered hands grabbed. He was also repeatedly apologizing. 

“Steve, it’s okay. It just… startled me, is all.”

Steve cleared his throat a couple times before pacing around the room in search of his toiletries. 

You just sat back on your elbows, watching him scurry like a chicken with its head cut off. It was rather amusing. 

“I’m gonna - gonna, take a shower. Uh, I’m sorry again.”

You smirked at the super soldier, “Steve, I’m not mad. It isn’t like I’m new to that kind of thing.”

Steve blushed harder, “But I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

You shrugged your shoulders and dipped lower into his sheets, grabbing and lifting them higher. You snuggled deeper, “Still.”

Steve could feel the speed at which the world rotated and he shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned against it, breathing deeply until he had all his inhibitions back. 

He didn’t know what was more embarrassing - reacting the way he did or you seeing him react the way he did. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t seen each other in awkward situations, some borderline lewd. There were plenty of missions that involved heavy flirting with the targets, undercover work in depraved settings, missions where nasty magic was involved and concocted a multitude of inappropriate visions. Hell, everyone had already seen each other naked. It was completely normal, a trustworthy environment, and sometimes necessary. 

As much as he wanted to give into the feeling and award himself some proper alone time, he refused to act upon it. He would regret it later once the stress pushed down harder than usual, but it just wasn’t appropriate in his right mind to masturbate with you in the other room. 

Why did he have to be such a good and honorable man?

He busied himself with washing his hair and scrubbing away any evidence of sleep from his face. Steve liked sleeping on his stomach, face smooshed in the pillows and arms extended to his sides. It allowed for more comfortable movement, more ways to stretch his hips, just overall comfort for his massive shoulders. Less pressure on the lungs, too. And unlike the enthusiastic yet almost mean accusation that he couldn’t possibly enjoy that position because of his… well, his dick, Steve would choose that position over sleeping on his back any day. But that morning, his body had decided to betray him in more ways than one. One, he was open to attack because he was on his back. And two, whatever dream he was having caused his morning wood to seem larger this morning.

He had washed up quickly, more time spent out of the shower where he fixed his hair and combed his beard. He thought about shaving it for the rehearsal dinner or wedding, but it gave him a more rugged look - like he was all tough and no funny business. As ridiculous as it sounded, the beard allowed him to lean into the criminal act easier, build a fake personality that already had your father eating out of his hand. 

Opening the bathroom door and having to face the music, Steve was almost certain you would continue to tease him. But you were already munching on the breakfast you had ordered, shoveling hash browns in your mouth as you swiped the mouse through pages and pages of intel. You didn’t even look up as he crossed the room to grab a pair of pants he had forgotten to pick up during his quick escape. That settled his nerves almost instantly and he was dressed and settled next to you soon after.

You worked in silent cooperation for a long while, handing each other files and passing phone calls like you had during every other mission before. Except now it was more comfortable, pleasant, and kind - the soft sounds from the television in the corner, the humming of the desktop, the soft hums of recognition whenever you two showed each other something. You didn’t even bother with what happened in the morning, if it really was anything at all, because you honestly found it normal. You were more focused on the conversation you had last night. 

Steve had offered to kill your father if you seriously couldn’t. Just thinking about his offer caused your stomach to turn. Because yes, you wanted him dead. You wanted to snap his neck in ten different places and feed him to scavengers. You wanted to steal his business from under him and tear it apart, bit by bit, and keep him alive long enough to see you do it. You wanted to see the look in his eyes when you revealed that you double-crossed him. And as the day inched closer, the overwhelming feeling of shame pushed down on your shoulders and swallowed your mind. Once your father was dead, you and Steve would never find true peace. His men would always follow you, probably take you down at the local coffee shop you and Peter frequented. 

The thought of dying in front of Peter caused a lump to form in your throat. No, you wouldn’t do that to your friends. You couldn’t do this to Steve. 

But you had to. Because even though your life will never be yours after this mission, you had to save the countless others your father was sure to touch and ruin. 

But was your life ever truly yours?

Steve’s voice pulled you from your clouded mind. 

“Huh?” 

“I asked if you wanted the last piece of fruit.” 

You looked at Steve then at the small piece of watermelon in the bowl, then back at Steve. He had a pen in between his teeth, one eyebrow cocked, and slightly puffy eyes due to the beer heavy sleep he had last night. You looked away as quickly as you could and stared back at the fruit, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

Ridiculous, you thought. Just looking at Steve had flustered you, squeezing your stomach in pleasurable pulses you hadn’t felt since high school. “No, no. You can have it,” you said, hoping your voice wouldn’t crack. 

Ridiculous. 

Steve watched you with a funny smile but he took your word and scooped up the last piece for himself. 

No, you thought again, this man will not give me freaking butterflies. 

It wasn’t like it was odd. Steve had you flustered countless times before, but it was never quite as tingly as it was now. You suddenly wanted to facetime Wanda and rant about these weird feelings; you wanted to curl in on yourself and squeal; you wanted to -

    “He’s what?”

You sat on your knees and leaned over the back of the couch, chin resting on your folded arms as you watched Steve pace around the common room. He was tugging at his dress shirt repeatedly, desperately trying to attach cufflinks without additional help. Sam sat right beside you, in the same position, snickering each time Steve cursed under his breath. 

“He’s nervous,” Bucky smirked, arm holding out Steve’s tie for the past five minutes. Steve had paced beside him various times already, completely oblivious. 

Steve groaned and readjusted his collar, snapping his head toward the three of you. “I’m not nervous.”

“You’re sweating buckets, man,” Sam pointed out, one of his hands discreetly opening up his camera and switching to video. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” 

Bucky threw his head back and cackled, choosing to grab Steve and steady him to finally put that damn tie around his neck. “Same old, Steve. Can’t accept that a dame would ever possibly like you back.”

“Hey, Steve don’t worry about it,” you started, shooting Steve a sympathetic look. Steve glanced back at you, expression swiftly changing due to your kind tone. “... when I was in high school,-”

Steve released a loud grunt, rolling his eyes and stepping away from Bucky’s hands. 

Sam rolled over and clutched his stomach as he laughed, pulling you into him. The two of you shook from your laughs together. 

“Guys,” Bucky warned, reaching for Steve in a ‘grabby’ motion. “Give him a break.”

Steve reluctantly stood beside Bucky again, head tilted upward as he tried wrapping the tie back around his neck. 

None of you heard the entrance of Thor and his brother, too busy with bullying, laughter, or moderating. 

“Did we miss all the fun?”

You shot up from the ground, kicking Sam away as you rushed across the floor and stumbled over the rug. “Thor!”

You rushed into his arms and he gripped you tightly, swinging you around and loud laughter matching yours. 

“Now, why wasn’t I greeted in a similar manner?” Loki questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You pulled your face from Thor’s shoulder, “Oh, you want this too?”

You jumped back onto the floor and were about to jump into Loki’s arms, but he held his own out, stopping you. “It’s too late. It’s not the same.”

“Piss baby,” you quipped, rushing behind Thor for protection when Loki’s mouth dropped in surprise. 

“Can everyone stop what they’re doing real quick and tell Steve his date is going to go well tonight?”

You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s favor, but he just raised his eyebrows, challenging you to disobey the order. 

“The Captain has a date? Are they okay?”

Loki and you shared a comical gasp. 

Steve gaped, “Now, what in the world does that mean, Thor?”

Thor raised his hands in defense, “I’m just asking if she truly knows what she’s getting herself into! Don’t try and tell me she has no idea who you are.”

Steve was back to groaning nonstop. Bucky threw his hands up in the air, “I ask one thing of you guys. One thing.”

You stomped over to Steve and ripped the half-tied tie from his neck and smoothed down his collar. You patted down his shoulders and the front of his shirt, and gripped his shoulders to straighten his back. 

“Now,” you smiled up at him. The breath caught in your throat for a second, the blue of his eyes shining under the ceiling lights and the pink of his cheeks spreading slowly. You let out a tiny sigh, heart fluttering faintly from the small grin he was giving you. He looked so innocent, a renaissance subject created from light oils, signs of true aging showing in his forehead. “Whatever date you got planned, she’s gonna love it.”

Steve relished in the feeling of your palms pressed against his chest for a few moments before he nodded at your declaration. He stepped back and smoothed down his shirt. “Wish me luck?”

A chorus of ‘good luck’s sounded as Steve found his keys and shared a goodnight hug with Sam and Bucky. They both jokingly reminded him to use protection. 

You watched Steve leave, a newfound bounce in his step as he walked away. Your words had been so simple, so cliche, and yet he had dropped any visible nerves as he walked out the door. You weren’t the best motivational speaker, that was for sure, but the proof of at least an ounce of motivation was there. Maybe your words held a hidden meaning. Maybe.

You thought about him picking up this random woman, wine and dining her, kissing her cheek as he said his goodbyes at the end of the night. It was somewhat adorable to think about, but also weird.

Before you could dive more into the strange feeling, Thor’s voice sounded. 

“Should we order pizza or chinese?”

It’s like that snapped you from your trance, because next thing you knew you were back to your playful self, sprinting across the room and into Loki’s arms. 

     You cherished the slight, pleasant churn of your stomach as you watched him happily munch on the fruit. 

Okay, it was normal to have a tiny crush on your mission partner. God knows how many times you wanted to jump Thor’s bones whenever you were undercover together. A crush was normal, completely natural and expected. 

Except you had never gotten so much sane joy from a simple question of whether you wanted the last piece of fruit. 

You blinked a few times and shook off any trace of overthinking devils, grabbing at random files to occupy your mind for a while. After about fifteen more minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke.

“So, we think Ramirez is gonna get straight up murdered?”

Steve snorted, filing through a pile of papers Torres had delivered this morning. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”

“But it’s just a theory at this point. We can’t just go in guns blazing without enough proof.”

“And if there is proof? Do we protect him? The original mission was to arrest all four men.”

You groaned, “I don’t know. He’s never done me wrong.”

“Personal feelings aside, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

Steve squinted at you with a playful smile. “You’d rather just arrest the bad ones, huh?”

“Obviously what Ramirez is doing is illegal and it’s horrific to think of what might be happening behind the scenes on his side, but either he’s serious or he’s been putting on this good guy act for his whole life.”

“Leaning towards the first option?”

Shrugging, you leaned toward your computer screen and scrolled through the massive list of emails. “It’s what my gut tells me, but ehh.”

There was one random email from Maribel, but random only meant coded. Reading it over a couple times, humming to yourself in concentration, you finally cracked the code she was trying to send. 

“Maribel says Ramirez acquired some land in Mexico… lots of it.”

Steve looked up from the files, “Any significance?”

“It’s probably for growing the products.”

Steve quickly typed key words that would alert him of any new transactions in the past few months.  “Who’s on the title?”

“Just him. And his oldest daughter. My father must know, right?”

Steve leaned back in his chair, releasing a heavy sigh as he thought about what this could mean. “Ramirez acquiring more land means more of Ramirez’s product. A three-way partnership would be split unevenly if he utilizes the land.”

“Make sure Bucky alerts us of any business my father might have with realtors authorized to work in that area.”

It functioned like this for another hour, the two of you sharing bits of information every ten minutes or so. 

“Torres sent us an update on White.”

You rubbed at your strained eyes, “What does he say?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, “That he’s been in the country for much longer than his passport says.”

You stood from your seat and rushed to look at the same screen Steve was reading from. “He traveling under a fake name?”

“Customs says he returned to Germany,” Steve stated, highlighting a paragraph on the screen for you to easily read. “Four weeks ago.”

It was your turn to snort out a laugh, “Oh, he’s so setting up an alibi.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “Looks like it.”

You slapped his shoulder lightly, voice raising an octave. “Look at us! Piecing together the puzzle!”

“We still got a few more pieces to attach before you go getting all cocky.”

You chuckled and decided to take a break. You speed walked over to your bed and plopped down, the mountain of pillows already relieving your tense muscles. “Hey, has my sister’s plane landed yet?”

Steve glanced at you quickly before pulling up Bucky’s morning emails. “Uh, landed about an hour ago.”

“She at the estate?”

He shrugged, “Torres hasn’t sent an update. Just her profile, hold up.”

You waved him off, a nonverbal way of telling him you seriously couldn’t care less. “I haven’t spoken to her since I joined you guys. You don’t gotta give me her origin story.”

“That long?” Steve questioned. 

You placed a pillow beneath your head, body horizontal and facing Steve. “We were never that close. I’ve got tons of half-siblings. Most of them were adults when I was born, anyway.”

With just a few words exchanged, Steve realized he had just stepped through your metaphorical door of reminiscing. So he stood to lay in his own bed, the simple action of giving you attention enough to keep you talking, he hoped. “Were you alone a lot? Growing up, I mean.”

You watched as Steve also placed a pillow beneath his head, “There were always kids around. Kids of the maids, cousins, neighbors.”

“A full house, sounds like.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, a small smile forming as you thought about old friends. “I remember this one time, we all ran into Ramirez when we were trying to get to one of the playrooms. But he grabbed me quickly and told me to not go in there.”

“Was it a threat?”

You grinned at his protective tone, “No, it was a warning. There were some really bad men in the other room. It was me and a few other girls. He told us to run back to my room and lock the door until he came to get us.”

Steve couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Ramirez joined the drug game. Sure, the function and presence of cartels had changed drastically over the last forty years, but it didn’t explain why he remained involved. In the eighties, the drug game was highly televised and spoken about, but the cartel violence was not as strong. Nowadays, and not even you could give a proper explanation, the violence was astronomical and basically advertised as something to expect when visiting certain countries. This was the mob game now, freaking Al Capone or the goddamn Godfather, absolutely meant to frighten whoever dare join or leave. For Ramirez to still be one of the big players even with that many internal changes, to be a good person in the middle of such hell, didn’t make any sense. 

“He protected you.”

You clutched the pillow closer to your chest, the memory a good one even if it was weird. “Oh, yeah. Those guys he was warning us about were no angels.”

Steve gave an awkward smile, “I feel like I know more about your childhood than you know mine.”

“I’m all ears if you wanna tell me about little, asthmatic Steve Rogers.”

He raised his index finger at you, “Hey, I was more than just my asthma.”

“Oh, excuse me. I totally forgot about your scoliosis.” 

The pillow under his head was now flying across the small distance to your face. You shrieked and sent it back. 

“Stop bullying!” Steve laughed.

You shielded your face in case he decided to continue the pillow war. “What? I’ve got my health problems, too! I just don’t have the serum to help me out.”

But he didn’t throw it again. He repositioned himself on his back and placed both hands beneath his head, gracing the ceiling with a grin. “I remember this one time, Bucky and I were around eleven-years old, and I had this really bad asthma attack. Bucky just freaked out. I was choking and he was just holding me, screaming for help -”

You blinked, “This is really depressing, what are you-”

“-and! Bucky threw himself into a full-blown panic attack. So we were both choking on air, but I was starting to laugh at him freaking out, which only made him choke harder. We ended up throwing up.”

You were silent at the end of his short story, mouth open in a wide smile. “I don’t know what else to say other than that was one of the greatest stories I’ve ever heard.”

Steve rolled over, a literal twinkle in his eye. “See? Don’t interrupt me before I get to the good parts.”

This simple moment catapulted the realization that Steve hasn’t spoken to you this much in two years, to the front of your mind. In these past four days, you had spoken like you had never stopped, like it was never awkward, like you two seriously didn’t need another person in the room to simply converse about what you wanted for breakfast. Yet here you were, more words exchanged in the past four days than you ever thought possible. 

After the fallout, you didn’t say one full sentence to him for seven months. Seven months. He hadn’t attempted a conversation with you either, but you actively avoided him like he was infected. Hell, he even moved out of the compound and into his own apartment to get away from you for most of the day. After your forced reconciliation, the awkward apologies, you still didn’t force any open conversation. But it was easier, lighter, and most conversations involved mission information. 

Talking this much now was so easy, so simple, like you didn’t need to force the comfort - there was already full comfort, a sense of community with this man. 

He was so different from when he insulted you while you were packing, annoyed by the fact that you pried too much. And now you were prying into his childhood and him yours without a lick of annoyance on either side. 

“We both had eventful childhoods, didn’t we?”

“What, with both of us in the middle of a war?” Steve asked, a genuine look on his face.

“Guess our wars never really left us, huh?”

There was a knock at the door. You weren’t expecting Torres again today. Steve muttered ‘room service, maybe’ under his breath as you went to open it. You were startled to find Scott standing outside, two massive suitcases in his hand. 

“Oh my god, I forgot you were arriving today!”

Scott scoffed, “Am I not as important as your other friends?”

You laughed and helped him inside, “Stop! You’re one of my favorite bugs!”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’ll leave right now if you two decide to pile on me instead of each other.” Scott placed one of the suitcases near the door but the other at the edge of your bed. 

“We’ll be nice,” Steve promised, standing to greet Scott with a hug. 

“You better. Catch me up, please?” 

The suitcase contained your outfits for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. Whoever was in charge of costumes definitely went all out, hoping their work would make the big fight the most fashionable. Steve was given a perfectly tailored suit, navy blue and velvet. It was lined with vibranium, inside pockets covered with it. That would certainly be handy if you were forced to walk through metal detectors - vibranium couldn’t be detected. His suit for the rehearsal dinner was a lot simpler, the custom black and white aesthetic, but still protected with vibranium. 

Your clothes were certainly not styled to match Steve’s, giving you a sense of individuality. It was perfect really - it would allow you to leave Steve’s side, if necessary, when the mission called for you to split up. Your rehearsal dinner outfit was two parts: a black, velvet long-sleeved shirt, slight turtleneck, and gold cuffs. It was joined by a long gold skirt, high-waisted, the front shorter than the back and sides more curled than ruffled. You would have to wear tights underneath, but it was beautiful. Vibranium was also stitched in for added protection. Your dress for the actual wedding, however, was a total knockout. Red, spaghetti strap, tight on top but loose once it reached your hips, a long slit on the left side. They were even kind enough to give you a pair of heels to match. 

Yeah, Steve was Captain America and his appearance will shock the guests, but your attire will definitely be the second topic in gossip. 

Scott was filing through the same papers you and Steve had reviewed earlier, a bowl of potato chips at his side. And it was peaceful - you and Steve even had the chance to nap. 

“So, you’re gonna see Jackeline at the rehearsal dinner?”

You wiped the remnants of your nap from your face and groaned as you stretched, “She’ll probably be busy tomorrow when we go for breakfast, so yeah.”

Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes practically attached to the computer screen. “And… she’s the one getting married?”

His tone started to worry Steve, “Yes, Scott. You good?”

Scott piled a handful of potato chips in his mouth, finger clicking the mouse every few seconds. His eyes were now wide, blinks forgotten. “Jackeline Vega. Jackeline.”

Steve ignored him now, “Hey, why isn’t your last name Vega?”

As much as you wanted to share about how and why you changed your last name, Scott’s demeanor interested you more. “Changed it when I became an American citizen - Scott, what’s up?”

He let out a tiny squeak, swallowing his snack quickly. “And she’s your father’s favorite?”

You rolled your eyes, “Mmm.”

Scott released a huge huff of air, shoulders falling as he raised his voice and turned the monitor to face you. “Think he knows anything about this?”

The photograph was blurry because it was enhanced, but you could still make out the face of a sister you hadn’t seen in years. Older, still with teenage features obviously, and tossed on what looked like a church alter-

Steve's eyes widened, “Is she…?”

Scott finished his sentence for him, “Fucking a priest?”

You covered your mouth in shock, “Oh my god, she’s fucking a priest!”

Bent on the literal church altar, skirt bunched around her hips, head thrown back in ecstasy and face in full view. And the damned priest, in between her legs and under the eyes of god. 

“That’s why I asked!”

Steve clutched at his chest, head thrown back as he howled, “I think you were wrong about your sister.”

Now your eyes were glued to the screen, “Oh, I was fuck all from correct!”

Scott cleared his throat, “Is the priest… her fiance?”

Steve came down from his laugh attack, “I highly doubt that, Scott.”

“This is actually really damning evidence.”

You grinned at Scott, “For what? Painting her out to look like the most sinful whore? I might just congratulate her.”

Steve stared at you, judging almost. “For fucking a priest?”

“For proving me wrong. She’s not so innocent after all,” you responded, cheeks strained from how wide you were smiling. 

“Clearly. This is… actually badass,” Scott admitted, turning the monitor back to him.

You teased, singing your next words. “Don’t let the Lord and Savior hear that.”

Steve glared, “Y/N.”

You leaned away from him, “What? Anyway, that’s gotta be one the worst sins to commit, right?”

Steve’s expression contorted from annoyance to disbelief. “We’ve literally killed people.”

“Pfft, but we’re not fucking priests. Right?”

Scott answered, nodding quicker than he needed to. “Right.”

“You’re literally asking that?”

You pressed your lips into a fine line and tilted your head at Steve. “Steve?”

He glared at you for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. “I’m not fucking any priests.”

Your response was immediate, “Alright! I gotta hand it to her, though. Who took the photo?”

Scott went back to fishing through the emails. “Some sleazy magazine that never got around to actually printing these out.”

“Someone paid them off. Or killed them.”

“I wonder who,” you replied sarcastically. 

Steve continued, “You honestly think he would support her doing that?”

You shrugged and scurried back over to your unmade bed. “Not my problem.”

Scott interjected, “Okay, okay. How’s tomorrow gonna work?”

Steve answered first, “Well, we’re driving out around eight.”

You hummed in agreement, reaching over to unplug your phone from the charger. “Scott, you’ll just ride on one of our backs as we walk through the estate.”

“I kind of want to ride Y/N’s back this time.”

You snorted, “Now that doesn’t sound sexual at all.”

He hid his face in his hands, “You know, I heard it once I said it.”

“Course you did.”

Steve jumped back into the conversation, Scott’s embarrassment seeming to grow under the weird tension. “Then you’ll hop off and plant the bugs wherever you feel like they’re needed.”

“Easy peasy!” you cheered. 

“Bucky and Sam gonna meet us Friday night?”

Steve nodded, “That’s what they said.” He looked over at you, scrolling through your phone and already smiling at something you found funny. He cleared his throat to get your attention. “You know they can be out here in under an hour if we seriously need them.”

You glanced over at Steve, his sincerity greatly appreciated. “I know. But all my faith is in Scott here.”

Scott moaned quietly, “Oh… no, let’s not put all the faith in me because I can’t handle that responsibility.”

You propped yourself up onto your elbows, “You saying I can’t trust you?”

“No, no! That’s not what I’m saying at all-!”

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at the man, a sheen of nervous sweat starting to form on his forehead. “Scott.” 

Scott lowered his hands from his chest, “O-oh. She’s messing with me, huh?”

You chuckled and laid back down. “You’re so easy.”

The easygoing atmosphere for the next few hours almost had you believing you were on vacation, away from the bad guys and space aliens for just a moment. Almost like you weren’t in the middle of a drug war, a mob business, the literal daughter of a king. Scott had that effect, his personality such a sweet refresher and such a contrast to every soul in the compound. 

Thor and Peter were also sweethearts and fun was always expected when they were around, but Scott had this different vibe. Maybe it was because he was relatively new, or that he had a child, or that he hadn’t suffered the same five years as everyone else did. Like he wasn’t yet tainted.  

“You guys mind if I run a job inside a job?”

Your head snapped up at Scott’s crazy question, “You stealing something?”

To run a job inside a job was risky. There was no exact plan to keep both missions balanced, to somehow rank the other more important. You prayed it wasn’t something insane. 

Scott chuckled under his breath, already grabbing his jacket and suitcase by the door. “No, I’m not stealing something. Hank needs me to speak to some guy he’s doing negotiations with about a space for a new lab headquarters.”

Steve tilted his head, “In Northern California?”

“Nah, the dude is vacationing out here for the time being. The lab will be in San Francisco again.”

You squinted at him, still cautious. “Where you meeting him?”

“Some nice Italian restaurant an hour out.”

Steve spoke before you did, similar thoughts running through his mind. “You check with Torres? We don’t know who might randomly show up there.”

Scott tried his best to reassure you, “Yeah, he said they’re following every car that leaves the premises and travels more than thirty minutes away. None of Ernesto’s men have been spotted further up north.”

You sighed. You didn’t want another member of your team to venture out in this area, let alone this goddamn state, without your eyes on them. You were protective, the proximity of your outside world with the one you had spent ten years building too suffocating of a reality. 

Still, you told Scott goodbye with a steady voice. “Then enjoy your dinner, Scott.”

His voice picked up again, that childish and upbeat feeling wrapping you around his finger. “You guys wanna come with? I’m sure you’re sick of icky hotel food.”

Steve waved him off, “It’s actually not that bad-”

“Breadsticks. Garlic pasta. More breadsticks.”

You laughed, “That sounds nice, Scott but we can stay here-”

“Three-cheese pastas.”

“Scott, you can try all you want but-”

“Unlimited breadsticks.”

You shared a look at Steve, puckering your lips at the suggestion. 

“.... We’ll sit far away from your table, okay?”

Scott opened the hotel door and started sprinting down the hallway. “I knew I could persuade you with that! C’mon!”

     California at night was a death trap. Potholes on every stretch of asphalt, construction halted for who knows how long, random opossums lingering in the shadows just waiting to get hit by tires. It was prettier during the day - less of a ‘lead me into this forest, yes, kill me’ vibe. 

You chilled in the backseat while Scott drove you guys to the restaurant. You had texted Bucky where you were planning to go, the message activating the group text chain. 

Peter: it’s Wednesday! Who died?

Wanda: she’s literally texting us

Peter: Y/N, you won???

Bucky: fuck do I owe the fucking spider money?

Peter: pay up dude

Y/N: tf Bucky? You bet against me?

      “You sure you two are good?”

The restaurant looked quiet considering it was a Wednesday night, but it was still crowded. There was a short line extending out the door and a… bouncer. You sucked in a breath and smacked Scott in the chest once you were out of the car. 

“Thought you said this was a restaurant?”

Scott rubbed his chest, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “Restaurant slash bar!”

“We eating with the Italian mob now? I can only handle one mob at a time, Scott.”

You nodded rapidly, pointing at Steve. “I agree with him!”

“Not every place has bad guys!”

You groaned and reluctantly stood at the back of line, pulling Steve’s hat lower on his forehead. It wasn’t like people couldn’t take one long, hard look at him and not know who he was, anyway. 

“Can you guys just… enjoy a night out?”

“While on a mission?”

“While living your long lives. God, Y/N, you getting old already?”

Your mouth dropped, “I’m twenty-six and I’m not complaining about a nice dinner, Scott.” You pointed at the bouncer. “I’m worried about the fact that our ID’s are gonna be checked.”

Scott’s mouth formed an ‘O’. “Yeah, that.”

“Next.”

You shot Steve a worried look but handed the bouncer your driver’s license. He just looked at the date of birth and moved you along. “Next.”

Scott handed him his, doing his best to smile proudly while the bouncer scanned him up and down. “Next.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard,” Scott joked, standing next to you in the far corner of the entrance. 

You rolled your eyes, “Wait.”

The bouncer took one look at Steve’s ID and gasped. Steve looked anywhere but the bouncer’s eyes, his bottom lip suffering the abuse of his incisors. 

“Cap-Captain?”

Steve gave a sheepish grin, lowering his cap further. “Uh, yeah.”

“Enjoying your day?”

You pinched your nose. 

“Would like it a lot more if you could lead us to a table with as much privacy as you can offer.”

You had to hand it to Steve for taking advantage of situations like this. 

The bouncer agreed immediately, speaking with the manager and promising discretion. The manager said it was no problem, that it was the least he could do for you guys after you brought his son back to him after those rough five years. 

The restaurant offered a somewhat real Italian setting, awarding their guests with as much real scenery and architecture it could. You could only compare it to the Venetian in Vegas as you had never actually been to Italy, but the live band and garlic smell was enough to transport you. 

The lights were low, older couples enjoying the food and wine, and there was a small bar near the back of the restaurant. It wasn’t really a place for some shady business, but years of experience let you know that wasn’t always the case. It was second nature to eye women reaching into their purses, only to pull out a pack of gum. Second nature to wince at the sound of a loud laugh cutting through the quiet atmosphere. 

As promised, you were led to a more private area of the restaurant, closer to the bar than to the band. 

“Go run the job, Scott. We’ll just be enjoying our unlimited breadsticks,” you said, letting out a heavy and relaxed sigh as you settled into the private booth. 

“That hat isn't really hiding those broad shoulders, Cap,” Scott laughed, slapping Steve on the back.

Steve slid into the same booth, ignoring the completely empty seat across from you. “Thanks, Scott. I’m aware.”

You tried to hide your blush as you squeezed deeper in your seat. Scott noticed though, side eyeing Steve who was none the wiser. “You know, I told him that he should have used those facial changing things SHIELD used to have.”

Steve grabbed the offered utensils and started unwrapping them from their napkins. 

“What are we if not superheroes who think a baseball cap and glasses hide our identities?” you teased, shooting Scott a quick wink. 

Steve answered almost triumphantly, “Uh, Superman?”

You giggled and grabbed the napkin he had unwrapped for you. “I’d argue Thor is more like Superman, but okay.”

“How am I not more like Superman? What-”

“Uh, guys? I see the dude so I’m gonna go. You two enjoy your meal,” Scott interrupted, running off to a booth located toward the middle of the restaurant. 

You sat for a few awkward moments before you squinted and looked at Steve, who was sitting to your left and way too close. “Are we annoying?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like,” you spoke with your hands, “you and I bicker a lot because we love to annoy each other but you think it gets on other people’s nerves?”

Steve chuckled, rubbing his shoulder with yours. “Do you really care if it does?”

That blush of yours was starting to feel warmer. “No, just wondering if you felt that way.”

He shrugged, “I quite like our relationship.”

“Oh,” you smiled, looking down at your lap.  “I quite liked it more a few years back but you know.” 

He immediately tensed, body leaning away from you as if you were burning him. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “Sorry, that was low.”

He sighed deeply, “No, I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

You took a risk and reached for his hand, squeezing gently. The kind gesture seemed to calm him, and he looked back at you. “I still shouldn’t have said it.”

He accepted that, and handed you the menu. 

The hotel food was grand, it did its job of filling you up and providing the necessary nutrients, but there was just something about the carbs in pasta and bread. It ignited the food critic inside you, because now you were cursing the hotel chef and dreading having to order breakfast in the morning. No, dinner. You were having breakfast with your father tomorrow. 

Scott was busy conducting his own business, bluetooth turned off but still glancing over his shoulder once in a while to check on you guys. Each time he did, he felt butterflies flutter in his breadstick-filled stomach. It was the first time he had seen the two of you so carefree, let alone with each other, and it was the most refreshing thing in the world. 

Steve was in the middle of telling another childhood story, his main plate already finished and practically licked clean. But the unlimited breadsticks were coming out by the pound, a new stick in each of your hands every five minutes. 

“I swear, she loved Bucky more than me!”

You covered your mouth and chewed, careful to not let anything through because of your giggle fit. “Steve! Your mother did not!”

Steve wiped at his under eye, clutching his chest as he continued explaining. “Bucky was always around and my mom would just linger every second she wasn’t working!”

“Bet she loved him.”

“See?”

“No, I mean she must have loved him like her own! Bucky was your best friend, your only friend. She probably thought of him like an angel sent from God!” you clarified. 

Steve smiled wider at your cheesy explanation. They were happy memories, joyful ones that he would often think about while writing or drawing. 

He continued with a soft confession. “I really wish I could see her again.”

You leaned your temple on your palm, “From everything you’ve shared with me, she sounds lovely.”

“She would have loved you.” The blush was back, and so was Steve’s, almost like those words were supposed to be kept in the back of his head. He cleared his throat. “God, she was so destroyed when Bucky first got his orders.”

“Was Bucky scared?”

“Scared? Absolutely fucking terrified. We talked about running away and changing our names so he didn’t have to go.”

The draft was such a horrible practice. The fact that men still had to enlist and hope no ‘necessary’ war was upon them. It was quite reassuring to know most of those men wouldn’t have to see battle today, they were given a choice, and there were agencies that managed people who could, like the Avengers. 

“Steve…”

Steve just hummed softly, “Life in the forties, am I right?

Your voice also got quieter. “Why didn’t you run away?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, swallowing the last of his bread. “We tried. Got all the way to the edge of town before Bucky’s dad wrung us both back to kick our asses.”

Almost out of instinct, you gripped his hand again. You rubbed soothing circles into his knuckles, knuckles that hadn’t seen hand-to-hand combat in so long. There wasn’t much danger in the world nowadays, just small missions here and there. It wasn’t like the team was itching for another alien invasion. But these periods of well needed rest were odd, periods where bruises completely healed up and little pockets of weight were gained. Steve’s knuckles were soft, only having seen the ends of paintbrushes for a long while. 

 “...Where’s your mother?”

His voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you had to repeat the question in your own head a couple times. 

“It’s not a happy story.”

There wasn’t much of a story anyway. 

“But is it a story you need to get off your chest?”

Steve didn’t want to push too hard. The long pause in your relationship definitely didn’t soften this blow, and it only added to the strings of resistance. If you decided not to tell Steve about this, Steve would have to accept it. If anything, this was one of the toughest questions to ask someone when all you’ve been doing is ignoring them for two years. 

“Not really much to get rid of.”

He nodded, only a slight hint of disappointment laced within his words. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Natasha was the only one with any knowledge of your mom. There was never an actual moment in which you freely spoke of her - inserting her likeness, her person, back into some alternate and fucked-up reality - you kept her legacy dead. It was obvious she hadn’t enjoyed this part of her life, no doubt it absolutely killed her to leave you trapped in it, so keeping her dead, even in conversation, was a favor. 

But one drunken night and you were showing Natasha the one photo you had of her, stuffed deep in your wallet and crinkled beyond repair. Her black hair to her shoulders, lip liner a darker shade than her lipstick, hands intertwined behind her back as she arched forward in a playful tilt, shooting the camera a smile that was stuck around the word she was saying as the candid was taken. There was no recorded voice but you had a record of her movement, frozen in time.     

Steve’s sincerity grasped you by the literal roots of your hair, because next thing you knew you were spilling the first thought you had. 

“She was twenty-three. Working as a real estate agent, very beautiful, and she was engaged. To an American.”

Steve chuckled around his champagne glass, “Was that bad?”

You grinned at that, like he was already fully and deeply invested in your story. “Not necessarily. But everyone knew she was taken.”

“And your father?”

“He wanted to buy some houses. Saw her, wanted her, tried persuading her into going on a date. Nothing really worked, she didn’t accept his money or gifts.”

Steve fumbled over his next words. “Did she eventually?”

“No, but her brother did. My father didn’t know it was her brother, so he thought she was accepting them. Got mad when she still refused his advances.”

He was digesting this little by little. Steve had heard horror stories of girls he grew up with, forced to marry at a young age when they were caught in a passionate moment with a man, or when they ended up pregnant. Bucky and his mother had always instructed him to treat women with respect, to never intentionally or accidentally ruin their reputation, to protect and use his voice to stand up for them. And although women weren’t getting frisky with him when he was all but ninety pounds at the ripe age of twenty, that didn’t stop Steve from exchanging a few words and punches with men who had no right.  “How did they end up together?”

You shrugged, reaching over for another breadstick. “No one knows. He invited her to a party one day and she didn’t come back for a whole week. Next thing her family knows she’s engaged to my father and no longer with the love of her life.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, her family had no choice but to accept that. Her poor fiance, though.” 

“Where is he now?”

Steve had this weird hope that the fiance may still be alive somewhere, waiting for your mother to find him. But that was just the hopeless romantic emerging. 

You sighed deeply, “My father told my mother he killed him. My mother believed him.”

“So, he’s still alive? He didn’t hurt him?”

“Apparently he’s still kicking, yeah. But my mom became severely depressed from that lie.”

The restaurant felt colder and the air became thinner. Steve didn’t want his next thought to be true. “She didn’t...?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, she found out he was alive.” Even if you weren’t witness to it, you could still imagine your mother charting the areas she would have to run and swim through to get away. Wasn’t like it was a heartfelt thought, but the mere fact that she had that much determination to risk her life for love, it was somewhat therapeutic to think about. Like it was genuinely satisfying to imagine her defying your father. Still, your face drooped as you gave Steve the sad conclusion. “She didn’t even make it across the border before he had her killed for betraying him.”

His face fell in time with yours, “Fuck.”

“She left me with Maribel’s mother. But my father found me and told me she had an accident. Didn’t find out the truth until I was thirteen.”

“I’m so sorry.”

You shoved his shoulder with yours, a light chuckle cutting through the sad moment. “Not like you had a hand in this, Steve. It’s just my life.”

You were used to Steve’s generosity, his ability to make any person feel a part of his family - you had been on the receiving end of his sincerity for the past week now. But as you held his gaze, his body seemingly towering over yours, your chest flushed with such warmness, a tranquil promise of safety. He leaned forward, breath hitting your cheeks, hand still gripping yours. 

“Not anymore. We’ll end this, Y/N. I promise you, we’ll end this.”

You took a risk and rested your forehead on his, his continuous promise still causing your stomach to twist pleasurably. “How’d we get so sad all of a sudden?” You pushed away and threw your arms in the air. “We need more breadsticks!”

Steve laughed loudly, the private booth still providing somewhat of a thin curtain to the other diners. “No, we need mints!”

Rolling your eyes, you blew your breath at Steve teasingly. “Weak.”

Steve groaned, “You and Scott are not getting into the car without chewing on a mint.”

“You got a thing against bad breath?”

“Take the mint.”

“I’m gonna fight you if you force the mint on me.”

He was reaching into his jacket and pulling the small case out. He winked at you. “I’ll win.”

He popped open the cap and held it out to you. He didn’t tip it though, as if he was waiting for you to extend your palm. Everything was silent for a minute, eyes challenging one another. 

He could easily lean in. He could easily just tilt his head a little to his left and capture your lips with his. Every damn molecule in his body was telling him to do it, every bubble from that champagne somehow giving him some extra courage. 

Your breath hitched slightly, and he leaned away. I’m such a coward, he thought.

You reacted swiftly, disguising the awkwardness. “You’re right, give me the mint. You should swallow like three.”

Steve snickered, “You ruined the moment.”

But you didn’t ruin the moment. And he just blamed you for it. Like he had already established - he was a coward. 

You grabbed the mints he offered and popped them into your mouth. “What moment? I didn’t see any moment.”

Okay, he could just lean in right now and hope the mint freshness in your mouth would mask the garlic in his. Yeah, he could just lean in and do what he’s been thinking of doing for the last day and a half-

“Hey, you guys finished? Getting dessert?”

Steve almost shot from his seat, “Jesus fucking christ, Scott!”

Scott slid into the seat across from you. “You scare easily. Let’s get dessert!” 

You were too flustered. Fine, okay. You’ll play along. If the gods want to reward you with this fun Steve, the Steve you were closest to years ago, then so be it. You’ll bite. And if he wants to resort back to his bitchy self, his hermit behavior, then you’ll fight him then. 

Scott ordered so much dessert. 

So much. 

The little moment you had with Steve was still fresh, you could sense he was thinking about it too, but you opted to simply enjoy the night out. You were here with two friends, protection was just a phone call away, and you were safe. 

Perhaps Scott had the same effect on Steve that he had on you. Absolutely demolished his ‘Captain’ self and released the guy who simply wanted to enjoy a mini road trip with his friends. 

     You were barely fifteen minutes into your ride home when Scott lowered the windows and turned the radio up high. 

“Woohoo!”

You screamed over the loud roar of the wind, “Scott, it’s fucking freezing!”

Scott yelled back, “We just had three desserts each! Your blood should be running warm!”

You blinked away the dryness, “Dude!”

Steve, surprisingly, agreed with Scott. “Enjoy it!”

Your mouth dropped open and you followed Steve’s movements as he turned the radio higher. 

The music blared and you were about to protest again, the air literally nipping at your sensitive cheeks, but the song that started was a non-skip. 

You would indulge in this childishness once. 

Once. 

You reached around the passenger seat and gripped Steve’s shoulders, shaking him in place. “Ah, California radio giving us the classics!”

Scott leaned over and turned it up higher. 

You swayed in your seat and sang along with Scott. “Bidi bidi bom bom!”

Scott pointed at you and recited the lyrics, “Bidi, bidi!”

Both of you sang, “Bom!”

Even with his eyes on the road, Scott was nailing some good dance moves in his seat. You both sang each lyric with your heart and soul, laughs escaping during the guitar breaks. 

Steve just enjoyed the show. He didn’t know the song, the melody a foreign one for him, but it must have been popular for both you and Scott to know it. He watched you sway in your seat, hands dancing and voice matching the volume of the radio. Just the other night, you had mentioned how you never sang anymore.

But here you were, singing through the most beautiful smile Steve had ever seen. 

He missed the sound of it. He missed hearing you sing in your room, no doubt you were dancing too since he usually heard your feet shuffling against your carpet. He missed the innocence you would casually portray, an invitation for anyone to befriend you. He missed teasing you lightly, and he regretted the roughness of his voice years later. He missed just walking into the common area and finding you there, cooking for yourself and anyone who wanted a plate - that plate usually for him. He missed you. 

You were right here, voice hitting those octaves Steve didn’t think he would ever hear again. You were right here, and he missed you. 

      Scott was staying in a separate room. The dessert and alcohol had run right through him, and he bid you goodnight after he threatened to plop down in your bed if you invited him in. 

The sound of Scott’s retreating footsteps seemed to suck all the air from the vents at once, whispering its song lovingly in your ear. It was both refreshing and terrifying to be left alone because now here you were, standing outside your hotel door with the super soldier you had gone to Hell and back with. 

You inwardly cringed, the tightness in your chest sending your childish ass back to sophomore year of college. A first date, the lost promise of another - a proper teenage reaction to a crush. But this man in front of you wouldn’t let you delete his number from your phone; he wouldn’t avoid eye contact in the dining hall; he wouldn’t sit at the back of the lecture hall just to keep a necessary distance. 

Granted, Elijah - poor, frightened Elijah - had seen you literally kidnap someone off the street under your father’s orders. This being before you went straight and moral, before you had met Fury, before SHIELD training. You were to blame for that sprouting relationship going south pretty quickly. So you avoided him, too - praying Ernesto or Seda could never track him. 

But Steve, beautiful Steve who reloaded your guns when you couldn’t, who jumped in front of stray bullets for you and those he loved, Steve who very quietly asked you for various salsa recipes when he was in the mood to cook. Here he was, eyes also watching Scott walk away, no doubt experiencing the same tight coil within his chest. He hadn’t run, he had worked and fought with and against you, and he wasn’t running away. 

No, Steve Rogers never ran. 

The low beep from the hotel lock snapped you from your thoughts. You sensed his hesitance because when your history was truly reviewed with the most unbiased of minds, there was absolutely no reason to overthink. Hell, when you ran through the halls of Thor’s Asgardian palace with Rocket tailing you, the first joke out your mouth was how Steve would probably instruct you to respect a place like that and speed walk. Your first thought when starting the pilot episode of a new show is to wait for Bucky… and Steve, who would pop the kernels over the stove and add real salt and butter. 

His first thought as he helped load people onto the planes in Sokovia was that your whiny ass better be on one of them. Or when Steve regrouped in the support circle, his first thought before he continued the discussion was that he really hoped you would walk through those doors and join - until one day you did. 

Whether the two of you recognized the severity of your unspoken feelings, they were there. Silent and at a gradual increase. Never rushed, not entirely obvious because of the temporary roadblocks of unnecessary separation. 

Steve was here in front of you, like he always was, and he was wearing the smallest nervous smile you had ever seen.  

And you were here in front of him, like you always were, and he could not entirely read the mixed emotions on your delicate face. 

You shuffled alongside your bed, stopping to shrug out of the heavy jacket you had on. “We should turn in early so we can be well-rested, in case we gotta fight tomorrow.”

Steve nodded in agreement but remained silent, hovering near the coffee table and monitors. Your back was facing him and he just watched you fumble with your boots and belt. It was like your back was on fire, bursting with fueled flames as you could literally feel his gaze boring into you. The overwhelming urge to simply snap and ask him what the hell he was looking at was strong, so in character, but you refrained. It was too intimate, too quiet, but before you could even ask him if he wanted the shower first, the warmth of his chest was near, inches away and calling. 

Your breath hitched, shoulders rising slightly and exactly what Steve needed to witness. It was awkward for him to just stand behind you with no actual intention of touching you first - no, he needed a proper signal. So Steve waited those few precious seconds more until you turned, sun-kissed by the California sun and hair no longer in tight curls, before he glanced down at your glossy lips. You followed his eyesight, all knowing in his intentions, and you glanced at his lips as well. 

A gesture of approval. 

Steve pulled you in, both hands settling on your cheeks, thumbs exploring the corners of your mouth. He watched them dance and how your mouth parted slightly in response. He looked back up, studying the small crease forming in between your eyebrows and the pinch of water filling the inside corners of your eyes.

His thumbs felt like a gentle sigh, a promise of a sweet caress in both the daytime and dead of night. Although all his focus was on you, his own features reacted to the moment. His lips were also parted, sweet breath with the scent of those classic tiramisu’s he had devoured, touching the tip of your nose and equally trembling lips. 

So goddamn intimate that you found yourself internally cursing those sitcoms Wanda had forced you to binge watch. Because the two love interests, albeit they had several months or years of growing tension, rushed into their first kiss for the sake of limited airtime. They didn’t prepare you for practically a ten-year build-up, a relationship that was both heavily work and friend related, the slowness of such a moment fans would most certainly be jumping out of their seats for. No, nothing could have prepared you for the warmth of Steve Rogers. 

Your Captain. 

You registered the soft feeling of his lips as they pressed against yours, overlapped only slightly. Eyes now fully closed in surprise and pleasure, you leaned into it more, hands placed on Steve’s rising chest. The squeeze of his hands cupping your cheeks caused your lips to pucker more, but you were relaxed in his desperate touch. He tilted his head a little to the left, your lips sliding against each other’s and noses bumping. Steve frowned in concentration, pouring whatever emotions he had felt throughout the last few years into this one kiss, and he knew he couldn’t possibly fully portray them. And almost as quickly as you thought about how sweet and innocent of a kiss this was, Steve’s tongue slowly peaked out from behind his teeth and greeted your bottom lip. 

His tongue traced over your bottom lip warmly, welcomed by yours as you followed his lead. God, you would always follow his lead. 

You tried to move in closer, but your elbows were already bent fully against him and his hips were only a few inches from your greedy ones. One tiny step forward and you would be completely flushed against him - but you chose to respect the distance Steve created. 

You let out a quiet whine, body shuddering as Steve applied more pressure. It was as if Steve had never heard such a sound - completely unexpected and causing him to pause momentarily. He leaned away a little, lips still barely kissing yours. He opened his eyes, gaze wandering from your flushed cheeks still squeezed between his palms and to your fluttering eyelids. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he debated leaning forward again, to be selfish for once and to pass forth the trophy for ‘waiting too long’. But as you opened your eyes, no trace of regret or hate swimming inside your irises, Steve froze. 

You were his friend. His friend who teased him about the paint streaks across his forehead, who followed his lead no matter how ridiculous the order. 

He didn’t want you to inspect him further as well, so he shut his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. It was only then that he felt you settle back down from your tippy-toes. 

You gulped loudly, throat dry and lips instantly craving him again. “Steve…”

Steve let go of your face and dragged his hands lightly down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He turned his head slightly, his breath now kissing your cheek. Although your cheeks were red, the absence of Steve’s palms made them cold. 

He took a small step back, hands straining to stay on your skin as he reluctantly pulled them away. The absence of any warmth finally woke you from that intense daze and you frowned at Steve as he pulled away altogether. The instinct to reach out was there, and you cursed yourself for being so clingy. 

“Steve?” you called again, voice hoarse but light enough to pinch at Steve’s fast beating heart. 

He looked up and locked eyes with your confused ones. Oh, you’re gonna hate him for this. 

He gave you a small and kind smile, one you had seen plenty of times when he was actually enjoying your company. He backed up to the door, gaze never leaving yours even as he reached for the handle and key card. 

And he wanted to bring his hands back to your face to rub away that wrinkle between your furrowing eyebrows. But he simply opened the door and left you standing near the edge of your bed, flushed with a deep sense of longing and growing confusion. 

Steve already knew the amount of heat he would receive from the moment gossip of the kiss spread. Whether he was first to tell or you were. Bucky’s going to kick his ass, for sure, no doubt about it. No matter his bond with Bucky, it could never excuse leaving you alone to unravel this situation. You had this hold over Bucky, a soft mutual understanding of mental torture, so this inevitable ass kicking would be justified. Plus, after years of being rejected over and over, mostly in the forties, Bucky might just kick his ass for simply being a dumbass. 

But Steve felt calm, an added relaxation due to the whiskey cooling in his hand. If there was anything Steve was an expert in, it was overthinking. You two had that in common - were you overthinking while absentmindedly watching TV? Overthinking while rubbing shampoo into your scalp? Overthinking while angrily stomping your way down to the hotel bar to hand his ass back over to him?

He let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t see you burst through the doors. 

      “Anyone wanna start?”

Steve glanced around the circle of familiar and new faces. The group varied each week. Some people would try, share their anecdotes about lost loved ones, only to never show up for another session. Others often attended and never spoke, but they kept returning. Steve didn’t judge their choices - he couldn’t. No matter how many mornings he wanted to crawl back under the sheets and binge eat packaged foods, he never could. He had been at this job for two years. There was both pain and satisfaction in what he did. Sam would be doing this if he were here. 

And he had to do this for Sam. 

“My divorce was finalized yesterday.”

Steve looked over at the man who spoke first, a long-time member of this particular support group, and grimaced at his confession. The man couldn’t have been more than thirty, no wrinkles or gray hair, and he was ending a two-year marriage. 

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

The man, Michael, shrugged sadly, “We still love each other, man. But seeing your newborn disintegrate in your arms does something to your soul that’s just… we both knew we needed to move on. Even if it was from each other.”

Steve squeezed the small, red stress ball in his hand and tried to offer more condolences and a kind smile, but it came out rather painful. He opted to stay silent in case Michael wanted to continue. Instead, another member decided to comment. 

It went like this for almost an hour with Steve adding in his empathetic words of wisdom whenever he saw appropriate. It was good for everyone to share so openly, to carry the conversation with minimal involvement from Steve. Steve had shared snippets of his story with the group awhile back, careful to not mention the gruesome specifics. He had let out as much as he was able, not as much as he would have liked, but his main job was to facilitate. Besides, Steve went to confession every month to talk to someone - anyone - even if he wasn’t necessarily Catholic. But that’s just the thing - no one knew who they were anymore. 

The sound of a scraping chair leg caught everyone’s attention, and they all turned to the entrance in search of the disruption. You paused in your movements, face scrunched in embarrassment. Opening one eye, you mouthed a quick apology and rushed to carry the chair to the circle. 

“I’m sorry I’m late. Subway was a bitch,” you muttered, your embarrassed smile growing wider. 

For over a year, Steve had subtly urged you to attend one of these meetings. He was witness to your nightmares, your destructive solo missions that even Friday had no records of, and your sudden breakdown last week. You were casually jogging around the outdoor track when you suddenly stopped and fell to your knees, broken sobs seeming to shake the trees around you. You were crouched for a good minute before Steve had seen you wipe your eyes and continue your jog. As if nothing happened. 

To see you here, whether to share or to listen, prompted the proud and erratic beating of Steve’s heart. 

“It’s completely fine. Time’s almost up but we still got time for you.”

You sent Steve a funny smile, amused by his professional tone. “Uh, yeah! A friend convinced me to come. He was pretty persuasive.”

Steve blushed, head tilting downward. 

You introduced yourself and let the group know you were also an Avenger. No one seemed shocked and you were suddenly grateful for this mixture of people. 

Steve sat and listened, his nerves settling. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you all,” you started, thumbs dancing in your lap. “And I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

Steve sat up straight, eyebrows scrunching as he listened intently. 

You sighed, wetting your lips briefly. “The day before the snap, I was supposed to die.”

You wanted to avoid Steve’s gaze until the right moment. You continued, “I went on a mission to Mexico. Alone, which was completely against protocol but hey, we broke a lot more rules than that.”

Steve cleared his throat which earned a chorus of chuckles from the group. 

“And I was technically on house arrest but I found out a way to temporarily disable that ankle monitor,” you added, grinning from the laughs you were receiving. 

“Anyway, all my potential backup was nonexistent. I had friends on the run,” you paused, glancing at Steve with a somber expression. “And other friends literally fighting another battle on their home planet somewhere in space. So, I went alone.”

“While I was bleeding out from a bullet my own father ordered, Tony was already up in space. Loki was already dead.”

You hoped no one commented on Loki’s role in your life. He wasn’t exactly a nice figure to suddenly name drop in New York, but he was important in your grief. 

It was slightly unnerving to be on display here, but you weren’t exactly planning on returning. You just needed to rant. 

“I stitched myself up the best I could in that quinjet - which I almost crashed,” you muttered, smirking at Steve. “Sorry, Cap.”

“This is the first time I've heard you flew. You’re not even authorized to fly,” Steve declared, face scrunched in confusion and astonishment. 

“That’s not important,” you teased. “But the stitches were messy work. Horrible criss-crosses.”

Steve was in a tiny state of shock. He had known what happened to you, but to hear you talk so casually about the day before the world went to shit - it just made it more real. 

You had mentioned before that you never dreamed about the snap, but about everything leading up to it. 

“I woke up, betrayed yet again by my own blood, and Steve was suddenly there after two years. We were gonna fight an outside threat.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed lightly, “I was still healing but I was on the battlefield. Stayed close to Nat most of the time.”

The group was heavily invested in your retelling. “I couldn’t fight him, obviously. But I did see him. I saw how he ripped that stone from my friend’s head.”

A few winces sounded around the circle. 

“I guess I feel immense guilt. Like, I could have done something more even though realistically, I couldn’t. Kinda feels like I sat back and watched my friend’s die.”

No one spoke, but it was obvious everyone had survivor’s guilt. 

“And now, I’m living with the pain of having all three of my best friends stripped from me while also celebrating the fact that the snap took my father.”

Shrugging, you gave your last sad smile to the group. “I feel guilty for what happened while also being grateful it took someone who deserved it.”

After a few seconds of silence, Steve spoke. “You’re here today to tell your story. No one has to agree or disagree with you. It’s your story. Tell it like it is.”

You chuckled, “I could easily bother Steve with this at the compound.” You smiled at the teenager clutching what looked like a stuffed animal in his lap. “But I had nothing else to do tonight. My only friends are gone.”

“You and Steve aren’t friends?”

This time it was Michael that spoke, his eyes bouncing from you to Steve. You turned to Steve for some kind of answer. Was it a yes? Were you more like coworkers than true friends? 

Steve’s eyes softened and his kind smile was back. 

You answered, “I guess. I did come here for him.”

Steve rolled his eyes and kept his light-hearted tone, “I’m really glad you did.” 

Steve backtracked, clearing his throat as he addressed the circle. “I’m really glad all of you did. Same time next week.”

You busied yourself with stacking the chairs and dusting off your pants. Once most of the group had left, Steve gathered his things and walked over to you. “You take the subway?”

Your head shot up at the sound of his voice, and you stacked the final chair high. “I did. You drive?”

Steve hummed in response, “Want a lift?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re not staying at your place tonight?”

“Nah, I haven’t seen Nat in a week. I should pay her a visit.”

He curled his jacket around your shoulders as you exited the building. You held it tightly, relishing in the comfort. The walk back to the car was quiet but not awkward. After such a heavy night, silence was most definitely needed. And just the comfort of being around someone you trusted added to the relaxation aspect of it all. 

Steve kicked a loose piece of gravel to the street. You watched him for a few seconds before you spoke, voice light and a puff of cold air escaping your lips. 

“Steve?” 

He turned to you and waited for you to continue speaking. 

“You know Sam would be so proud of you doing this, right?”

Steve watched the cold air leave his own lungs as well. He felt the weight of that statement pressing down on his shoulders as he looked up at the dark sky. “I know.”

     Steve knew he was utterly fucked, so fucked that any line that had been established was stepped over and kicked a thousand yards back. His mind was made up, he would not run, he would not succumb to some former mindset 2016 Steve would have fallen victim to. He was a new person, a completely different person than he was out of the ice and after the snap. He deserved to cross the line, he deserved whatever happiness was afforded to him - he deserved comfort in the arms of another after years of denying himself. 

He downed the rest of his drink with a loud gulp, mind made up, and headed back to your room. 

    It was best to just pretend it never happened… no? But did you want to pretend it never did? So many moments over the years where this could have happened, where either of you could have literally just said ‘fuck it’. As overthinking was a specialty, quite a useless skill, you thought about the countless fights you had. 

Red in the face, hands clenched until nails imprinted little crescents, absolutely seething at the mouth. Some of the things you would yell were vile, none at all honest but with the intent to cause pain for only a moment, and mumbled apologies later. You were literally enemies for these past two, long years. Enemies who had to be seated and scolded, tricked into accepting defeat and living as teammates once more. 

Perhaps one of those arguments could have been remedied by simply leaning in like you had tonight, by throwing each other against the wall, by pulling the roots of your hair as he tugged-

Nope. 

Nope. 

No matter how much tension you were now realizing you had for this man, tension that could literally be fucked out, wasn’t it too late to act on it? You couldn’t pinpoint the chance you maybe had and missed. 

Steve walked through the door in the middle of your rapid brainstorming. He just grinned sweetly and slipped into the bathroom. 

As simple as that. 

Now you couldn’t discern between the feelings of wanting to fight him or fuck him. Not being able to differentiate between them ignited a sour mood, and once he stepped out from the shower, you basically pushed him to the side to lock yourself in. 

Even the warm water hitting your body couldn’t alleviate the pressure of overthinking. You disregarded your hair tonight and instead just washed your body. As quick as you could jump back out and go to bed, the better.  

Sucking in a deep breath, you opened the door and shut off the bathroom light. Your eyes landed on Steve’s torso, shirtless and the only thing not covered by the white blanket. He hadn’t shaved his beard either, the length evident when he kissed you earlier. It felt wrong and right at the same time, a battle that you seriously did not want to deal with. To get involved with your mission partner was dangerous - not because Steve himself was dangerous, but because it was a giant distraction. A distraction that you couldn’t afford. 

But as he put down his book and lay it in his lap, looking up to look at you through hooded eyes, sleepy but alert, the ‘danger’ was nothing but enticing. 

You cleared your throat and padded down your pajama shorts absentmindedly, slinging your hair over one shoulder and focusing on plugging your charger into your phone. It was so silent besides your pitter-patter, and god, did Steve find that sound so relaxing, until you climbed into bed. Once your shuffling was done, the slight buzzing of Steve’s desk lamp drowned out all your other senses. And the longer it was heard, the more it sounded like a ticking clock. 

Steve shut the lamp off, the only light now illuminating your figure from outside. He studied your breathing, watching how every so often you would bring your hand up to scratch your cheek or move a stray hair. You looked so gentle, so inviting, so small. 

You were turned away from him and facing the wall, eyes shut as you listened to his movements. There was a small part of you that wanted to stay up all night talking, to lean on his shoulder and simply feel his warmth, to feel that beard against your cheek one more time. As quickly as those thoughts flashed through your mind did you scold yourself, that this was inappropriate and wrong and so dangerous. 

You felt a dip in your bed, heavy and unsure, a lift of your blankets, and it happened so quickly that you could have sworn you dreamt it. Steve wrapped his arm around you, his broad chest pressed tightly against your back and his lips attacked the skin just below your earlobe. Your breath hitched, eyes shot open, and your hands reached up to grip his wrist. Steve stilled. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, lips hovering over your blushing skin and breath practically blistering. You could feel him now, hard and pulsing against your ass and ready to move. You felt dizzy, overcome with such a rush of desire that you couldn’t help but stiffen in his tight grasp. 

“Don’t,” you choked out, feeling his body become rigid and his breath begin to quicken. 

“I’m sorry I-” he began to move away from you, voice no longer a whisper and tainted with panic. 

“No,” you pulled back, tilting your head up to lock eyes with him. You brought your arm up to grasp the back of his head, and you tugged it back to your neck. “Don’t stop.”

Yeah, he was utterly fucked. “Fuck,” he groaned, continuing the attack on your neck. But he gained momentum now, arm squeezing you against him tighter, and voice cracking as he moaned your name. 

“Steve, please do something.”

Your hands found their way back to his arm, gripping it tightly as he fumbled with the waistband of your shorts. He played with it, teasing in his actions, almost as punishment for the years you tormented him with your attitude. His lips pressed harder now, finding each patch of available skin on your neck and flushed cheek, and Steve has never felt so aroused in his life. He wasn’t even inside you, but the quick gasps he heard from you did plenty in aiding the rush of blood from his head to his stiffening cock. 

“Tell me what you want. Please, tell me and I’ll give it to you,” he moaned, the slightest experimental role of the hips causing you to whimper. 

“Touch me,” you practically sobbed, rolling your hips back against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt all of him.  

And just like that, he gave you what you asked for. He gripped your hip and shoved you closer to him, hot and ready and pressed firmly against you. He rolled his hips into you, little whimpers of his own touching your sensitive ear. He quickened his pace and he found it hard to think straight when the scrunch of pleasure all over your face, making you look so willing, was all he was focused on. He focused on the way you bit your lip, a bite and then a gasp, and then you were back to biting as if you were trying to restrain any higher moan. And even with only the moonlight illuminating the room, he could see the sun-kissed color of your skin and the bruising he was causing. He kept his mouth on you as he rocked himself against you, indulging in a few more selfish seconds of pleasure before becoming his generous self. 

He dipped his hand into your shorts and found the sweet nub that so desperately needed attention. His brain almost short circuited, the feeling of his fingers finally sliding into your wet lips making his throat dry. He drew little but skilled circles, each twirl of his index and middle finger in unison with the grind of his hips. Your mouth fell open by such pleasure, and you braced yourself by placing your left palm on the mattress and pressed down, nails scratching the cotton fabric and alerting Steve of your excitement. You pushed back against him, timed and in perfect harmony. 

You knew the room wasn’t on fire, but even if it was you didn’t think to check. 

“Keep talking to me, Y/N. Keep talking to me,” Steve begged, each rotation of his hips gaining pressure. His eagerness prompted you to reach back up and grab him by the hair, yanking his head to your tilted one and smashing his lips against yours. Steve gasped at the pleasant sting, somewhat surprised with himself that he liked that form of roughness. But who was he to judge his kinks when the tip of your nose was turning redder, the blush in your cheeks mixed with barely visible silver droplets of sweat, and a purple outline was beginning to form on your plump upper lip? 

The kiss was sloppy, uncoordinated, but still beneficial in getting Steve to rut against you even harder. 

He could so easily pull your shorts down and enter you, and if he was anything like he felt, then you knew it would sting. But you craved that sting and stretch, the thought of him inside you causing another gush of desire to leak from you. Steve dipped his finger deeper into you only to accumulate your juices and spread them higher. He went back to rubbing expertly, actions gaining speed to match your whimpers. 

“Fuck, Steve,” you moaned louder, and you swore you felt tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You pressed back harder, his hand rubbing and pressing down on your stomach simultaneously. Your head felt cloudy, the pleasure coursing through your veins and to the very tips of your toes. “Oh, my fuck.”

Steve paused his fingers to trail his hand back up your stomach and to your breasts, pulling your tank top down to spill them. The sounds leaving your throat set him on fire, desire pulsing everywhere - his head, his heart, his aching cock that was pressed so closely against you that he could feel you vibrating. He pinched your nipple and rolled it, closing his eyes in response to your dirty purrs. “Let me make you come, doll.”

“Wasn’t that the point?” you quipped, ass tilting at an angle that caused Steve to choke. He growled from the attitude he couldn’t believe you still fucking had during a moment like this and kissed you roughly, both your broken moans molding into one. His hand returned to your shorts. 

“Do that again,” he begged, hitching his leg up to rest on yours. The angle allowed him to drive his hips even harder. You maneuvered to provide the same tilt, grinning at the pleasurable cries that left your Captain’s mouth. 

“I think I’m gonna make you come first,” you chuckled and took his bottom lip between your teeth. You pulled lightly, concentration still in the circle of your hips. He looked back down at you, determination and undeniable lust in his eyes. He thrust his aching cock against you, sliding himself over your ass. He did it hard but slow, the pressure applied giving the head of his cock such a sweet squeeze as he bumped it against the curve of your lumbar spine. 

The heavy duvet was abandoned now, cold air from the hotel air conditioner failing in cooling you down at all. You both had a thin sheet of sweat on your clothed bodies, goosebumps standing proudly, and lips all plump and red from your harsh kissing. 

Steve held you so close, so tight, and his fingers were drawing such rushed and tiny circles that you swore his wrist had to be cramping up. But the sound of both your whimpers started to mesh together, alerting you of such a sweet climax up ahead. 

“Steve, fuck, fuck, ohh,” you mewled, voice now high pitched and yes, it turned Steve on incredibly but it also fueled you. Your pornographic moans ignited an even deeper desire within you, just the true fact that Steve was touching you, Steve was getting you to make these sounds, Steve is actually hearing these sounds, Steve is making the same exact sounds. 

 “I-, please, come for me,” Steve pleaded, cock twitching with each thrust as he neared his end. “Make me come.”

His begging, his equally high voice, his skilled fingers rubbing rapidly and the slight pain from that, his breath burning your neck, were all too powerful, their combinations causing the fire in your core to explode and make you see white in a flash, black dots later clouding your vision. Your nails dug into his moving arm, crescents branded into him. You clenched around nothing, walls fluttering and thighs shaking as they pressed around his hand and fingers. 

The inappropriate squelching sound of your juices spreading as your thighs clenched around his cramping fingers, the slide so sensual and dirty, had Steve rutting against you one, two, three more times before he came in hard but long spurts. His mouth hung open, breath still fanning your neck, and his eyes were so tightly shut that the force was enough to strain them. 

“Oh, fuuuck, yes, yes!” Steve groaned, his body taking longer than usual to recover. His orgasm was powerful, more powerful than when he got himself off in the shower or in the comfort of his bed at night, and he knew it was because you clouded his senses. Of course, there was an added benefit to getting off with someone else, aiding that person in the same endeavor, but because it was you, it made the climax even more forceful, more intense. The whole situation was both unexpected and calculated, gentle and rough, and Steve’s heart was beating so fast by the thought of what just occurred that he found himself wanting to spill into you all night long, and to apologize for overstepping an unspoken boundary. 

You could feel the wetness of both your own release and Steve’s, head still cloudy from such a sharp orgasm. You hummed in satisfaction, reaching your arm over once again to lift his head up by his hair. He hissed at the pull now, his body all fucked out and satisfied. “You good?”

Steve gave you a lazy smile, chest heaving in unison with yours. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m good.”

Steve scanned your face for any regret just in case your words held other meaning, but all he could see was your satisfied expression, cheeks still flushed pink, hair tangled, and pupils dilated. He hesitated for a second before he leaned down and connected your lips, molding his with yours slowly and chastely. You both sighed at the feeling, highs now lowering and the coldness from the air conditioner causing a different set of goosebumps to appear. Steve pulled away, giving you one last peck as if testing the waters, and rested his forehead against yours. You both relished your post-orgasm bliss for a few silent minutes before cleaning up. 

You shared playful shoves as you cleaned up. It was almost innocent, a huge contrast to the sinful activities you two had just committed, but there was a genuine feeling of understanding in the room. Your heart clenched at the simple sight of Steve washing his hands, eyes meeting his in the mirror, a soft look in his that startled you. 

You gave him a smile so as to not alert him of your reaction, and exited the bathroom to climb back into bed. You drew the heavy duvet back over your body and cuddled in it deeply, chin hidden underneath and back facing Steve’s bed. It was a few more minutes before Steve came back into the room, shutting the light off, and looking at your resting form. He wanted to climb back in with you and hold you innocently, to have the feeling of your warm back against his broad chest, gentle exhales tickling the arm that would wrap around you. But he just looked back and forth from your bed and his, and he decided to not push the boundary further. He hesitated with this decision, but climbed into his own bed, the feeling of his cold sheets making him immediately regret it. He shuffled silently, his body facing yours. 

You wanted to lay beside him too. But whether you were making a smart decision or an absurd, cowardly one, one thing was certain: you could no longer ignore the stacking of such emotions you had for this man. 

It almost angered you, how much you denied yourself of even a simple crush for literally ten years, and it made you mad at Steve, too. Because if he hadn’t pushed you away, then maybe you could have accepted this sooner. 

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

[theotherace]

Fic Recs: Taang

I’ve made two or three rec lists over the past few months, but I thought I’d make a proper, comprehensive one that’s easy to add to in the future. Not all of these are exclusively Taang, but they all feature the ship to some degree. I will only recommend one or two stories per author, but some profiles are definitely worth checking out further. So! Here goes.

Multi-Chapter, Complete

Whisper Into the Sky by damagectrl – Toph has two choices: Go home and get married or have the family fortune and her inheritance given to a stranger. Her problem: She wants to keep her ties to her family, but is quite content traveling with Aang. Her solution: Fight her way through suitors for her freedom. Literally. | General 

The Slow Path by Tazmainian Devil – Eight years after the fall of Ozai, Aang returns to the friends he left behind. | T

A Matter of Honor by Adridere – Almost 4 years after the war. Aang is engaged to Katara and is up to Zuko to teach him the facts of life. Yep, the bees and the birds. Crazy kings, bananas and the ultimate contest for the hand of a reluctant maiden. | M

Roommates by breeeliss – An unlikely tale of two unlikely people being forced to live together under unlikely circumstances.| Modern AU | T

Fall of the White Lotus by Boo-82 – Three years after the war Zuko is living a life of duty while Katara reluctantly travels the world with Aang. So, when General Iroh orders them to find Zuko’s mother and save his Order they seize the opportunity with both hands. It’s the beginning of an adventurous journey of discovery, but as time runs out a rising threat puts their bond to the test. | T

Half Asleep by The Crushinator – Five years after the Hundred-Year War, Fire Lord Zuko is hit with an assassin’s dart, and falls into a coma from which he cannot wake. A week passes, and his prognosis is grim. But Katara could swear she hears him in her dreams… | T

Yaaburnee by aviatordame – Avatars aren't meant to belong – that's as much as Aang can fathom. | M

Getting Lucky by roca-dos – Crazy things happen in college every day. | Modern AU | T 

All Fall Down by DJNS  – Aang copes with a tragic loss and finds renewed hope in an unexpected place. | M | Warning for Major Character Death

The Princess & the Badger-Cat by panaili – In a land never torn apart by the Hundred Year War, the sixteen-year-old Avatar Aang is trying his best to keep the balance between the four nations, including the increasingly antagonistic Fire Nation, which, despite his friendship with the Crown Prince Zuko, refuses to acknowledge him. Elsewhere, Sokka and Katara have been separated on their quest to find their missing father, and Sokka, pursued by the same bandits who kidnapped his sister, finds himself on the balcony of some rich girl’s house in Gaoling. Oh, and a sorcerer has turned him into a badger-cat. It’s just one of those days. | Teen and Up

Reborn by Jakia – Life. Death. Rebirth. This is the cycle that all spirits must abide to, even the Avatar. Aang and Toph face death and the reincarnation cycle. | T

New Girl by tiffaniesblews – After coming home early from a business trip, all Katara wanted to do was surprise her boyfriend, Jet. Imagine her surprise when she got home and Jet was in bed with another woman. Not wanting to live with her ex, and unable to live with her best friend, Suki, Katara takes her brother Sokka's offer to move into his loft with his two roommates. Aang is perky and sweet, the owner of a st. Bernard and a cat, who's often confused about his direction in life. Zuko, on the other hand, is a closed-off bartender, who takes some time opening up to others.The four could not be more different, and yet? They work out perfectly. Even if Katara's feelings for Zuko get a bit more complicated as time goes on. | Modern AU | Mature 

The Ties That Bind series by LdyKirin – An exploration of the ties that bind for good and ill. Toph and Zuko are both shaped by the family they were born to and the family they choose. Lots of found family feels. | T

What Happens In Kyoshi by BlackVelvetBand – Prince Zuko, and the GAang take a vacation on Kyoshi Island. Flirting, fighting, and embarrasment ensue as Sokka takes it upon himself to defend Katara's virtue...in a dress? A short,chaptered fic featuring Zutara, Sokki, and Taang. | T

Under the Night Sky by mycomfortblanket – Aang hears the chattering of teeth during a cold night. Was an AU that I found on tumblr that I made fit into this story. Orginal prompt: "We have to go camping together and share a sleeping bag even though we are complete strangers | General

On The Precipice by JoyDragon – They’re just best friends. Or maybe they’re teetering on the edge of being something more. | General

Oneshots, Complete

Air and Stone by Wolvenfire86 – A few Taang stories munched together. My first submissions. I hope everyone likes them. Please review, it makes me feel special. | K+

Taang Week 2020 series by teabagginses | Teen and Up & Mature

Our Little Secret by IrisPlumeria – Toph and Aang, sat next to one another dressed in their finest under paper lanterns and surrounded by copious amounts of food and friends, cringed at the disgusting noises coming out of Sokka’s nostrils as he blew his nose into Suki’s handkerchief. “I can’t believe two of my best friends are finally married!” Sokka sobbed, earning a supportive pat on the back from Suki, who didn’t flinch at the snot coming out of his nose. “I’m so happy for you guys!” Toph and Aang's family are happy for their nuptials, but will they be able to survive their wedding party without letting slip a big secret?Written for Taang Week 2020 - Tradition. | General 

All Roads Lead To Ba Sing Se by irisbleufic – "I was thinking," [Mai] said, tucking her last remaining dagger into her belt as she strode to meet him, "that it's about time I let Fire Lord Zuko know that I quit." When Kuei smiled at her, she could see the sunshine at which she once cringed."Notice that's six years overdue is better than none at all." "Indeed," said the Earth Queen, and grinned at him. | Teen And Up

Lady Fu’s Fortune Telling by Lady Cleo – Katara and Toph visit the local fortuneteller to get their fortunes told. Added a part two with Zuko and Aang. | T

The Perfect Companion by Morna – Aang seeks comfort outside of the arms of his wife, Katara. Taang, slightly lemony. | T

Box by JoeMerl – Written for Taang Week, one-shot. Toph ticks off Bumi, but Aang is willing to fight his old friend tooth and nail to get her out of trouble. Humor, light romance. | K+

2 am by shmulia – Whoever set off the fire alarm at 2 in the morning is on Katara's shit list. Even if he is hot and shirtless. | Modern AU | K

And its sequel, 11:45 – House parties aren't Katara's thing. Sokka's drunk, Suki's on a mission to set her up, and Toph is... well, Toph. But for every cloud there's a silver lining, and for Katara it comes in the form of a second chance with her neighbour... | Modern AU | T 

Treat by PsychEmpress – She felt the corners of her own lips quirk as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Consider this my treat,” he said and Toph allowed a smile to break out. OR In which Toph is a stressed architecture student who gets a free cup of coffee from the handsome waiter after she helps his friend. Taang. Mentions of Sukka. | Modern AU | T

Sawaru by metacognitive – This love is simple. Non-Korra compliant. | K+

Newlyweds (and basically everything else) by PandaCookie – Everyone’s a bit hopeless right after they’ve been married. | K+

Rhythms by xcgirl08– For now, though, her child’s heartbeat was hers to contemplate. | K 

Tenderness by Adridere – He wanted to keep her, even though he was not supposed to. He promised her freedom, and she promised him sanity in his own household. She kept her part of the bargain, but he found a way not to keep his. | M

Holy Matrimony by Loopy – After their marriage, Zuko and Katara deal with conflicting religious beliefs, and look to the friends for advice. Between the Zutara and the religious satire, every single person who reads this should feel offended. | General

Blind Maiden’s Grace by Adara_Rose – You can learn a lot of things from a flower… | Not Rated (I’d say General) 

Etched in the Earth by Dance_Elle_Dance – She knows the feel of Aang’s footprints better than her own, and that reality scares her. | Teen and Up

No One Asks About The Scars by voleuse – Write about how you learned to curse in order not to be cursed. | General

When in Rome by dtmars – She wasn’t stupid. She knew what she was doing and what she was getting herself into. They both did. | Modern AU. | Explicit

Like Real People Do by DerAndere – The moon is full and bright when he falls out of bed, awake, asleep, inside a dream, and starts walking, driven by the feeling he does not understand, tugging on him relentlessly, and he is Aang, and he is not, and the world is cold. | General | Full Disclosure: This is my story.

Meet Me Under The Table by avatarfan16 – A story of how Toph and Aang find love, in the most unusual of places. TAANG | K+

Aftermath by Zaram'delar – In any celebration, there's always one or two people with a habit of disappearing. Taang drabbleish series. | T

I Choose Dare by for_darkness_shows_the_stars – An ode to how Aang, under the power of a mighty temptress, was forced to grow a beard. Oh, and the birth of his first child, too, he supposes. | General Audiences

Multi-Chapter, In Progress

Heartbeat by AngelicBee – Avatar Aang's soulmate probably died 100 years before, but he can't help but feel she's closer than he thinks. | Teen and Up

a mighty ocean (or a gentle kiss) by poweradequeen – no, the title doesn’t make sense but i don’t care. i couldn’t think of one so now you’re stuck with a cheesy line from two by sleeping at last.it’s a taang fine arts university au. because i said so. | Teen and Up

Neither is Love a Cage by cali-chan – Love is the freedom of flying accompanied. It is letting be without possessing. PG-13 (possibly M later on), drama/romance/angst, Zuko/Katara + Aang/Toph, post-finale but diverges before LoK canon.

Operation: Zutara (REVAMPED) by dtmars – Everyone could see that those two were in love with each other. Everyone except for them. So Toph takes the initiative and fills in for Cupid to give them a little push, while Aang just tags along for the ride. | Teen and Up

Taang One Shots by stitch1830 – A collection of short stories about Toph and Aang that I've had saved in my notes for a few months. Stories are in the ATLA/LOK universe (not canon compliant), and typically revolve around their relationship and family. | Teen and Up

[crystalbahamut]

become the night

FFXIV Write Day 6: Avatar

Summary: Eulmore has captured its most hated villain. If they want you to be the Warrior of Darkness so badly, then perhaps you will oblige them.

Author’s note: AU thing (I guess?) where WoL is captured by Eulmore having defeated maybe two or three Lightwardens? I’m not sure. Also it’s definitely more AUish in that WoL can better channel the power of the light. I just like the idea of using the dark to filter it– sort of moon-like. I don’t know where this came from but it felt like a neat idea, even if I could only manage a small snippet of what feels like could be a larger whole.

Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, some violence, unspecified/ambiguous WoL/D, not dark knight main but dips into it, playing a little bit loose with aether/magic abilities

Words: 1,469

---

“Is the food not to your liking?”

Vauthry is a disgusting man taking advantage of people within and without his city and yet treating you to a saccharine tone like an honored dinner guest. And, as a most exceptional dinner guest, you are sat next to General Ran’jit and attended by no less than eight guards with various sharp objects just waiting for you to breathe wrong.

The situation doesn’t tend to work up much of an appetite.

“I don’t eat food prepared by people I don’t trust,” you say.

“Oh come now. If I wanted you dead, you already would be,” Vauthry says and takes a long swig of his wine.

He would think that. But if you hadn't had to sacrifice yourself to keep Ran’jit from getting Minfilia, you wouldn’t be here, and you know that. “Why am I alive then?” you ask. “I loathe you and I’m fairly certain the feeling must be mutual, given how far you’ve gone to keep me from killing the other monsters blighting this world.”

“No no no,” he says and sets his goblet aside. “You are simply…misguided. The Crystal Exarch has been feeding you lies and false promises, but I will teach you the truth. Here, have some wine; it will relax you.”

“No thank you,” you say, words clipped as you remember the last time you had a glass. Trauma aside, if someone wanted to poison Vauthry, you don’t think you’d mind.

“Stubborn.” His voice is barely raised but he slams a hand upon the table, making everything on it jump. “How will it serve you to deny me? You are here whether you like it or not; if you submitted to me I would make you a citizen of this city. Do you have any idea what people are willing to do for such an honor?”

“I do,” you say. “And if they truly knew what they were walking into you would be left with no sacrifices to your petulant temper.”

He stares at you for several moments– potentially you used too many big words– before he bears his teeth, shouts, and slams his fist against the table a few more times before grabbing a meol loaf and thrusting it at your face. “I’ve had enough– eat!”

You lean back but he presses forward. “Eat, damn you!” he says and pushes it against your face as you can lean away no more with hands holding you in place. You turn your head to get away from the bread that the light inside you reacts to. You don’t know what that means but it feels wrong in a way that turns your insides. However Vauthry is bearing down on you and he reaches in with his other hand to hold your nose.

So you oblige him.

Your teeth sink in to the base of his thumb and he howls. His flesh is pale, putrid, spongy…

…sickeningly familiar.

He rips himself away, leaving you with a tainted taste of sour blood just before the guard rips you out of your chair, slams you to the ground, and descends upon you.

By the end of their assault you wouldn’t claim to have much dignity left, bleeding on the floor as you are, but Vauthry is still whimpering about his bandaged hand so by comparison you’d say you’re doing all right.

There’s a knock on the door and Vauthry composes himself. “What is it!” he barks.

The door opens. “M-my lord,” the servant whimpers. “The- the Crystal Exarch is at the gates. In his words he demands an audience with you, to speak of the wrongful imprisonment of his warrior– his words, not mine!”

“Feh.” Vauthry sneers down at you. You let your eyes close and continue to steel yourself for what is to come. “I’m half-tempted to throw you from an airship and watch you break at his feet. But you may be of use yet. You– bind and bring them. You– tell the guard the Crystal Exarch is hereby an enemy of Eulmore and is to be executed on sight.”

The servant confirms his orders in the most simpering way possible and Ran’jit, finally, speaks up. “My lord, we need not truly negotiate, but we could make him return Minfili–”

“I don’t care about the girl,” Vauthry spits out. And then literally spits. “We have the Warrior of Darkness and the Crystal Exarch’s futile plans will never succeed without them. The girl will fight and die like all the others and a new one will be born. You can have the next reincarnation; the current one is too much trouble.”

“…My lord,” Ran’jit says, somehow deferential and seething with rage both.

As your hands are chained behind your back you feel a familiar calm settle into your bones and seep through your blood. Warrior of Darkness indeed. For a while the title didn’t feel right; you were a Warrior of Light taking the power of the light and everything about you felt too bright and burning. The Warrior of Darkness was a convenient title– a children’s story, a religious figure, and you felt sacrilegious ever even thinking about taking the mantle.

But now. Now the light is dimming as you allow an old friend back into the shadows of your mind and you feel yourself deaden to the world with only Fray’s echoing chuckle in your ear, even as you are dragged to your feet and paraded out to a terrified populace. Vauthry speaks to his people to– inspire them? Cow them? You aren’t truly paying attention. Not until he turns to you and asks, “And what would you say for yourself, villain?”

You look amongst the crowd, making sure not to linger on familiar faces. They don’t feel wrong, they don’t feel deserving of your wrath, and so this is not the place to make your stand. And you’re not a politician. Not an inspired speaker. However the things you have been through have given you just enough experience to know how to stir people. For better or for worse.

“Night is coming whether you like it or not,” you say. A little pull, a little pitch-black glamour, and all across the room you drape all the aether you can muster to…‘turn off the lights,’ so to speak. There are a few shrieks and shouts, and a chorus of gasps– even from Vauthry himself. You look right at him. “So you had best get used to the dark.”

---

“By the Twelve, you’re a right mess.”

You crack open one eye. The other one is too swollen to budge. “Thancred?” you ask with a throat too dry to nearly speak. “What are you doing here?”

He scoffs and starts picking open one of the manacles. This is unexpected– and entirely too soon; you haven’t yet healed enough from the last beating to carry out your plans. “I got in here once already; you can’t think they’d keep me out now?” There’s a clicking sound and Thancred works with more careful motions. “I’ve simply been awaiting my opportunity. Nice little lightshow, by the way; it–”

“Thancred, did you find–” Alphinaud’s gasp is joined by another and both twins exclaim your name.

“I’m all right,” you say as Alphinaud’s healing magic begins to settle into you. It prickles, but after a few moments you can blink open both your eyes, and open and close your now-free fist. Perhaps everything can go ahead as planned.

Alisaie watches you sharply, and when you’re unshackled and healed up enough to start walking towards a collection of old weaponry, she says your name warily. “We should go.”

“Not yet. There’s something I have to do,” you say and dig through the pile until you find a greatsword.

“My friend you are barely healed,” Thancred says and holds out his hands. “We must return to the Crystarium and regroup.”

“We won’t get a chance like this again.” You give the sword a few swings. It’s far from perfect, but it will do. Until you find a guard with a better one. You turn towards your friends. “You don’t have to come with me.”

They look like they might refuse. Thancred looks like he might try to bash you over the head and just steal away, but whether he relents because he wants to or because he senses he can’t win, you aren’t sure. Either way he shrugs and smiles. “Very well,” he says. “Just answer me honestly, my friend– are you certain you feel well enough for this?”

“Yes. In fact…” You turn towards them, light pulsing beneath your skin and ready to be unleashed with the darkness already gathering. Stars and moonlight, there is a place for it, and you will show it where to go. “For the first time, I feel right.”

[vasoula]

The Peepshow (chapter three)

Summary: Two months after his redemption journey, Sasuke is back to Konoha and  Sakura couldn’t be more happy about them spending a lot of time  together. However, things take a hard turn when Sakura is assigned a  special mission and she has to hide it from the rest of Team 7. Everything comes spiraling down when Sasuke finds out exactly what she has to do.

Tags: hard rated m, blank period, kinda AU-ish

You can also read it on ffnet and Ao3.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Author's notes: The grand finale of my three way saga ends here with a bang! Beware this chapter is hard M, lots of naughty things happening here ;) This monster is almost 10k on its own XD BTW this is the only chapter my friend strawberrycreampiefluff has not read, even though this is a collab between us and the story was her inspo, so this is a surprise for her also. I hope everybody enjoys this fic, comment your thoughts. Ah, I didn't know which way to end it because this is quite self indulgent and the main theme of the fic was teasing so the ending is similar. One day, maybe, I will write a continuation. Thank you everyone for your love and support!

“Act three: Jealousy will drive you mad”

With two powerful stomps and a determined expression on her face, Sakura reaches for the doorknob and pulls.

Sasuke does indeed greet her in the doorway. It is obvious from the casual attire he has put on that he was also about to go to bed; his toned physique is adorned with gray sweatpants and a light blue shirt.

The pink haired woman has no clue what riles her up the most. Is the way those simple clothes cling onto him like second skin emphasizing his fit body or is it the way he is staring her with those bewitching mismatched eyes of his? She cannot wait to find out.

"Sakura," he says in the usual lethargic timbre he uses to pronounce her name.

She blinks her eyes at him fast in response to make sure she is seeing right.

"What are you doing here, Sasuke-kun?", Sakura asks, "It's late."

She casually points out it is time for sleep and not time for late night conversations in her room the two of them alone, together. It does the trick because Sasuke seems to realize a few things about their current situation. His eyes lose focus and start their slow descend, carefully scrutinizing what she is wearing.

His gaze stops his inspection the moment it reaches her chest, zeroing on her breathing pattern and the way some parts of her body stand out thanks to the chilly weather. Sasuke's impassive face instantly changes, his cheeks and ears coloring in a nice red hue.

Then, without much thought, his observation continues and he bites his lip at the display of her bare legs so up close.

For the life of her, Sakura cannot fathom that Sasuke Uchiha is blatantly checking her out.

Feeling self conscious, she hugs herself and steps sideways to allow the man to come into the room. Her blush matches his in response.

Sasuke finally – finally moves from his position and steps into her territory.

Putting a few loose pink strands behind her ear, Sakura closes the door quietly and props her body on it, hands coming to rest between her backside and the wood.

She lets the silence hang on for a few minutes allowing Sasuke to take his time to make up his mind.

"I came here to apologize," he speaks after a while, "I am sorry."

Sasuke peers at her from his spot in the middle of room, shuffling his feet unconsciously.

He looks down, "I shouldn't have interfered with your mission," and spins around to face her bed instead. "It was brash and uncharacteristic of me."

His apology sounds genuine enough, but that still does not excuse the fact he acted out of the ordinary for no reason.

Sakura has had it with this man. Even though she feels beyond furious with him, the girl prefers not to argue with him.

"Apology accepted." She announces curtly. "Still doesn't explain the reason you decided to interfere, Sasuke."

The lack of honorific translates to failure in Sasuke's book of apologies. He tries to take another route. Although he came inside her room prepared and resolute to be honest with her, it seems his pride and ego are still in the way.

"Sakura, you know I am not good at this," He deflates in frustration, "I am not good -"

Sasuke pauses abruptly, not capable of continuing his next sentence. Why is it so hard for him to confess his feelings? How does Sakura do it? Why can he not be more like her when it comes to matters like these?

The lone Uchiha knows how he feels about her, his heart hammering in his chest is that much of a clue. Since he was a young boy- he has always known -what he felt towards her. There is a special connection, even the most logical part of his brain cannot grasp it enough to explain it. It should not make sense how strongly he feels about her without him even comprehending it when growing up.

It has been building up since the start, those emotions have been lying dormant for years, slowly but surely pestering inside his heart. His mind always conjuring up images of her lovely smiles and her healing words. Her confessions and trials towards him whispering hotly in his ears and driveling his mind mad into oblivion.

For such a foolish little game she was playing, her opinion is sure important and sufficient to have him questioning his moralities; her words festering inside his heart and poisoning his mind with good prospects in life like love and family. Who is he to deny her anything when at times he was ready to sacrifice everything he thrived for just to keep her safe? He can try but ignoring his feelings like he used to do in the past is no solution anymore.

Sasuke recalls everything about her until now and comes to one realization.

Sakura was, is and will always be precious to him.

"What?" The woman, plaguing his thoughts, asks defeated. She pushes herself off the wooden door and takes a big step forward.

Thinking what he can possibly do to make things better, he comes up with an idea.

Following along, Sasuke moves closer to her, leaning the right side of his body to a pillar next to him. He is right across her now.

"I am more of a man of action-", he starts trying to redeem himself with his compensatory qualities.

"Then do something -", she explodes, interrupting him mid sentence.

Sakura puts her foot down hard, literally stumping it to the ground. With her fists balled to her sides and a snarl on her face, she feels her patience running out.

The woman looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to do something – anything.

Sasuke's ears are roaring, his pulse skyrocketing. He is breathing hard now, his gaze penetrating as he surveys every aspect of Sakura's face. From her rosy cheeks, to her heated eyes and at last to her luscious, red lips.

She hears him before she sees him react. A hard punch to the pillar he has been leaning on signals he too has reached his limit.

With two fast strides, in speed only Sasuke is capable of, he pushes her against the door with his body. His right hand comes up and he tangles his fingers in her hair, cradling her upper half in urgency.

His stump meets her waist halfway in an attempt to hold her.

"I am losing my mind here, Sakura," He confesses unabashedly, looking at her straight in the eye.

The girl in question glances up at him, his sudden embrace unexpected, but welcome nevertheless. Both of her hands are at his torso, her clenched fists clasping his shirt tightly and crumpling it in the process. Thanks to the position of her grip, she feels his heart beating fast inside his chest – a sign that rings true to his earlier statement.

Searching his eyes for any sign of discomfort and finding none, she makes it easier for both of them and inches closer; her mouth a breath away from his lips.

Sasuke's eyes open and close languidly in response, her glittering irises and pampered freckles on her nose the last thing he sees before he leans in to kiss her.

Sakura spots stars behind her closed eyelids the moment their lips finally touch. It is nothing more than their mouths caressing each other in slow strokes, but the implications of that innocent kiss are more than enough for the two of them.

Feeling brave, the pink haired woman wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer to her. Her heart is about to jump off her chest, aware of his hard yet lean body flash against her. They do not have any prior experience to this, but with their instincts leading them on, they are matching each other just right.

Sasuke feels something inside his head clicking into place, like a puzzle being completed; the repressed emotions inside of him exploding into a thousand pieces. The way he loves and displays it might be crooked, but when he has the woman he adores in his arms, he knows, he can conquer any emotional disadvantage he may encounter.

It seems everything that happens next plays out like it is in slow motion.

Grabbing her by the hip, Sasuke begins to move. Sakura arches into him, their kiss turning deeper. With the tall man leading them on, the couple turns around, mirroring their previous position, but with Sakura on top this time.

"Lift your legs," Sasuke quietly orders with his back against the door. Sakura obliges wordlessly and jumps slightly. Putting pressure on his shoulders, Sakura breaks their kiss for a split second and wraps her thighs around his waist, locking them tightly.

Sasuke's lone arm comes and finds its position snugly under her backside, palm open on her butt cheeks. Without so much a strain, years of physical exertion being put into work, Sasuke lifts her off the ground easily.

Sakura, still preoccupied with Sasuke's soft lips, does not realize their compromising position. Gently coursing her hands through his hair, she caresses his scalp while kissing him tenderly.

With his limbs busy and his vision limited, Sasuke takes a few cautious steps forward. With the bed as final destination, he carefully maneuvers them through the room. A few centimeters away, the mattress lies warm and inviting.

Their kiss stops abruptly when Sasuke's foot comes in contact with outpost of the bed. Lips breaking apart and breaths mingling, they stare silently into one another.

Realizing where the course of their situation is taking them, both of them pause.

Sakura searches his eyes and sees the lust mirrored in them similar to her own. With a determined expression, she grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him down with her the moment she lets herself fall back into the mattress.

Trying to stop his body from crushing her, Sasuke's arm goes forward and he places his hand next to her head. He lets out a disgruntled sound and lets his face fall into the soft cushions of her breasts.

"Sakura," he mumbles incoherently. In response, the girl in question lets out a sigh of pleasure and relief.

She knows the implications and relishes in them. No dream or fantasy could counter that moment in her mind.

Sasuke hesitantly looks up, face heating up slowly. Then, feeling suddenly nervous, he glances sideways, a scowl forming.

Being on top of Sakura, her body body pliant underneath him and her lips bruised from their intense kissing had him feeling some type of way. But, god, her face is what made him look away. Nothing prepared him for this.

Sakura makes a sound in the back of her throat, her teeth biting hard her plump bottom lip. She bats her eyes at him, light pink eyelashes fanning against her rosy cheeks prettily. Sasuke pretends to ignore her, even though he keeps stealing glances at her.

Sakura cannot believe there would come a day where the great Sasuke Uchiha, the infamous avenger, would be shy with her.

Hot stares and naughty smirks are more his thing than awkward and fleeting looks.

Sasuke is nervous, no one taught him how to handle situations like these.

Love is a new, unknown part in his life, and he is quite unprepared.

Wordlessly, she lifts her hand and touches the right side of his face.

He looks gorgeous like this, all strong bone structure and pale white skin. His aristocratic nose scrunching up in distaste, because he dislikes the fact he has no control.

"What?" The Uchiha finally looks at her and asks. He purses his lips and drags his body forward a little bit.

Sasuke is snugly on top of her now, their chests pressed together closely.

Sakura starts caressing his cheek, staring lovingly into his eyes.

"I thought I couldn't love you more than I do," she takes a shuddering breath, her eyes watering slightly. "But, I do."

Sasuke takes the whispered confession in, his throat bobbing. He feels so emotional right now, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He clutches at her words, her proclamation consuming him like it did in the past.

The inner turmoil inside him makes his eyes burn. He struggles to find the words to express what he feels for her. The capacity to love and care endless, unlimited for her. A never ending waterfall of emotions washing his wrongdoings away.

The power coursing through his veins is nothing in comparison to the power she has over him. She could bend him all she wants, mold his being all the way to nothingness and put his pieces right back to their rightful place. No darkness inside of him is strong enough to overcome him as long as she loves him. Her light nourishing him and making him feel alive again.

So many thoughts plaguing his mind, but no words are enough to describe his admiration for her. He wants to convey though, he has to try. For her, going forward in life, he has to try.

"You make me feel alive," he shares with her, "I need you close to me,"

Sasuke utters in a mere whisper, but with each syllable his drive to confess grows tenfold. "I love you," he breaks, voice cracking in the end.

He closes his eyes to get his bearings for a second and hears Sakura's breath hitch.

Sakura feels her soul quivering in her chest; she went to heaven and back.

Before anymore tears could escape her eyes however, she quickly shuts them close. This is no reason for her to cry, for this is a happy moment. She sniffles and opens her jade orbs again. The sight that greets her makes her feel like her entire being is being consumed by hot molten lava. The man of her dreams is staring at her, his eyes intense – an endless inferno of feelings exposed for her to cherish.

Her throat bobs in anticipation at the prospect of him acting out what his eyes are conveying.

"Sakura," he says and nudges her chin with his nose.

Sasuke senses her shiver underneath him even though the temperature of the room is far from low. No matter, he is starting to sweat so he decides to undress. Knowing where this is leading them, he pushes himself up and straddles her, knees on either side of her body. Using his lone hand he grabs the outer part of his cotton shirt from behind and lifts it forward over his head.

Sakura gasps beneath him, eyeing him up and down in appreciation. That escalated way better than what she had in mind. Years of need, aching deep within her.

Her hands twitch and she tries to think clearly despite the situation.

"W-what are you doing Sasuke-kun?", she mumbles worriedly.

After finishing his task, the man in question looks down at her. The left side of mouth lifts in haughty grin before he can stop himself. Now, now what a nice view, he thinks.

Sakura's hair has created a beautiful pink halo around her head, matching her flaming, flushed cheeks. Those unique eyes of her sparkle in the dark, passion shining through clearly in them. Her lips part sensually in silent plea for him to claim her.

She wants this as much he does.

"Hot," he answers. The sensation of her, needy, under him or the room temperature are either correct interpretations.

He knows she likes what she sees. His athletic, lean body is no secret, but for him to display it so proudly to her strokes his ego in all the right places. No woman can appreciate him the way she does. Her pure devotion fascinates him, her hungry stares excite him. Only she has that effect on him. She may be the one to yearn for him since the beginning, but he is the one that has been suffering in silence for so long.

She has been loud, clear, but he has been repressed and tortured with his own fondness right along with her. He wants to toy with her a little more, tease her with some scalding remarks until she is dripping wet with fervor, but alas his patience is running out.

His arm stretches out and his hand reaches her throat, her eyes following along his every movement. His fingertips tenderly graze her pulse point, her skin alight with heat.

Goosebumps rise on her skin, his touch creating thousand fires along her neck. He is stalling, they both know it. But, she continues to stay pliant under him allowing him to continue his ministrations.

His eyes burn in a hankering frenzy, analyzing every little reaction he can get out of her before she turns the tables on him.

She closes her eyes in pleasure, throat stretching out and torso lifting, baring more surface for him to please.

Sakura breaths heavily, legs squeezing shut. She cannot believe this kind of simple form of touch brings forth this much twisted pleasure out of her. This is too light for it to be even considered foreplay, yet...she can get off just to the thought of him even touching her.

"N-no…" she tries to halt the upcoming teasing.

She is weak and needy and she knows he will abuse this knowledge to the fullest. He has always been a person to test her limits. Sasuke loves having the upper hand.

His hand slowly goes down and it reaches her ribcage, right at the center. Her nipples harden in response and she feels Sasuke shift above her.

When something hard grazes her stomach, her insides quiver. She is affecting him even though she is doing nothing to him in return.

Sasuke's movements stop abruptly when he realizes his body has been reacting quite positively to the display. He feels himself confined in his loose pants, the underwear straining against his hard length. Apparently, the object of his desires noticed it too.

This is where he loses the battle it seems.

Sakura opens her eyes slowly, her hands reaching her torso. Both of her palms lay flat on top of his hand – trapping him there. She takes it and starts to move it around her body, showing him just where she would enjoy for him to touch her.

When it reaches her right breast, she lets it loose. Sasuke keeping eye contact with her starts to massage her mound; first tenderly and then more roughly.

Depending on the reactions he gets out of her, his fingers play with her hardened nub, her thin t-shit an extra layer of teasing against her sensitive skin there.

Not knowing what to do with her free arms, she decides to test her power. She splays them flat on top of her lover's chest without so much a thought. His skin is a little cold and damp from sweat, his nervousness slipping through bodily fluids rather than expressions. Going up and down with each hand, she caresses his taught stomach, abs prominent against his skin.

Sasuke hums in response, an appreciative tone somewhere hidden in there.

Sakura makes it her mission to get more reactions out him before he finds out just how wet he has made her down there. His chest is there, pecs hard and her fingers skim over his nipples with a feather like touch.

His eyes clump shut and his body leans forward a little bit. He bites his lip and lets out a small sigh. Sakura smiles triumphantly knowing she is staring to push his buttons. Her hands descend lower, fingers toying with the waistband of his trousers.

Sakura looks from where her hands are, the bulge obvious and near to collision with the inside of her left wrist. She purses her lips and risks glancing up at him. He is breathing harder now, his hair falling like a curtain, his side bang hiding half of his face.

"Don't," comes out the strained response.

His jaw is taught, the angles of it sharp, someone would think he is mad.

He is mad alright, mad with desire.

Sasuke has been thinking a lot about these kind of moments the last few months, his mind conjuring up scenarios and positions – dirty, dirty little longing.

Nothing has prepared him for this sensation. He is powerless against her, needing her to feed his solicitude with ardor. Still though, greedy for her as he is, he struggles to shred his shyness away.

She sees right through him and pauses. "Are you sure?" she asks tentatively.

In an abrupt movement, he grabs her hand, grip strong on her wrist and slams it right back at the bed, near her head. An act of dominance will not hinder Sakura obedient so soon. She fights right back, seeing Sasuke struggle to keep her hand in place.

Sakura huffs and smiles smugly up at him. His face stays impassive, but his eyes glint dangerously.

Thinking she has won this round, the woman prepares a trotting remark. However, Sasuke renders her speechless with his next move. Abandoning his place above her, he straightens up and pushes his knee right between her legs, just below her searing heat. His lone arm reaches out and grips her left thigh roughly, pinning it backwards and spreading her legs apart in an instant.

Sasuke smirks devilishly at her.

The new position and attitude leaves her all hot and bothered.

Then, his hand finds its place just below her belly button. Leaning forward, he grabs one side of her shorts and starts pulling it towards him. Stunned, she allows him to take them off her.

Sakura wants, needs...she craves to see just how much further he can take it.

But despite all the excitement to see Sasuke's walls fall apart in front of her, she cannot help it when she tries to hide her half naked body from him. Only a thin layer of underwear is keep them apart. Feeling shy now is useless, but god these feelings in her heart are so intense and Sasuke acting out all her desires does not help her at all.

Sakura squeezes her legs shut, thighs pressed deliciously together and stomach taught - straining to keep her lower body hidden from his hungry eyes as much as she can.

In a way, Sakura muses, she is teasing him further by denying him access. Sasuke hates disobedience as much as he hates not getting what he wants.

As always impressed by her strength – even in bed – he clasps her knee and tries pushing it apart. "You don't have to ever hide from me." Sasuke says heatedly.

"I-I," Sakura struggles to find the right words, her blushing cheeks a hot flame on her face. "Sasuke-kun, please," she tries to prolong the inevitable.

How can he be so cool about this when they both know how reserved they are? Be that as it may, they both covet each others' touch and they have been doing so since their younger years.

Knowing she can hide herself no more and she is willing to give all of herself to him, all her scars and her invisible wounds, the pink haired beauty spreads her legs apart, baring her womanly figure to him.

It occurs to her that Sasuke is about to say something to her, but decides against it and prefers to speak with his body instead. With more space now free, the man finds himself snugly between her legs.

Before Sakura could realize what is exactly happening and what his next move is going to be, Sasuke surprises her yet again. Rather than mirroring his previous position on top of her, he chooses to cascade down gently with an objective in mind.

Continuing his ministrations, he smoothly lifts her shirt and scrunches it up towards her chest. With that out of the way, Sasuke starts peppering her belly with soft, open-mouthed kisses. It tickles a tiny bit, but the heat pooling between her legs is a tell-tale sign just how much this is affecting her.

When his hot breath fans above her damp underwear, she knows exactly what he is planning on doing to her. Then, Sasuke pauses and looks up at her questioningly as if to confirm if this okay with her.

To answer his unspoken query, Sakura sits up slightly and crosses her arms grabbing her white blouse by each side. She takes it off in one swift movement and quickly lies down, her eyes focused on the ceiling.

Sakura bites her lip, her hands finding themselves near his nape and fondling his shoulders in an attempt to clear any doubts in Sasuke's head that she may not be ready for this. No words need to be exchanged between them, Sasuke could tell even from the way she breathed if this kind of loving was unwanted from her.

She still feels coy, but, Sasuke knows how to handle her. His hand grips one thigh gently, putting slight pressure on it. He bends down and starts pressing delicate kisses right below her belly button and going lower. When his teeth graze the top of her baby pink, lacy panties, she lets out a tiny whimper. He bites the cute bow and pulls down; his eyes are closed and his fingers are digging into her supple skin, a sweet pressure pulling her back to reality.

Her feet trash a little bit, the covers of the bed becoming a mess in her wake.

Sakura unconsciously lifts her butt up when his hand places under her leg. Taking that as his cue, Sasuke grabs the underside of her lingerie and takes it off her.

With that out of the way, her legs spread apart and he leans back to take a good at her. So many thoughts are running through his head, too many things he wants to say to her. Compliment her beauty and ravishing body; even the most hidden parts of herself are pretty to him.

She looks gorgeous like this, all docile and yielding for him. Sasuke wants to worship her body and treat her with fairness; kiss every scar and caress every curve of her. Every little thing he cannot confess to her, he wants to convey it through every action he does just to please her.

The raven haired man wants to clear any doubts she might have in her head. He needs to make her his, claim her and show her how much she means to him. But first, he has to make sure she knows just how much he wishes to satisfy her.

Sasuke bends down once again, his head between her legs and his arm under thigh, his lone hand holding her captive.

Sakura puts her hands over her mouth in an attempt to muffle her upcoming reactions. When his hot breath fans over her wet folds, she loses it.

He hums thoughtfully as if he is pondering something and then his lips are on her most intimate area. First, a gentle kiss on her clit and then his lips part and he is consuming her wholly. Sasuke uses his tongue skillfully, parting her nether folds and lapping at her entrance. The skill he is displaying has the woman questioning her sanity.

He is very meticulous with her, going as far as using the sounds she makes as guidance. His mouth works in wicked ways and she is making embarrassing, loud noises.

When he pauses to take a breather, Sakura whines. The loss of this endless satisfaction turning her bratty.

"So wet, already," Sasuke says with pride.

Sakura wants to punch his face to the next dimension for that snarky comment, but he has her putty in his hands.

Her face is a little damp from sweat and she pushes a few loose pastel strands away from her sticky cheeks and forehead.

"Don't tease me," she pouts and she slaps his arm lightly – a warning.

Sasuke smirks as if expecting that reaction and then his hand leaves her thigh, a slight bruise already forming on her skin where he had been grabbing her.

Sakura's toes curl in anticipation, her hands settling flat at her sides.

At the same time, Sasuke's exploration begins once more, his mouth finding its place on her needy point. Her heart hammers in her chest and she feels her pleasure reach new heights when his fingers join his tongue.

He strokes her dutifully with his tongue while his two long digits spread her wet folds further apart, providing him with more access. Sakura moans in response, her legs unconsciously lifting with her feet landing gently on his shoulder blades.

Her eyes stop staring at ceiling and she watches as the man she desires has his face all up in her pussy, eating her out like she is the most delicious meal.

"A-ah, please," she keens, anything to lead him on.

Suddenly, he is sucking her clit benevolently, his eyes opening slowly when he senses her staring at him.

Sasuke's prowess activates committing this particularly sensual moment to his memory along with many others to come. Her green eyes are shining brightly and her skin glows; the color of her hair matching her skin, splashes of unique shades of pink intensifying her beauty to the next level. She is shaking slightly, trying fruitlessly to suppress her upcoming orgasm from reaching her too soon.

He itches to make her cum more than once, but his main mission for tonight is to make sure she remembers this night forever... just as he will.

Next thing Sakura knows, a finger is added to the mix and now both his tongue and this are hitting different pleasure points inside her.

Too soon, he suddenly stops and sighs against her quivering entrance. "Fuck, Sakura."

Those last few seconds were such a delicious sensation, she never wants him to stop until she is completely spent. Before she could prod him to continue, the woman feels his index entering her.

Sakura trembles when two fingers start going in and out of her in a fast pace, the intrusion welcome and needed. Then, as if this is not enough, his hand curls and his thumb starts teasing her clit simultaneously whenever possible.

Unable to do anything other than shake in his grasp, Sakura courses her hands roughly through his black hair needing to hold on to something. Her waist bends like a feline in heat, her chest heaving up and down and her breaths coming out in quick pants.

Sakura knows she might be hurting him with how much she is pulling on his hair, but she is unable to care at the moment. He deserves it for turning her in to this tiny, needy monster.

"Don't stop," she moans, face contorted in bliss. Her eyes are closed and her brows are furrowed in concentration. Sakura's mouth parts in a silent plea, her red lips shiny with spit.

She is so close, yet so far away.

Sasuke bites his lip, changes his position and moves to rest his forehead on her shoulder. He feels his member leaking precum inside his boxers and he tries to keep it together.

The man is listening intensely to all the beautiful sounds she is making and breathing hard. His pace is relentless and the muscle in his bicep is straining against his skin from the exertion he is putting it through.

Sasuke grits his teeth when Sakura's walls clench around his fingers, signaling she is close – he cannot stop now.

Sakura's arms loop around his neck and she hugs him close, their bodies sticking to each other. The position is not the most comfortable for him, but damn him if he does not love the way she feels around him. A few of her stiletto pointed nails dig into his skin, leaving angry marks on his back, but the pain just adds fuel to the fire.

"S-Sasuke-kun," she sobs into his neck, reaching euphoria finally. Her body spasms around him, his fingers getting coated with her juices.

Sasuke lets out a pleased sound, something akin to a quiet moan and rests his body on her, his hand coming at a stop and pulling out of her.

Sakura lies spent beneath him with her eyes closed and breaths shallow.

The black haired male feels immense pleasure and pride knowing he made her orgasm just with his fingers and his ego swells at her satisfaction. He has been wishing to be the only one to make her a hot mess like this.

Moreover, the discomfort he is experiencing right now because of her is distracting him from teasing her further, even though he truly enjoys watching her blush and squirm under his penetrating gaze and vexing comments.

His cock is solid hard and aching. It is borderline painful not only because he wishes to get his release soon, but also the whole stimulation confined in his pants is a dire situation that needs to be fixed immediately.

When she shifts underneath him, his boner brushes against her hipbone firmly. Sakura pauses, and peaks at him cautiously, her eyes burning with desire once again.

Not wanting her to make her uncomfortable, he tries to untangle himself from her, but the woman in his arms has other plans.

"You are…" Her voice speaks with purpose, however, her tone is light and shy.

Sasuke flushes and stays still as a rigid board, not wishing to discuss his rather big problem down there. He swears if she tries anything, he will lose control fully.

He is like a wild animal caged and untamed, but about to be set free.

The tall man starts to sit up on his knees in order to avoid the impending confrontation, but his member stands proud and obvious to the eyes. His hand, still wet from her peak, lies limply at his side. He swallows hard and blushes, turning to look the other way and avoiding her ignited stare.

Sakura's mouth waters at the sight displaying before her. Her beautiful lover has never looked hotter than this moment. His skin glistens slightly from perspiration, adding a nice glow to his body and accentuating his toned physique. Sasuke's bangs are tinted at the tips, damp from sweat.

His trousers, along with his boxers, hang low past his waistline and his pelvic bones peak out bringing attention to his happy trail and the prominent bulge in his pants. A vein is popping out in his bicep and Sakura catches a glimpse of his arm flexing, probably to ease up the muscle there.

Sasuke tries hard to compose himself in front of her, but his expression gives out and exposes how clearly turned on he is by this – as if his body has not showcased it enough to her.

It is her turn to command him, it seems.

Sakura decides to take the initiative since Sasuke has not moved from his spot. She approaches him cautiously, slowly sitting up on her elbows and regarding him. He murmurs something inaudible and glares at the mattress if it is the source of all his problems. Sakura takes his silence and his stagnant form as her cue and raises completely from the bed, her core still sore from his intense loving.

"Let me,"she whispers to him immediately upon kneeling in front of him. She almost does not recognize her own voice, with how seductive her tone sounds.

The moment the words come out of her mouth, Sasuke gets alert and his eyes widen a fraction. His lips part, ready to say something, probably to stop her, but he does not have the power to do so. She notices his sharingan is deactivated now, but the look he is giving her makes her resolute with her decision.

It incites her motivation to please him and show him how much she appreciates him and all of his efforts towards her. After that amazing orgasm he gave her, the talented man deserves to feel some kind of pleasure too. Besides, she cannot let him handle all that by himself, she thinks cheekily.

"Sasuke-kun," Sakura uses the best authoritative voice she can master at a time like this.

He instantly glances up at her, contemplating his options inside his head. Everything points to her with his dick in her mouth. Fuck him and his traitorous body. The most collected part of his brain melts at the thought of her even touching him.

Sakura's hand reaches forward and she palms him roughly through the layers of fabric, face set with a purpose in mind. Sasuke in return short circuits.

He allows himself to be completely overtaken by her.

His senses are overcome by the sheer desire coursing through his veins. Every fantasy, every touch, every word that has to do with her replaying like a broken mantra in his mind. He feels everything tenfold, the emotions consuming him like the black fire he commands to destroy.

Sasuke closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose, his cheeks aflame and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. His path to redemption has reached its final destination.

To become hers, wholly.

Sakura begins to massage him based on his repressed reactions like a twitch of his lip or the fluttering of his eyelashes. She starts gently, then she adds more pressure as she goes on. When the woman feels like she has had enough, she grabs the hem of his trousers and pulls down. The same process follows gradually for his boxers too. His cock stands proud and thick, complementing his already perfect figure.

Meanwhile, Sasuke, not knowing what to do, tries to minimize his reactions, preferring to stay reserved yet. His introverted nature makes him hesitant when he is the one on the receiving end. Despite that, he knows Sakura, being perceptive when it comes to him, will catch on quickly and she will accommodate herself to get customized to his still reluctant attitude.

Sakura understands why Sasuke acts so averse since he has yet to come to terms with that fact that it is alright to feel emotional. It is okay to express love and feel it consume you. He is afraid that if he lets himself go, he will never be able to stand even the thought of losing her.

When the outer part of her index finger starts to tenderly caress his hipbone, he shallows hard and opens his eyes to look at her.

The look she is giving him makes his heart flutter in his chest. Her expressive light green eyes shine with so much genuine adoration and her smile is sweet and warm; her whole aura feels inviting and secure.

"Sakura, I-" Sasuke begins, the tremor in his voice startling him.

"It's okay," Sakura says kindly and her other hand lifts, her palm laying flat atop of his heart. She soothes him with her next words, "It's okay to feel like this."

Sasuke studies her carefully, appreciating how much she cares for his comfort. She knows him so well and they are not even an item yet. He cannot wait to spend more time with her and learn each others' habits and quirks.

He lets out an affirmative hum and nods at her.

The powerful shinobi observes her as she continues her ministrations. Her left hand joins her right down there. She breathes out heartily, something akin to a laugh and an awkward smile etches across her face. Obviously, she has not done this before.

Then, Sakura purses her lips and with determined expression on her face, her right hand descends smoothly on his rock hard cock. The head is angry, red in color, his shaft one shade darker than the rest of his body. The girl inspects it as discreetly as possible and with two swift motions, her fingers circle around him and she begins to stroke him gently.

Sasuke lets out a hiss, unprepared for the foreign contact. He has touched himself before thinking of her, but nothing compares to this new, real sensation.

Her left hand stays still, clasping firmly his left hipbone to steady her movements. Sakura peers at him from underneath her pastel eyelashes, jade orbs shining innocently just as she bends down and places her bruised, scarlet lips right before his manhood.

Sasuke gulps down the saliva stuck in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing. Sakura breathes out hotly on it, blinks at him and her tongue comes out to lick him.

The first swipe of her cute tongue against his shaft makes him let out a quiet moan. Unconsciously, his lone hand grabs a fistful of her hair, tangling his fingers in her soft tresses. He tags her forward a little bit, her mouth and nose bumping on his hardness, urging her to take him into her mouth.

Sakura, realizing she needs to step her game up, opens up and pushes his cock inside her mouth. She starts to suck him, creating a steady rhythm in tandem with her right hand. Half of his member is inside her crevice, her jaw stretching and aching pleasantly because of his girth while her hand strokes the other half that she cannot fit in her mouth yet. His size is above average and hard to handle, but it is nothing Sakura cannot learn to master with Sasuke as her teacher.

In time, she swears, Sakura will learn to please him so good, she will have him begging for more.

The woman picks up the pace, and her taste buds feel a salty essence on her tongue. He is starting leak precum already and her suspicions are further confirmed when he commences to panting.

Sasuke is rougher with her now, pushing her forward and making her cheeks hollow out. Her jaw hurts, but the pain is welcome. She gags a little bit, but she does not relent, wishing to deep throat him further.

"F-fuck, Sakura," he curses, his pleasured groans music to her ears. Sasuke sees white behind his closed eyelids, and he grits his teeth trying to hold on longer to the feeling.

The air smells like sex, and the hormones releasing from Sasuke's body makes his manly musk even more intense as Sakura tries to breath through her nose since her mouth is busy.

She moans loudly at a rather harsh tag against her scalp, and the vibrations it creates against his dick cause Sasuke to buckle suddenly. Her fingernails dig into his skin anew and it stimulates him even more, his orgasm approaching at an alarming rate.

Her strokes become uneven, but faster. At that moment, he decides to look down at her, and seeing her like this, on her knees for him doing everything she can in order to satisfy him enhances his experience even further.

"S-Sakura," Sasuke tries to warn her, albeit late. "—I am going to-"

Before he can get any more words out of his mouth, his climax hits him and his hand grips her hair hard, holding on for dear life.

"A-ah," Sasuke lets out a racy moan; a foreign sound when it comes to him. His eyes close in satisfaction and he leans forward slightly, riding out the remnants of his orgasm inside her mouth.

The image that greets him is enough to make him hard again.

Despite being unprepared, Sakura took his cock well, his semen filling her up and quenching her thirst to please him. She shallows everything he has to offer, like its sweet wine pouring down her throat.

He releases her hair finally, and in return she lets out his member fall out of her mouth with a loud pop. At the same time her left arm abandons its place at his hip and steadies herself on the bed instead. Her lips are bruised and swollen, while her hair is wild and untamed, the endeavor clearly leaving her disheveled. Her chin is shiny with spit and some of the excess fluids that must have spilled out.

As if this is not erotic or sensual enough, her fingers come forth and tap on her coated lips and chin to capture any sticky residue that has escaped. She glances up at him from her spot on all fours before him and puts her fingertips in her mouth, savoring every drop of him. Sakura smirks mischievously up at him, putting his infamous sneers to shame.

Sasuke almost gives in, ready to act out all his shameful thoughts away.

Sakura's core still burns deliciously and Sasuke's reactions to her has made her a little wet, in need of attention again, but she does not voice anything out loud and chooses to let this moment pass. They have all the time in the world, after all. The beautiful woman sits on her knees, her palms resting flat on her thick thighs and she lets out a content sigh.

And just like that, their lust infused spell is broken, their awkwardness and shyness returning back, reverting to their usual selves.

The man seems to have a similar thought process, because he relaxes and following her lead, he sits down on the bed.

They exchange a few fleeting glances, unspoken naughty thoughts going back and forth between them; the newly made couple stays put instead.

A few minutes pass, and then Sakura is getting up. She is fully naked, but she is not ashamed anymore, flashing her gorgeous naked body to him.

"We should probably wash up," she comments as casually as possible to alleviate the awkward atmosphere. Unconsciously, the girl scratches her head and puts a few pink locks behind her ears.

In an act of bravery, Sakura adds a proposition.

"Join me?" she asks and extends her hand out.

"Aa." Sasuke nods and gets up from the bed in all his naked glory, leaving his trousers and boxers behind.

Sakura clasps their hands together and leads him to her private bathroom.

Sakura steps inside the shower stall, Sasuke following close behind and joining her, just as she opens the tap. She alters it from faucet to shower head and together they let themselves be washed by the hot steam. His lone hand grabs her by the hip, aligning her thick behind to his still semi hard length. Sakura bends over a little bit, both palms laying flat on the shower wall, probing him further to sensually rub against her. They stay like this for awhile, their aftermath of their hot desire still prominent, influencing their movements.

Sasuke leans in close and hugs her, his hand continuing its journey and draping over her tummy, bringing her adjacent to his chest in an intimate embrace. Then, he kisses her neck and closes his eyes, sighing in contentment. His black hair is fully wet, sticking to his face and obscuring the left side of it completely.

The pink haired beauty, enjoying the warmth provided by her lover, exhales in quick gasps, her lips parting – tasting the water on her tongue, quenching her imaginary thirst. Her pastel locks stick to every part of her face, the hair transforming under the influence of the humidity and turning one shade darker, a close mix of hot pink and coral.

Deciding she has had enough, and this could lead them further into an endless inferno of love and sex, Sakura grabs the nearest bottle of soap and pours some of it into her open palm. Noting the new development, Sasuke lets go of her and allows the woman in his arms to turn around. She starts to wash his hair, standing on her tip toes. To help her out, Sasuke tries to shorten his height by buckling his knees a tiny bit and minimizing the distance between them.

He inclines forward, favoring her gentle touch, her caresses soothing him. The man pulls her into his chest, his arm circling around her waist and hugging her close. Her fingers tend to his scalp, her nails scratching him and creating a pleasurable, fuzzy effect.

Finishing her task, Sakura washes the soap suds off his head with the help of the flowing water, creating bubbles in her wake.

To return the favor to herself, Sakura pours another patch of soap straight atop of her head and turns around. "My turn," she says, giddy.

"Sure, darling." Sasuke says ironically to tease her, smirking lazily. Not counting the implications of such endearment, they both brush it off as a joke for the time being.

He stars to tend to her locks, coursing his fingers through her hair and smothering the soap everywhere, washing her up. Sakura stays still, humming in appreciation at the gentle touch of her menacing warrior, marveling at the fact he is becoming this soft with her.

When his hand descends lower and starts massaging her nape, Sakura lets out a whimper, feeling her knots loosen under his skillful fondling; the stress leaves out of her in a whoosh.

Sakura relaxes under his ministrations, not minding him caressing her body, from her shoulder blades down to her backside. Stopping just above her perky butt, Sasuke halts abruptly, not wanting to be tempted to do more. Paying attention to his struggle, the woman turns around and gives him a chaste peck on the lips.

After that small show of affection, the beauty does not waste anymore time and pours soap all over his body in a rush. He grimaces instantly at the sudden assault, but she does not relent, giggling heartily at his reaction. With the steam volume lowered, she gets her chance to wash his body clean, helping him out and lending a hand wherever it deems necessary.

Busy as he is, Sakura begins her own cleaning process. Using her hands quickly, she gives herself a throughout bath, paying extra attention to her nether regions. Always preppy and careful, Sasuke makes a good use of his lone hand and he washes up nicely, leaving no spot unattended.

They both finish around the same time, and Sakura adjusts the temperature and flow to fit their needs. Splashes of hot water come out strongly, rinsing their foamy bodies fully.

With that out of the way, Sakura grabs the nearest towels she can find; one for her and one for her lover. She lends it to Sasuke who steps out of the stall, giving her more space. The material feels fluffy as she brushes the towel against her body, wiping any excess water.

Sasuke swipes his black locks behind, the purple of his rinnegan glimmering in the low dimmed lights of the bathroom. The mirror is foggy from humidity so his reflection is blurry, a haze of skin in contrast to his glowing eye and dark hair. Sakura's pink halo comes to view, the rose to his black abyss; the contradiction of their permanent colors a poem of its own.

He uses the towel she gave him to wipe away most of the wetness on his skin, tapping gently everywhere. Meanwhile, Sakura struggles to squeeze all the water out of her hair, the towel moving along her scalp to make her strands as dry as possible. Sasuke follows her steps and uses his own towel to dampen his locks just enough so it is not dripping on his shoulders anymore.

After that, they both take a few minutes of their time to finish some extra bathroom businesses respectively and they exit the room. Clean and fresh, the couple lies on the bed; the fact that Sasuke has his own separate room across the hall left unsaid.

Sakura turns to her side to look at him, her body slightly curling to adjust to her favorite sleeping position. Sasuke lies on his stomach, his head turned to his left, staring at her silently. It feels quite domestic like this, Sakura almost muses out loud.

"Good night, Sasuke-kun," she says sweetly, a toothy grin on her face.

She is happy, Sasuke thinks. He blinks slowly, savoring every second he is looking at her.

"Goodnight," the man responds, a tiny smile gracing his lips.

His eyes speak way more volumes than his words are. The night may be small, but their love is forever. Both content, they let the need to sleep overtake them.

Knock, knock, knock.

What an awful background noise for the nice dream she is having; Sakura stirs in her sleep, her brows furrowing as she tries to hang on to the sleepless state. The imaginary images stop and her mind draws a blank.

She feels a little drool on her lips and her hand unconsciously wipes it away.

Sakura-chan!

Ah, yes, Naruto of course, Sakura thinks, exasperated.

Then, the weirdest thing happens. The woman hears mumbling next to her, more specifically grumbling. This person must be quite grumpy in the morning, because next thing she knows, someone curses.

"Oh my god, I can't believe this!" The blond is desperate, his fist banging against the wooden door loudly.

"Wake up Sakura-chan!" Naruto bellows, frustration clear in his voice, "That bastard, Sasuke, had the audacity to leave before us!"

This piques Sakura's interest, because she clearly recalls being the last one to see Sasuke last night. Just when she was enjoying her sleep, her overly excited friend had to come and remind her about her problem.

But wait a minute…

The culprit came to her room last night.

"Shut up," a male voice mumbles hoarsely, the grouchy tone awfully familiar.

Sakura's eyes widen instantly and the sight that greets her makes her breath hitch.

Sasuke is on his back, his lone arm resting on top of his eyes, trying to prevent the sunlight from peeking through his closed eyelids. His chest is rising up and down, the blanket barely covering his naked torso.

"Open up, already, Sakura, don't keep me waiting!" The blue eyed man shouts desperately. He is ready to barge into Kakashi's room if his friend does not show signs of waking up anytime soon. Sasuke has obviously left the building since his room is empty, no sign of him found anywhere when the blond barged into his room.

His options are limited here, and he thought since Sakura usually wakes up early, she would be the one to keep him company until they meet up with Kakashi.

Sakura is about to have a quarter life crisis here. She cannot believe she woke up to this. First, she felt annoyed at being woken up so abruptly, and now, as she stares at Sasuke's good looking side profile, she feels like someone is trying to torture her.

Then, in flash, her memory floods back and Sakura remembers exactly what went down last night. More specifically, how Sasuke went down on her.

Her loins burn and her core aches in a gratifying sense.

"Oh my god," Sakura whispers, trying to keep her voice down. In any other circumstances, she would be shouting. The woman puts her palms upon her heated cheeks, gaping at her lover who seems to be clueless as to what is going on.

"Okay fine," Naruto announces dejectedly, his voice a tad lower this time. With one last look at the door, the young man finally leaves.

Sakura lets out a breath she did not realize she was holding in. Sasuke seems to be wide awake, although his attitude leaves no room for discussion. He is still quite sleepy, and Naruto's wake up call was not the best to start the day with.

"Finally," The man besides her mutters. Sakura pokes his arm, curious to see his reaction to their predicament.

He looks at her from the corner of his eye, processing everything in. When his stare softens, Sakura greets him breathlessly. "Good morning, Sasuke-kun."

She gazes at him lovingly, remembering how his words left searing marks on her heart, how his lips felt against her skin, making her his.

"Morning," he mumbles and turns to his side, bringing her lithe form close in an intimate hug. Sakura fits herself into his embrace instantly when she realizes what his intentions are.

The couple snuggles silently for a while, their soft exhalations the only sound in the room. The birds are lightly chirping outside, creating a nice cicada in the quiet morning.

"The idiot can be quite a hassle in the morning," Sasuke murmurs suddenly as if commenting about the weather.

He pulls her closer, basking in her scent. His gentle touch, a huge contrast to his past self who was selfish and harsh. She is making him kind again, bringing forth the child like innocence he used to have. The man sighs against her, his heartbeat calm and his mind clear from any insidious thoughts.

The only thing important in his life is in front of him, right in his arms.

Sakura laughs, a beautiful sound and it rings inside him like a bell signaling happiness.

"Yes, always," Sakura responds, a teasing smile on her lips. "But he is our idiot and I wouldn't trade him for the world."

"Sure," Sasuke sneers, mirth somewhere hidden in there.

"Should we..?" Sakura suddenly asks, the implications clear. She gazes up at him seriously, awaiting for his opinion, making sure he is comfortable with all this.

"Let them figure it out on their own," Sasuke says, his eyes sincere. "Besides it will be funnier that way," the black haired man smirks, enjoying immensely the possibility of Kakashi and especially Naruto struggling.

"Hm, fine," Sakura smiles, her eyes glinting evilly. He is becoming a bad influence to her, but she will not lie and pretend that she will not be enjoying torturing those two – their funny comments about her beloved Sasuke-kun had teased her far enough.

Having decided that, the couple gets up and starts preparing for their day. Sasuke collects last night's clothes and wears them again. He bids Sakura a soft kiss goodbye on the forehead and heads to his room to finish up getting ready. Sakura blushes and stares at this retreating back fondly, a huge grin forming on her lips.

When he is out of the room, Sakura punches the bed in excitement, letting out a muffled cry, "Shannaro!".

Half an hour later, all members of Team seven meet up at the hotel lobby. Naruto's reaction is instant, proclaiming how he is going punch Sasuke's lights out for disappearing. The man explains, cool and collected, how it was none of the blond's business where he went. This arises some suspicions and some raised eyebrows as to where Sasuke could have went.

Sakura is trying to be subtle, really, but she is having too much fun. She giggles every now and then, throwing fleeting glances at her lover who is avoiding answering any questions about his whereabouts, probing the curious men even further to try and understand what could have possibly went down between the full of tension – not yet or so they thought – couple.

"I am going to find out what what is going on here and when I do, I will never let you guys leave it down," Naruto swears – an oath he is bound to regret really, really soon...

[captain-yeet]

Accidental Exposure (Volturi x Witch!Reader One Shot)

Summary: Australia was meant to be a quick little trip for two of the Volturi's most valued guards; give a rowdy group of vampires a stern warning, if they don't oblige, destroy them. What Felix and Demetri weren't expecting? A mere human to save their lives.

Word count: 1.62k

Warnings: Supernatural violence, swearing - crude language from the land down under.

Author notes: This was based off an AU ask I got from an anon, I've had the idea stuck in my head for a while so here it is!

You loved the night time. Nights are cool, peaceful. Exploring the city you lived in was one of the perks of having your own freedom, the ability to make your own choices, was something you didn't dare take for granted in your life.

Choices. For a long time before you had your own sense of free will you felt chained. Growing up sheltered, you had to navigate your way through adulthood on your own. Once your powers began to show themselves, your family sheltered you even more to a point of constant coddling.

 Now as a young adult, you did. And you felt yourself bring called to the big lights and sunny beaches of Sydney, Australia.

After a busy night working, you finally got the chance to set yourself loose into town. Excited to explore more, you were practically skipping your way down the street in your heels when you heard a rather odd sound. Coming to a stop, you frowned and looked around you, searching for the source.

You turned towards a nearby alley across the street, where the sound appeared to double in strength. The sound? Deep, angry snarling.

Should I check it out? you were torn. Curiosity was growing but your sense of self-preservation was stronger.

So, you inched a little closer, carefully making your way across the street and coming to a halt at the entrance of the alleyway, keeping to the wall. You weren’t quite in the alley; you were close enough to the path side so that if anything were to make you feel like you needed to run, you had an opening.

Amongst the growling, you heard voices.

 “We’ve heard your warning sure, and you can go fuck yourself,” a voice taunted, back up by a growl of approval.

 “If you’re not going to heed our warning then you know what’s coming next,” another voice cautioned; to your surprise, the accent wasn’t Australian.

You crept further in. Your heart began to beat faster in your chest. Settling behind a dumpster, you peeked around it to see what was going on.

The sight made you cover your mouth desperately holding in a scream.

Five men stood in the alley, two of them standing stiffly glaring down at the other three; one tall, blond and lean, the second with darker hair and even taller and muscular in frame. The other three were in crouched, defensive positions. Behind those three lay the bodies of unknown women with wounds on their necks, shoulders, and forearms. After a moment of staring in shock, you noticed blood covered the mouths of the three aggressors.

One of the calmer men sighed, losing patience. “Do you idiots not realize what you’ve been doing? We keep our kind a secret to humans, there’s a reason we do. You three galavanting around killing recklessly is putting all of us at risk.”

One of the angrier three snorted. “We’re vampires, mate. Killing humans is what we're best at. Not our fault you lot don’t have the freedom to embrace hunting whoever you want.”

Hunting? Vampires? Literal vampires!? Your thoughts were all over the place as you tried to comprehend it all.

A low humorless chuckle came from the dark-haired man. “You’re really making this worse for yourself. Stand. Down.”

The one who originally spoke from the three bloodthirsty vampires growled, baring his teeth in a mocking bloody grin. “Fuck. You.”

The vampire raised his hand, and a strange green mist shot out of his hand, surrounding the big calm vampire. He then collapsed to his knees, desperately coughing as if he were choking.

 “Felix!” the blond one hissed in surprise. He tried to move to his friend’s side but was tackled by one of the other vampires and pinned to the ground.

They’re going to die, you fretted. If I don’t do something they’ll die.

The one with the mist had a cruel smirk on his face and began to close in on the dark-haired man he incapacitated. “You Volturi fucks shouldn’t have come here. We run things here. Guess you didn’t expect to be bested by us. Oh well. Sucks for you.”

The blond broke free of the vampire’s hold briefly before also being engulfed by the strange green mist.

The leader of the three still held the smirk on his face, surveying his helpless victims. 

And then he launched himself at the big guy.

Your heart stopped in its chest.

I can’t let them die!

A cry of “No!” left your lips before you could stop it, stepping out from behind the dumpster and attracting the attention of five pairs of red eyes. You raised your hand and a curious red light began flickering and swirling around your fingertips. your power charged by your fear. Your hand glowed brighter as you clenched your fingers in a gripping motion at the leader, tightening your hand into a fist.

The green mist stopped as he was then lifted into the air, gripping his neck as if someone was holding him by the throat.

 “Who the fuck is this?” one of the other rabid vampires cried out, staring at you in shock.

You raised your other hand and opened your clenched fist to bring your hands together, creating a ball of angry red energy. Your eyes were still trained in the leader. As you created the ball, you began to bring them together, enclosing the space between your two hands. Suddenly, the leader's skin began to burn and disintegrate, causing him to scream in agony.

You had never done this before. You had never even tried using your abilities against anything that wasn’t random pieces of balled up paper in your room or furniture.

And then as your inner fear and shock at your own abilities, he ceased to exist, crumbling into dust.

Felix and Demetri got their bearing together and joined each others’ side, and watched as the now-deceased opposing vampire’s lackeys began to move in on their unexpected savior. Their efforts were in vain however as you simply threw them into the brick walls of the alleyway, sending them crashing and tumbling further into the alley.

The vampires scrambled to their feet and took off into the night, taking advantage of the blond vampire and the one named Felix’s preoccupation with you.

You watched them warily, eyes wide with tears welling up within them. Now that you did what you did, what was next?

 “That was rather impressive,” the blond called out, walking toward you, his friend following suit. 

 “Keep - keep back!” you warned, hands outstretched in an effort to ward them off. The red glow wasn’t as bright as it was before, but a faint tinge of vermillion remained and swirled around your fingers.

The blond’s friend whispered something inaudible to him, red eyes on you. The blonde raised his hands like someone surrendering would and slowed his gait toward you. “Easy love, we’re not going to hurt you.”

 “Especially given the fact that quite frankly, you save our asses,” the one named Felix chimed in.

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, “but one wrong move...”

Lowering your hands, you balled them into fists at your sides as the two vampires approached you. Seeing them up close you couldn’t help but note how good-looking they were but right now, you felt more intimidated than attracted to them. Were they going to hurt you now or just leave?

 “You know, our group would be interested in your gifts,” the blond spoke again, cocking his head to the side curiously as he observed you.

 “Would they now?” you said with a nervous bark of a laugh.

He smiled alluringly, trying to draw you in with his charm, you figured. If you weren’t so on edge perhaps in different circumstances it would work. A grin spread across your face, and a little dose of courage entered your system. Taking a step toward him you were now very close to this handsome stranger.

 “And what would be in it for me?” you asked in a low voice.

His smile softened into a smirk. “Power, immortality, status - you name it you could have it, with powers like yours.”

Staring into his deep, red eyes; you noted they were a darker red. Like blood, almost. “Hmm,” you purred, “tempting, let me think...” 

What the fuck are you doing Y/N? you screamed at yourself internally. Look at him. Look at them. What the fuck am I doing?

Placing a hand lightly on his chest, you batted your eyelashes at him and smiled. “I prefer living, thank you.”

With a light surge of your powers, you launched the vampire backward into the air. It was sudden and quick, and he hit the alley wall with a loud crash.

For a moment, you feared his much larger friend. Until he began to cackle loudly at what happened to his friend, throwing his head back as he did so. When he regained his composure, the two of you locked eyes.

You wiggled your fingers, making the red energy swirl and crackle once more, your lips pressed into a thin line, eyebrows raised as if to say “Well then?”

Felix looked you up and down, sizing up his chances. 

And then he backed away, further into the alley. 

He was backing down.

Holy shit he’s backing down!?

With a huff, you took this as your chance to leave the scene, and you did so with haste. They could change their minds at any moment and come for you. But hopefully, you saving their asses gave would work in your favour and the mysterious vampires wouldn’t come for your life next.

Until then, you quickly made your way back down the illuminated sidewalks of Sydney, hurrying home.

[the-omni-princess]

Beauty and the Beast (Soulmate AU)

Author: @the-omni-princess​

Summary: You wake up the day after drunkenly meeting your soulmate.

Prompt: “When did you learn how to figure skate?” // “I dunno.”

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Bucky x Latina!(and Mutant!)reader

Warnings: fluff! Hangovers, seriously, so much fluff!!!

A/N:

@bitchassbucky for #abitchassholiday , and the casual sequel to Sleeping Beauty! [Read here!]

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I’ve been dying to write a Latina!Reader since I’m Latina! Here’s my first one. It's still pretty lowkey tbh but hopefully I can write one where it’s a bit more explicit the reader’s Latina! :D

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[Masterlist] [First part]

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Previously….

He did however, let you go, just as you stopped screaming. “Do… do you know who you are?” you tried in a soft voice, still on edge. Where the fuck was Mr. Star Spangled Ass?

“Bucky… My name was Bucky,” he whispered softly, now looking down at his chest where his mark had deepened in color to darker freckles, easily shown on his light skin.

Your eyes widened, looking down at your hand, your own freckles became more pronounced as well. “Holy shit,” you mumbled, just as Steve and Tony burst through the door, making you both jump.

“Bucky?” It took him less time to recover, now noticing both of you skimming your marks with your hands in shock. “Wait… are you two…?” His eyes glanced back and forth between the two marks.

You looked up towards the Super Soldier, unsure how to really explain the dare that tossed you at your soulmate. “Um…. Hi… Soulmate?”

--

James Buchanan Barnes, the infamous sidekick of Captain America, a fact you used to argue about in US History class when you were younger since who would call that hot guy the sidekick?!, just looked at you with a little tilt to his head. “Soulmate?” he murmured softly, looking down at his mark on his chest. His eyes widened as he took in the multitude of darker freckles. He looked back at you, following your own gaze to your hand, where the freckles had darkened on the underside of your palm. “Soulmate…”

“Well… that’s unexpected to say the least,” Steve muttered, both he and Sharon looking on with a bit of amusement.

Bucky looked up, noticing the blond couple for the first time. “Stevie?” His voice cracked, and even in your very buzzed state, you could tell Steve was also a little emotional.

“Hey Buck,” he replied, smiling sadly before looking again towards you.

You were now gripping the table for support, the room starting to spin. “Ay Dios, is the room spinning or is it just me?” Your eyes fluttered a bit, vertigo hitting you full force, just as Bucky rushed forward, catching you before you could hit the ground. You groaned softly, looking up at his face, a goofy smile lighting up your features. “Oh, yeah. You’re my soulmate. You know, I always thought you were cuter than Cap. Think I have a thing from brunet boys with pretty blue eyes, and your eyes are way more blue than I could have imagined with those black and white photos,” you continued to ramble, babbling on as the trio watched in amusement.

“First meeting with her literal other half, and she’s wasted,” Sharon sighed softly, now looking at you with pity.

“And the reindeer- hey! I’m not wasted!” You cried out before going back to your rambles.

Bucky just looked up at her, smiling faintly, as he held you up, “I can handle a drunk dame, better than my ma, she was a cursing drunk.”

Steve chuckled, helping Bucky lead you, very slowly towards the common room where you promptly passed out snuggled on a blanket on the sofa, completely oblivious to the fact that the former Winter Soldier was being introduced to the Avengers, while all he did was watch over you.

--

Searing pain lit up behind your eyes, and your temple was definitely throbbing. Groaning, you reached around your bed for your phone, freezing when you realized you were most definitely not in a bed. You looked down and groaned, you were also still in the party dress from last night, wrapped in a blanket that was also most definitely not yours. You inspected it, noticing the little cobwebs and widow symbols on the fluffy blanket. So, you were wrapped in Natasha’s blanket, the one you got her for her birthday last year as a joke. Looking around, you also realized you were in the main living common area in the tower.

“FRIDAY? How’d I get here?” you called out, groaning softly as you clutched your temples. You were most definitely hungover.

“I can answer that,” a voice called, one you recognized as Steve.

“Lower your voice, you menace, I’m nursing a shitty hangover.” You pulled the blanket over your face, covering yourself from the lights.

“We’re well aware of that, dollface,” a new voice joined in.

You stiffened, slowly dropping the blanket and looking at the man in front of you in surprise. “Hey Steve? I haven’t gotten drunk in a while, are hallucinations normal for being hungover?”

“Nope, I’m real.” Bucky stood, before kneeling beside you. “How much of last night do you remember?”

You gripped the blanket tighter, feeling a bit more exposed than you would like. “Last night? Why would I need-“ your voice died as you looked down at your hands, realizing the freckles that covered the palm of your left hand were darker. “Holy shit, please don’t tell me I met my soul mate and I was too wasted to remember,” you groaned, pouting up at Sharon who walked in. “You get a perfect, they-were-neighbors story, and I get the I-was-drunk story.”

“Not everyone can meet their soulmate because they literally bumped into them, besides,” Steve nodded towards Bucky, who was still kneeling beside the couch. “You literally fell for him.”

You looked back towards the brunet with horror written on your face. “Please tell me it wasn’t as cliché as Mr. Dramatically Yeets Himself Off of Planes Without Parachutes is making it out to be.”

“What does ‘yeet’ mean?” Bucky gave you a small confused look, one you have to admit was pretty cute. Okay fine, maybe he was your type. Dark-haired, pretty eyes, cute dimples when he was smiling. Okay so he was gringo, you could work with that.

“Throw, well basically,” you supplied, much to Steve’s horror.

“You do WHAT?!” Bucky cried out, making Steve cringe, and you whimper softly, closing your eyes in pain.

“Welp, we’ll let you two get well acquainted, sober at least,” Steve grabbed Sharon’s hand and hightailed out of the room.

Bucky didn’t give them a second look, now focused on you. “Damn, I’m sorry, after all your rambles last night I still forgot you would be hungover. Here,” he gently gave you some aspirin and water, which you promptly downed. “How about we do this right? I’m Bucky.”

“I’m well aware of who you are. Used to have fights with my friend in high school because she thought Steve was the cutest Howling Commando, when it was clearly you. Why am I still rambling?”

“It’s quite alright, I find it cute,” he gave you a bright smile, and your heart fluttered for a second.

You chuckled softly, smiling at him before sitting up, making room for him on the sofa as you told him your full name. “But that’s just the government name, everyone ‘round here calls me y/n/n, or FireCracker but that’s usually just Tony.” You gave him a smile.

“Why FireCracker?”

“Well, two reasons. One, I tend to keep talking and say my mind. And two,” you held up your hand, letting flames cover your fingers before they died out again. “I have powers…I hope that’s alright by you,” you whispered softly. Truth was, both the fact that you were Latina and were a Mutant were reasons you were teased and mocked growing up in all-white schools in the South. It was another reason who were so quick to join the Avengers when you were offered the chance. More diverse, and more accepting people. In theory at least.

“God, that looks absolutely amazing! Can you do it again?” Bucky gushed, eyes lighting up as he watched your powers. You smiled shyly, letting a small flame light up your palm. “Does it hurt?” He asked softly.

“Only if I want it to,” you looked up at him, caught a little off guard that he would be so interested in your powers instead of scared, it usually took people more time to get used to it.

“Woah,” he murmured, eyes wide as he took in the flames.

You smiled bashfully, secretly excited that he liked your powers. The flames died out, soon revealing the freckles again. Bucky hesitantly took your hand in his, his thumb rubbing over the freckles that marked the first place you touched, two souls finally coming back together again.

“How about I take you on a date, doll? A real one, since our first meeting didn’t go as expected.”

You blushed, nodding with a smile. “I know just the thing! We can go to the Rockefeller Ice Skating Rink, take in the whole Christmas season.”

His eyes lit up, “That ice rink is still there?!” he cried out, excitement thinly vied in his voice. “Gosh, I remember Stevie falling face-first when we were younger, had to patch up that nasty bruise on his cheek and a broken nose. Ma was pissed we went without my sisters.”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you took in his joy. “I’ll take you, Bucky.”

--

“Well… its certainly different from when I was last here,” Bucky’s grip on your mittened hand tightened. Buried underneath scarves and jackets, Bucky helped you pull your beanie down. He naturally ran warm because of the serum, so he didn’t need as many heavy coats in the cold winter weather. You however, were more used to warmer climates, and this cold weather was not agreeing with you.

“Good different?” You took the skates from the attendant, handing Bucky his before attempting to tie up your own.

“Well the tree’s certainly bigger,” he chuckled, noticing your struggle to lace your skates up and helping you before tugging you onto your feet. Shimmying to the rink itself, gripping onto each other as the earth became ice underneath your feet. You yelped, clinging to him as he guided you on the ice. “And I have my soulmate in my arms, being an adorable mess,” he teased, chuckling as you shot him a glare.

“That’s no fair Buck! When did you learn how to figure skate?” You looked up at him incredulously, still struggling despite the fact that he was holding most of your weight up.

“I dunno.” He teased right back, a smug grin on his lips.

“Ya know, if I knew you would have been this self-satisfied, I would have just done a Christmas movie marathon with you instead, get you well acquainted with movies of this century,” you shot back, giving him a look that sent him into a fit of giggles – actual giggles.

“Well doll, the night’s young, and you have plenty to teach me.” He pulled you closer, making you realize you were dead center in the rink, a suspicious flash in the distance making you notice Nat taking picture of you two. He gently tilted your head up, locking eyes with you. “I just found you, dollface, I’m never letting you go,” he smirked, “my clumsy little soulmate.”

“Call me little or clumsy again and I’ll roast your ass, Barnes, literally,” you growled playfully, giving him a mischievous look, which told him you didn’t really mean it.

He smiled, his hand gently holding onto your face, “I look forward to it, doll,” he murmured, the distance between the two of you closing.

Closing the distance, you kissed him tenderly, arms wrapped around his neck, ignoring the flashes most definitely coming from Natasha. Here, cuddled up in your soulmate’s embrace, the hand that first touched right over his heart was now pressed against his cheek as you kissed. Surrounded by Christmas lights, sweet Holiday music, and children’s laughter as they skated around you two, it felt like your very own piece of a Hallmark movie. And who were you to disagree with Fate?

------

Tags:

Permanent Tags:

@minetticatinwonderland​  / @lumar014​ / @maniacproffesor​ / @gollyderek​ / @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ / @avengerstones​ / @momc95​ / @loving-life-my-way​ / @agentpeggybarnes​ / @marvelmaree​ / @thefridgeismybestie​ / miraclesoflove  / hello-fanfiction-goodbye-grades  / deathofmissjackson

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings​  / @darkness-doughter​ / @novaddictx​​ / @thedancingnerdmermaid​ / @mood-pancakes​ / @gracethegeek9902​ / @ravennightingaleandavatempus​ / @sunkissedbarnes​​ / @annavega333​ / @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​

Some people who requested a sequel (lol):

@xetoilerouge / @amlocked​ / @bitsandbobsandstuff​

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

[neriad13]

Favorite Media of 2020!

There was a large swathe of this year during which I was unable to concentrate on reading (as there probably was for a lot of other typically-frequent readers), so, as a result, I ended up listening to way more podcasts and watching way more TV shows. Not a bad thing, but boy did I read way less books than usual. 

However, for the first time in a while, the amount of fiction I read was about equal with the amount of nonfiction I read. Last year’s reading resolution was to read more fiction, so...success??

I did read a lot of phenomenal fiction when I had the energy to do so this year.

Books - Fiction

The Martian - Andy Weir

This book is the hardest of the hard sci fi I think I’ve ever read. Every single aspect of it is minutely researched and calculated. The author literally wrote equations to write this book. The science is insanely impressive and yet...it never loses its sense of humor or humanity in the mix. In fact, they’re the thing that drives the entire story.

Warlock Holmes - G. S. Denning

Way early in the year I was strolling down the fantasy aisle at the library, when this cover caught my eye. I took one look at it, went “oh, this looks silly” and...proceeded to devour the entire series in a matter of weeks. 

It is very silly. Especially when it’s pointing out something that was silly in the original. There’s something so satisfying about Watson immediately answering Holmes with the correct number of steps in their flat when he’s trying to make his point about how most people don’t pay attention to things like that.

World War Z - Max Brooks

Every single scenario in here could easily support an entire book. A park ranger whose job it is to contain the yearly zombie spring thaw? HECK YES. I’d read tens of thousands of words about that. A Chinese admiral who defaults, steals the government’s premier submarine, loads it up with the families of his underlings and takes to the sea for years to live in the maritime economy that has sprung up in a world where everyone is trying to escape the shore? That could be an entire movie on its own. 

Every chapter was more creative than the last and as a huge worldbuilding fan, this book was so, so fun.

An Unkindness of Ghosts - Rivers Solomon

In which a queer, neurodivergent protagonist solves a mystery on a spaceship which is a microcosm of antebellum era politics! This had a beautiful, mysterious, wonder-inducing writing style and it was a joy to peer into the wildly differing minds of every single character.

Books - Nonfiction

Underland - Robert MacFarlane

In every chapter, the author visits a different hole. Basically.

It’s an exploration of caves, catacombs, mines, nuclear waste facilities and the hidden underbelly of every forest. It was fascinating. And fundamentally changed how I look at time.

Rejected Princesses - Jason Porath

After years of having enjoyed the web entries, I finally got my hands on the first book and was not disappointed. 

There are the more entertaining entries, of course and the art is as charming as always, but what struck me the most were the more difficult stories. The deeper you go into this book, the more horrific it gets. The author does not hold back on the indignities suffered by the historical figures he writes about. It’s terrible...but also very, very illuminating.

The Gift of Fear - Gavin De Becker

This book - while maintaining all the essential information in it - could be pared down to one sentence in a sea of blank pages and that sentence would be: trust your instincts. End of story.

But in a world where instincts are either customarily suppressed or going haywire, it’s not quite that easy, which is why I’m glad there is more to the book.

I picked it up thinking “ha ha, betcha can’t help a person with anxiety who fears all the time already” and...what it actually ended up doing was giving me the tools to differentiate between real fear and unfounded fear. And did help with the anxiety quite a bit.

Fanfiction

Watch Over Me - cakeisatruth

A Bioshock fic from the point of view of a little sister who is learning how to trust and be an ordinary child again. Dark and sweet. An excellent combo.

All That is Visible - Ultima_Thule

An exploration of a minor character in a well researched historical context? That’s my jam! How did they know?? A Tron fic about what it’s like to be a female programmer in the 70s.

Graphic Novels

The Adventure Zone - McElroys + Carey Pietsch

Yesssssssss! It was a running-to-the-library type event whenever my library got a new volume in. The jokes are so good, the art is so lively and the ways in which they added the details that the podcast couldn’t necessarily get across is *mwah*

Trail of Blood - Shuuzou Oshimi

Hoooooooly shit, the art style of this one!! It’s beautifully detailed and expressive, sure, but the real draw for me was how it changes with the emotional state of the main character. There’s this sequence in which he’s consumed with anxiety at school and all of his classmates become blurry and unfocused, until they can’t be recognized as humans at all, that particularly sticks with me.

It’s a horror story about a kid who witnesses his loving mother push his cousin off a cliff for seemingly no reason and is then obligated by her to keep the secret, which is eating him from the inside out. It’s so good, guys, please read it.

Level Up - Gene Lien Yang/Thien Pham

A story about a kid who is haunted by his late father’s desire for him to become a gastroenterologist. It’s funny and touching and the ending gave me what I can only describe as a feeling of exhilaration. Y’know that feeling when something unexpected but not out of left field, perfectly in tune with the narrative arc and gut bustingly funny happens, all in the same panel? That one.

Film

Searching

This is a fairly standard thriller about a dad trying to find out what happened to his missing daughter. It’s also found footage...but not in the usual way, which was what made it so compelling to me. It’s told through the dad’s phone calls, google searches, social media interactions, news footage, security cameras and webcams. It was such a cool way to tell a story.

Train to Busan

There’s a lot that’s already been said about this movie and I don’t think there’s much more I can meaningfully add to that. Suffice to say that ya gotta take care of each other if you’re going to survive a zombie apocalypse!!

TV Series

My Brother’s Husband

As close to a perfect adaptation as a person can get (barring the entire conversation in English which was...oof). I was so happy when they took it a step further and showed Kana and Yaichi actually getting to meet Mike’s family.

Zumbo’s Just Desserts

I watched a lot of baking shows this year. Like...a lot. They were my much-needed comfort viewing for the year and this one was my favorite, even over The Great British Baking Show (which I LOVE). Why? Because the pastry chef for whom it’s named makes such bizarre and wonderful desserts and fosters an environment in which the competitors do the same. I’ve never seen anything like a lot of the desserts that make an appearance on this show. Every single episode was an awesome surprise and so help me, this show had better get a third season.

She-ra and the Princesses of Power

There’s also a lot that’s been said about this one, so I won’t say much more. Suffice to say: DAMN. That’s how you do an 80s toy tie-in cartoon remake.

Infinity Train

This show’s premise is probably the most unique I’ve seen in recent years. Its balance of comedy, horror and existential dread is also *mwah* I also love how much it trusts the viewer to figure things out on their own.

Primal

A late entry sliding in before the year ends! I finally got to watch the second half of the first season last weekend and it was EXCELLENT. The pacing, the brutal fight scenes, the adorable dinosaur antics, the animation, the quiet moments - *mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah*

The most emotional moment for me was the part in which the protagonists watch, with sorrow, as the rabid dinosaur who’s been trying to kill them all night dies an excruciating death.

Also it sets up a fascinating new plotline right before ending in a cliffhanger!! Another one for the ‘had better get a next season’ list.

Games

Night in the Woods

This is one that’s been on my to play list for a few years and I was so glad I finally got my hands on it. It’s like...The Millennial Experience (TM), the game. I felt so seen, playing it. The character writing was fantastic.

Prey

I don’t know why I put off finishing this for so long. I guess I wasn’t in the right alien killing headspace for a while?? Anyway, the setting is gorgeous, the alien biology is weird and cool, the ethics are delightfully murky and the interconnectedness of the station was really cool, especially in the OH SHIT moments at the end. 

Podcasts

The Adventure Zone

I tried to narrow this down to one favorite arc, but found that I couldn’t do it. I love Balance for its comedy and creative energy. I love Amnesty for its drama and acting. I am loving Graduation for the depth of its world and the way in which the real story behind everything that’s happened is slowly unfurling. It’s a good podcast all around.  

The Magnus Archives

Who obsessively listened to every single season while playing Minecraft in about a month? Surely not me, nooooo. Of course not.

There’s also been a lot said on this one, so I’ll keep it brief. I’ve seen things in here that I haven’t really seen elsewhere in horror. My particular favorites were the creepy psychiatric hospital in which the horror comes not from the patients, but from the denial of the doctor to believe them about their mental illnesses and every single thing related to the Anthropocene. The one with the Amazonian village made out of trash - CHILLS.

[sweetenthislittlehand]

drarry fic recs

since i read so much fanfiction, and most of it drarry, i decided to make a rec list specifically for all my favorite drarry fics. because what else are you gonna do when you’re under quarantine? and i’ve got a lot of recs, so get comfortable.

first off, lemme just say that if you haven’t read any Saras_Girl fics, you absolutely should. she’s my favorite fic author of all time, really only ever writes drarry (although a lot of her fics feature background romione), and she’s still an active writer. there’ll be a lot of her stuff on this list, so if you don’t know where to start, just keep reading.

Reparations by Saras_Girl  [87k, E]

Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.

this is my favorite fic of all time, okay? harry is a healer trainee at st. mungo’s, and all the trainees go through rotations in different departments of the hospital. harry’s first rotation is in the chemical dependency department, where he discovers he’ll be working under none other than our illustrious draco malfoy. this is so well written, and the characterization is so spot on, and it’s the perfect slowburn. i’ve read it so many times. i practically consider it canon at this point. (it’s also part of a series — Foundations!verse — and i love the sequel just as much.)

Talk To Me by Saras_Girl  [15k, T]

When the usual channels of communication are shut down, the most surprising people can find a way in. A strange little love story.

probably my favorite one-shot. it’s an eighth year fic, but honestly, the year isn’t important to the story. harry gets hit more-or-less accidentally by a spell that renders him blind and deaf, and a *mysterious person* comes to his rescue. it’s the absolute sweetest thing i have ever read in my life. without the means to communicate normally, draco writes the words with his finger on the palm of harry’s hand. the characterization, again, is perfect. and harry figuring things out and reconciling apparently conflicting ideas of what he knows of draco left me squealing.

Building It Together by digthewriter  [27k, E]

Forced proximity can only lead to bad things, right? Right.

this is such an original fic, and the concept is so intriguing. grimmauld place is tearing itself apart because harry’s been avoiding the house and its memories, and it finally breaks its magical ties to him. and sirius’ nearest blood relative is none other than draco malfoy. to save the house from itself and restore it to harry, draco has to move in, and with sections of the house disappearing... there’s only one bed. also let me just say that draco’s job is the most original thing i’ve ever seen, and it’s so fascinating and magical, and i love it. this is such a good fic.

Feel You In These Walls by alpha_exodus  [6k, E]

Just this once, Harry thinks. Just this once, they'll kiss, they'll have sex, and then it'll be over. Draco hadn't expected more than that either. But then it happens again, again, and neither of them had anticipated having feelings involved - but then they've never been able to keep anything casual, have they?

i don’t usually read fics that are smut-centric, cause, y’know... asexual. but i really like this one. it’s beautifully written, and the dynamic is just. so great. also, asexual or no, i am not immune to tension. (i’ll take or leave the smut — in fact i’d mostly rather leave it — but unresolved tension? heck yeah.)

Salt on the Western Wind by Saras_Girl  [60k, M]

When the war isn’t quite as over as it first appears, a guilt-ridden Harry is sent to a mysterious safe-house. Among sandwiches, insomnia, and Mills & Boon, he discovers something quite unexpected.

in the face of the dangers of the remaining deatheaters who have not been apprehended, mcgonagall sends harry, ron, and hermione to a safe-house. narcissa malfoy, having saved harry’s life asks one thing of him: to take draco with him into hiding. things take an unexpected turn when draco accidentally fouls up a spell and binds harry’s wrist to his by a silver thread that will only break when the people bonded ‘have reached a point of mutual understanding, confidence, and accord’. it’s so well-written, and i love the setting, and everything a lot. it’s wonderful.

Stealing Sweaters by DorthyAnn  [12k, T]

It's their eighth and final year and over the course of several months, Harry and Draco have managed to become close friends. Their friends are entirely certain that they ought to be much, much more. So they just decide to... help things along.

this is so sweet, so fluffy. i die. harry and draco’s relationship in this is to live for. there’s platonic cuddling and hugging and sweater stealing, and then comes the realization that it’s maybe not as platonic as they thought. the idea behind this one is that harry and draco’s friends think they know what they need, and decide to meddle, and really all they’ve done is mess everything up.

Rainfall by Saras_Girl  [4k, T]

So what if Draco has a rain kink? Everyone likes something weird.

literally the only thing you need to know about this fic is that draco has a rain kink. it’s bloody fantastic. i think you’ll find this is as much about draco as it is about drarry, and if you’re as obsessed with draco as i am, you’re gonna love that. (and by that, i mean draco absolutely soaked and with his face tipped up into the falling rain. it’s a beautiful mental picture.)

On a Clear Day by Saras_Girl  [41k, M]

Draco Malfoy is waiting for his real life to begin, and it appears that he’s not the only one. Coffee, charity, and the wisdom of the elderly.

draco works for a charity, and his boss is very insistent that he get harry potter to attend their next event. except that harry potter doesn’t attend events at all, and he hasn’t responded to any of draco’s owls, and draco’s just about had it. this is a marvelous fic. it deals with draco feeling the pressure of restoring his family’s good name, it deals with harry’s trauma, how his past experiences have affected him after the war, it deals with the relationship between them in a really important way. because it’s a ‘no i actually hate you, you were a bastard’ and there’s no ‘wait, is that sexual tension’ and ‘well, maybe it’s okay because he was a child at the time’. not that those aren’t valid and really good things to read about in fics, but it’s nice to see it from this ‘i’m a mature adult, so i’m not gonna be petty about this, but i do actually hate you’ angle. i like it a lot.

Time and Again by manixzen  [64k, E]               work in progress

Harry's absolutely sure it's Malfoy's fault that they are stuck reliving the same day over and over. Harry is good at his job. He's professional, has an excellent closure rate, and is a well-respected Auror. Malfoy's the unprofessional one with his snark and his judgemental eyebrows and his far too-posh-for-work robes. If Malfoy could have managed to refrain from being a pain in the arse, everything would have been just fine. They wouldn’t have gotten in yet another argument, Harry wouldn’t have been distracted, and Harry certainly wouldn’t have accidentally set off a powerful artifact at their crime scene. And if Malfoy would just get out of his way now, Harry's sure he can quickly fix this so they can get back to their comfortable professional dislike of one another.

so, it is a work in progress, and i know a lot of people don’t like reading those (myself included), but it’s being regularly updated, and there’s only one chapter left. so i’d definitely recommend it! it’s a pretty great fic, and worth a read.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop  [70k, E]

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

just in case one time loop fic isn’t enough for you, why not have two? this one’s also really enjoyable, and i think you should give it a go. if you only have the attention span for a single time loop fic, i would probably suggest Time and Again over this one, but that’s a personal preference. this one has some pretty great moments all its own, and they’re both good reads.

All Life Is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl  [114k, M]

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

alright, i realize that this is the length of an actual novel, and that i probably should not have read this as many times as i have, but when you find a fic as good as this one, you can’t just ignore it. this fic is beauty itself, it’s the essence of life, it’s mandatory for everything. you want to go to college? they ask about this fic on your application. you want to get married? there are things you need to know beforehand, like ‘stanley the beetle doesn’t like transfigured mint leaves as much as the real ones’. that’s essential. i don’t know if i like this fic so much because of how good it is, or just because of pet beetle owner solidarity.

Good To Me (And I’d Be So Good to You) by AWickedMemory (TeddyLaCroix)  [8k, G]

Everyone returns to Hogwarts after the war, but nothing is quite the same. Harry's groupies are creepier than ever, Ron and Hermione are snogging all over the place, and the once-proud Draco is shuffling around like a kicked puppy. But that's okay: Harry's got a plan.

this fic is pure fluff, and if that’s not your thing i get that, but the premise of this is just so cute. because harry’s got a mental catalog of facts about draco malfoy and a) that’s hilarious and adorable, and b) they’re actually really interesting and insightful for draco’s characterization. also the end reveal is !!!

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by DorthyAnn  [5k, T]

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

because this trope never gets old, and this is really nice. there’s so much cuddling, and so many blurred lines between friendship and romance, and i love it. i’m a firm advocate of cuddling in every fanfiction ever. no fic is complete without it.

Helix by Saras_Girl  [92k, E]

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again.

it’s about snails. in an effort to get harry and draco to get along a little better, mcgonagall assigns them to overseeing the care of some very delicate snails for hagrid. there’s lots of heartfelt conversations, and struggles, and they’re very in love, so that’s nice. there’s also some really well-handled snape content, which i actually appreciate a lot, despite not really liking snape. it sets snape as draco’s godfather (which is a headcanon i love), and there’s a lot of contrast between draco’s relationship with snape and his relationship with his actual father, and i appreciate that a lot.

[let-fans-be-fans]

STAR WARS Episode 8 - The Last Jedi

Only read after watching The Mandalorian s2 e8

Imagine a Lucasfilm Story Group that has actually worked as a group since 2015.  Chuck Wendig’s draft of the first Aftermath novel has been roundly mocked and pulped before ever being committed to print.  This isn’t about that, though.  This is the germination of the story seed that is planted in The Mandalorian, so join me as we explore one of the possibilities that could have happened within the Star Wars universe: What If Grogu (the Child/Baby Yoda) first appeared in TLJ?

Ahch-To, the steps.  Luke Skywalker regards his guest Rey with a quizzical expression, telling her simply but firmly “I can’t take that, but there is a place for it somewhere...” and the two move inside Luke’s little hut.  Passing by a large levitating pod, Rey (and the audience) experiences mental flashes of meeting Finn.  Smash-cut to Finn himself waking up in the recovery suit in the med-bay.  Finn/Rose/whatever sub-plot (this post isn’t about fixing THAT car-crash, let it marinate) ensues, does what it does.  This timeline’s Rian Johnson, however, is co-existing with LFL’s Story Group and especially Dave Filoni.  They’ve cooked up one hell of an A-plot, and it continues thusly:

Rey never sees what is in the pod, and begins to wonder if Luke is messing with her or starting to go a little peculiar from isolation, on account of how he talks to it.  In fact, something is starting to make her feel slightly more at ease.  Maybe even a little guilty when Luke’s mood turns sombre and he says, “I know.  About Han, and Ben...”  We maybe even get a little nostalgia-boost by Luke opting to use the training remote and blast-shield helmet to start training Rey.  It’s like poetry, it rhymes.

All through this time, Luke has not withdrawn himself from the Force out of shame.  He has always kept himself open to it, learning from the spirits of his teachers.  The night that Rey decides to leave and try to aid the Resistance (or to confront Kylo Ren for her own reasons) is the night that Luke receives a visitation from two very unexpected spirits.

That’s right, y’all.  The first Force ghost appearance of a non-Force-sensitive character in the Saga.  Padmé and Anakin show up to give Luke the news that some strange, dark figure has attempted to kill Leia by shooting at her private chamber on the Resistance flagship, only for Luke to not understand why they don’t know the attacker’s name.   “You don’t need to hide it, to protect him.  You know, as well as I do, that it was Ben!”  Anakin shares a concerned look with the spirit of his wife, and the next thing he says would absolutely blow the cinema audience out of every single seat in the house.  “Luke?  Son, listen to me.  Who is this Ben?”

That’s right.  Anakin Skywalker, the former Sith Lord Darth Vader, has absolutely no idea that our sequel trilogy’s Vader-like antagonist (his own grandson) even exists.  Even as the Force ghosts watching over Luke and Leia and their families for all this time, both Padmé and Anakin explain that from their perspective, something is bending the Force itself around Ben Solo, pulling him away from not only the Light side, but also from its Dark side.  “The boy, Ben Solo, is living his entire life surrounded by a wound in the Force.  This wound, it’s very subtly, slowly eating him!”

Luke is still in shock from hearing the ghosts of his parents telling him what is happening to Kylo Ren.  Rey is trying to keep him out but the villain is urged by his twisted Master, the Supreme Leader of the First Order.  Their telepathic communication is picked up on by Luke, who all at once sees what has truly become of his nephew.  Ben Solo appears to his uncle, surrounded by tendrils that look like animated cracks in a pane of window glass.  This is the wound in the Force, and its presence is felt most strongly by the eldest living Force-sensitive on the island of Ahch-To.  A short cry splits the cracked and bleeding image of Kylo Ren and Rey wakes with a sudden start.  Luke is frowning as he looks toward the floating cradle, then he makes his decision.  We (and Rey) are about to meet the 100 % physical in-camera puppet.  Cast and crew are made to sign an infinite supply of Non-Disclosure Agreements, Rian Johnson is talked into only letting Mark Hamill, Daisy Ridley and the puppeteers onto the sets while everybody else is shooting their things.

The cradle pod swings back its protective lid slowly, and there he is making his debut before an audience that paid full movie theater (remember those?) ticket prices.  Exuding full fucking “Gizmo in the box on the coffee table” energy, the Child glances sleepily between Rey and Luke.  This is why the legendary Jedi Master left the civilized New Republic, he tells Rey.  The massacre of his first generation of Jedi students, the betrayal by his nephew, all of it would have been for nothing if he couldn’t save one very important life.  Rey is sworn to protect the Child, who is old enough now to speak his own name.   “Grogu?  Is that what he said?”  “One of his protectors told me it’s his name, right before telling me how I looked just like my father.  We had a pretty good laugh about that...”

Leia/Poe/Holdo subplot, and [THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH WILL ONLY INCITE SHOUTY BEARDO YOUTUBERS TO SCISSOR THE HEADS OFF ACTION FIGURES THEY BUY WITH THEIR OWN MONEY, THEREFORE IT IS CENSORED TO SHIELD THE AUTHOR FROM PROSECUTION]

Before the Holdo manoeuvre, the Hyperspace Karen or whatever you want to call it, Rey acts out the plan that she and Luke have concocted in secret so that Chewbacca in the Millennium Falcon can safely evacuate both Luke and Grogu.  Rey hasn’t been told about the wound in the Force that swirls around Kylo Ren, but for some reason she can now see the same churning mass of tiny cracks in reality, and they spread out behind the Supreme Leader Snoke in much the same manner that Palpatine’s throne sat before the spiderweb-looking window of his tower on the Death Star.   This is it, we think.  Snoke is the wound in the Force drawing Ben away from his true self.  Even as the lightsabre that Rey brought with her ignites and strikes Snoke dead, the audience is thinking along with Rey that the wound is going to close up.

IT GETS BIGGER.  AND IT FUCKING CONSUMES SNOKE’S BISECTED CORPSE LIKE A SHADOW VERSION OF THE THING FROM THE 1982 MOVIE

So no.  Rey sees it happen, but Kylo remains completely oblivious as he takes up leadership of the First Order.  Something about the way he accuses Rey of the murder makes us think he really believes it too.  As Rey narrowly escapes, haunted by the sight of the living animalistic wrongness that ate Supreme Leader Snoke, General Hux is rather confused.  “Forgive me, ah, Supreme Leader.  But you are the first Supreme Leader of the First Order.  There was never a previous holder of that position, my Lord.”  I know!  Right!?

The Resistance’s last ships have limped along the supply line to the long-abandoned old Rebel holdout on the silicate world of Crait.  The wreckage of Snoke’s flagship the Supremacy, hangs in space, permanently suspended in the wake of the Holdo manoeuvre.  From the epicentre, a single pinprick of darkness begins to expand hungrily to devour the light from the hyperspace explosion.  The great wound left in the Force crawls across the destroyed vessel, the thinnest tendril of its immense darker-than-space form now separated from Kylo Ren.  Or, so it would seem, anyway...  Reunited with Rey, Luke gives her an understanding nod when she informs him of how the lightsabre of his father was literally ripped in half by the destruction of Snoke’s flagship.  Some of the elder members of the Resistance don’t have the slightest clue what Rey’s mysterious words mean.  As far as they know, Kylo Ren has been the brutal enforcer of the First Order, only recently declaring himself the first Supreme Leader of the faction.  Finn and Rose both speak up in defense of Rey, both of them surprised to hear that Leia also knew of Snoke’s death and the destruction of the flagship by her erstwhile friend, Amilyn Holdo.

Nobody can agree what happened, because a large subset of Resistance personnel share vague, half-formed memories of things as Luke, Rey or Leia tells them.  No droids, or Chewbacca, share their recollections, and uneasy looks pass between members of the post-war generation and the Skywalker twins.   It’s a quirk of the Force!  Every sentient born after the death of Emperor Palpatine, the unfortunately waylaid Maz Kanata informs them via hologram, possesses a significantly higher potential for Force abilities than the generation who grew up on the fringes of the rise of the Empire, the clamp-down on Jedi and suspected Jedi.

It would seem that this Force baby boom did not extend to First Order space (being mostly disaffected ex-Imperials, their families would be more careful to weed out any aberrations in the bloodline and try not to be of interest to the Emperor) as only Kylo Ren, their rightful Supreme Leader and master of the Knights of Ren demonstrates any ability to touch the Force.  That voice that only he can hear in the presence of Darth Vader’s ruined helmet tells him, its tone and pitch and cadence shifting (starting as the booming bass rumble of Vader’s synthesized voice before being joined by the harsh rasp of Snoke.  The low, menacing tone of Maul and the cackling, wheezing Palpatine.)  Power is the only thing worth holding onto.  Let the past die, kill it if you have to.   Cut out the weakness that keeps you bound to things like family...

“This is not going to go the way you think.”

Driven on by the maddening chorus of voices, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren has now managed to track his hated Resistance opposition to the deserted world of Crait.  Ships entering the vicinity of the mysterious hyperspace blackout are slowly consumed, vanishing into the great wound and becoming officially non-existent.  Alone against his crazed nephew, the Jedi Master Luke Skywalker steps out onto the crystalline plain before the bulkhead doors of the former Rebel base.  He cannot be hit by the guns of the lumbering walkers that his errant nephew orders to fire on him.  Kylo’s attempts to telekinetically barrage Luke with the salted earth of Crait simply do not phase the man.  As he calmly reminds Kylo: “The Rebellion is reborn today. The war is just beginning. And I will not be the last Jedi.” Kylo Ren’s dangerously unstable lightsabre blade harmlessly passes over Luke as he ducks out of its reach.  Finally, the angry young man seizes his moment and lashes out at Luke’s midsection.  Nothing?

The Jedi Master nods his head slowly, the camera pulling back to reveal him sat in a meditative posture atop a flat-headed rock just off the shore of his home island on Ahch-To.  Focusing his will through the Force, Luke appears not only in front of Kylo Ren, but also between Leia and Rey inside the base.  The two of them in turn are surrounded by a loose semi-circle of the younger, more Force-sensitive recruits of the Resistance including Finn and Rose Tico.  All of them, opening their conscious selves to the Force, are helping to shoulder the burden that Luke has taken on.  Proudly, Luke slowly rises from his seat and sends a mocking salute to Kylo.  “See ya ‘round, kid...”

The last supplies are loaded onto what few Resistance carriers and short-range fighters they have left, as well as the famous Millennium Falcon. Rey and Grogu both agree that their first priority is to properly re-establish contact with Luke Skywalker.  Furious, Kylo retreats to his ship-board meditation chamber, pounding his gloved fists into the ashes surrounding the remnants of Vader’s helmet.  Cursing the scavenger girl seems to spark some interest in the bizarre otherworldly whispers, the flash-image of Rey in the dark young man’s thoughts prompting the inner voice to remark, “We shall be re-united soon enough.  Yes, you will see what new powers I possess in time, sister...”

SMASH TO END CREDITS!

[shesawriter39049]

|FAMILY TIES| M| MAFIA AU| 5

SMUT/ ANGST

FT- A lil Joon, Seok, and Yoongi 

2K SNEAK PEEK….(SHIT’S A LITTLE DARK, BUT ALSO KINDA FLUFFY)

AU SUMMARY:  A powerful alliance made up of  4 families spanning over a decade, is suddenly turned on its head when one family has a new leader after an unexpected death. Well, let’s just say he’s not down to follow the somewhat civilized rules your families have enforced. Sooo now, it’s game on…

Yall are all wanna wrap Tae in a blanket after this....

WARNINGS- For the sneak peek just no it’s a little heavy, mentions of death, overdosing, hella emotions, religion is briefly mentioned for all of one sentence! OH  there’s also a hint of fluff 

AUTHORS NOTE-I've decided part 5 will be done in 2 parts because as I’ve mentioned that’s the bridge chapter before everything kinda hits the fan! There's actually another character death planned for part 6 and yes it’s one of the boys. P1...will be around 8k and P2 will be around 6...I’m separating them because there's a lot of info and I don’t want to overload you all in one and you guys get lost! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ENDING ON PART 4 -

One thing leads to another and you found yourselves talking for a good 40 minutes or so, which wasn’t too surprising…considering all you had to debrief within the past 15 hours! Ultimately deciding to bring Henry back with you on the jet, Tae would start trying to slowly detox Henry while on this 15-hour flight. He’s done it before…he can do it again…

This time all four of you walked into the house…still dark, the stench seeming even stronger now, instantly picking up on the running water in the bathroom.

“Henry!!” Taehyung called out as he walked towards the door “Cho!!” Voice a little louder this time as he banged on the door.

Nothing, the four of you glared over at each other, as Tae pressed his ear to the door. “Henry, man open the fucking door before I beak this bitch down! We don’t have time for this shit!”

Nothing, nothing but the sound of running water rattling against the porcelain tub….

 Ramming his shoulder against the door, a  low growl ripping from his chest at every blow, after the third time the flimsy piece of wood ripped from the hinges!

The steam from the shower came pouring flooding into the hallway……The handle still in Taehyung’s hand, as it swung backward, feeling jerk back into his hold. Almost as if something was hindering it from fully swinging flush against the wall…That’s when his eyes dropped to the floor…

Part 5......

“HOLY FUCK!” It seemed to be the phrase of choice as it spilled from numerous lips… as you all fanned the smoke out of the room so you could see a little better! Frantically, Yoongi dropped down to his knees first, snatching the needle from Henry's arm tossing it into the tub, not that it mattered you all knew, and the realization was nauseating! This damn sure wasn’t your first dead body, and unfortunately not your first OD either...he was gone..long before you lot even strolled in there. Hoseok's body slumped against the back of the cracked up bathtub, feet crowning the top of Henry's head as he gazed down at him. Eyes and heart heavy, a string of words whispered low under his breath, and it took you a second to realize he was speaking in Korean. Hoseok may have actually even been praying over Henry’s body, I know, I know, in this line of work it may sound comical to some that there are members within the alliance that have some sort of faith...but some do! 

Taehyung was dead silent, he didn't have a choice, feeling as though someone had cut off every artery to his heart, completely light-headed and the smoke wasn’t helping. Well aware that if he didn't leave he’d possibly pass out, his body did not understand how to process what he was currently feeling. Everything just fucking hurt...physically hurt, it literally felt like he was the one who just shot up and every vein in his body was on fire! What made it even worse, is Taehyung's eyes accidentally graced Henry’s...and for the first time in months, he looked like Henry. Like the man Tae met four years ago that swore on his life that if they didn't kill him, he would get clean, stay clean...do whatever they needed him to do to show his gratitude. Being able to look at Henry and connect on that level should’ve almost been peaceful for Taehyung. The fact that he could see the innocence in his eyes again, as opposed to all the hurt, pain, and hell just dope! But it wasn't it fucking sucked because there wans’t any “innocence” there was no emotion Henry's dead, he’s actually fucking dead! It’s somewhat haunting to think that Taehyung came here with that on his heart, he came here to do what he did not allow himself to months ago. Yet when all the anger subsided all he could feel was hurt, and even thorough Henry’s cloudy tweaked out haze, he still couldn't do that to him. Yet at the end of the day..his body is STILL laying along the tile, cold, lifeless, to be fair Taehyung, would probably sleep better at night if he was the reason Henry sat lied this floor. The Idea that Lau did this to himself just feels like a ragged blade, continuously kneading at his skin. 

The thing that trumped every other emotion, the thing that actually made Tae sick to his stomach, was the fact that he wasn’t even aware if Henry knew why this hurt so much! If he truly knew how much he meant to Taehyung, how rare it is for him to care about some enough to spare there life not only once..but twice! 

He should be angry yet all he feels is fucking guilt, yeah, he’s the one that feels guilty right now, and all he wants to do is break every single thing around him! 

Clearly, he’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn't, he keeps his feelings to himself because he worries everyone's going to despair. Yet he never told one of his friends how much he meant to him and he’s gone anyway so what the fucks the point!? Why has he been working so hard to guard every centimeter of his heart if, in reality, everyone has the same ending regardless!?  Wordlessly Tae stumbled his way out of the bathroom..everything about it just felt suffocating!

Your eyes were burning to the tenth degree as you tried your damndest not to cry, yeah you’d seen a shit ton of dead bodies, caused more than you could count...But when it’s someone from within the “Family” no matter how the scenario pans out shit just hits different. Reallll different..not even realizing you’d crouched down next to Namjoon..who had his arms tightly wound around your waist, both cursing and grieving for Henry all at the same time.

“Guys he’s...” Croaked from his throat and with a slow almost disgusted shake of the head Yoongi cut himself off mid-sentence, there was no need to say it out loud at this point. Leaning down to gently brush the pads of his overs over Henry's lids so they could actually close...maybe have him look like he was peacefully sleeping!

“GODDAMMIT LAU!!” Ripped through Mazda’s chest and felt as though it echoed throughout the entire house as he slammed is fist into the glass mirror. No one even budged upon hearing it start to shatter, your entire body tensed at the impact. Almost as if you were the one who did it yourself, probably because you really fucking wanted too as you subconsciously dug your own nails into your thigh.  Mazda was relatively quiet, always smiling and cracking jokes...much like Taehyung he was never one to yell, seeing him like this was a rarity and it broke your heart. 

Chest heaving painfully hard as he plopped down on the floor, bloop dripping onto his jeans as he sat cramped in the tiny corner, the space far too small to hold all of you. His anger was communivate, that release of pain, aggression, brokenness, it wasn’t for him. It was for his boss, best friend, the man he’s protected since they were in high school …..the man he knew was hurting whether he chose to show it or not!

That’s when it hit you that he wasn’t in the room, his silence was almost stiffening at this point as you broke away from Namjoon and scrambled off the floor. “Tae!!?”  There weren't many places he could be in his box of a house, still trying to be cautious as you maneuvered through the many bags of trash, pieces of glass,and discarded needles. The lack of response had your heart pounding into your throat at this point “Tae!!?? Taehyung!!?” The sense of panic within your voice was more than evident..you hated when he went into shut down mode like this, it scared the living hell out of you! 

The minute your feet landed on the porch and the crisp air hit your nose you almost felt as though you wanted to throw up for some reason. It suddenly hit you how light-headed you were, resting your weight against the deteriorated wood beam. Every inch of your body just felt hot and sticky, it was almost like you could feel Henry on your skin right now, and you just wanted to claw it all off. Suddenly your body just felt almost foreign to you, as if it wasn’t even yours, your first instinct was shoving off your coat! Literally tossing the piece of colored fur into the nearest bush, hoping that would give you some relief, it was probably 20 degrees outside yet you were damn near sweating! Shaky legs wobbled down the steps...slowly moving to the side of the house, “Tae!?” Silence, and you really hate silence.. “Fuckkkkk '' Hastily running your fingers through your hair, tugging slightly against your scalp..wanting the tension as you tried to wreck your brain! 

I mean he could only be so many places and now you were nervous because he’s impulsive and hot-headed and he’d be the type to just take off and walk with no clue where the hell; he was going!

Suddenly you had an idea, something you actually learned from his mother back when you guys were younger and he’d go into shut down mode like this! You slowly started walking towards the back of the house “ Tae-hyung ” This time it was softer as you put emphasise on the proper pronunciation of his name. Then you asked him where he was, and if he was okay, all in the same soft tenor. Only this time you found yourself oh so thankful that you’d picked up the language over the years! 

Opting for Korean since that is technically the first language he’s ever known so sometimes even when he’s not thinking he’ll respond on autopilot! Then,just as you were about to give up, he responded. Tentatively..and slightly hushed, it was clear he was further away than you thought… randomly you started asking him stuff. Nothing intense just random little questions so you could follow the sound of his voice and this man was damn near in the alleyway! 

Sitting in a low squat, you could already see even from a couple feet away that apparently his fist had ran into someone again. His long delicate hands were currently a bouquet of blue, red and purple. As he sat there wordlessly clenching his fist as hard as he could..wanting to amplify the pain that streamed through his veins. Aimlessly gazing straight ahead, as the wind swept through his hair, he actually looked extremely peaceful, almost like you were watching a piece of art. 

You didn't say anything as you approached him, just crouching down beside him, yet to your surprise, he actually made eye contact and fuck you wish he hadn't. You couldn't even read the expression that danced with those dark brown orbs of his...everything was just black! And what wasn’t was, completely bloodshot. Cheeks clearly tear-stained, nose red..yet he just looked empty, not sad, hurt, angry..just empty! 

Reaching up to tentatively stroke his cheek, his hand reaching yours before you could even make contract, not that you were surprised, those Kim reflexes are something else! What did have you surprised was how hard his hand was shaking once it met yours. Attempting to pull away, assuming he didn't want to be touched right now, only he tightened his grip once he felt your resistance. “Tae I-”

“I love you…”

HI, HI lol I know...I know….as I said this will be in 2 parts..I wanna actually finish the full thing before I post it though so that way I can post P2 a week or 2 later! But who knows..I have P1 more than halfway done I may just post that first and have Part 2 come when it comes...if you guys enjoyed and are excited show this some love and come lemme know!  I’m Tech on hiatus until sometimes in January but we shall see....

LOVE YOU GUYS AS ALWAYS,

ROCKI

[toxicxxmyth]

The Truth Untold; Sebastian Stan -> II

.Previously 

Summary:  Y/n Y/l/n, born and raised in south side Chicago. Now raising her five younger siblings, she’s not even sure if some of them are actually related to her. But she takes care of them nonetheless, as best as she can. While her drunk father continues to make their life harder. And her drug addicted mother comes bursting through the door once every to years. Its a chaotic life for a 23 year old, but she made it work. Until one day, the most notorious mob leaders of the country  shows up to do some business in the south side.

Au: Shameless!Au, Mob!Seb

Warning(s): Cussing, smut(fingering), violence, and tiny mention of domestic abuse.

Word Count: 5.9k

Authors Note: I said i wasn’t going to make a second part but here we are, 1 month later lmao.

@chims-kookies @superdrysuperfry

a doua întâlnire

Sebastian Stan; An enticing enigma.

As people come to learn—he comes and goes whenever he pleases—takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants. And no one says a word, too afraid to face him. God forbid anyone say a word. He’s a walking dynamite ready to explode. A man of his word, and many duties. The devil in sheep’s clothing. If you were to cross his path, you outa be afraid. His gaze was intense, cold, almost. But if you stared just a little longer, you’d see the lost hope and dreams swimming in his ocean blue eyes. It was impossible though, no one would dare look him in the eye, too afraid to stir the beast he contains. Women of the evening which his trusted cohorts would provide for him—they never cared enough to look deep into his eyes to notice. Not that he cares. Hell, he didn’t even know it himself. Too invested in his business—and his business only. If you’d do him wrong, no amount of praying will save you from him. Some would call him a sociopath, owning to the fact that he was completely deadpan when it comes to killing or torturing those who don’t follow his rules. He’s a drug lord. He cannot be contained. He vanishes at the forbidden hour — only returning when the aubade is at its highest peak.

He was toxic. Lethal. Everywhere he walked, a trail of pain and fear followed. One might say he feeds off it, he lives off it. He was a beautiful yet wicked soul nature spit out. A wise man who everyone knows not to mess with. He was astute, fatal and leery. A true nightmare.

So why did meeting you somehow made him feel something? Was it because of your troubled life? Nah, couldn’t be. He has met thousands of people with troubled lives and had no issue and making their situations worse.

Maybe it was because you didn’t throw yourself onto him like most females and males did. He was especially surprised at the fact that didn’t become responsive and enticed when he pulled his money out. Yeah, maybe it was that?

He almost felt like he knew you. What type of person you were. So he knew for a fact, that you wouldn’t keep the money he had sent to help you and your family. He sent some of his men to watch over you just in case something wrong happen, even though he knew you were capable of taking care of yourself. But finding him wasn’t easy. He just wanted to see at what extent you’d go just to tell him off. It was only a matter of time before you went after him.

“Has it been delivered?” Sebastian asked as he rose an eyebrow. Making the tattooed boy avert his eyes elsewhere. Anthony, his best man, couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

“Yes, Sir” The boy nodded, hands behind his back. Eyes everywhere but his.

“Good, now get out.” Sebastian groaned as he got up from his seat and walked over to his mini tray of alcoholic beverages. Watching as the younger male hurriedly left the room.

“You ain’t gotta be so harsh on the boy” Anthony couldn’t help but chuckle, accepting the drink Sebastian was offering him.

“I wasn’t being harsh” He scoffed, turning toward the spot where the boy had been.

I just think that you should go a little easy on your men” Anthony muttered while bringing the glass full of scotch to his lips, brows raised.

“That’ll only give em’ a reason to walk all over me. And I can’t have that. I’ll kill em all.” Sebastian defends his posture, his tone all too serious for Anthony’s liking.

Although Anthony was just as dangerous and powerful as Sebastian was, he was, to many peoples surprise, a pacifist. Which is almost impossible to be in a business so parlous. He just didn’t believe in violence, completely opposite from Sebastian himself.

“See now you’re just far fetching” He pointed a finger at the man, brow raised as he got up from his seat.

“So this girl? You paying child support?” He laughs. “I knew one of these days you were gonna knock up one of em hoes” (I am so sorry. Long live hoes. Be proud of your hoeness)

Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh at the comment, shaking his head as he sat on his wooden desk.

“Nah. Just a beautiful girl who needs a little push” He shrugged, eyes trained on his glass as if it were the most interesting thing in the whole room. He was just hoping he’d change the subject.

“Her name?” Anthony led on.

“Not important” Sebastian breathed out, eyes meeting his as he raised an eyebrow. Adjusting in his seat as he fixed his tie. Hoping he’d change the subject.

“Whatever” Anthony laughs. “Anyway, I gotta go. Have a meeting in half-hour”

Sebastian nods in understanding, glass pressed against his lips. Watching as his best friend leaves his temporary office.

After a few seconds of sitting there, skimming over the papers scattered over the desk. He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, shaking his head at the thoughts that consumed him. It was almost unbelievable how his thoughts could change from what his next deal was to how you’d be doing, and if you were safe.

He knew damn well that there were bad men at the club that night, he knew they were watching. And it worried him that they’d take it the wrong way, causing you to be in danger.

“Well it seems like you know everything about me, so why don’t you tell me about yourself. I bet it’s much more interesting than my shitty life” She chuckled, though I could barely hear it due to the irritating music that was being played throughout the club. It was adorable, actually. Before I could come up with a lame ass excuse for a profession, I noticed a couple of men in the vip area whispering to one another each other, their gaze firmly on her.

“It’s really crawdad in here, let’s go outside” I lied, wanting to get her out before something happens.

“No” She simply stated. Causing me to stop my movement, I was shocked. I let out a cough as I recomposed myself at the unexpected answer.

“This is how things work. I walk out with you, you tell me your oh so tragic childhood which causes me to pity you. Soon, once I’m under your spell, you chloroform me and a white van appears out of nowhere and I’ll be part of an illegal sex and drug trafficking ring” She gave me an innocent smile. There was no reasoning with her, so I moved closer as if to protect her.

“I’d actually be much more creative in kidnapping people”

“Y/n, it’s been a week. I can’t believe it’s taken you this fucking long to find one guy” Jeremy hisses as he passes back and forth in the kitchen, where you sat in one of the stools.

“It’s not easy, okay. This guy literally just disappeared in midair. It’s driving me crazy” You groan, elbows resting on the table as you ran your fingers through your hair in frustration.

It’s been exactly a week since you’ve received that money, and you were growing desperate everyday trying to find the mystery man who dropped it on your front door. By the fourth day you kind of gave up. Juggling three jobs and taking care of all your siblings was stressful enough, and playing Where’s Waldo was not how you decided to spend the rest of your days. So your only choose was to tell Camille about the whole situation. You put your faith in her, she was the closest thing to an FBI, and so you were certain she would find him.

“I hate to break it to you, but we’re going to have to use that money eventually” Your head shot up and the sound of your other brother, Cameron.

“What-“

“I told him” Jeremy sighs while leaning against the counter, one arm resting on his hip.

“We are not going to use that money.” You firmly say.

“Why not?” Cameron snickers in disbelief.

“We’re running out of food, there’s no water and I’m pretty sure Ethan is selling drugs. Jeremy’s tuition is up his ass and we just got an eviction notice. We have no other choice, Y/n” He finishes, his eyes sad.

“Give me some time and we’ll find a way to pay off everything.” You sigh sadly. He was right, this money could help with at least some problems you had. Before you could make another promise, your front door opened and shuts with a loud bang.

“I found that motherfucker” Walks in Camille with a piece of paper in her hand. Her brows raised and lips pursed.

“Him? As in, him, him?” I asked hopeful, brows raised as I got up immediately walking over to her.

“Yeah, but, I think we need to talk first about your...plan” She sighs, causing you to shake your head in confusion at her change in mood.

“What about it? I’m going to give it back, just like we talked.” You confirm, looking at her, then back at Jeremy and Cameron, confused.

“Yeah well, it won’t be as easy as we thought.” You could already tell she was hiding something.

“Why not?” You press on. Suddenly confused as to why her chocolate face turned pale, or her tongue pressed against her cheek as she looked down at the piece of paper still her hand.

“Well the guys you hooked up with happens to be Sebastian Stan.” She sassed, hands on her hips and a brow raised—a posture a mother only a mother would give at her disobedient child. Which made you feel slightly uncomfortable—but the confused laugh that ripped from your throat only caused her to stare harder. By the looks of the two males still in the kitchen—they seemed to know exactly who it was.

“So who the hell is he?” You sigh, throwing yourself on the couch, a head starting to form. You rest you elbows on your knees—staring blankly at the black tv.

“Only the most dangerous man in the whole damn country. Goddamn it Y/n, what the hell where you thinking?”

“I-I don’t know” You couldn’t help but stutter. You were disappointed in yourself, and you could tell that he was too. And there was no worse feeling than the feeling of letting your family down. You felt like a child being scolded. Their eyes piercing into your tensed frame. You could feel the disappointment in Jeremy’s eyes, the shock in Cameron’s, and the sympathy in Camille’s. It was overwhelming, you feel like you just committed the worst crime—or maybe you were just overthinking the whole situation —all of you were. All you had to do was give the money back.

“I’ll fix it” You closed your eyes while taking a deep breathe. “I’ll fix all of this” You confirmed, mostly to yourself. “Just tell me everything you know about the guy-“before you could finish your sentence, the phone in your pocket started to ring, startling you in the process.

“It’s a private number” You whispered once you took the phone out and read the ID caller. You looked at Camille—as if asking permission. But all she gave you was a shrug, brows furrowed in confusion. You took a deep breathe before answering in a rush.

“Hello?”

“I hope you put that money in good use” Came a deep raspy voice. Confusion filled your body, but your mind went back to that in the club—his soft lips against the shell of your ear as he whispered profanity’s in the dirty bathroom. You breathe hitches in your throat, eyes wide in shock.

“Who the hell is it!?” Hissed Cameron, clearly worried.

“What the hell do you want?” You spat as you recomposes yourself. Jeremy seemed to know exactly who it was due to his reaction. It’s like his whole body shut down as he ran his fingers through his hair letting out a breathy fuck.

“Whoa there dragă, not need to get so defensive” His calm voice only seemed to fuel you even more. “That’s no way to speak to the man who sent you very generous gift” He finishes, and you could almost see the smirk on his beautiful face.

“Oh so this is a privilege?” You scoffed. “Well guess what, dipshit, I don’t fucking want it, so both you come and get it or stop hiding behind *67 and tell me where you are. We don’t need your goddamn charity” You finished your rant, anger radiating off you at the nerve of this guy. You felt proud of yourself, but your confidence faded into thin air when you looked at the three people still in your living  room who’s faces where drained from color.

“Tsk tsk tsk. You really hate people trying to help, don’t you?”

“I’m not a damsel in distress needing saving, Sebastian”

“Fine, come find me. I’ve been itching to see you again, if I’m being honest.” It was pitiful of you, but you swear you just felt your heart skip a beat at his words.

“How do I do that” You spat, not letting the words affect you the way you knew he wanted them too.

“Looks like your friends got that covered” He says seriously while hanging the phone up.

“He’ll kill you” Jeremy says while shaking his head, walking toward the saris, Cameron following hesitantly behind him.

You sigh I defeat, like your whole body just shut down after the comment.

Here you are, fucking your family over once again.

“This is not a good idea, Y/n. In fact, this is a very, very bad idea.” Camille speaks, eyes focused on the road but you could clearly tell how worried she was by the way her forehead wrinkled as her brows furrowed in worry.

“God, I don’t need this right now. I would’ve brought Jeremy if I wanted a freaking lecture about my shitty choose in decision.” You sigh as run your clammy fingers through your hair.

“And all for what? Because he left you some money? Now that’s some bullshit right there.” She scoffs, obviously ignoring your obvious annoyance at another lecture.

“Yes, Camille. Because he left some money. I mean, who the fuck does he think he is? My knight and shining armor? No, fuck that. Him and his money.” You spat loudly, index finger pointing at the windshield as if he was right there. Noticing your best friend’s eyes softening, you immediately cooled off.

“This is very dangerous. Just, don’t let your temper get the best of you while you’re with him. IF you even get to see him.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.” You smiled softly, reaching out to grab the hand that was firmly gripping onto the steering wheel.

“Plus, he said he told his ‘men’ to escort me in or whatever” You chuckled as you shook your head at the silly thought. Completely missing the flash of worry crossing Camille’s eyes.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” You demanded bravely. The room was dim, you could barely see your surroundings other than the middle, where you were met directly with his back, his very sweaty back. The cries of pain that came from his front caused you to lose your composer, just slightly — enough for you to regain it before he noticed. Sebastian stopped his movement slowly turning around, seemingly confused at the sudden interruption. Blood covered sleeves rolled up to his elbows, knuckles bruised and a half unconscious body lying motionless on a broken chair, face so beaten you could hardly identify the person. Which is what Sebastian was going for.

You were aghast, to say the least. Your eyes winded in shock, gripping your cross body bag (where you kept the money) tightly, your body shaking slightly at what you were witnessing.

A smirked formed on his lips as he watched your frightening state. He was amused at your bravery, hearing you walk in like you owned the place. Cussing at every single man that tried to stop you from walking any further. Of course he knew none of them would hurt you because of his orders. But he liked it. Liked your fierceness. But seeing you shocked with terror made him go somewhat soft on the inside. Wanting to cover your eyes from the brutality that was in front of you as if you were a kid.

“Come, let’s talk outside so you don’t have to see any of this” He coughs out, motioning you to follow. Without question, you did. Not standing the sight of the poor man who laid half dead in a rusty chair, his pleads and cries of terror would surly leave a mark on you.

“Why’d you do that?” You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat roughly, almost sure he heard it. You fought hard against the tears that were threading to spell out, you hated to admit it, but under your tough girl act you were sensitive. And seeing an innocent man (to you at least) lay so helplessly made your head shatter.

“He stole from me” He shrugged. As if it was the most normal think ever. As if he does this once a freaking week, as if he was play miniature golf with his high school friends.

“And who the fuck are you? Pablo Escobar” You replied sarcastically, pulling yourself together, not wanting him to smell your fear. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head while stopping in front of a large door.

Well his laugh made him sound less intimidating. It almost made you forget the sight of him killing a person only seconds ago. Almost.

“Come on in. We’ll talk in here.” He gives an attempt at giving you a small smile, you appreciated it. But then you remembered why you were here in the first place. And whatever you were feeling at the moment was replaced with anger.

“What are you trying to do here, huh? Some charity work? You took pity on me and now you wanna be the good fucking guy and help out? No, fuck that and fuck you. I can handle my own shit and I don’t need a stranger coming to my rescue. I’ve done this my whole life alone and I’ve been fine, we’ve been fine. So you can politely fuck off.” You were out of breathe, you were angry, completely forgetting the fact that he was extremely dangerous. Menacing.

After a long pause, he spoke.

“Did my men treat you right? There wasn’t any hassle?” He furrowed his eyebrows. Clearly changing the subject.

“Don’t you fucking dare” You tilted your head to the side, finger pointing accusingly at him.

“I was just trying to do you a favor.” He sighs, hands up in surrender.

“Well I don’t need your favors. I don’t even know you. Just because you took a lucky guess on how shitty my life is doesn’t mean you know me either.” You went from pointing at the ceiling, to him and then to you. “So here’s your money back. I don’t want it” You spat, hands harshly opening your bag and pulling out the stacks of money. Your hair was all over you face, but you could tell his hands were crossed over his chest. Lips pursed in hilarity.

“Don’t do that.” He sighs as he lays his enormous hands on the stack of money that was placed next to him on his desk, reviewing it. After a few seconds he looks at you, eyes squinting as if he was trying to memorize every detail. He then proceeded to walk toward you slowly, as if taking his time. It made you feel small.

You looked at the ground, once again, swallowing the lump in your throat as you felt his body heat on yours. You were faced to face with his chest, refusing to look up. His breath dancing over your forehead. And it took everything in you not to lean in, even though he wasn’t touching you.

Then you dared speak.

“Where you even telling the truth?” You whispered, the words barely audible. But by the way his breathed hitched in his throat, you knew he heard.

“What do you mean?” He gritted his teeth, staring at you dead in the eyes as pulled away from you, making you whine at the loss of heat. But he didn’t notice, lucky for you. He crossed his arms over his chest. You didn’t even think about your next words, or the consequences that would follow—but you didn’t dare hesitate.

“The night in the club. Your mother. Was she really sick? Or was that some bullshit excuse. Did your dad really leave you and your mother to die? Or was that also part of the plan. Fuck, is your name even Sebastian?” You snickered. Even though the situation was far from funny. The disbelief of the situation you had gotten yourself into was so unbelievable that you couldn’t help it when the noise escaped past your lips. And just like that, he was red. You could practically see the smoke coming from his ears as his eyes changed from a light blue mischief to a dark blue hatred.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” He yelled, letting his temper got the best of him. You jumped back in surprise, not expecting the outburst at all, but you knew it would happen. “I never lied to you, Y/n. I’d never joke about my mother’s sickness just for a fun story. My father did leave us, he left us for dead. And he paid for it. Just like every single person that was with him.” His breathe was uneven, he clearly had more to say—he was struggling to keep calm and you didn’t know why.

“What did you do, Sebastian? You killed him? Huh, is that was you did? Is that how you solve all your messes?” You raised your voice—edging him on. His outburst caused your own anger to bubble up in you.

“Yes. I fucking killed him, is that what you want to fucking hear, Y/n? I’m a fucking killer, a murderer. I sell drugs and guns. I’m a fucking drug lord. It’s what I fucking do. Don’t you get that?” His face was red due to all the movement he was causing and yelling, the vein on his neck prominent. You finally caught a glimpse of his belt. You froze in fear as you saw the gun that was tucked neatly under his leather belt. All the possibilities of you being killed ran through you mind and the fact that he was confessing to his crimes made it worse. “I kill people, I’ll kill anyone who stands in my fucking way.” His eyes where dark, intimidating. He confessed his dues even though you were already aware. But you didn’t get the answer you quite wanted. You were stepping on dangerous grounds, but you chose to ignore the gun that was tucked away in his belt, in a position where he could swiftly grab it and shoot you dead before you could even scream. But you continued, because you were just like that.

“How’d you kill him?” You spoke softly. His eyes immediately lit up as a sinister smile crept on his lips. And he spoke slowly, as if taking his time in remembering each detail.

“I chopped off each of his limbs off one by one as he watched in horror, not being able to do anything other than scream in agony. Started with his hands, cut off each finger before cutting his whole hand off. He didn't deserve them anyway.” He shrugged as if it was nothing. But it made your skin crawl. “I’d watch him beat my mother countless times, and I was unable to do anything; to defend her. But when I knew the power I had, I did something. Something I dreamt of doing for years. Then, I chopped off his feet. And you know what I did next? I ripped his fucking heart out while he was barely conscious. And I don’t regret a single thing.” He smirks while shaking his head, sinful tongue poking out just slightly out of his now dry mouth. His once perfect hair messed up by all the times his ran his dried bloody hands through it. Face red and sweaty as he calmed down from his outburst. Your brows were furrowed—fist clench tightly as you looked up at him. You somehow knew he was missing details.

Before he could even think of speaking (only adding to you infuriated mood) you jumped on him, legs poorly wrapped around his waist, arms holding onto his broad shoulder and lips smashing into his. Surprisingly, he did not hesitate to kiss you back just as aggressively. You couldn’t help but moan at the taste of his mouth. All you could taste was alcohol, weed and a hint of mint. Normally you’d be repulsed by this, but all you could think about was how amazing his lips felt on yours, how amazing his tasted in your tongue.

You could feel his smirk against your wet lips—and just for a second did you realize what you were doing—how desperate you must look right now. His smirk against your mouth infuriated you, causing you to bite his bottom lip harshly with a moan—causing him to growl animalistic. And god you could come right then and there. Small drops of blood seeping out of the cut your teeth made only made him look even more ravishing. Your tongue darts passed your lips as you took a slow lick over the wound, collecting the little blood that was shown—and wince coming out of him.

The heat in your core intensifying. Your short spell on him quickly vanished as soon as his rough and bloody hands went up to grab your ass giving it a tight squeeze. The moan that slipped out of your mouth only seemed to fuel him. Cautiously, he walked both of you toward his desk, careful not to break the kiss—and careful not make both of you fall. Your lips trailed desperately along his stubbled cheek, sharp jawline and neck, immediately licking a stripe up the vein that was popping out. His eyes closed momentarily, swallowing harshly as he relishes the feeling of your warm, wet mouth worshiping his neck.

Lazily, he cleared the area while dropping you on top. Wasting no time in taking your jeans off—buttons barely off, you were certain he broke them, but his face buried between your breast wouldn’t allow you to think. Once your pants where off, he forcefully opened your legs, causing a loud moan to slip past your lips as you felt your legs stretch deliciously. You could feel him chuckle against your cheek, a hand coming up to squeeze your chin between his finger, while the other didn’t hesitate to harshly slip under your underwear.

Wasting no time in separating your lips with his index and pinky finger to have a better angle to use his middle and ring finger and rubbing your clit harshly. Letting out small whimpers as you desperately bucked your hips into his hand. He moaned as he felt your warm pussy pulsing into his hand. It was heavenly, never had a man been so rough with you, and the fact that this wasn’t just a random man, but a feared mob boss. His dick was hard, fighting against hid dress pants, it was thick, extremely. The mere thought of having it in your mouth made your mouth water and your pussy wetter. This whole situation was dangerous. The hand of killer as buried deep in your underwear and all you could think about was sucking his dick.

“Fuck baby, you’re getting wetter by the second” He groans as dips his middle and ring finger down to your slit, collecting the juices that shameless fell out of you—only to bring his wet fingers back up to your clit, making it easier for him to rub. You couldn’t help but laugh at his words.

“God, i wanna suck your dick so bad” You let the pornographic moan out, causing him to let out a growl—then a snicker. Your face was red in embarrassment at the sudden confession, but you didn’t give a fuck at this point. The hand that was still tightly wrapped around your chin, forcefully pulled you into a kiss. Teeth clashing against each other, tongues exploring each other mouths. It wasn’t even a kiss due to how desperate it was. It was an erotic scene.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll be sure to put this sassy mouth to good use” He smirked. And if it weren't for your immense attraction to him, and in the current position you were in. You probably would've slapped him. But his words were nothing but hot and provocative.

And in just minutes, you felt your orgasm approaching, just by his fingers. Pathetic. You knew he could sense it just by the way your clit kept pulsing on his fingers.

“Oh, is my baby gonna cum already. Just by my fingers.” He whispered while licking your parted lips. A cockily look on his sweaty face. All you could do was nod pathetically as your head rolled back, brows knitted together and eyes shut tightly.

“Open your fucking eyes.” He growls as he hands harshly grabs your chin once again. This only caused an even louder moan to come from you. It made you 10 time horny at how rough he was being.

“I’m-i th-im about to cum-“ You whined rather loudly, hands that were once gripping his wooden desk reached up to his clothes shoulders, gripping at them desperately. And you felt it, your climax just around the corner. But before your orgasm could wash over you, a loud, obnoxious knock sounded throughout the whole office. His fingers immediately stilled on your beating clit, causing you to lean forward with a cry.

“No!” You couldn’t help but whine. You could feel how tensed and angry Sebastian was at the sudden interruption.

“Come in!” He shouted—making your eyes go wide in shock, and mouth agape. Especially since his hands was still inside your underwear. You tried to move away from him but he held you still, fingers still roughly placed on your sensitive clit.

“Sir we-“The built man stopped abruptly in his track, eyes wide at the sight. Sebastian only turned lightly to get a good look at his face, his face was unreadable, completely emotionless, making the man squirm under his gaze.

You could only imagine what you looked like. Sweaty, hair stuck to your face with euphoric yet embarrassed features. You wrapped your arms around Sebastian’s neck, burying your head in his neck at an attempt to cover yourself from the man. You could feel his smile as he kissed the top of your head. You would’ve thought it was a sweet gesture if his hand wasn’t buried in your underwear. In front of another dangerous man.

“Yes?” Sebastian asked—clearly irritated by the sudden interruption and the lack of information he was giving.

“Um—the-the crates, they’re here, sir” The man coughs, eye everywhere except Sebastian’s eyes, afraid he’d piss him off. And eyes definitely not on you. Knowing the consequences if ever looked at his girl.

“I’ll be right out.” Sebastian says irritably, making the buff man leave quickly.

With a sigh, he softly took his hands out, making you whimper at the loss of contact. His hands were wrinkled due to your juice, but with the cool air, they began to dry. That didn’t stop him from sucking on them as if it were frosty on a cake. You bit your lips at the sight.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t finish you off properly, dragă.” He says sadly. You couldn’t lie, you were disappointed yourself.

“But if you give me a chance, I’d love to take you out to dinner. Then I can fuck you like you deserve.” He ran his tongue across his bruised lip. You couldn’t help but blush at how explicit he was, even when trying to be romantic.

“Hmm. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it” You shrugged—smiling innocently at him as you hop off his desk. The wetness in your core started drying up, making it uncomfortable to even stand. Sebastian smirked as he nodded his head, leaning against the same spot you were sat on as he watched you pull your pants back up.

“I’m not an easy man to contact, how will I know your answer?” He bit his lips.

“You obviously know where I live and have my number” You teased. Walking back up to him and pulling him down boldly for a much more passionate and slow kiss, completely different from the ones you had moments ago. It felt nice—having his warm lips against yours. One hand draped lazily around your waist while your arm was draped lazily around his neck.

“I’ll see you around.” You whispered breathlessly while slowly dragging your hands from his neck, down to his chest as if to pull him away. Your foreheads still touching, lips caught between your lips. He was so intoxicating, it almost made your head throb. None of you finding the strength to pull away from each other. Weirdly enough, you felt safe in his arms, warm and it just felt right.

“I have to go” You whispered; nodding mostly to yourself — reminding yourself.

“Okay, baby” He nods, yet made no effort in pulling away. So you mustered up all the strength you had in your drained body and pulled away, his hands reaching for yours as he gave you one last kiss. Letting it linger around. And cue the butterflies. You felt like little school girl when her crush finally notices her. But you didn’t care at all.

“I’ll be waiting for that response” He hollers, arms crossed over his chest. Yet again, that infamous smudge look took place on his beautiful face.

“You just have to be patient, Stan” You winked as, not sparing him another glance as you walked out, immediately being met by one of his many bodyguards to escort you out. But not before Sebastian have them a murderous look.

Once out, you ran straight toward the abandoned warehouse where you had left Camille parched just in case something happened. Ready to tell her everything that had happened. The thought of him being a mafia leader far from forgotten.

“You just have to be patient, Stan” You winked as, not sparing him another glance as you walked out, immediately being met by one of his many bodyguards to escort you out. But not before Sebastian gave them a murderous look.

Once out, you ran straight toward the abandoned warehouse where you had left Camille parched just in case something happened. Ready to tell her everything that had happened. The thought of him being a mafia leader long forgotten.

“Hey, Vince” Sebastian calls, phone pressed tightly on the phone, one hand crossed under the arm that held the phone.

“I need you to keep an eye out on Y/n Y/l/n, 24/7. Her and her whole entire family. No- I don’t fucking care. Yes, even the fucking cashier at her local supermarket. Just keep an eye on her. Yeah, she knows too much, we can’t risk it.” He sighs, staring at the spot where you once stood.

[evalinkatrineberg]

Unexpected

A/N: Yet another RP with @arin-schreave :)

Life had gone back to normal for the most part since I had left Clemence’s room four nights ago. I had settled back into my routine as if nothing had happened. Wake up early, run, shower, breakfast, read, lunch, study, dinner, relax - wash, rinse, repeat. The monotony of it all was kind of comforting. It wasn’t that I hadn’t enjoyed the ever-changing atmosphere of the palace at all since getting here, but there was a familiarity about having time to myself, to get done what I needed to do. To think.

I had a good bit of thinking to do, and yet, here I was, procrastinating on thinking by working on some summer readings for my fall classes. I had gotten the go-ahead from all of the professors of the classes I had planned on taking to complete their classes online for as long as I was away. The only issue that had arisen was the laboratory portion of my biochemistry class, but the professor had informed me that she was going to reach out to Proctor and see if she could get the lab work I had done under Proctor’s supervision to count for the lab work I was missing out on while I was here. I had thanked my professor profusely for offering to do so, though I didn’t have high hopes that she would succeed. I hadn’t spoken to Proctor since leaving, hadn’t even heard her name since my last phone call with Lukas, but from what I had gathered, she was still rather unhappy with my decision to come here, as well as my decision not to assist her in reaching her non-academic pursuits.

That was one of the things I was trying not to think about. The other was the proposal that each of the Selected were going to have to submit by the end of the week. I had a topic, thanks to my conversations with Itzel and Safiya in the gardens not too long ago, but I wasn’t content with the feasibility of my proposed plan yet. I would’ve felt more comfortable if I could somehow have gotten access to the royal budget, just to see the numbers, but there was no way that was happening. It was for good reason, but at the same time, it was a mild inconvenience. I didn’t want to look like a fool if there weren’t nearly enough funds for my proposal. There was also the fact that I wasn’t sure my proposal was nearly as impactful as it could be. Again, having access to official numbers would have helped me to conceptualize it a bit, but I’d have to go without, I was afraid.

I put down the black pen I had been using, switching to an indigo color to signify a different carboxyl group in my notes as the next song started to play through my earbuds. The light, airy tones of a violin floated through my ears as I finished writing, looking down at the page in front of me. I took great pride in my notes. They were like an art form for me - a way to express myself and organize my thoughts on one neat, lined sheet of paper. My siblings had always joked that I could sell my notes for money, and maybe they had a point - the extra money would also certainly help fuel my caffeine addiction, I was sure - but I didn’t plan on ever following through with it. They were my notes, after all. I was the one who had put in the time and effort. Yet, it was nice to know that other people saw and appreciated that.

I smiled down at my notebook, satisfied at the quality of my work so far today, before sitting up and twisting in my chair, cracking my back. Only fifteen more pages to go by the end of the week! Done with stretching, I reached over for my water bottle, finally looking at the library around me as I took a sip. It was empty, for the most part. The majority of the people living here must have decided to take advantage of the nice weather and spend some time outside. I couldn’t blame them, but I had work to get done, and the peace and quiet was a welcome change.

My eyes narrowed as I looked to my right. I wasn’t alone, after all. There was Arin, emerging from the stacks with a book in hand. His footsteps were light - almost silent - as he walked towards the door, like he didn’t want to be seen.

I frowned. Would it be worth it to say anything? What good would come of it? If he didn’t want to be bothered, me saying anything would likely just put him in a bad mood, and yet, that possibility in and of itself sounded kind of entertaining to me. He had made it pretty clear when we had last spoken that he didn’t want us Selected girls here, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy myself while I was here.

I took out one earbud, intent on keeping my voice quiet, as we were in a library, after all. “Hello.”

His shoulders tensed up at the sound of my voice, despite my low volume. Did he think someone was going to attack him in the library, or something? Why would a potential attacker even greet him to begin with? Any good assassin would stab first and ask questions later, in my opinion. It only seemed rational.

His shoulders fell as he looked over his shoulder and caught sight of me. “Hi, Evalin.”

His startled expression set me laughing for a brief moment. I’d never seen him caught off guard like this, even when I had literally collided with him in the hallway. It was kind of refreshing, actually - like it made him more human, somehow.

Composing myself once again, I paused my music and took out my remaining earbud, gesturing with my free hand towards the book he was holding. “Doing some light reading?”

He paused for a moment, sizing me up with his eyes, as if he was debating whether or not to respond. I had to admit, that stung a little bit. After a few seconds, though, he lifted the book he was holding, waving it through the air in a small motion. “A bit.”

“Anything in particular?” I put one of my pens in the spine of my textbook, which was sitting open on the table, to mark the page. I could come back to biochemistry later, I supposed. Turning to face him, I swung my legs towards the side of my chair, crossing my left leg over my right.

He hesitated for a second, but then took a few steps towards me. Why was he acting so cautiously? Is he afraid of me? The thought almost had me laughing again, but maybe I was on to something. I could understand if he might think that I was upset over what he had disclosed to me in the hallway when we had last seen each other.

That was one of the other things I had been trying not to think about.

“Systems of Necessary Authority and Power by Ian Mondeli,” he answered, glancing down at the book in his hands.

“Ah, I see,” I replied, nodding slowly and pursing my lips. The name of the book was familiar, though I was certain I had never read it. It sounded like something off of the syllabus of a political science course, but I had never taken one, so I didn’t know for certain. Sure, we had to take two social science classes as a general education requirement at my university, but I had elected to fulfill that requirement with history courses. History was almost straight memorization, which I could do well. Plus, it was more interesting to me than most other social sciences, and didn’t encourage the same level of introspection as a course like psychology.

Still, maybe I could use this as a talking point. I had been telling the truth when I had told Arin that I would like to get to know him better. “Are you a fan of nonfiction, then?”

He nodded slowly, taking a few more steps towards the table. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Me too,” I responded with a sheepish smile. I enjoyed some fiction, sure, but even as a kid, I would beg my father to buy me books about topics such as dinosaurs or marine animals, instead of just reading one of the many fiction novels my siblings had offered me. Political science was quite different from dinosaurs, though, I mused as I glanced back at my notebook for a moment. Maybe he did have an interest in other topics, though. The only way to find out was to ask. “Though I assume you tend to stick to the social sciences?” I looked up at him, inclining my head slightly to the right, bracing my right arm on the back of my wooden chair.

“It depends. It’s good to know about different subjects.” He set the book on the table, taking care to make sure that it didn’t make any noise, and that the edge of the book was perfectly lined with up with the edge of the table. It was oddly particular. So he likes things done a certain way, then. Maybe.

The fact that he had other interests outside of political science and its related fields shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did. He was human, after all. It was only natural for him to have a wide variety of interests and hobbies. However, every time I had inquired as to what his other interests might be, he had brushed me off. I hummed thoughtfully, looking at the book and wondering if this might be my chance to finally get to know something more about what he was interested in. I turned my gaze upwards, meeting his eyes once again. “Such as?”

He shrugged. “Anything. Everything.”

Okay, so, my mission had been unsuccessful after all.

I rolled my eyes at his non-answer, still smiling at him, though. Maybe a joke would work, then. “Mm, somehow, I have a hard time picturing you reading about math.” I picked up one of my other pens, tapping it lightly against my chin as I attempted to imagine him reading Fermat’s Last Theorem. The mental image fizzled out before it ever focused, though, like even my subconscious knew there was no way it would happen.  

“Well, it’s a graduation requirement at all schools, so…” he trailed off, rocking back and forth on his heels.

So he actually did his assigned readings, then. I raised my eyebrows at him, before I realized that him doing the readings for classes made a good deal of sense, assuming he did actually enjoy reading nonfiction. Course syllabi must be like a free list of book recommendations to him, then.

“True, but most math classes tend to focus on problem solving instead of theory. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course! It’s a useful skill.” And problem sets are more fun than memorizing theories, anyway. My eyes were drawn once again to the book he had set down on the table, and my curiosity got the better of me. “Dare I ask what that’s about?”

He hesitated once again, looking down at the book as he answered. “It’s about the caste system.”

Ah, so maybe that was why he hadn’t wanted to be seen then. What was he doing reading about the caste system, anyway? Proctor’s parting comments to me nagged at the back of my mind, but I tried my best to mute them, raising my eyebrows a bit at him. “Oh, neat!”

I probably sounded way too intrigued for my own good. I was tempted to explain myself, but I nixed the idea, deciding it was better to stay quiet. How many times had my mouth gotten me into awkward conversations since I had been here? I had lost count.

He didn’t seem to notice or care, though, simply nodding as he shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing over at my books. “What are you reading?”

Ah, that. I laughed once lightly, my head angled down as my eyes peered upwards at him. “My biochem textbook.” God, it sounded so lame. Who read textbooks - besides me, apparently? “Pretty dry content, I’m afraid.” I bit my lip, more curious as to why he was reading out the caste system than I was willing to explain glycolysis to him. My own curiosity began to mingle with Proctor’s words in my mind, but still I kept my mouth shut. It was too dangerous of a topic. I shouldn’t.

“Ah, well, you’ve got me there.” He nodded again, a slight frown forming on his face as he continued to look at the textbook.

I nodded once. I couldn’t take the awkwardness of this conversation anymore. If it was going to be tense, I might was well make sure my own yearning to know more was satisfied, for the sake of me being able to sleep at night without the questions lingering in my mind. I gestured towards his book, asking, “So, what made you choose that book in particular?” An innocent question. Nothing more. Nothing treasonous about it. Yet, I could feel my heartbeat picking up.

His gaze shifted from my book to his as he considered my question for a moment. “The author has some very interesting opinions - but I’ve read it already.”

“Interesting,” I mumbled under my breath, furrowing my brows as I studied the cover of the book again, making a mental note to look into reading it at some point. It looked pretty innocuous - plain cover, typical fancy lettering - and yet the book seemed to give off a sinister air. I had to be imagining it.

I looked back up at him again, smiling. “It’s nice to re-read books sometimes - to look at them again with a different perspective.”

“Yeah, it can be,” he answered with a nod, watching me for a moment before looking away.

Don’t think I didn’t notice that, Arin.

I followed his gaze, narrowing my eyes slightly as I turned my head. I had been expecting to see someone else coming our way, or at the very least, something of interest, but the library appeared to be empty, besides the two of us. What was he looking at then?

I felt his stare on me once again, and looked back at him in time to see him blink once. Right, it’s my turn to speak. “So,” I began in a ploy to buy myself some time to think of something to say, of what direction to take this conversation in. Clearing my throat, I considered my options. The caste system or biochem appeared to be my only two choices, judging off of what was on the table. Biochem was familiar to me. I didn’t need to hear his opinion on that. I brushed my hand over my notebook and looked back up at him, my mind made up. What was life without a little risk, anyway?

Less stressful.

“Do you ever wonder why the caste system formed in Illea, but not in other countries?” Was this too far? No, calm down! I looked down and shook my head, as if I could knock my fear right out of my brain. It was clearly something he was interested in, which should make it fair game. “I mean, maybe it’s only crossed my mind because my grandparents are from Swendway, and they’ve never really understood it, but…” I trailed off, unsure of where I had even planned on going with this.

He sighed, and immediately something in my chest fell. Maybe he hadn’t been that interested in it after all. However, he then came around to the edge of the table, leaning back on it as if he wanted to take a seat without fully sitting down. Looking down at me, he stated, “It’s a complicated issue.”

“Right.” Was he talking down to me? Bold of him to assume that I was incapable of wrapping my head around anything that wasn’t a science. I avoided social sciences and humanities because other topics interested me more, not because I couldn’t comprehend them. I looked up at him, tapping my pen against my chin again one more time. “I’ve gathered that much from the history courses I’ve taken.”

His head tilted towards the side as he watched me, considering what I had just said to him. “And what did they teach you? Other than that it’s complicated.”

I looked to the side, trying to dredge up as many details as I could from my memory before looking at him again. “I know it started after the first war with New Asia.” I could remember nothing after that, though, and not because I had forgotten it - I was sure of that much. I frowned. “Professors never really explained much beyond that. They were always pretty vague about it. To be honest, I don’t even know how my grandparents were -” I searched for the right word “- assigned, I suppose, their caste when they immigrated here. I would assume it was based on occupation, but…” I didn’t want to finish my sentence. Maybe he had been right - not in talking down to me, but in recognizing that this really was something I knew very little about.

Maybe I should’ve listened to Proctor a little more closely.

The thought sent chills down my spine.

He raised his eyebrows at me, unfazed by any visceral reaction I may have had to my own thoughts. “Well, we have a lot of good history books in here.”

I hesitated for a moment. Between him and Reggie, I might just have hit the book recommendation jackpot. “Can you recommend a few?”

He peered over at my textbook as he nodded. “If you want.”

“That would be great thank you. Of the social sciences, history was always my favorite.” I was still looking at him, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention at all, completely enamored by whatever had caught his attention in my textbook. Surely he wasn’t that interested in protein synthesis.

He nodded once more at my words, squinting at the small font of my textbook. Was that genuine curiosity I saw on his face? I followed his line of sight, trying to figure out what part, in particular, he was reading. Did he find my biochem textbook more interesting than me? I wanted to laugh, but I cleared my throat instead. “If you want, the notes I’ve taken might make more sense than the book itself.” I gestured to my notebook, my color-coded molecule drawings seeming to smile back at me, surrounded by little blurbs of text with the necessary facts and formulas, any words that required definitions highlighted.

“I’d…” he paused, looking at me and frowning a little, “appreciate that.”

Well, it was something. I pushed my notebook in his direction, offering him a small smile as I did. This was certainly not how I had ever pictured my note-taking skills coming in handy. My siblings were going to have a field day with this one.

He picked it up gingerly, as if it might break under his touch. Good. I had worked hard on those notes. He had better not wreck them. I watched as he began to read, a look of genuine interest plastered on his face. We sat like that for a few minutes, him flipping through the pages and me just watching him do so, until he eventually paused on one. Turning the page to face me, he pointed to one of the drawings and asked, “What does this mean?”

Well, this was my time to shine! I took a quick glance at the diagram he had pointed to, my smile growing immediately. “Oh, okay, so that parts about DNA mutations! This is actually related to what I used to work on in the lab.” This could not be more perfect! I began to explain each diagram, pointing to them one-by-one in turn. “That first one is insertion or deletion, which is basically when one or more nucleotides are added or subtracted within a sequence of dna. The second one is point mutation, which is one when nucleotide is changed - like if an adenine turned into a thymine. The third is translocation, which is the movement of one segment of dna from one chromosome to another. That last one at the bottom of the page is inversion, which is essentially just a 180 degree flip of the DNA, so it’s basically reversed to what it was originally.”

He blinked, and I could see through his eyes that the wheels within his brain were turning in overdrive as he tried to process what I had just said. “You’re really smart.”

I looked down at the table, my face turning red as I tried to keep myself from laughing at his oh-so-intelligent response. Fidgeting with my hands in my lap, I waited until I was sure I could speak without snickering, and then looked up again, offering him a smile. “Thank you.”

He turned back to my notebook, continuing to read through the pages. I couldn’t help but wonder what in particular he found so interesting. He seemed a tad confused by the science, so was it the notes themselves then? Did he like my handwriting, or maybe the care I put into each page of notes? My organizational skills were definitely on good display, at the moment. Maybe he was impressed with that. God, I wished I could read his mind as I peered over at each page he scanned over, my focus alternating between that and his face, searching for any sign of recognition or questioning.

“Aren’t you usually the one who asks me why I’m staring?” Ah, crap, he had caught me. He was looking right at me, in fact.

“Yes, I am.” I let out a breathy laugh, feeling the tips of my ears turn red. “I’m just a little surprised that you’re interested in this, is all.”

“Why's that?” There was no malice in his words or face, just genuine curiosity.

I frowned as I considered his question. “I guess it’s just never come up before. Plus, most people I try to explain this to tend to blank out once I start talking - you know -” I began to gesture with my hands as I spoke “- the whole, blank face, glazed-over eyes look.” I laughed lightly, even though the more I thought about it, the more upsetting the truth became to me. Most people just didn’t care to hear what I had to say on the topic. With people outside of my major, the complaint was that I was showing off, or that I made no sense. When dealing with other biology students, I found that I was very rarely taken seriously, or had to justify every thought and idea I voiced aloud, and at that point, everybody had already moved on to some other task.

He ran his fingers over a line of words I had written. The gesture felt intimate somehow, and had my stomach doing cartwheels, as if he was touching my arm or something, instead of only my notebook. Why? “And did I do that?”

“No, not at all.”

He blinked, his eyes widening for a fragment of a second. “Well then, maybe I'm not as bad at acting as everyone said, because I didn't understand a word.”

Oh. Ouch.

I laughed it off, trying to rationalize what I had seen from him with what he had felt. “Understanding and listening with interest are two different things, and the fact that you didn’t understand probably reflects more on my poor teaching skills than anything else.”

“Evalin.” I could’ve sworn my name was accompanied with a sigh. He looked over at his book, and then back at me.

I looked right back at him. “Yes?”

He opened his mouth, words on the tip of his tongue, when my notebook slipped out from his hands, tumbling across the floor.

“Smooth,” I teased, laughing at him as I stood up. Within the span of a few seconds, I had walked over to it and picked it up, my eyes on his as I made the walk back to my chair. “You were saying?”

“Thank you,” was all he said as he took the notebook from my hands. Not done with it yet, then. Interesting. Before I could retake my seat, he added, “You didn’t do a bad job.”

“Oh.” The corners of my lips tugged upwards in a small smile. That was oddly nice of him to say. My thoughts lingered on it as I smoothed out my dress beneath me, taking my seat again and recrossing my legs before looking back up at him. “Thank you.”

He stared at me again, his expression similar to the one that had frustrated me with its elusive meaning every other time we had interacted, but there was a little something more to this one. It was as if he was seeing me for the first time - all of me. It was like I was finally more than just an unwanted guest in his home, more than just some girl invited here for the sake of tradition, from his point of view. I followed his eyes as they moved from my hair, to my own eyes, and then down towards something a little lower on my face.

My lips? Oh, God.

Suddenly I was fifteen years old again, sneaking my brother Gabriel’s friend out to our backyard, leading him behind the oak tree by the shed, and asking him to kiss me. He had been my first kiss. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but it really hadn’t been a very good kiss. It had been sloppy, and rushed, but absolutely exhilarating at the same time. It was a part of my teenage years that I’d always looked back on with nostalgia.

I was eighteen years old again, attending my first college party, a little tipsy for the first time ever, the warm August air mingling with the heat of the bodies around me. June and I had moved to the back deck of the house, an empty beer bottle in her hand. A few people followed us, including a few rather attractive boys. I spun the bottle. I lost track of how many times I had kissed and been kissed that night, more drunk off the rush of someone else’s lips on mine than on actual alcoholic beverages.

I was nineteen years old again, at a Christmas party in the lab. Lukas and I had walked in together, as we almost always did. Someone had hung a piece of mistletoe over the doorway -  a trap laid just for us, I was almost entirely certain. “Kiss!” they all yelled at us. Lukas had shrugged, his eyes fixed only on my lips as he had closed the distance between us faster than I could even think. I had allowed him a little peck on the lips before I had jerked away. I had felt nothing, except embarrassment. It had meant nothing to me. I had never told anybody about it.

I was twenty years old, and the prince of Illea was looking at me like he wanted to kiss me.

I tilted my head slightly to the side, smiling back at him. Maybe I was overthinking this. Maybe I wasn’t. Either way, I couldn’t get enough of the way he was looking at me. I wanted to capture this image in my mind like a photograph and hold on to it forever, a memory in a shoebox that my grandkids would find one day.

I stared into his eyes. “What is it?”

His expression didn’t change in the slightest. “What’s what?”

So we were playing this game again. I leaned forwards a bit, placing my arms on the table. “Nothing,” I answered, shaking my head, my smile growing every so slightly. Maybe I had been imagining it, but I still wasn’t so sure of that.

“You’re staring at me.”

Indeed. I raised an eyebrow at him, retorting, “You’re staring at me, too.”

“Am I?”

Very much so. “You are,” I informed him, chuckling lightly and nodding once.

“You don’t seem annoyed by it this time,” he mused, his eyes still on my face.

I had to laugh a little at that. “A very astute observation. Are you bothered by it?”

“Hmm?” He moved a little closer, clearly at least a little spaced out.

He was staring at my lips again.

“You’re hopeless,” I informed him, chuckling. Clemence had been right when she’d said as much, but I didn’t think she had quite pictured this scenario when she had called Arin hopeless.

“About?” His eyes met mine again.

Now I was the one looking at his lips, my one-track mind useless as all of my brain power was channeled into imagining what it might be like to kiss him. I had a gut feeling he’d be a good kisser. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was the look of his lips, or maybe it was my own naivety that led me to believe that - I didn’t care. I had to conduct an experiment to draw a conclusion on the matter, if he would let me.

I laughed, meeting his eyes again. “Are you going to make your move, or are we just going to sit here?”

His eyes went wide at that, his mouth fluttering open and closed like a fish out of water. “Evalin, I -” He didn’t finish the thought. Fuck, maybe I had read the situation wrong.

I raised an eyebrow at him, still smiling. All my doubts dissipated as he leaned in closer, keeping his eyes on mine for only a moment before looking at my mouth once again. The anticipation was killing me, but I refused to be the one to make the first move. I had to know that he wanted to do this, to kiss me, not just to be kissed by the first girl he had happened to run into. God, did I want him to kiss me, though. I leaned in a bit, my eyes focusing only on his mouth as the distance between us shrunk with each passing heartbeat. So close. So fricking close.

He finally closed the distance, leaning down and planting his lips on mine as he placed one of his hands on the back of my head, the other still braced against the table. His lips were just as soft as I had imagined them to be. The realization filled me with no small amount of satisfaction, but that was washed away as I closed my eyes, kissing him back, moving my hands to his shoulders, my fingers resting against his back. My mind shut down, my body going on autopilot for moments that seemed to last an eternity in the best way possible.

He pulled away first, lingering for a few seconds before leaning back a bit. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me breathlessly, a smile growing on my own face as I watched him in return. I knew my own breathing was a little heavier than normal, but I didn’t care. That - that kiss - had been amazing, indescribable, really. It had left me at a complete loss for words, my mind still empty as we held each other’s gazes.

This. This had been what I hoped for when I had filled out the application for the Selection.

I had never been more glad that I had.

He leaned back a little further, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t yet form the words. “I-”

I exhaled lightly, my smile only growing. “Yeah.”

We sat like that for a few more minutes, simply drinking in the sight of each other, attempting to reboot our own brains and form a coherent sentence. I had never been great with words, but they had never been this elusive, either.

I leaned back now, the gears in my brain turning once more. “I, uh…” I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did.

“I should have asked,” he stated with a frown, leaning back even more.

I wanted to agree, but I had also clearly invited him to kiss me. Or at least, I had thought I was pretty clear. I shook my head. “No, it…” He’s right, though. He should have asked. “Don’t worry. Sorry if I didn’t make it clear enough that I was okay with it.”

“Don't apologize.” Right, we had talked about that a few night ago. Now it was his turn to shake his head.

“Right, well…” I trailed off, narrowing my eyes at him as I tried to find the right words. “Don’t you apologize either, then. No apologies are warranted in this situation.” I let out a single laugh, my eyes searching his face for any clue as to what he might be thinking. Did he not enjoy it?

He kept his eyes on me for only a brief moment longer, and then pushed himself off the table, bending over to pick something up. Oh, we must have knocked something over when we were kissing. That was only mildly embarrassing. At least there was nobody else here. When he stood up, he had my notebook in his hand, which he held out in my direction wordlessly.

“Oh.” My cheeks were flushed red at this point, and a nervous laugh accompanied my words. “Thank you.”

“Here you go.”

A little late to the draw there, Arin.

“Right, thanks.” My fingertips brushed against the bare skin of his hands as I grabbed my notebook back from him, my cheeks flaring red again as I slowly pulled my arms back, pulling my notebook into my chest. What to say in a moment like this? “So, uh,” I tried, clearing my throat, “that happened. Nice.” Another nervous laugh escaped my lips before I added, “Um, we could do it again, sometime - if you want to, of course.” The words left my mouth in one rapid-fire jumble, a succession of waves quickly crashing over each other as they raced to leave my mouth.

Earth to Evalin! Get your shit together!

He looked lost in thought, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure.” He began looking around then, though for what, I had no clue.

I couldn’t control my face from falling. Had it been that bad, for him? I didn’t think that was possible. Worse, if he didn’t realize where he was, was it because he was picturing someone else, in another place, when he had kissed me? What had I done?

“Right, well,” I began, fidgeting with my hands in my lap as I looked down at the table, “I uh, didn’t mean to keep you from your reading. Though, this was a very welcome study break.”

“Evalin?”

So, he knew who I was then, at least. That was good.

I looked up at him, a small close lipped smile on my face. “Mhmm?”

His smile was nothing short of shy as he said, “Thank you.”

I blinked. “You’re welcome?” I had never been thanked for kissing somebody before. That must be a good sign, right?

He quickly stood up then, straightening his tie and walking around to the other side of the table. I followed suit, gathering up my own books and pulling my backpack out from under my chair. How many times had I run into Arin when I had this backpack on me now? Twice? Once was random, twice was a coincidence. Were we aiming for a third? I kind of hoped so.

“That was nice,” I said earnestly, looking up at him as I zipped my backpack. Then, pushing in my chair, I decided to go for it. “So, see you around, I guess?”

He nodded. “I’ll see you around.” He walked towards the door of the library then, pausing in the doorway to give me one more nod, before exiting completely.

A few seconds later, I left as well, my thoughts still an incomprehensible, garbled mess of emotions and exclamations. Had that actually happened? I must be dreaming. Yet, if I wasn’t…

This might have just been my best day here so far.

[syntaxeme]

Giardino Segreto ch. 5

[Read on AO3] | [First Chapter] | [Next Chapter] Rating: T Chapter summary: As Angel and the Giardinos are coming into their own as a crime family, Alastor is having trouble reading the boss's feelings toward him--that is, whether he has any. Of course, the moment he lets his guard down, an old threat comes back into the picture. Just when things were going so well...

— — –

Venture, it turned out, was as good as her word. Within a month, the hotel was fully functional and attracting guests, in addition to the other more ‘traditional’ fields she and Angel were pursuing—drugs, guns, that sort of thing. As promised, Alastor had leveraged favors, paid bribes, made threats, and generally talked circles around other demons until they had a ‘family’ of a respectable size. Not the most wholesome bunch, maybe, but an effective one nonetheless!

“It’s been a week and a fuckin’ half and Cortez is still draggin’ his feet on this deal,” Angel grumbled from his desk as he looked over the report he’d just been handed. “Venn, we got any other options to get these ACPs shipped? I’m tired of waitin’ on this asshole.”

“I’m sure I could find someone else if you insist,” Venture answered, leaning against the edge of the desk. She had her own, of course, but Alastor wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her sit at it. Too much to do, he supposed. “But the Cortezes could be useful to us. Are you sure you want to burn that bridge so quickly?”

The boss let out a groan and dropped his head back while he thought the matter over. This sort of conversation had become typical of a day’s work, even comfortable. Early on in their operations, the hotel’s third floor had been converted into a sort of administration department, including a spacious joint office from which the two of them oversaw operations. Alastor spent most of his time in this office as well, ready to provide whatever assistance Angel might need of him.

The position of underboss still wasn’t entirely clear to him, but Angel had given him the title, so he accepted it. Well, I wasn’t planning to join the Mob, but why not? It wasn’t as if his legal record before now was entirely spotless. Besides, it gave him some legitimacy and authority when dealing with humans who didn’t understand the real reason it was stupid to challenge him.

“All right, I’ll give him ‘til the end of the week,” Angel decided. “After that, I’m takin’ my merchandise elsewhere. And make sure he knows it.”

“Will do.” And she was off to her desk to make a call.

Angel sat still for a moment, fidgeting with one of his pens and stealing very obvious glances in Alastor’s direction. Cute. Still, he pretended not to notice, remaining where he sat on the sofa against the wall until the boss finally called, “Hey, Al?”

“Hey, Angel.”

The boy smiled and rolled his eyes. “C’mere a minute.” So he did. Mercifully, over the past few weeks, his illness hadn’t gotten any worse—but it was certainly still present and not letting up. Much like Angel’s playful flirting. The boss hopped up from his chair to seat himself on the desk instead, crossing one leg over the other. His new wardrobe really did suit him (no pun intended). When Alastor got close enough, he reached out to slip his fingertips under the demon’s tie and lead him closer still. Whether the fluttering in Alastor’s chest was literal or figurative, it was difficult to say.

“Did you need something?” he asked, doing an admirable job of pretending Angel’s familiarity didn’t affect him. He sometimes got the feeling those efforts backfired, though, as Angel would often flirt harder because he seemed so indifferent, until he finally broke down and turned away or his smile faltered into uncertainty.

“I’m goin’ out with Cherri and a couple of the guys for drinks tonight,” Angel stated, watching closely for Alastor’s reaction.

“I see. Are you asking me to come along and keep an eye on you?” he asked, gently prying Angel’s fingers away from his tie. “Have I been demoted from underboss to bodyguard that quickly? I wasn’t even given a verbal citation.”

“Oh, shut up,” Angel laughed. “I’m asking you to come as you. Full stop.”

That was unexpected. He’d never invited Alastor along on his outings with Cherri—who had become an informant and supplier for the Giardinos—before.

“Are you sure that’s for the best?” Alastor asked. “Call me crazy, but I get the feeling ‘the guys’ aren’t quite as comfortable around me as they are around you. I wouldn’t want to put a damper on your night out.”

“So what’re you sayin’? You’d rather it just be the two of us?” Angel teased.

“I think it’s safe to say most men would prefer your company over mine.” He managed to keep his voice level despite nearing the limits of his tolerance. Much more exposure to that smile on Angel’s face and he was sure to get short of breath soon.

“C’mon, is it because of the Overlord thing? Venn’s going!”

“No I’m not,” Venture interjected without looking up from her work.

“You are if I say you are, Cleopatra,” Angel shot right back. “Hell, you need a night off more than anyone.” Alastor’s policy of ‘I can get you whatever you want’ may have spoiled him a bit. Or maybe it was the power that came with being boss. Yet she still seemed amused by his pushy attitude and smiled regardless.

“What the don says goes,” she conceded with a shrug.

“Exactly. So are you onboard or what?” he asked Alastor, raising his eyebrows. Realistically, Alastor wasn’t likely to enjoy the outing, especially when Angel’s attention would probably be elsewhere. He didn’t often say no to any request the boss— “Alastor.” When the boy got to his feet, it left just inches between them. Crossing his arms, leaning a little closer with the slightest curve on his lips belying his innocent tone, he purred, “Tell me you’re gonna go.”

Despite Alastor’s efforts to hide it, it was a fact that he couldn’t stand against Angel’s charm indefinitely. And, foolishly, he had allowed Angel to pick up on that fact. It wasn’t that he disliked the persuasion. It was gratifying to know that his presence was something the boss was willing to push for. But he would’ve much preferred if agreeing were a choice on his part. Instead, his illness flared up again, tension and pain making it that much harder to argue.

Turning away, unable to handle the hopeful look in those big brown eyes, he forced out, “Whatever you want, Angel.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” the boy said with a grin. “Eclipse Lounge. Eight o’clock. Better get there on time if you want a seat next to me.” With a last satisfied smirk, he left the room, snatching his hat off the desk as he went. Alastor remained where he stood and watched him go, waiting for his symptoms to subside.

It was becoming more and more difficult, if not impossible, to tell whether all the flirtation and teasing Angel showered on him was just a method of manipulating him or…something else. After all, it was simply a part of Angel’s personality to make suggestive comments and use his looks to his advantage. That was the reason Alastor tried so hard to respond to it neutrally; if he were to take it too seriously and answer with his honest thoughts on the matter, it might easily put Angel off or scare him away.

“Hmmm~, you two are quite a pair,” Venture mused from where she stood in the far corner of the room.

“There are two of us, so yes, technically.”

“You know your one-liners get a little less snappy when you’re distracted?” She sauntered her way to his side and re-aligned the tie that Angel had skewed. “I’m sure if you told him how you feel about sex, he’d tone down the flirting tout de suite.”

“He hasn’t said anything to me on the subject, so I have no reason to discuss it with him.” Observing Venture cautiously, he noted, “You two seem to be getting along well. Has he said something to you?”

“Oh no, I’m not here to play Mafia Matchmaker,” she said, raising both hands as she stepped back to seat herself in the boss’s chair and give it a spin. “But I will say you’re taking this much more seriously than usual. Why, I’ve never seen you so serious, in fact.”

“My friend, I haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean. Levity is my middle name.”

“Is that so?” Leaning back in the chair, she crossed her ankles on the desk in front of her and watched his reaction. As if something in his posture or expression were proving her point, she continued curiously, “See? Even this. It’s bothering you. It’s almost as if you really think of that boy as your superior, but I’m sure I know you better than that.” The way she looked at him said she wasn’t sure at all.

“Do you know what your problem is, Venture?” He bent at the waist to be at eye-level with her and said cheerfully, “You think too much. You really should learn to take a step back, smell the roses—you are working in a garden these days, after all.”

“Careful what you wish for. Snakes and gardens, historically, don’t mix well.”

“And if anyone under this roof were concerned with salvation, that might just be an issue. As it is, you fit into our merry band of misfits quite nicely—so stop trying so hard to maintain your distance. We both know it won’t last forever.”

“Hm.” Her expression remained placid for the most part, but there was a slight furrow in her brow. All things considered, Venture was the last demon on Earth who had any right to judge Alastor’s investment in Angel. And she must have realized it as well. With an exaggeratedly nonchalant shrug, she sat up properly and started organizing the many file folders that cluttered the boss’s desk. “Well? You heard the man. Don’t be late.”

— — —

As bidden, Alastor showed up at the Eclipse Lounge at 7:54. The room was softly lit, low-ceilinged, with a light haze of cigar smoke and a low murmur of chatter from its guests. The word ‘intimate’ came to mind. Fitting for a place where crime lords often gathered and all sorts of illicit deals were made. In the center of the room was a bar forming a continuous ring, so one could approach it from any side. And on his left, seated in the very center of a circular, leather-upholstered booth, was Angel. Spotting him, the boy grinned and waved him over, so he took the place where he felt he belonged: right at Angel’s side.

“I knew you were gonna be the first one here.” The boss looked as smug as ever, fully relaxed in his seat and sipping a John Collins. (Well, how could Alastor not know his go-to cocktail of choice?)

“How’s that?”

“Cuz of what I said about sitting by me. I know you don’t like lettin’ me outta your sight. Maybe you think I’m gonna get fucked up again like that night with Cherri. Am I right?”

“To think that I want to keep an eye on you? Absolutely.”

“Besides,” Angel added casually, “I told everybody else eight-fifteen.”

“So you were the one who wanted it to be just the two of us.” Something about that knowledge was immensely satisfying. “Why, Angel, I’m flattered.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get a big head about it. I just wanted us to have a minute outside the office. Been tryin’ to make it happen for a week now and kept chickenin’ out, so I figured it’d be easier if it was a group thing.” The boy stirred his drink slowly without looking at Alastor. Interesting that he would admit to a strategy like this so openly. Doubly interesting that he would bother making such plans in the first place.

“You already know you have my attention whenever you want it,” Alastor pointed out. “You could have just asked.”

“I guess. It’s a lot easier givin’ orders than makin’ requests, though. Anyway, that’s what we’re here for. That’s what all this”—he gestured to the room—“was about. Me askin’ for your attention.”

With the way Angel was watching him, so thoughtful, so intent, Alastor’s mouth went dry all of a sudden. There was nothing playful or teasing in the boy’s tone. For once, it didn’t come with a wink and a smirk. Instead, he was just waiting, as if he’d expected Alastor might need a moment to consider.

“What sort of attention,” the demon managed, “exactly?”

“Hm. Ask me again once we get back to the hotel.”

All signs were pointing in a very positive direction, but Alastor still tried to fight the surge of excitement and hope that rushed through him. “Angel—”

“Wow, it’s a fuckin’ snoozefest in here.” Cherri had appeared and now scooted into the booth on Angel’s other side, speaking a bit louder than necessary. As usual. “Who picked this dump, anyway? I bet it was you, old man.” She jerked her chin at Alastor.

“Hey, c’mon, it ain’t that bad,” Angel said, nudging her with his elbow. “Besides, once you get a couple drinks in ya, you won’t even notice anymore.”

And so their few minutes of alone time were brushed aside to be replaced with ‘family bonding activities.’ As Angel had said, a few Giardino capos showed up soon after Cherri, and as Alastor had predicted, they seemed a bit uneasy with his presence. But after a round and a half of drinks, they relaxed enough to chat comfortably with the boss, which was nice to see. Venture waltzed in a little after 9 o’clock, and a somewhat tipsy Angel berated her for being late while she waved him off and told him to be happy she’d come at all.

Alastor wasn’t much of a drinker himself and so sat sipping sparkling water while the others had their fun. Angel, he noticed, seemed to be pacing himself intentionally—but he was still drunk enough to giggle excessively at his capos’ jokes. He didn’t go any further than that in terms of flirting, not with them or with Alastor. He did, however, consistently toy with Alastor’s hand under the table, fingertips tracing his knuckles and down the lines of his fingers, sneaking up to brush against his wrist, and generally making it very difficult to focus on conversation. He couldn’t imagine a better distraction.

The outing wasn’t as bad as expected, Alastor supposed. He himself had always had difficulty forming attachments to those around him or close interpersonal relationships, but there was a certain sense of camaraderie among the rest of the group, which was positive. Familiarity could translate to loyalty, and when dealing with demons, any extra measure to assure loyalty should be taken. More than anything, it was nice to see Angel comfortable and confident, assured of himself as he should always—

A sharp baritone rang out across the room: “Antonia?”

Merde.