#and then probably get our asses killed too by getting to close to the legacy 😔✌🏼 itd be the way of the truth

[elegyofthemoon]

can someone remind me to write up my thoughts about gallagher and the enigmata later or at least compile them somewhere i want to share it but also my Goodness i am sleepy as heck today and i have work tonight 😔

[kyleoreillylover]

𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 🖤

Dominik Mysterio x Fem!Bloodline!Reader

“Let me take care of you, sweetheart.” + “Take out your anger on me. I can handle it."

Summary: Your family is pissing you off, and Dominik is more than happy to let you take your anger out on him.

A/N: Dominik brain rot is real and this is the result of it (this took so long 😭) and was inspired by the gif below. This is my first smut and probably my last, so please be nice! Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 6,016

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing, family drama.

You sighed as you rubbed your temples, closing your eyes for a moment and feeling the incoming headache about to come as the room got louder and louder with anger. You opened your eyes to see Roman and Jimmy still arguing, yelling and getting closer and closer to each other. Jey was sitting in the corner, jaw clenched as he let them get into it. Solo was standing next to you, keeping a watchful eye on them in case things got out of hand. Your eyes met, and you can tell by the look in his eye he was done with all this shit too.

Why couldn't they talk this out like men instead of acting like children? You thought, rolling your eyes. You snapped out of your thoughts when Jimmy pushed Roman into the corner, all of you quickly getting up to separate them.

"You guys need to stop this!" You shouted angrily as you and Jey held Jimmy back, Solo trying to calm Roman down but to no avail.

"No, he needs to stop being a manipulative asshole! Apologize for losing? Acting like you wouldn't have lost without our help. My help. I ain't apologizing for shit, ‘Tribal Chief'!"

"Jimmy, chill out!" Jey tried, but Roman's laugh echoed throughout the room, and Jimmy tried to get out of our grips.

"Nah, let him run his mouth. You don't see your brothers acting like this, huh? Or your sister? You know why they aren't acting like this? Because they know that I am right, they know that you disgraced everybody. You disgraced this family, your ancestors, your legacy, and me, your Tribal Chief. You need to apologize for them, but most importantly, you will apologize to me."

"I ain't apologizing for anything! You wouldn't have even been Tribal Chief if it weren't for us, uce! You were a disgrace until we helped you get to the top! So if I am gonna apologize to anyone, I'ma apologize to myself for helping you get there in the first place!" Jimmy spat out, nostrils flaring as he clenched his fists, continuing to try and break out of our grip. You felt all the patience slip out of you in that very moment and you snapped, grabbing Jimmy’s shirt and pushing against the wall.

"You all need to shut the fuck up!" You screamed, Jimmy becoming lax in your grip with a look of shock on his face, the others quiet in shock as well. Finally, they shut up.

“You need to put your ego’s in check and start acting like men instead of acting like children!” You yelled furiously, scowling at them.

"He needs to-" Jimmy began, but you gave him a glare that could kill and he shut his mouth.

"You both need to stop trying to be right and start talking to each other like grown ass people. You need to stop holding grudges and let shit go. " You hissed, letting him go and turning towards Roman.

"And you need to keep your 'Tribal Chief' ego in check and stop crapping on people just because things don't go to plan." You snapped at him.

"Uce, calm down." Jey made his way towards you, trying to quell your anger before you said something Roman would make you regret, but you gave him a look and he backed away. You couldn't care less about Roman right now, he needed to hear the truth.

"Calm down? Are you kidding me?" You scoffed in disbelief.

"Don't you see what's happening? You're giving everybody what they want. They want to see us crumble, want to see our dominance fall so they could rise and take our top spot here."

You looked at Jimmy, seeing his face turn from anger to a mixture of embarrasment and relization."You're feeding into Sami and Kevin, letting them get in your heads. Why do you think they keep digging and digging? Because they want to keep those titles, and your basically ensuring they win by engaging with their stupid bullshit!"

You turned to Roman, who was stunned silent for the first time in a while. He had rarely seen you angry, even when you were kids. You were always the moral compass for the group, keeping their moral up with your caring energy. But you thought that now they needed the hard truth instead of caring words.

"And you need to stop letting your ego cloud your morals. Just because we're family doesn't mean you get a pass to be an asshole." Roman met your challenged gaze, still silent but didn't look as angry as before. Solo stood next to him, a stunned look on his usually stone-cold face as he watched you rip everybody to shreds with a tone you usually reserved for your rivals.

"You all are out of your mind if you think I'm letting everything I worked hard for go to waste because you don't want to get along. Get it together the next time I see you, I'm getting some air." You casted everyone a look before grabbing your jacket, slipping it on and leaving the room.

You franticly sped out of the arena, needing to just breathe and feel the cool night air on your skin. The fans were long gone by this time, so you didn't need to worry about being spotted. You sat on a bench, putting your head in your hands and trying to breathe through the haze of anger you felt suffocating you and coursing through your veins.

"Trouble in paradise?" You snapped out of your daze, already knowing who it was and not bothering to pick your head back up.

"Shut up, Dominik. I'm not in the mood." You mumbled loudly enough for him to hear. You heard him laugh, not taking you seriously. "Ooh, the full name this time. What happened to Dom? Am I in trouble?"

You picked your head up, glaring at him. "I said I'm not in the mood. Leave me alone and find someone else to bother."

He stopped laughing, realizing you weren't joking. "What happened?"

"None of your concern. Are you deaf? Leave. me. alone." You made a move to stand up, but he pushed you back down gently, sitting down next to you.

"Can you not be annoying for once and actually listen to me?" You spat at him, trying to stand up again but he grabbed your waist, restraining you.

"What happened?" He repeated, seeing your eyes glazed with anger. He had never seen you this mad outside of the ring before, and it made him unnerved for it to be directed at him. You were usually playful with him, sometimes having mean banter with your character work but you both didn't mean any of it. But you were never like this.

"Family business." You finally answered him, short and clipped. You tried looking away from him but he gently grabbed your cheek.

"Look at me, mi corazon." You tried to ignore the way the pet name made your stomach tighten with butterflies and listened to him, looking deep into his eyes, distracting yourself with his brown orbs that almost made you forget about your anger. Almost.

"What did your family do?" You felt the anger rush back and you mockingly chuckled. “Jimmy and Roman keep starting arguments on literally anything instead of focusing on winning. Now everybody thinks were weak and vulnerable, even though I've done nothing but pull my weight!" You huffed out, breaking out of his grip and standing up, clenching your fists. You muttered to yourself angrily, wanting to scream, hit something, do anything to let out the frustration gnawing at you.

But Dominik stood up with you, grabbing your wrists, and yanking you back into his arms. You scowled at him, trying to pull away from him. “Let go of me!”

“Not until you breathe, mi vida.” He held your wrists in one hand and grabbed your face with the other, softly caressing your face, his heartbeat and husky smell of his cologne invading your scenes.

“Look at me, mi amor.” Dominik instructed, his brown eyes gazing into yours as you ignored the way your stomach churned everytime he spoke Spanish to you and kept trying to pull your wrists away from him. But he opted for letting go of your face, bringing your head into his chest, and you felt his hot breath near your ear as he nuzzled his head into your neck. "Cálmate, carino."

Screw him and his stupidly hot Spanish. You felt yourself melt into him, some calmness washing over you the longer you were in his arms. He let go of your wrists, and you wrapped your arms around his waist, shivering when he laid feather-light kisses onto your neck.

Dominik continued kissing your neck, loving the feeling of you in his arms and shivering under his touch. He waited for your breathing to slow down to let you go, but he wrapped an arm around your waist, not wanting you out of arms reach.

"You better now, sweetheart?" You nodded, you still felt that haze of anger but it wasn't at strong as before. "I need words, baby.”

"I'm better now, Dom." You grabbed his free hand and held it, relishing in the smile he gave you.

"I can tell now that you called me Dom." You rolled your eyes playfully at his smirk and grabbed the hand that was around your shoulder and held it, relishing in the smile he gave you.

“Do you have a ride back? Dominik asked, to which you shook your head. “I was too mad at the boys to drive with them, so I’ma just get an uber-”

“You’re riding with me.” You gave him an amused smile at his demanding tone, it was usually the other way around.

“You sure you don't need mami's permission for that?" You giggled when he yanked you closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, his forhead leaning against yours and his lips so, so close to yours.

"You know more than anyone I don't need her permission." Dom pushed his lips onto yours, kissing away your smirk and losing himself in the taste of you. God, you were addicting.

You kissed him slowly at first-as if you wanted to torture him-and he hated and loved you for it. He groaned into your mouth when you snuck a hand up to his hair, pulling it just the way you knew he liked it and kissing him even harder, your tongue slipping into his mouth. His fingers dug into your waist almost painfully as you clung to him, his touch burning your skin in the best way and you pulled his hair harder in response.

You pulled away first, the both of you panting and out of breath. You ran your fingers through his hair, smiling brightly at him when he leaned into your touch. You felt the heat creep back up looking at him, his hair slightly touseled and his muscles showing through his dark black tee. You felt the urge to kiss him again, so you did. He laughed into your lips, letting you steal another kiss before pulling away. “I meant what I said before. I'm not letting you go into a random car by yourself in the middle of the night just because you're mad at your idiot brothers."

"They are not idiots."

"They are if they decided to make you angry." You laughed, playfully nudging him, and he grinned before brushing your hair out of your face. You looked up at him through your lashes, seeing him gaze at you with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Let me take care of you, sweetheart." You bit your lip, struggling to choose between your stubbornness or giving in to what you want. As if sensing your internal conflict, Dominik caressed your face, running his thumb over your lips, making you break out of your stupor. He smirked when you instinctively parted your lips, it’d been too long yet your bodies still remembered each other.

"Please?" You couldn't refuse him, not when he was looking at you like you were the only thing he ever wanted to think of.

"Fine, but I get to have the aux." Music was the last thing on your mind, but he didn't need to know that. At least not right now.

"Deal, but only cause you have great taste."

"You're right. I do have great taste." You eyed him up and down, winking at him and giving him a smirk that made him utterly weak for you. "Lead the way. You're driving."

The drive was quiet, music playing softly in the background as you put a hand on Dom's thigh, inching higher and higher the closer you got to the hotel. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as he tried to get himself under control. You grinned seeing him like this, letting you be in charge. You needed to release your anger and have a stress reliever, and he was more than willing to let you use him as one. It wouldn't be the first time.

Before you knew it, you were at the hotel. You kept your hands to yourself until you went into the elevator, and as soon as its doors closed, you were all over Dominik, gripping his shirt and pushing him against the wall, giving him a searing kiss.

He welcomed it, kissing you back just as hard, moaning into your mouth when you bit his lip. He grabbed your legs and hoisted you onto his waist as if you weighed nothing. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting yourself get dizzy in his arms, letting out a whine when he slid his tongue against your lip to draw it between his teeth. Your mind switched off, and all you could do was feel feel feel. Feel his bruising grip on your legs, his lips nibbling and biting any part of your mouth he can find, the heat growing in between your legs, his muscles flexing underneath your arms as you both turned each other into a writhing mess.

Your back hit something cold, and you pushed Dom away instinctively and opened your eyes, realizing you were in front of the hotel room. He whined at the loss of contact, his mouth moving to your neck, and you groaned and arched into him when he sucked a sensitive spot behind your ear.

"Fuck, do that again." You demanded, trying to keep your voice steady as you leaned your head on the wall, giving him more access to your neck. Dom let out an airy chuckle. You were hot when you got bossy. "Whatever you want, Mamacita." He murmured into your skin, obeying and kissing that same spot, trying to distract himself from the way your whines and whimpers were going straight to his dick long enough to get his keycard and open the room.

He brought you both into the room, setting you on the bed, hovering over you, and capturing your lips with his. Any coherent thoughts he had melted away as you deepened the kiss, distracting him with your tongue hot and probing in his mouth.

You took this opportunity to roll the both of you over and switch your positions, not breaking the kiss. You laid on top of him, gripping his shoulders for balance, and grinded your hips against his, internally smirking when Dominik threw his head back, hissing. You did that again, and again and again until he gripped your hips to stop you.

“Too much?” You asked, leaning down to kiss his neck, enjoying him writhing against you. He shook his head, but he could still see the hesitation in your eyes as you stopped kissing his neck. He snuck his hands underneath your jacket and shirt, rubbing circles onto your soft skin, feeling you relax into him.

"Don't be afraid to take your anger out on me. I can handle it." You picked your head up at those words, moving off from him and giving him a questioning look, wanting to be sure he wasn't uncomfortable. He gave you a sexy smirk that had you internally melting in response, shrugging off his shirt. You took off your own, muscled chest heaving as he eyed your bloodline jacket you threw across the room.

"You'd look better in my jacket." You rose a challenging brow, taking off your bra, smirking when Dom's head snapped down to your chest. You leaned down to his ear, sneaking your hand down to his jeans. Your boobs were pressed against his chest and hot breath against his skin making him shiver. You knew just how to drive him crazy.

"Treat me right tonight and maybe I will wear it." You nipped his skin harshly and palmed his dick at the same time. A moan ripped out of him as he arched into your hand, the last strand of composure he had slipping away from him as you continued to palm him.

"Ahh, please, please...don't stop." He pleaded, the rough material of his jeans rubbing into him deliciously and your hands already felt so good. You were making him feel like he was in heaven and you'd barely even begun.

He whined when you moved your hand away, trying to buck his hips up but you pushed his hips down, giving him a glare. "Did I tell you to move?"

"I'm sorry, mi amor-" Dom tried to mutter out as an apology, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

"I'll let it slide this time, but don't do it again. Did you forget that I'm in charge tonight, mi cielo?" He shook his head, his skin heating up and dick getting harder at your words. If speaking Spanish drove you absolutely crazy, imagine how it made him feel.

"Good. Now take off your pants." He obeyed, and you moved off him so he could sit up and pull them off. Once they were off, you moved on top of him, sitting on his chest. He gave you a pleading look, hands itching to touch you. You nodded, and his lips went to suck one of your boobs, his hands massaging your other one.

"Ahh...fuck Dom." You moaned out, the heat between your thighs only intensifying at the feeling of his warm mouth and soft lips sucking on your nipple. You tangled your fingers through his soft hair, biting your lip to contain your moans so the entirety of the hotel filled with wrestlers and your friends didn't hear you. He licked and nibbled at it making you arch your back and stifle your moans. He smirked into your skin, flicked your other nipple until it hardened, before biting and sucking his way down your chest and belly, your skin on fire from his touch.

Before his hands could travel lower, you pressed your hand against his chest. He quickly pulled away once he felt you pushing him, concerned eyes scanning your body for any injury or discomfort.

"Are you okay, Hermosa? Did I hurt you?" He asked, giving you another once over before you cupped his face to stop making him worriedly look into your eyes.

“No baby, you’d never hurt me.” You gave him a comforting look, reassuring him. He looked into your eyes for anything that said otherwise, and once he found none he let out an internal sigh of relief, letting himself lean into your touch. As much of an asshole he made himself to be on TV, he never wanted to make you uncomfortable.

You smiled when he leaned into your touch, stroking his cheek. You loved seeing this side of him he only reserved for you.

“I just thought you’d like it better like this.” You pushed him until his back hit the bed, straddling him. He groaned when you hovered over his face, his lips inches away from tasting your glistening wet pussy.

“Fuck, are you trying to kill me, mami?” Dom whined out, his voice husky with need as he gripped your thighs, trying to pull you down. You held onto the headboard before he could, stopping his attempts. “Please, let me taste you, mami.” He pleaded, giving you puppy dog eyes that you would fall for in any other circumstance. But you'll give him what he wants soon enough.

“Listen to me and I will.” You smirked at how quickly he quieted down at that, nodding at you. “This night is about me. I'm in control. Don't forget that, and maybe, I'll give you a reward. You understand, baby?”

"I understand, mi amor," Dom answered, his voice almost turning into a whine as he tried to control himself from yanking you and tasting you, he didn't want to risk a punishment from you.

"Good boy.” You cooed, the nickname and your sickly sweet tone making his cock harden even more. But he didn't have time to think about it because you were lowering yourself down, sitting on his face.

Your knees buckled and you immediately let out a moan as Dom sucked your clit harshly, hungrily eating you out and groaning into your pussy, making you moan even more.

It was like an out of body experience; you didn't register the moans coming out of you as he licked and toyed with your clit, egged on by the pretty sounds coming out of you. You grinded your face against him when he licked up and down your cunt, his tongue lapping at your folds. He gripped your thighs even tighter, and let you grip his hair and use him as you pleased.

Your moans got more high pitched and shakier as he used his mouth and strong jaw to work every inch of you, holding you tighter as you squirmed against him. He could tell you were getting closer to he flicked his tongue over your clit again and again, causing you to moan loudly and thread your fingers into the sheets. "F- fuck, oh my god, don't stop, Dom." You cried out.

"I don't plan on it, baby. " He mumbled, his words muffled under your pussy. You moaned at the vibrations of his voice that felt so good against your pussy and sent shivers straight up your spine, threatening to send you over the edge. He noticed your reaction and continued to mumble incoherently as his tongue played with your clit, making you get closer and closer to your high.

You shut your eyes when the pleasure became too much, clenching the sheets even tighter as you came with loud moans that sounded like music to Dom's ears. He helped you ride out your orgasm, licking and slurping your juices up until you were gripping his hair gently and trying to push him away.

Dominik tasted your pussy one last time before coming up to kiss you, smiling against your lips. He looked so pretty, hair matted and messy, his face red and lips soaked with your cum that you could taste as he kissed you like his life depended on it.

"Do I get my reward baby?" He asked, pulling away from the heated kiss, pupils blown out with lust. You wrapped your arms around his neck, his skin breaking out in goosebumps as your lips kissed his sensitive skin, meeting his lips again.

"Of course sweetie, as long as you promise to fuck me so hard I forget everything but you."

He gave you a devilish smile that made your lower body heat up again, and in one swift move scooped you up effortlessly and turned your positions around, smirking down at your naked form.

"I promise. And you know I don't break my promises, mi corazon." His voice dropped into a low sexy whisper, eyes never leaving you like he couldn't wait- needed- to have you right then and there. He gave you one last smirk before lowering down and kissing you with intensity, with passion, like he was trying to tell you all the ways you made him high on you, how you were like a drug that he couldn't let go even if he wanted to.

And as his hands lowered down again, and found that one spot that made your eyes roll back and his cock ache when your body arched into him as if you couldn't get enough of his fingers, he knew he definitely did not want to let you go.

------------------------------------------------------------

You stirred awake gently, shifting under the sheets and feeling warmth surrounding you. Your tired limbs ached as you groggily turned, snuggling and trying to get closer to the heat, feeling a cool breath over your skin. It wasn't until you felt a soft, familiar breath against your neck that your eyes fluttered open, seeing Dominik 's face leaned in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist tightly.

You smiled at his sleeping form that was cutely attached to you like a koala bear, like he couldn't get enough of you even while he was sleeping. You managed to move away from him just enough to get your phone from the nightstand, laughing quietly when Dom quickly pulled you back into his arms.

You snuggled back into his arms, turning on your phone and seeing the multiple missed calls and new messages you had come through from the twins, Paul and Solo, and surprisingly Rhea while your phone was silent while you and Dom were definitely the opposite. You didn't even bother opening Paul, Jimmy or Romans messages, you didn't have the energy for it.

You opened Rhea’s message first, the two of you were close but she only texted you for emergencies, so you were a bit worried.

DOM’S DOM So, did you and Dom Dom have fun last night?

You weren’t surprised. It was like she had a sixth sense for when you and Dom hooked up.

Yes, we did. I’m not even gonna ask how you know. Mami always knows sweetheart. Bit disappointed you didn’t come to my room though. I haven’t seen you in forever! I can see you later if you let me use you as a cover.. please? Can't exactly tell my brothers about Dominik, can I? You know I can’t say no to you and I can't resist seeing your cute little ass. Catch you later, princess. 🖤 Thank you! See you later babe💗

JEY<3

Yo sis, I know you still mad but I ain't asking you to talk to them, but at least let me know if you're safe or not.

You smiled at his concern, texting him back. He was one of the few in your family who didn't annoy you, aside from Solo.

Yeah, I'm good, just resting up. Just know I'm not mad at you though, just those two bozo heads. See you later <3

You then opened, and frowned, at Solo’s message.

Solo<3

So you with a guy?

There was no way he knew. You weren’t even at the same hotel?! Why and how the hell did he suspect it?

No, I was rooming with Rhea last night. Why are you asking? Just making sure you good. Roman’s kinda pissed at you. He wants to see you later. I’m good, and Roman can stay pissed for as long as he wants. I said nothing but the truth.

You shut your phone off, not wanting to think about your family acting like man children any longer.

You smiled and let out a sigh when you felt Dom trail kisses down on your neck, it was like he could read your mind. It was one the many things you loved about him; he knew what you needed before you yourself even knew. You leaned back, giving him more access to your neck, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin. He continued kissing your skin for a few more moments before propping himself up and meeting your eyes, a soft smile on his face as he took you in.

“You sleep well, hermosa?” He asked with that husky morning voice you always wanted to wake up to as his eyes raked over your form, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin.

“That was the best sleep I’ve had in a while.” You admitted, giggling at the satisfied smirk that played on his lips.

"I'm glad I could tire you out." Dom teased you, smirk widening when you leaned closer to him to kiss him. Your fingers tracing a path down his chest as you slowly kissed him, savoring the taste of morning on his lips. His arms pulled you in closer, deepening the kiss as if trying to convey all the desire that had built up during the night.

Breaking the kiss, you traced your fingers lightly along the contours of his jawline, savoring the feel of his stubble beneath your touch. He relaxed into your touch, his hazel eyes gazing at you with a knowing look.

"Your idiot family still bothering you?" Dominik treaded lightly, not wanting to ruin the mood.

You rolled your eyes at the mention of them. "They aren't idiots." You gave him a pointed look when he lifted up a brow and he raised his hands up in defense. "But yes, Roman wanted to meet up with me."

"To apologize to you, right?" Dom moved away from you and sat up when he was met with silence and a guilty look. "Don't tell me your thinking of apologizing to him, mi corazon."

"I don't know, Dom," you sighed, also sitting up and running a hand across your face. "I know Jimmy will apologize to me, he loves me too much to stay mad at me. But Roman would rather drop dead than apologize. And it'll just cause tension if we act like we are in a cold war with each other."

Your heart hurt at the look Dominik was giving you, but you didn't know what else to do except reassure him. "Trust me, it's just easier this way."

"It would be easier if you just joined Judgment Day!"

You sighed and shook your head at Dominiks words. It wasn't the first time he brought it up, and it wouldn't be the last time you refused his offer either. After all those late nights hanging out after shows at Waffle House or other rendezvous activities you'd have, with the two of you cuddled up next to each other, away from the pressure of famous families and overzealous egos, when nothing else but the moon could shine a light on your innermost thoughts, was when he would gain the courage to ask you.

You always looked like you were close to considering it, but it would turn morning and all signs of even maybe accepting it would wash away and be replaced with fear and with you bringing up Roman. And he'd drop it, but he never understood why you did. He could protect you, give you the power you wanted with the Judgment Day! Why didn't you trust him? Why were you so scared of Roman?

"You know more than anyone I can't do that, Dom."

"But you can! You want to stay at the top, we can keep you there!" Dominik insisted, running a hand through his hair frustratingly. "The guys will like you, and Rhea already loves you! We won't treat you like Roman. He treats you like—"

"Like family." you finished his sentence, a hint of bitterness in your voice and a look Dominik couldn't place on your face. "And that's why I can't leave him. At least, not right now." 

Dominik perked up at your last sentence, his eyes searching yours for a hint of understanding. "Not right now?" he questioned, hope flickering in his gaze.

You gave him a small smile, the look in your eyes telling more than words could. "Not right now."

And that was all the confirmation he needed. He didn't need to know anything else- he knew you'd handle it and come to him when the time was right.

His smile mirrored yours as you moved closer to him, your tone shifted from serious to teasing, wanting to change the tense mood. "But until then, don't get in trouble with my family. Solo already suspects us, I don't need him trying to beat your ass."

Dominik laughed, wrapping an arm around you, the tension between you two dissipating as he responded, "Baby don't worry, you know I can take him."

You gave him an amused smile and leaned into him. "Oh, is that why you were hiding behind Rhea last night?"

Dominik chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I wasn't hiding behind her! I was just... checking out the best angle to hit him, y'know?"

"Mhm, whatever you say baby." You mocked him, giggling at the pout he gave you and deciding to kiss it off of him. Dominik couldn't help but smile against your lips as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving in sync with yours.

Breaking the kiss, you grinned up at him before looking up at the clock and seeing the time.

"Speaking of Rhea, I promise I would hang out with her later. So I better get out of bed before she beats me up." You barely made a move to get out of bed before Dominik whined and pulled you on top of him.

"Can't you stay here longer? She can wait." Dominik pleaded with puppy dog eyes, begging you to stay with him.

You couldn't help but smile at his puppy dog eyes and how he pulled you back onto the bed. "You're too cute, you know that?"

Dominik grinned, his arms wrapped around you as he nuzzled your neck. "So, does that mean you're staying?"

Your hands gently played with the ends of his hair, "How about this? We hop in the shower, make up for lost time, and once we're all clean and pretty, we can go grab some breakfast, and then I'll meet up with Rhea. Deal?"

Dominiks face lit up with a mischievous grin at the thought of you in the shower with him.

"Deal!" he replied enthusiastically, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. He then reluctantly let you go and climbed out of bed, extending a hand to help you up.

You accepted his hand, allowing him to pull you out of bed and lead you to the bathroom. As soon as all of your clothes were shed and the water was on, Dominik picked you up and smashed his lips onto yours, lifting you and bringing the both of you in the shower.

"Dominik... Not now." You managed to protest between kisses as the warm water cascaded over both of you. He ignored your protests in favor of the moans sputtering out of you as he trailed his lips down your neck, sucking harshly into your supple skin.

"Hermosa, I want to taste my breakfast right now." He mumbled into your skin, addicted to the blissed out expression on your face as continued kissing you, lowering himself onto his knees. He was just enamored and completely addicted to you and the hold you had on him.

And you couldn't get enough of him either, just as addicted to him as he was to you. He was just purely addictive- his personality, his charm, his aura,  just him. And as you grabbed a fistful of his hair on the back of his head and guided him right where you wanted him, you knew two things.

Rhea would kill you both after this.

And 2, that you were officially a goner for Dominik. The man who many on the roster called a snake, a manipulative, a liar, a sell out. A man who burned everything he hurt to the ground.

But you wanna know what the scary part was? That you didn't even care.

Not one bit.

And if you got burned?

You would gladly get engulfed in flames if somewhere in that fire you'd get the warmth of his love.

[one-winged-dreams]

Dropping some 'what do angels dream of' lore that pertains to my insert's weapon.

(this is long as fuck so putting it under a readmore)

SO. My s/i uses a gunblade that's kind of shitty because it was the best I could afford as a 3rd class because my parents disowned me, and I had to fend for myself pretty much. I'm stuck in the vicious cycle of having to keep getting it repaired, so I can't afford a new one because I can't save up BECAUSE THE GODDAMN THING KEEPS BREAKING.

Anyway, I never articulated that Angeal and I actually meet for the first time when I'm assigned with him on a mission as like, assistance. I had advanced from 3rd class to 2nd like, REALLY quickly because, despite my debilitating fear of failure, 2nd class was pretty low-stakes and I'm a damn good fighter.

Anyway, he got to see firsthand how good I am at kicking ass, and for the last fight of the mission, my gunblade breaks AGAIN from the force of the final blow, and I just kinda frown.

And he comes over to commend me on my performance, and I'm like internally screaming because holy shit, I'm getting praised by one of the 1sts, and also he's VERY handsome.

He makes a comment about my weapon, and I'm like, "Um, yeah, it's kind of cheap. I'm gonna have to get it repaired again, I guess."

Angeal will remember this.

Anyway, after a few more assignments, we start like. Getting close. REALLY close. And I'm still using that shitty gunblade over and over again, and it keeps breaking OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

And then one day, during a particularly tough mission, it just absolutely shatters, and the mechanisms all but explode on me. And I'm sitting there holding the hilt of it and thinking about how fucked I am because there's no way I'm gonna be able to buy a new one anytime soon.

This depresses the FUCK out of me because that shitty thing had been with me since my compensation check for joining the SOLDIER program, and I guess I'll have to learn how to use a proper sword again, hopefully a good one isn't TOO expensive.

Anyway, Angeal and I are doing our couple thing, he's trying to cheer me up because, goddamn, I'm bummed the fuck out. And he's like, "You're not nervous about your assignment tomorrow, are you?"

And I'm like, "Of course I am, I haven't used a regular blade since early training, and even then I swapped over to learning to use a gunblade halfway through."

"Hm. That won't do, then, will it?"

And he stands up, and I watch him just kinda walk over to something, he looks back at me and smiles that charming smile and tells me not to look.

And I don't, and I'm confused until he comes back around with the most kickass gunblade I have EVER seen and is just like, "Would this make it better?"

And I'm just sobbing and telling him he didn't need to do that, and he's internally like, 'I don't know what I expected,' but he sits back down and hugs me and tells me of course he didn't, but he WANTED to. Okay, maybe he DID need to, how am I supposed to do assignments if I don't have a proper weapon?

And then he tries to ground me like, "This one probably has more kick to it than your old one, why don't we go to the training room and test it out?"

And we do, and holy shit, he's SO right, but I take it like a champ, and he's so proud of me. so much so that he has to SHOW me how proud he is that i can take to a powerful weapon so naturally

And that thing is my pride and joy for the longest time until the events of Crisis Core and my desertion. Of course I take it with me, it's all I have left of Angeal. When I literally toss it aside while fighting Zack because I'm just so willing to let him kill me, he barely misses and just sticks the buster sword in the ground and grabs me by my shirt and just gives me the most passionate speech ever about how I have to keep living because he and I are the last of Angeal's legacy. And he gets through to me, leaves, tells Shinra he couldn't find me, and then we never see each other again.

And about two years after Zack 😬, I'm still in that little village/town I ran off to, doing work slaying monsters and helping out to the point where 'that guy living out in the woods' is just a positive part of their lives. But Shinra found out there's a rogue ex-SOLDIER there and sends some people to ask questions, and they just keep coming back until I come and kick ass and tell them to leave and never come back. Which obviously does not work, because come on, Shinra's just evil like that. And they keep coming back, and I keep kicking ass until they bring like... IDK, a mech or something and threaten to raze the whole town. And then off I go fighting my hardest, and manage to destroy the thing, but I'm very much injured to the point of near death. And I go to the... town elder or something, idk, and tell him next Shinra shows up, show them that their SOLDIER left for good and it's pointless to keep looking for him here.

And then I present my gunblade and tell him, "Give this to the next person who comes along. Someone who dreams... of an honorable cause."

And then I fuck off back to my little hut in the woods, where Angeal is waiting to take me back to the lifestream, and OH GOD, I'M CRYING, OKAY, POST OVER, YOU'RE FREE TO GO.

WAIT, HOLD ON, NEVERMIND

In a super meta turn of events, I forgot that this is a weapon that my insert for Barret can get in the VII story lmfao.

[gamergirl929]

They Hate Each Other (No They Don't, Not Really)  (Alex Morgan x Reader)

All would agree, your arch nemesis showing up absolutely anywhere you were would ruin your day, but that’s EXACTLY what happens to one veteran USWNT player, Alex Morgan, when she runs into her arch nemesis at the USWNT camp.

Alex Morgan’s eyes widen, pure rage running through her when you strut towards her, bag in hand.

“You shouldn’t look at your soon to be teammate like that Morgan, frowning gives you wrinkles.” You wink, the forward’s lip curling in a snarl.  

“What’s she doing-

“I DON’T KNOW.” Alex yells, nearly making Kelley jump out of her skin.  

Alex was absolutely livid, seeing you at the USWNT camp had been a surprise, and not a wonderful one.  

The second Alex spotted Vlatko Andonovski she advances angrily on the man, who’s looking at her as if he expected this reaction.  

“Alex-

“What the hell!? We’re you going to tell me? To tell US?!” She yells, louder than intended, but you’d riled her up in way no one had before.  

“I didn’t know you were the coach this year Morgan, if I did, I would’ve stayed home.” You snark, your smirk making Alex growl.  

“Shut UP!” She yells and you laugh.  

“We should room together Morgan, I think we’d make GREAT roommates.”  

Alex growls, mumbling under her breath.  

“It’ll be easier to smother you in your sleep then.”  

You smirk cockily.  

“Kinky.”  

Alex snarls angrily.  

“Listen.” Vlatko holds a hand up, glancing your way before turning back to Alex.  

“Y/N is one of the best players in the world, having her at our camp, and possibly on the team brings our team up to the next level. I saw a chance, and I took it.”

Alex shakes her head.  

“But-

He shakes his head.  

“I’m sorry Alex.” He pats her on her shoulder before turning away and walking off.  

Alex meanwhile is standing stock still, her mouth agape.  

Her biggest rival had just joined the USWNT camp, and would PROBABLY join the USWNT.  

She growls.

“Fuck.”  

                                                            ***

If you were being honest, you absolutely hated Alex Patricia Morgan, the woman knew how to push your buttons and she did so whenever she could.

You’d met during college, of course, on rival teams, ultimately where your rivalry began, a rivalry that seeped into your NWNT career, and when Alex came overseas, donning the Tottenham Hotspur’s jersey, you were there, wearing a red and white Arsenal’s jersey.  

Needless to say, when the two teams squared up, your rivalry continued.  

Alex hated you just as much as you hated her, making the competition between the two of you even more fierce.

It surprised literally EVERYONE that the two of you hadn’t killed one another yet.

At this current moment in time though, you were currently literal moments from killing one another.  

“I didn’t mean to step on your cleats Morgan, just go to the store when practice is over and buy another pair.” You snort.  

Alex lets out a feral growl.  

“You are SO fucking infuriating!”  

You blow the woman a kiss, which only infuriates her more, the woman stomping her foot before she trudges off.  

“Fuck off!” She yells over her shoulder and you scoff.  

“You too!”  

                                                            ***

Vlatko rubs the back of his neck watching as you and Alex hurl insults at one another. He’d known about your rivalry, but he wasn’t aware that it went to the extent of actual hatred.  

Alex was absolutely fuming as you walked past her, moments after sinking a goal in her team’s net.  

“Don’t look so mad Morgan, we both know I’m better than you could ever dream of being.”  

Alex stomps passed you, the woman’s shoulder slamming into yours.  

You flip around, eyes full of absolute fire.  

“Body check me again Morgan, I fucking dare you.” You growl in her face, so much so that your nose brushes hers.  

Alex pushes you backwards.  

“Nobody tells me what to do on MY FIELD.”  

You snicker.  

“Your field?” You throw your head back, barking out a laugh, though when you stop laughing you lean towards her, smirking.  

“Let’s see how much longer this field is yours, you numpty.”  

Alex growls as you walk towards the nearby benches with a confident strut.  

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!?”

                                                            ***

“I don’t get why you hate Y/N so much ANYWAY, she seems nice...”

The second the words leave Emily’s mouth she feels as if she’s about to burst into flames from the absolute fiery glare she’s getting from Alex.  

Kelley immediately slips in between Alex and Emily, her hands held up in surrender.  

“Jan, please don’t kill Emily, who else will carry on the Frat Daddy legacy!?” The defender asks, pleading for her child’s life.  

Alex snarls, stomping away from the two of them, all the while mumbling angrily under her breath.  

“Y/N NICE?! How could ANYONE put her and NICE in the same fucking sentence???” She snarls, deciding that some time on the field would clear her mind.  

                                                            ***

Though what Alex DOESN’T expect when she gets to the field is to find you there, the field between you and the goal littered with soccer balls.  

Alex ducks down when you turn her way, an aggravated snarl leaving you.  

“BLOODY HELL!” You yell, Alex’s eyes widening at the thickness of your accent.

She peeks out from her hiding place, watching as you drop down onto the pitch, sitting in a cross-legged position.  

Alex frowns when she sees your face is buried in your hands.  

“Fuck that shite.” You sigh as you move to your feet, wiping the sweat from your brow with your bare arm.  

Alex isn’t sure what possess her to stay for so long, but nearly an hour later you’re still on field, sinking ball after ball in different angles, it’s when you miss one that you angrily snarl.  

“Nothing but a right, cock-up!”  

Alex shakes her head, her brows furrowed.  

Why were you so hard on yourself after you’d done so well within an hours time?

Alex’s eyes widen when she sees you glance her way your brows furrowed.  

“Oi! Is someone there?!” You shout, standing stock still.

When no one replies, you give your head a rapid shake, unaware that Alex is currently sprinting away from the scene.

“Must’ve imagined it.”  

                                                            ***

Alex had seen how hard you were on yourself that day, but that in no way quelled her anger entirely considering you were at each other's throats after the fact.  

“You did that on fucking PURPOSE!” Alex growls as she’s helped to the bench, her leg injured from an accidental cleating by yours truly.  

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you jog over to the bench.  

“I didn’t!” You growl as you drop to your knees in front of her, the forward’s eyes wide and brows furrowed when you gently slip her cleat off her foot, along with her sock, now noticing the hints of blood dotting the fabric.  

“Shite.” You mumble, swiping the nearby first aid kit from the team’s doctor.  

“Yeah, I don’t like you, but I wouldn’t make you purposely bleed.”  

Alex watches in something akin to disbelief when you begin to clean her injury with a delicacy that she hadn’t seen from you in, well, ever.  

Your touch sent a jolt from her leg through her entire body, a warmth spreading throughout her from a delicate brush of your fingertips.  

Moments after you finished dressing her wound, you glance up at her.  

“This doesn’t mean I hate you any less.”  

You move to your feet, sending the woman a glare before you head back on field.  

“Don’t use your leg as an excuse for the shite way you’re playing, you know it’s just because I’m better than you.” You smirk cockily.  

Alex’s eyes narrow.  

“Better my ass.”  

                                                            ***

The first person who finds out about you making the USWNT, well, besides yourself, is Alex Morgan, considering you actively sought her out, a cocky smirk on your face.  

Alex sighs in annoyance.  

“I know you made the fucking team, go away.”  

You grin grabbing an apple from the table in front of you and take a bite, the apple crunching loudly.  

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be actually. Isn’t this where the USWNT members sit?” You grin, earning an eye roll from the forward.  

“Yes, but your seat is over there.” She nods towards the trash and you laugh, sucking a piece of apple down your windpipe, garnering no help from the woman beside you.  

“Blimey, let one of the ONLY reasons you’ll be winning any and all major tournaments this year die, real dull mate.”  

Alex growls.  

“I’m not, ‘dull mate.’” She says, doing her best to mock you and your accent.

Your eyes widen.  

“Oh my god, that was rank awful. That actually hurt to hear. My nan is rolling over in her grave right now.”  

Alex blows a raspberry at you.  

“Real mature love, real mature.”  

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” She growls.

“I’m busy bothering you right now.”  

Alex snarls, jumping to her feet and storming off.  

“See you later teammate!” You yell, waving over exaggeratedly at her as she marches off.

                                                            ***

Where your feelings for Alex, at least off the field, were based more off of annoying her until the point of insanity, your feelings for her on the field was a competitive hate, something Alex mirrored, but her hate for you off field?  

Well, it was complete unbridled hate.  

“Seriously, if you’re going to play like that, then stay off the field, England needs you more than we do.” Alex shakes her head and you smirk.  

“You over shot it! Not me!” You shake your head in disbelief.  

Alex lets out a mock laugh.  

“Maybe you should’ve actually ran faster.”  

You throw your head back with a groan.  

“If I was in your position, we would’ve scored.”

Alex stomps her foot, the look in her eyes something you’d seen before, but never to this extent.  

“You’re not made for the USWNT and you’re NOT made for soccer at a national level, you sucked in college, and you still fucking suck now.”  

The field goes silent, everyone turning to look at Alex, their eyes wide.  

Meanwhile, Alex’s blue orbs are locked on your face, a face that holds literally no hints of the cockiness it TYPICALLY holds, instead, it holds what she reads, as a hint of sadness.  

You clear your throat, your mouth opening and closing a few times before you nod.  

“Th-Thanks.”  

Alex reaches out to you as you turn your back on her, the woman frowning as you make your way towards the bench, grabbing your things hastily before you head towards the bus.  

Alex’s head hangs in shame, the looks of her teammates burning holes in her back.  

“Alex-” Megan starts, only to be cut off by the forward moments later.  

“I KNOW! OKAY!?” She yells, sending the rest of the USNWT a look.  

Her shoulders hunch.  

“I know.”  

                                                            ***

The second she steps on the bus you turn away, unwilling to look at the woman as she walks past, though, unfortunately for you, she doesn’t walk past, she instead sits right beside you.  

“Are you lost?” You ask, voice rough.  

Alex shakes her head.  

“No, I’m not.”  

You move to your feet.  

“Well, if you’re not lost, then I’ll get lost.” You say, frowning when Alex doesn’t move so you can get out of your seat.  

“Move Morgan.” You growl angrily.  

She shakes her head.  

“No can do, Y/L/N.” She shrugs and you growl, about to climb over the seat, but the look on Alex’s face stops you, causing you to flop back down into your seat in annoyance.  

“Why are you holding me against my will Morgan?” You huff.  

She sighs, rolling her eyes.  

“Look, I’m sorry, I took it too far.”  

Your eyes narrow, brows furrowing as you lean back, away from the woman.  

“There’s no WAY that you’re Alex Morgan, she never apologizes, especially not to ME.” You bark out a laugh and she shakes her head.  

“As much as it PAINS me to do so, I shouldn’t have said what I said on field, you do deserve to be on the team, and you don’t suck... That much.” She shrugs, and you can’t help but smile.  

You begin chuckling, the woman looking at you in confusion.  

“What’s so funny?”  

“Yeah, you still suck.”  

Alex growls.  

“Fuck you Y/N.”  

You grin.  

“Right back at you love, right back at you.”  

                                                            ***

The lineup for the first match against Portugal was rather surprising, you weren’t expecting to start, not when players like Megan Rapinoe, Tobin Heath and Christen Press were on the team, but you were named to the starting lineup.  

You wouldn’t show your surprise to the team, but you’d been sure to ask Vlatko multiple times if the lineup was correct, and he of course, told you repeatedly it was.  

You did your best to not look nervous when standing in the tunnel, a number of Portugal’s players were glancing your way worriedly, everyone knew who you were, and everyone knew what you could do.  

The crowd cheered as the USWNT and Portugal made their way onto the field, everyone excited to see the new editions to the USWNT and what they had to offer.  

You completely blank out the National Anthem, standing stock still your eyes darting around the sold-out crowd.  

It isn’t until you’re taking your place on field that you snap back out of it, your eyes unconsciously darting to the woman with a big 13 on her back.  

You smirk.  

“Show time.”  

                                                            ***

You can feel it, the moment you’re about to make your first goal with the USWNT, your entire body shaking with excitement.

Alex can’t help but smile when you expertly slip the ball passed the Portugal player who’s on you and fire it in on goal, the ball with a bit of a spin on it.  

You still, the ball looking like an overshot, but thanks to the spin on it, gravity pulls it downwards, passed the goalkeeper’s fingertips and into the back of the net.  

You throw a fist in the air with a massive grin, a grin Alex mirrors when she walks over to you, patting your back, her reaction tame considering Tobin was currently hanging off your back, along with Kelley and Emily.  

Alex shrugs.  

“Lucky shot.”  

You snort.  

“Luck had nothing to do with it.”  

Alex snorts even louder.  

“I mean, I DID assist.”  

You roll your eyes.  

“Didn’t need your assistance.” You smirk, the forward’s eyes narrowing as she sends you a glare, receiving only a wink in return.  

Alex growls.  

“Still so infuriating.”  

                                                            ***

By the end of the first half the score is 2-0, and by the end of the game, it’s 4-0, one of those goals being yours, and another belonging to Alex Morgan.  

It’s when you’re heading to the bus that you turn to Alex with a smirk.  

“Had to copy me, huh Morgan?”

Alex scoffs.  

“Copy? You got a goal before me, big deal.”  

Tobin shakes her head as she takes a seat beside Christen on the bus.  

“Do they argue about everything?” She asks and Christen giggles, watching as you and Alex bicker, though instead of sitting far away from one another, Alex sits right behind you.  

“I mean, I guess that’s how they say they’re into each other.”  

An incredibly loud laugh makes Christen jump, the woman turning to her bus buddy who is looking at her in shock.  

“They literally want each other dead.”  

Christen rolls her eyes.  

“No, they don’t, they like each other.”  

Ali turns around in her seat towards Christen and Tobin.  

“I mean, it’s obvious.”  

Ashlyn scoffs.  

“Obvious that Y/N would poison Alex’s food if she could.”  

Kelley, who comes in from out of nowhere snorts.  

“Yeah, I mean, they’ve hated each other since college, Jan talks about it all the time.”  

Christen and Ali share a glance, the two shaking their heads.  

“They’re totally into each other.”

“Oh, I know.”  

                                                            ***

“Wait, there HAS to be a mistake...” You say as Vlatko turns to you, Alex’s eyes wide and filled with absolute horror.  

“No, the two of you are rooming together. It seems.” He shrugs, knowing full well that it was he who decided the two of you would room together, and it wouldn’t be a onetime deal either.

The two of you glance at one another, eyes narrowed.  

“I get the shower first.” Alex mumbles and you smirk, swiping the key from Vlatko before sprinting to the elevators.  

“The FUCK you do!” You yell, Alex sprinting after you.  

“Y/N YOU GET BACK HERE!”

Everyone watches as Alex chases after you, their eyes wide.  

Tobin turns towards Christen.  

“You call THAT being into each other?”  

Christen turns towards Ali, the two yet again, shaking their heads.  

“Oblivious.”  

                                                            ***

“DON’T USE ALL THE HOT WATER!” Alex yells, smacking the bathroom door and you growl.  

The door swings open moments later and you walk out, wearing nothing but a sports bra and a pair of boxers.  

“Morgan, we’re in a hotel, that’s impossible.”  

Alex watches as you head to your suitcase, riffling through its contents.  

She can’t help but stare, the wide expanse of flesh and muscle usually hidden beneath your uniform now on display for her to see.  

You turn around, holding a wad of clothes, your brows furrowed.

Alex jumps when you reach out, poking her in the forehead with your index finger.  

“Hey!” She growls, slapping at your hand.  

“I just wanted to see if you were still alive.”  

Alex’s eyes rake down your front, stopping on your very prominent abdominal muscles.  

You turn away and step in the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind you.  

Alex stands there for a moment before she glances around.  

“Yeah.”  

                                                            ***

Alex had TRIED to tell herself that she was in NO way ogling you like a horny frat boy, but when you walked out wearing basically the same thing to sleep in, she knew she was, for a fact, ogling you like a horny frat boy.  

She’d made a quick retreat to the bathroom moments after, but she couldn’t avoid you forever.  

You meanwhile were completely sprawled out in bed, Nintendo Switch in hand. You briefly wondered if Alex had drowned, but when the bathroom door swung open you sighed.  

“I thought you might’ve drowned, I was going to see if you wanted to smash.”

Alex stops mid-stride, dropping her clothes on the floor.  

“WHAT!?”  

Your brows furrow as you hold your Nintendo Switch up.  

“Smash...?”

Alex clears her throat, her cheeks blood red.  

“O-O-Oh...”  

You snort.  

“Christ Morgan.” You shake your head and she rolls her eyes, stomping to her bed.  

“What?”  

You shrug.  

“Get your mind out of the gutter, at least now I know you want in my trousers.” You smirk and she snarls, a pillow flying from her bed and smacking you right in the face.  

“Fuck you.”  

“SEE!” You grin, throwing the pillow back on her bed.  

“I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

You shake your head.  

“Get over here and we’ll smash.” You hold a controller out to her and her eyes narrow.  

“Sure, you’re okay with losing?” She asks cockily and you grin.  

“Are you?”

Alex scoffs.  

“I’d never lose to you.”  

“We’ll see about that.”  

                                                            ***

“Why do you look so tired?” Kelley asks Alex the following day and the forward yawns.  

“Y/N and I were Smashing.”  

Kelley’s brown orbs widen, as do Alex’s the forward punching her friend in the arm.  

“Super Smash Brothers you bitch.”  

Kelley hums.  

“I mean I could see you and Y/N hate fucking each other.” She shrugs and Alex’s cheeks flush bright red.  

Alex punches Kelley in the shoulder, the defender groaning.  

“Jesus Christ, Jan. You didn’t have to hit me so hard.”  

Alex turns her attention towards her breakfast and away from the pouting defender beside her.  

Though you were absolutely irritating and Alex thought about killing you a total of 48 times last night, she enjoyed spending time with you.  

You yawn as you make your way towards the table, sitting across from Alex.  

“You have to get used to losing if we keep smashing every night.”  

Suddenly a plate falls to the table, hard, the sound making everyone jump.  

Tobin is standing beside you, her eyes wide, Ashlyn meanwhile is smirking as she sits down beside you.  

“Who’s smashing?” Megan asks and you roll your eyes.  

“Smash Bros.” You shake your head and Megan rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.

“Boring, there’s only one Smash that’s actually interesting.”  

Tobin gasps dramatically, her hand on her heart.  

“I beg to DIFFER.”  

You shake your head, watching with amusement as the two bicker, leading to Ashlyn chiming in.

You glance at Alex.  

“You just HAD to tell everyone we Smashed.”  

Alex rolls her eyes.  

“Of course, I did, because I won.”  

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you sip your orange juice.  

“Like one time, Morgan.”  

Alex growls.  

“WELL, WE’LL SMASH AGAIN TONIGHT!” She yells, every single one of her teammates turning her way.  

Alex clears her throat, rubbing the back of her neck.  

“Are we talking about the SAME Smashing?” You smirk and Alex sends you a glare.  

“SHUT UP.”  

                                                            ***

Alex rubs her temples angrily.  

Playing in the rain had always been a hassle, but playing in the rain against SWEDEN was a nightmare.  

Sweden was the USWNT’s rival and the fact that the USWNT were currently down by 2 of COURSE, didn’t sit well with Alex Morgan.  

The whistle blows, signaling the end of the first half and Alex sighs in relief, she needed a break, not only for her tired legs, but to quell the irritation inside of her.

Someone bumps into her and she snarls.  

“Watch where the FUCK you’re going.” She turns towards, who she now realizes is you, you who looks as equally pissed as she does.  

“Listen Morgan, I’m seriously not in the fucking mood, I’m just as mad as you are, so don’t start your shit with me.” You snap, your USWNT teammates stopping to stare at the two of you with wide eyes.  

“Fuck you.” She snarls turning to walk away and you sneer.  

“Yeah? We’ll fuck you too!” You yell before you follow after her and into the locker room.  

“Why are you following me!?” She yells and you scoff.  

“WE SHARE A LOCKER ROOM.” You deadpan, flopping down on the nearby bench.  

“Well, you can still sit away from me.” Alex gripes and you shake your head.  

“I’m not moving Morgan.”

Alex, being purposely annoying sits down behind you, rather closely in fact.  

“Well, I’m not either.” She mumbles and you snort.  

“Mature Morgan, REALLLL mature.”  

                                                            ***

By the time the game ended the USWNT had a comeback, winning the game 3-2, much to Alex’s elation, as well as your own.  

That elation didn’t erase the fact that the two of you had argued during the match, the two of you cold, wet and incredibly angry.  

Alex is pulled out of her trance when the bathroom’s door in your and her hotel room swings open, a rush of steam flowing out as you leave the room.  

Alex glances away from you, not only because you’re, yet again, barely dressed, but also because she’s ashamed of her behavior earlier that day.  

You flop onto your bed without even looking at her, choosing to fall face down against its plush surface.  

You remain silent, the air within the room incredibly heavy.  

The silence is broken by Alex’s soft whisper.

“I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you.”  

You remain silent as you roll over, your hand slipping into your suitcase.

You search blindly until you find what you’re looking for, holding the Nintendo Switch out to Alex.

“Smash?” You ask and Alex smiles.

“Smash.”  

Alex flops on the bed beside you, taking the controller she’d used a few nights prior.

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m sorry too.”  

Alex’s brows arch, the woman unable to bite back a smile, something that makes you send her a glare.

“Enough of this shite, ready to lose Morgan?”  

Alex scoffs.  

“I should be asking you that.”  

                                                            ***

You grimace as the body beside you shifts, a pair of arms wrapping tightly around you from behind.  

“I’m not the little spoon.” You growl, attempting to wiggle free from the hold you’re in.  

“Get over it.”  

Your eyes flash open, as do Alex’s the two of you abruptly sitting up when you realize you’d in fact fallen asleep together the night before.  

You turn to face her, the two of you looking at one another in absolute horror.

“I was just-

Alex leaps out of bed, the woman making a beeline towards the bathroom the two of you share.  

You nod, your cheeks flushed.  

“Ye-Yeah.”

You clear your throat, turning away from the bathroom to instead look at the alarm clock beside you.  

3:13 AM

You grumble, annoyed at the fact that you’d woken up so early.  

If you were honest with yourself, you were also annoyed that Alex wasn’t currently beside you, but you weren’t really in the mood for honesty at the moment.  

You flop backwards, rolling towards the center of the bed where it just so happens Alex had been laying moments later, the smell of the woman’s perfume left behind on the sheets.  

You attempt to resist temptation, but find yourself failing when you bury your nose into the sweet-smelling fabric, the smell clouding your senses.  

The bathroom door creaks open sometime after, the sweet-smelling fabric lulling you to the cusp of sleep, as you fight your eyelids you watch as Alex tiptoes to her bed, the woman glancing over her shoulder at your ‘sleeping’ form with a smile before she makes her way to her own bed.  

She falls down onto the cold sheets with a frown, thoughts of what the following day would bring running through her head.  

                                                            ***

Much to everyone’s surprise at practice the following day, neither you nor Alex had been at one another’s throats, in fact, you’d been ignoring each other as if the other had contracted the Black Death.  

Even when you slip a ball passed Alex and into goal, you don’t gloat, instead choosing to just jog away as if you hadn’t scored.  

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Kelley asks, her eyes narrowed as she stares inquisitively at Alex.  

“What?” Alex asks dumbly.  

Kelley scoffs.

“THAT, Y/N didn’t even gloat! She didn’t rub in your face that she scored passed you!” Kelley points at you and Alex shrugs.  

“Beats me.”  

Kelley’s eyes narrow even further as Alex walks away, the defender’s eyes burning holes in her back.  

“I WILL FIND OUT WHAT’S GOING ON JAN!” She yells across field, drawing the attention of each and every one of her teammates, including you.  

You clear your throat, your cheeks flushing when you realize Alex’s blue orbs are on you.  

The two of you abruptly turn away from one another, thoughts of the events that transpired that morning running through your heads.  

You clear your throat as you rub the back of your neck, your cheeks flushing further when you think about Alex’s arms around you, and how much you’d liked it.  

                                                            ***

That night was even worse considering the two of you were still rooming together.  

Alex refused to look in your direction and you refused to look in hers, making the situation even more awkward.  

“Look.” Alex started, causing you to turn her way, when your eyes locked, she fell silent.  

“This was easier when you weren’t looking at me.”  

Your eyes widen momentarily before you turn away.  

“Alright Morgan, go ahead.”

Alex huffs.  

“I’m sorry about last night, I didn’t mean to, ummm...”  

You chance a glance her way, smirking when you see how flushed her cheeks are.  

“What?” Alex asks when she sees the smirk on your face and you shrug.  

“Nothing.”  

You fish your Nintendo Switch out of your bag and nod towards your bed.  

“Let’s go Morgan, or are you too shy to Smash now?” You ask, a brow arched and Alex scoffs.  

“Not a chance.”  

                                                            ***

It’s an hour into playing that it happens, though neither you, or Alex realized it was happening until your shoulders brush.  

You both stiffen, your eyes widening, though neither of you dare look at the other.  

Something else neither of you do though is scoot away from one another, your shoulders still brushing.  

You clear your throat, your body untensing as you settle back against the pillow behind you, the feel of Alex’s blue orbs boring into you making goosebumps sprout on your flesh.  

“Come on Morgan, head in the game.”  

You miss the tiny smile that adorns Alex’s face as she focuses on the screen before you, though what you don’t miss is the brush of her leg against yours.  

The inevitable of course happens when you feel Alex’s head rest on your shoulder, the woman fighting her fluttering eyelids.  

You glance at the nearly unconscious woman on your shoulder and snort.  

“Lay down Morgan.” You smile, the forward grumbling.  

“But I don’t want to get up...”  

You roll your eyes, taking her controller and laying your Switch on the table between your beds.  

You wiggle until your head hits the pillow behind you, which results in Alex’s head falling onto your chest, the forward’s eyes widening.  

You remain silent, waiting for her to make the next move, when she cuddles into your side, your cheeks flush, that flush spreading to the tips of your ears.  

“Is this, okay?” Alex asks in a hushed whisper and you smile.  

“It is.”  

                                                            ***

The two of you sharing a bed becomes a regular thing, so much so that Alex’s bed remains untouched 95% of the time, usually housing your luggage instead of Alex like it should be.  

The rivalry you had on the field soon disappeared, something that came as a shock to literally everyone, even Vlatko.  

You knew what you felt for Alex wasn’t friendship, it went well beyond that, your hatred for her turned into something you never ever expect, and that was love.  

You loved Alex Morgan and there was no going back.  

                                                            ***

You were pissed, absolutely pissed, and how could you not be when no fouls were being called against Canada?  

Fouls that were currently being directed at #13, Alex Morgan.  

You snarl when yet again, Alex is taken down in the box, but YET AGAIN, the foul isn’t called.  

“COME ON!” You yell, stomping towards the downed forward whose hand you take before you pull her to her feet.  

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly as you scan the forward who nods.  

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She smiles and you nod.  

“She better call the fouls or I swear-

The whistle blows and you growl.  

“Nothing but a right bitch that one.” You mumble before jogging away, missing the snort that Alex lets out, the forward shaking her head.  

Her cheeks flush from more than exertion when she realizes your anger that’s directed at the ref is because the fouls have been directed solely on her, considering she was the only one being fouled.  

And that was about to happen yet again, but this time, Alex wasn’t going to get up.  

                                                            ***

The look on your face was one of pure horror when Alex went down with a cry, the Canadian player’s cleats digging into her skin, soaking her socked ankle with blood.  

The whistle blows loudly, the ref finally carding the player who’d fouled Alex with a red card, but that wasn’t good enough for you, not when Alex was currently bleeding.  

Alex watches from her place on the ground as you advance on the player in red, landing a right hook that would make any boxer jealous, the woman falling to the ground with a thud.  

Time literally stands still, your knuckles throbbing in pain as the player cups her cheek, her eyes wide as she stares up at you in shock.  

“OFF THE FIELD! NOW!” The ref yells, the woman producing a red card immediately and holding it high above her head.  

“Bugger off, wanker.” You mumble as you make your way towards Alex, who’s currently surrounded by the medical team.  

“What the hell did you do that for!?” She growls at you and you frown.  

“I-

You glance around, watching as the Canadian player, you were so angry you didn’t know her name, is aided off field, the woman still clasping her cheek.  

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue.  

Deep down, you knew why your reaction had been so visceral, but you couldn’t tell Alex that could you?  

So instead, you decided to do the only thing you could do, and that was turn on your heels and sprint towards the nearest exit.  

                                                            ***

Alex frowns as you sprint towards the exit, leaving her and the team behind.  

The medical team hoists her to her feet, the woman limping off field, the fans clapping in respect for the USWNT player as the final whistle blows.  

The second Alex gets off field though she pulls away from the medical team, choosing instead to limp after you, the forward hoping she wasn’t too late and was able to catch you.  

Alex limped down the tunnel and rushed towards the nearest exit, hoping it was the exit you’d went through in your haste to put distance between the two of you.

She rounds the corner, a sigh of relief leaving her when she sees you marching down the sidewalk, away from her.  

“Y/N!” She yells, causing you to stop in your tracks.  

The dark clouds overhead that had been teasing rain all day had finally opened the proverbial floodgates, the soft sprinkles becoming somewhat of a downpour in literal moments.  

Slowly, you turn around to face the forward who’s advancing on you, the woman limping as quickly as she can, closing the distance between the two of you.  

You swallow hard, unable to look the woman in the eye as she tries catching your gaze,  

“Y/N?! What was that!?” She yells, pointing back at the field and you shake your head.  

“What was that!?” She yells again and you swallow hard.  

“She was on your ass the entire game Al, and no one was calling the fouls! I had to do something!” You yell over the heavily pouring rain, the nickname slipping unknowingly off your tongue.  

“That’s not your job, Y/N.” She frowns and you scoff.  

“So, I’m just supposed to watch her hurt you? Watch her make you bleed!?” You cry, the feel of frustrated tears welling up in your eyes.  

“Why does it matter so much to you!?” She asks, and you shake your head.

“Because I love you!”  

Alex stiffens, as do you, your eyes widening in horror when you realize what you’d just said.  

Your mouth opens and closes, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue as you take a step back from the injured USWNT forward.  

Alex reaches out for you, her fingertips brushing the back of your hand.  

“Y/N...” She whispers, taking a step towards you.  

You’re about to take a step back when she grabs your wrist, effectively holding you in place, you weren’t about to jerk away, fearful that you may hurt her.  

You swallow hard when she steps even closer, the distance between you closing as her chest brushes your own.  

“Say it again.”  

You shake your head as you turn away, though when Alex’s fingers intertwine with yours, you turn back towards her, the woman’s blue orbs focused on your hand in hers.  

“Say it again...”  

You shake your head, a lump forming in your throat.  

“Alex-

“Please Y/N.” She whispers as she tucks a strand of hair, that had been stuck to your face, behind your ear.  

You blink rapidly, Alex’s fingers tracing your jawline before she cups your cheek.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you find your voice.  

“I-I...” You stammer, your eyes shutting as you swallow.  

“I love you, Alex, and I think I always have I just-

You stiffen, your eyes wide and hands hovering in the air as Alex’s lips meet yours in a tentative, first kiss.  

Just as your eyes flutter shut the team rounds the corner, their eyes widening before they turn Christen and Ali, the two smirking as they bump their shoulders together.  

“We told you.”  

Meanwhile your hands find purchase on Alex’s waist, the woman pulling back only to lean right back in, the brush of her lips sending a jolt throughout your entire body.

A crack of lightning makes the two of you jump, though neither of you pull back, your lips brushing as the two of you smile, toothy grins on full display.  

Alex’s forehead rests against yours, her hair stuck to her face thanks to the water entirely soaking the two of you.  

The reasonable members of the team usher the chaotics back into the arena, leaving you and Alex alone, the two of you so wrapped up in one another you hadn’t noticed them anyway.  

Your tongue swipes at your lips, your Y/E/C orbs focused intently on Alex’s.  

“When did you know?” Alex asks, her voice pulling you out of your trance, your cheeks flushing.  

“Know what?” You ask dumbly, earning a look that says Alex knows you’re just playing dumb.  

You sigh.  

“The first time you yelled at me during a match in college.”  

Alex’s brows arch.  

“It was cute.”  

Alex scoffs.  

“It wasn’t meant to be cute.”  

You shrug.  

“Well, it was to me, and I was right smitten.”  

Alex’s lips split into a massive grin, the woman leaning in to bump her nose playfully against yours.  

“Your nose crinkles up when you’re angry.” She giggles and you bite your bottom lip, your cheeks dusted pink.  

Alex tilts her head back, kissing the tip of your nose, your lips splitting into a grin.

“I guess we better get back in there...” Alex sighs and you huff.  

“I guess so.”  

Alex reluctantly takes a step back before she turns around, the two of you walking back to the door that led back into the arena.  

Before Alex can make her way through the tunnel, you grab her wrist, giving her a gentle tug until she’s back in your arms again, your nose brushing hers.  

“I never ACTUALLY hated you.” You whisper softly, giving her wrist a squeeze.  

Alex smiles, the forward closing the distance between you with a feather light kiss, her lips feeling as if they barely brush your own.  

“And I never ACTUALLY hated you either.”

You cup Alex’s cheek, the woman’s blue orbs disappearing behind her fluttering eyelids as she leans into your touch.  

It’s in that moment when you spot them out of the corner of your eye, a snort sounding in the back of your throat as you watch your teammates scramble to make themselves scarce.  

Alex follows your gaze, the woman rolling her eyes in annoyance when she spots your nosy teammates.  

“Idiots.”  

You wrap your arms around her from behind, pulling the woman close, your chin resting on her shoulder.  

“So, you yell at them, and I watch? I bet it’s even cuter when you’re yelling at someone else.” You grin, grunting when Alex elbows you in the stomach.  

“It’s not cute when I’m angry.” She pouts and you grin, shrugging.  

“Actually, it’s adorable.”  

Alex growls, a furrow forming between her brows as she tries, and fails to scowl at you.  

“Still so infuriating.” She grumbles, the woman about to turn away, but before she can you catch her lips, unable to bite back a smile as the two of you kiss.  

“I’m so infuriating, but you still smitten, aren’t you love?” You ask and she rolls her eyes, her cheeks flushed red.  

She gives your shoulder a playful slap and you snicker.  

Looking into the pools of blue that are Alex Morgan’s eyes, you knew coming to the US was the best decision you’d ever made.  

You lean in, tilting your head back to press a kiss to her forehead.  

“What do you say we go kill our nosy teammates now?” You ask with a grin and Alex takes your hand, intertwining your fingers.  

“Lead the way.”  

[cherienymphe]

Regrets of Yesterday (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: arranged marriage, infidelity? (does it still count if all parties are consenting?), mafia!Steve, side of Bucky x reader, jealous!Steve, eventual NON-CON, Steve’s an ass

DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers​}

➥ This will be a short 3 part series  ➥ part 2

summary: your arranged marriage to the infamous Steve Rogers isn’t what you initially thought it would be, but things have worked out better than you could have imagined. However, your arrangement with your husband becomes complicated when feelings, and circumstances, that neither of you anticipated come into play.

~

Your marriage to the infamous Steve Rogers wasn’t even what you would call a cold one. Truth be told, it wasn’t a marriage at all. Everything was arranged the moment you had caught his parents’ eyes, and before you knew it, you were engaged to a man you had never met. Of course, you knew who Steve Rogers was.

Everyone did.

To the average person, he was your run of the mill business man who’d been blessed with generational wealth. To those who really knew, he was a stern leader to the most well-known crime organization in the city, the same one he’d inherited from his father. He was equally brilliant as he was handsome, and that you could confirm for yourself on your wedding day.

It was a wedding with a decent turnout. Both of your parents were there to witness the event of course. As well as his men, but you hadn’t expected other crime bosses to be in attendance, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make you nervous. Your hair looked the best it ever had, your makeup highlighted your best features, and your dress clung to you in a way that caused everyone’s gazes to linger. All in all, it was a beautiful wedding.

If only your husband to be had been present.

Steve was there physically, of course, but the rest of him was so far away that you found yourself feeling alone at the altar. Your hands were intertwined with his as you said your vows, but you couldn’t really feel them. Your eyes met his, but it felt like he wasn’t even looking at you. His lips brushed against yours so lightly, you had to wonder if you imagined the kiss.

Your parents were positively beaming as the priest pronounced you man and wife, but as you contemplated the weight of Steve’s hand in yours, you wondered just how true that was.

The reception was everything you wanted, and when you were told that you had free reign over all of the wedding details, you had been excited. You thought that Steve was going to be one of those husbands who just wanted to make his wife happy no matter what. It was a rude awakening to realize that it was solely because he didn’t care. About the wedding...

About you.

It was during your first dance as a married couple that you fully realized just what this marriage would be.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Steve had started, making you frown.

His blue eyes gazed into yours, neat blond hair pushed away from his face. His handsome face was unreadable, not a hint of emotion peeking through, and his voice was even as he continued.

“I don’t know if they told you why you’re here…”

“They did.”

The main reason for this marriage was so that Steve could produce an heir to continue his family’s legacy. That had been made clear from the beginning, but it didn’t help you any with trying to figure out where this conversation was going.

“…and you understand that’s the only reason you’re here, correct?”

You blinked, a bit shocked as you registered his words. You knew that it played a big part in this marriage, but you hadn’t known that it was the sole reason for this marriage…nor your place here.

“I see,” you whispered, a bit disappointed.

You both turned to pose as a camera flashed, and your conversation continued as he moved you about the dancefloor, a soft breeze ruffling the skirt of your dress.

“I’m not as cruel as they say,” he murmured. “I won’t expect you to just sit in a loveless marriage.”

Your frown deepened as he continued.

“You are free to find affection elsewhere. As am I,” he said, making your eyes widen. “I’m used to a certain lifestyle, and that won’t stop just because we got married, and it would be unfair to not allow you to do the same.”

Your lips parted, and you blinked because this was not how you expected your wedding day to go at all. Here you were, dancing in a courtyard full of people as they watched the two of you celebrate your marriage. Meanwhile, your husband was telling you that he had no intentions of remaining faithful while you were free to do the same because your marriage was for one purpose and one purpose only.

“You…you want me to…”

You trailed off, your words dying in your throat as he looked away from you. Your eyes focused on his side profile, jaw moving every time he talked.

“My father gave me a year to find a wife and start working on producing an heir. He isn’t the most pleasant person to be around when he doesn’t get what he wants. This will satisfy him for the time being while we continue our lives as they were,” he explained.

You pressed your lips together, shoulders dropping as you accepted this.

“…when the time comes, we’ll do what needs to be done to have a child. Until then…”

You supposed that you couldn’t be upset with Steve. This was an arranged marriage after all. Everyone knew how most arranged marriages went, and you were the one who’d imagined this to be something it wasn’t. Besides, it wasn’t his fault that your parents didn’t clue you in on the whole story. You suspected that was for a reason though because had you known, you never would have agreed.

At least he was being transparent with you.

His eyes met yours again, and you nodded at him just as the music slowed to a halt. For the first time since you met, Steve smiled at you, and you did the same, albeit reluctantly. He took your hand and gently handed you off to your father, the older man pulling you into a dance as the music started up.

When you were done dancing with him, you enjoyed a dance with Steve’s father, the older Rogers pulling several laughs from you as he recounted stories of years past. Your dances with the other crime bosses were much more nerve-wracking, the eldest Odinson holding you a tad too tight for your liking. You were relieved when the song ended, and another took his place.

Your next dance partner, while never having the pleasure of meeting him until today, was also not unknown to you. James Barnes was just as well known as your new husband, equally as handsome, and much easier to talk to it seemed.

“You look lovely, Mrs. Rogers,” he told you, and you blinked.

You were taken aback. Sure, your father and even Steve’s father had complimented you on your dress, but Steve hadn’t said a word about how you looked. In fact, he’d hardly spared you a glance. While you accepted your marriage for what it would be, you didn’t realize that meant it would be a cold one.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.”

He smiled at you, a genuine expression as his lips pulled back from his teeth.

“Steve and I are close, and you’ll be seeing a lot of me so please. Call me Bucky,” he told you.

You returned his smile with a nod.

“Okay…Bucky.”

You danced with Bucky for 3 more songs, learning that he and Steve had grown up together and were practically like brothers. You enjoyed dancing with him. He didn’t hold you as tight as Thor Odinson did, but his touch also wasn’t that of a ghost’s like your husband’s. He was attentive during the conversation, looking at you instead of through you and talking with you instead of at you.

When it came time for you and Steve to cut the cake, you were a tad disappointed to part from him. Even more so when the time came for the two of you to be driven off in the limo. You stared out of the window the entire time while Steve took a business call. You occasionally eyed him, wondering if he’d ever hang up to at least have a conversation with you, but it was in vain.

With a sigh, you looked away, and forced yourself to accept that this marriage wasn’t really a marriage at all, and that it would never be. You didn’t know this man, and you weren’t being put under any obligations to love him. Truthfully, you never even had to interact with him at all. You could just bask in his millions while living a life completely separate from him. You realized that plenty of women would kill to be in your place, and it was then and there in the limo, on the way to a honeymoon where your husband wouldn’t even sleep in the same room as you, you’d decided that you would make the best of this.

“Do you…have to…leave so soon?”

His thick accent reached your ears as you bent to pick up your dress, smooth voice interrupted by his labored breathing. You slid the satin material over your skin as you pulled it back on, and you felt the bed move beneath you. You smiled when his lips brushed against your bare shoulder, a hum climbing out of his throat as they traveled to your neck.

“Pietro,” you chided.

He pretended like he hadn’t heard you, lips finding yours in a soft kiss when you turned your head. You grinned into his mouth, hand resting on his shoulder.

“I have to go,” you whispered, and he groaned.

He fell back onto the plush bed with a sigh, blue eyes finding yours. He didn’t look happy, but then again, he never did when you had to leave.

“I’ve already stayed much longer than I planned to,” you told him, standing to adjust your dress.

Before you had the chance to reach back and do it yourself, Pietro sat up to zip the material for you. His fingers brushed over your skin as he did so, lingering, and you took in a shaky breath. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and exhaled.

“Let me guess… Steve?”

You let out a snort, shaking your head while you held in a chuckle.

“When is it ever Steve?”

You and your husband had been together for almost a year, and you’d probably seen the man maybe 10 times. Steve had his life, and you had yours. Not once had the two ever mixed, not even for something as mundane as dinner. You heard Pietro scoff, and you stepped away from him to put on your shoes.

“James,” he decided, so much disdain dripping from his voice you’d think that James had fucked his mother or something. “Of course, it’s James.”

You glanced at him from over your shoulder.

“Do I detect some jealousy?”

“Of course, you do!”

You turned to face Pietro as he stood, naked as the day he was born.

“He always gets you. You like him better,” he said with a pout, and you tilted your head.

You did feel a bit guilty because what he said was true, but it couldn’t be helped. You and Pietro had only just started seeing each other two months ago. Bucky had made his intentions clear with you barely a month into your marriage.

You had been taken aback at his boldness, especially since you’d only been married to his best friend for 30 days, but then you remembered that Steve had probably resumed the activities of his former life as soon as you had returned from your honeymoon.

He was never home, always out late, and on the rare occasion you did cross paths, he hardly spared you a glance. It had been a bit lonely at first, most of your free time filled with shopping or reading or cooking. That all changed when Steve required your presence at some stuffy event. The limo ride had been silent, and you’d taken it upon yourself to part from him as soon as you entered the building.

Bucky had found you in one of the many empty hallways, admiring some painting while you sipped on a glass of champagne. He had complimented you just like he’d done on your wedding day, and you shyly thanked him, not used to the attention. Having been familiar with the building, he gave you a tour, keeping you company and making you laugh the whole night.

As you made your way to one of the upper floors, you had stumbled, courtesy of the alcohol in your system. Bucky caught you with a laugh, telling you that maybe you needed to slow down before plucking the glass out of your hand. You couldn’t remember when nor how he’d gotten so close, but his lips were suddenly on yours.

…and you were kissing him back.

You had eventually stumbled away, feeling wrong despite the fact that Steve said it was okay. Despite the fact that your husband had been doing this very thing all along. You left Bucky there in a hurry, easily finding Steve. He had been looking for you too, ready to go. The ride home was just as silent, but for once, your sham of marriage wasn’t on your mind. It was the feel of Bucky’s lips on yours.

You busied yourself for days, shopping and going out to eat to keep your mind off of one James Barnes. It came to a screeching halt when a limo that wasn’t yours was waiting outside for you when you exited one of your favorite stores. You knew it was Bucky before the window even rolled down, and you had every intention of telling him no when he offered you a ride home.

Your mind said no, and you had even convinced your heart to say no, but when you opened your mouth, that wasn’t what escaped. Confused with yourself, you reluctantly slid into the dark vehicle as he opened the door for you. He had offered you something to drink, and you had shaken your head, avoiding his eyes.

After a while, he moved to join you on your side, gently taking your hand. You didn’t stop him. His free one rested under your chin, tilting your head up so that your eyes were on him. You remembered thinking that he looked more handsome than usual that day, blue eyes brighter and dark hair styled perfectly. His eyes had searched yours as he leaned in to kiss you.

You didn’t stop him.

Your legs shook when you slowly made your way to your front door, a dazed smile on your lips. You had leaned your back against the door, ignorant to the housekeeper as they called your name. As you had made your way up the stairs, Bucky’s scent still clinging to your skin, for once, you were happy to be all alone in this big house.

You had touched yourself that night, no longer a faceless being behind your eyes, but instead James Buchanan Barnes. You woke up that next morning feeling better than you had in weeks, your mood only lifting when a knock sounded on the front door. Bucky was there with a bouquet of flowers, dressed impeccably with his limo waiting behind him. You told him to give you 30 minutes, and 30 minutes later, in a dress that you had bought yourself weeks ago to cheer you up, he was leading you towards the car.

The rest was history.

You pulled yourself from your reverie, frowning a bit at Pietro.

“Well, he’s here. You go back home in, what…2 days?” you wondered with a shrug. “I only see you for a week before you’re flying back home for another month.”

Pietro ran his eyes over you, lips down turned.

“You could come with me,” he whispered.

This conversation was not unfamiliar to you, and you rolled your eyes.

“Even if I wanted to Pietro, that would never happen,” you said, holding up your left hand. “I’m married.”

“Barely,” he mumbled.

You laughed at that, putting your earrings back in.

“True marriage or not, I don’t think Steve would take too kindly to me running off with one of my lovers. His pride wouldn’t survive it.”

“Screw his pride, the man is an idiot,” he spat, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer. “We both know it’s James you worry about. There’s no doubt in my mind he’d have me killed for stealing you away.”

You pecked his lips, pulling away before reaching for your coat and your purse.

“You’re probably right. All the more reason I can’t just run off with you,” you told him.

He heaved a heavy sigh as you made your way to the door.

“I’ll call you later?” you said, glancing at him.

Pietro rolled his eyes, but a fond smile found its way onto his lips anyway.

“Of course.”

As you made your way out of the suite and into the elevator, you found yourself thinking about your fling with Pietro. He was beautiful and cultured, and he made your head spin. However, he was flighty. You knew that Pietro had a roster of women lined at his feet, and you were simply his favorite. Pietro was not the kind of man you just run off with. Sure, your marriage to Steve wasn’t a marriage at all, but it provided security, and you’d be silly to give that up for a womanizer who would lose interest in less than 4 months.

Besides, what Pietro said did have a grain of truth to it. There was no doubt in your mind that Bucky would kill the man for stealing you away. If Pietro, like all the others, was a fling, then Bucky… Well, Bucky was probably the love of your life. It was strange to finally admit that to yourself, but you did love him. Sometimes it felt like you were married to him instead of Steve, and sometimes, when it was just the two of you, you wished that were true.

You sighed into Bucky’s mouth as he pressed his hips into yours, warmth filling you as you came around him for the second time that night. Your fingers were tangled into his hair, a shudder passing through you while his fingers pressed into your hips.

“Stay the night,” he whispered against your lips.

You chuckled, throwing your head back as he brushed his own against your jaw.

“That would make it the third night in a row. I shouldn’t,” you replied. “God forbid Steve remembers my existence and actually needs me for something now of all times. It would be just my luck.”

He rolled off of you with a sigh, exasperation coloring his tone.

“Just tell him you’re busy,” he slyly said, tracing his finger down your side.

You slapped his hand away, and he laughed.

“That’s not part of the deal,” you reminded him.

He scoffed, and you sat up. You and Steve never brought up your separate lives in conversation. While that was hardly a possibility before, seeing as he never talked to you, in a week, you and he will have been married a year and 4 months, and you were seeing more of him than you were used to. Bucky had mentioned something about some shipments he was letting Tony handle, and you guessed that gave Steve more free time. You were surprised he didn’t want to fill that time with one of his many mistresses.

“Right. What is it again? Don’t ask…”

“…don’t tell,” you finished. “…and never in the house.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, resting his hand behind his head as he gazed at you, dark hair mussed.

“Are you happy?” Bucky suddenly asked you, and you paused, turning to fully face him. “I mean with him. Are you happy with him?”

You frowned, mulling over that question.

“Well,” you breathed. “There’s not really an answer for that. I’m not with him.”

Bucky sat up too, now, and you continued.

“He and I, aside from our names on a piece of paper, aren’t together. I am…a womb waiting to be used to produce an heir to satisfy his family,” you said. “So, I’m not happy or unhappy with him because I am not with him. Truthfully, I’m with you...and I’m very happy with you.”

“Then be with me.”

Bucky’s face was clouded in desperation, and you blinked at him, frowning.

“What are you saying…?”

Bucky huffed, running his hand through his hair before taking your hand.

“I’m saying ditch the other guy,” he threw at you, and you barked a disbelieving laugh.

“The other guy! You mean Steve? Your best friend? That Steve?”

Bucky heaved a sigh as he got out of bed, and you watched as he pulled his pants on.

“Look, I love Steve, but he’s an idiot. I don’t care what kind of lifestyle I was used to. If I were marrying you, I’d turn my back on it all no questions asked just to have you every night,” he said, and your face softened. “If all he needs is a baby maker, he can easily find another wife.”

“Bucky,” you sighed.

“Leave him,” he pleaded. “…and be with me.”

“You know, the last time I saw Pietro, he was demanding the exact same thing from me.”

Bucky’s lip curled at the mention of the other man that you hadn’t seen in months, and you laughed.

“How is Pietro these days, anyway?”

You fixed him with a look.

“You know that I haven’t even talked to Pietro in months. After my last refusal to run off with him, he quickly lost interest.”

Bucky smiled, face brightening as he shrugged.

“I know. I just like to hear you say it.”

You tossed a pillow at him as he laughed, moving to get dressed. He pulled you into his side as soon as you were both clothed, fingers dancing along your waist.

“I like having you all to myself,” he murmured, lips meeting your cheek.

He helped you into your coat before walking you downstairs. It was colder these days, and he tightened his hold on you as he walked you to his car. The drive to your house was quiet, but not uncomfortable, Bucky’s hand in yours as you looked out of the window. It was late at night, but the city was even livelier than it was during the day. When his driver slowly pulled into your driveway, Bucky pressed his lips to yours, reluctant to pull away.

You felt the same, and you didn’t want to admit it to yourself that his proposal was tempting. His hand tightly held yours as you stepped out of the limo, making sure you didn’t fall. Just before you turned to leave, he brought the back of your hand to his lips, blue eyes drinking you in.

“Think about it,” he murmured, and you threw him a sad smile, promising him that you would.

Your heart was heavy as you pressed your key into the door, pressing your back to it as soon as you shut it. You stood in the foyer, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. All those months ago, when Pietro had asked you to leave your husband, it had been easy to turn him down. Bucky? Not so much. Feeling like you wanted to cry for the first time in forever, you slowly made your way into the living room.

“You’re out late.”

A startled shriek left your lips, hip bumping into the table beside you just as light flooded the room in time to watch the vase of flowers shatter against the floor. Fear forgotten, you pressed your hand to your heart, sucking your teeth at the vase Bucky had gotten you last year. He bought you fresh flowers every week to fill it with.

“Oh no,” you sighed, kneeling to grab them.

You heard Steve move behind you, footsteps growing louder as he neared. You glanced at him as you stood, shaking the water and glass off of the flowers.

“Jesus, Steve. You almost gave me a heart attack,” you complained.

“Sorry,” he evenly replied. “Was this new?”

He was referring to the vase, and you tripped over your words.

“Uh…no. N-not exactly,” you said, making your way to the kitchen.

You sat the flowers on the counter, grabbing the broom and dustpan before making your way back into the living room. You frowned at the mere presence of Steve, wondering what he was even doing home. Perhaps that was a bit unfair of you, but you had grown so used to not having him around. You preferred it. You could feel his eyes on you as you swept up the glass, even still when you returned to wipe up the water.

“We have a housekeeper for that,” he said, making you frown again.

“I’m aware,” you replied, standing. “…but what sense would it make for me to leave this here all night just so Peter can clean it up in the morning when I’m perfectly capable of doing it right now?”

Steve nodded, and you made to move towards the kitchen again when he spoke.

“You were out late.”

You paused to look at him, realizing that was what he’d said when you first came in, scaring the crap out of you. With a frown, you looked at your watch.

“It’s only 1:17,” you told him.

You were normally out much later, but Steve always came home in the early hours of the morning, if he came home at all, so of course he wouldn’t know that. He simply nodded at your response, hands on his hips. He was still dressed like he’d only recently gotten home himself, and you again wondered why he was even home, but you decided that you didn’t particularly care.

He was still standing there when you exited the kitchen, flowers left in the sink. You wouldn’t worry too much about them. It was almost time for Bucky to buy you a new bouquet anyway. You barely spared Steve a glance as you made your way to the stairs, briefly pausing when he wished you a goodnight. You threw him a small frown before wishing him the same, Bucky returning to your thoughts the minute you entered your bedroom.

You were startled again when you entered the kitchen the next morning, finding Steve already there sipping on a cup of coffee. Once again, his presence confused you, but you kept it to yourself. You don’t think you had ever woken up to find Steve still in the house, and certainly not in the kitchen. You didn’t greet him as you made your way to the fridge, grabbing some lemon to put in your water.

Silence filled the room as you went about cutting a few slices, preparing your drink. It seemed a little tense, but you were determined to ignore it. You were meeting Bucky in an hour and it would take half that just to figure out what to wear. You were pulled from your thoughts by Steve’s voice.

“You never did say where you were last night.”

You glanced up at him, a slight frown on your face before you released a light chuckle. You heard him set his mug down, and when you looked up again, his eyes were on you. He was casually dressed today, a first for him. He still had on the usual black slacks, but he’d traded the button down for a simple white tee.

“Something funny?”

His voice was low, a tone he used on his subordinates you were sure, but you merely nodded your head.

“Yes. You.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to frown, eyes narrowed just a bit.

“How so?”

“You’ve never been curious about my whereabouts before,” you told him.

“Well, that was before I knew you weren’t coming home,” he said.

You sighed, setting the knife down as realization hit you.

“We were supposed to attend a gala last night, and I came home the other day to tell you, but you weren’t here. You never even came through the door, and that was concerning,” he explained. “If you hadn’t walked through the door last night, I was going to send a search party.”

“I have a phone.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, pulling said phone out of his pocket before placing it on the counter.

“A phone that you left here.”

You grimaced, sheepishly taking it. You could get so caught up with Bucky sometimes that you were positive you’d lose your head if it weren’t attached to you. Your eyes met Steve’s, apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I’ll do better about keeping it with me,” you promised.

He heaved a sigh, taking another sip, eyes never leaving yours. You rolled your eyes, realizing what he wanted, before dropping your knife into the sink.

“I was with a friend,” you told him. “…but as you can see, I’m safe and sound. There’s no reason to worry.”

You slipped out of the kitchen before he could respond, determined to hurry up and get dressed. This wasn’t the first time that you’d forgotten your phone at home, it was just the first time you’d done so, and Steve happened to need you.

He wasn’t in the kitchen when you came back down, dressed and ready to go, but you could hear him upstairs. Practically itching to get out of this house and away from his cold stare, you hurriedly made your way outside. In the car, you took your time to check your phone, grimacing at the 3 missed calls from Steve. However, a smile found its way onto your face at the message from Bucky. He’d sent it last night after he dropped you off, telling you to think about it.

It was the first thing he brought up as soon as you met him at the restaurant too.

“Steve won’t even miss you. Hell, he doesn’t miss you, but I do. I miss you all the time,” he said.

“Funny, you miss me all the time when I feel like I’m with you all the time,” you commented, picking at your appetizer.

Bucky tilted his head, pretending to think.

“I’d say you’re with me about 90% of the time-.”

“90%, you don’t say,” you mocked.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “90%, and that other 10%, I’m practically dying.”

You rolled your eyes.

“How do you manage…”

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he continued, taking your hand. “Leave him. There are a million women who could easily take your place, women who want to be in your place. He gets one of them, you get me, and we’re all happy.”

You smirked at him, attention falling to your food again.

“Why Mr. Barnes, I do believe you’re trying to wreck my marriage,” you teased.

“Hardly. I’m simply trying to start a new one.”

Your eyes snapped to his, that teasing smile falling from your lips as you registered his words. Your heart skipped a beat, and your lips parted as he eyed you, his tongue darting out to wet his own.

“…what?”

“Doll…what did you think when I said be with me?”

You shook your head, shrugging.

“I…I don’t know, but I didn’t think you meant marriage. You want to marry me?”

He took your hand in both of his, pressing his lips to the skin, a brown strand kissing his forehead.

“Of course, I do. More than anything. Wouldn’t you like that?”

You thought about it, chewing on your lip.

“…waking up to each other every morning, falling asleep to each other every night. I’d bring you breakfast in bed and we’d…work on our little family…”

Your gaze met his again, and you found that you loved the sound of that.

“Are you…proposing to me…?”

The idea was absurd, especially considering you already had a ring on your finger. Bucky chuckled, shaking his head.

“Not really. I just wanted you to know my full intentions, that I’m not just fooling around here.”

You stewed over what he said while he continued.

“I’m not going to pressure you anymore, but you know how serious I am now, and I want you to think about it,” he softly told you.

You slowly nodded, still in shock.

“I will,” you quietly replied.

His grin widened, and he sat back in his seat.

“After we leave here, we can go pick out a nice bouquet, yeah?”

You suddenly blinked as you remembered last night, a smile on your face.

“Yes, please, and…a vase too?” you guiltily asked.

He frowned, tilting his head before nodding.

“Of course. What happened to your vase?”

You huffed a sigh.

“I broke it. I bumped into the table, courtesy of Steve,” you complained, shaking your head.

“Steve? What do you mean?” he demanded, voice dropping.

“It was nothing. He was waiting for me when I got home last night, in the dark like a creep, and he practically gave me a heart attack,” you explained.

Bucky didn’t respond for a while, simply humming. He picked at his food, lips pursed as he eyed you.

“Why was he waiting for you?”

“Apparently there was some gala last night? He’d been planning to tell me I had to be in attendance with him but someone…,” you threw him a pointed look “…prevented me from going home the other night. Add in that I had left my phone at home, I guess Steve convinced himself that I had been kidnapped or something.”

Bucky simply hummed in response, and you both finished your lunch. Your days spent with Bucky always went by fast, and you were always sad to wish him goodbye. His proposal was taking up more and more residence in your mind, especially as you watched him drive off. You stood at your door, staring after his car with your coat wrapped around you, wondering what it would be like to go home to him every night.

With a sigh, you turned and made your way inside. You were greeted by the sight of Steve, voice low as he pressed his phone to his ear. You sent him a small polite smile before making your way to the kitchen to fill up your new vase, fresh flowers in your left hand. You were just cutting them when he joined you, and you turned to curiously look at him.

“I need you to accompany me to an event tomorrow,” he told you to which you nodded, wondering if Bucky was going to be there.

“Okay.”

You didn’t hear him leave as you turned back around, dropping the flowers into the water, satisfied. Your suspicions turned out to be correct when you turned around only to find him still standing there.

“I could’ve replaced the vase if I’d known it was that important,” he said with a small frown.

You shook your head, moving past him.

“It’s fine,” you honestly told him.

His eyes were still on you as you sat it down, adjusting it to a position that you liked. You tightened your coat around you as you passed him, ascending the stairs with a small ‘goodnight’ thrown over your shoulder.

You woke up the next morning feeling positively ill. Every inhale had your stomach churning, and you cursed yourself, trying to remember everything you ate the day before. You had planned to at least see Bucky for a little bit before this shindig tonight, but the summersaults going on in your stomach had you canceling on him. The silver lining was that he apparently was going to be in attendance tonight, and that made you feel better.

Again, Steve was home all day, but you didn’t see him until it was time to go. You had remained in bed all day, drifting in and out of sleep, fighting off every wave of nausea that came at you. You though that you did a good job of hiding your discomfort, but Steve had asked you if you were alright the minute you came downstairs. You told him that you were fine, a whopper of a lie, but your attendance was mandatory so what else could you do?

Like all of your car rides together, this one was silent, but you could feel Steve’s eyes on you every now and then. You couldn’t be bothered to question him on it, too preoccupied with keeping your food down. Your nausea only got worse the minute the two of you stepped into the building. The smell of food was heavy in the air, and there was no doubt that you were starting to look as sick as you felt.

Your eyes fell on a group of familiar faces, one more familiar than the rest. You threw them all strained smiles as you approached, head feeling a bit light. You couldn’t even be bothered to care that Steve’s hand was on the small of your back, more important things to worry about other than his unusual behavior.

You had just reached your friends and acquaintances when a server came by with a tray of food. The smell that hit your nose had your stomach clenching, and you barely had enough time to swipe a napkin before your food was coming up.

“Oh my God, Y/N,” Nat cried, hurrying towards you with a bowl.

There was some slight commotion as her husband, Bruce, and Sam hurried to flag down some help for the mess. Nat’s hand was on your shoulder, helping you towards a seat, and you could feel Steve’s hand still on your lower back.

“Y/N?”

He sounded worried, and you only figured out why when your legs crumbled. You hadn’t realized that your lashes had begun to flutter as your steps started to slow.

“Woah,” he said, catching you as you fought to straighten your vision.

He sat you down, and you could feel several people fanning you. Steve was wiping your hands clean when Bucky finally neared, brows furrowed in concern, looking as handsome as ever. Too bad you couldn’t truly appreciate it.

“I’m okay,” you told him before he could even start. “Just ate the wrong thing, I think.”

Bucky didn’t look convinced, and he sat down beside you, pressing his hand to your forehead.

“You don’t feel warm,” he murmured, and you shook your head at him.

“It was just some bad food,” you whispered, trying to ease his worries.

Again, he didn’t look convinced, but he nodded anyway. He stood with a sigh.

“I’m going to go get your coat,” he said, and you thanked him.

You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but when you looked at him, you couldn’t make out his expression. His hand was still on your lower back, and you finally breathed better when he pulled away, standing.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to the valet, make sure the car is ready so we can go.”

Your face fell, feeling like you ruined his night.

“I’m sorry, Steve-.”

“What for? You’re clearly sick. I wish you had said something.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded upset that you didn’t tell him, but it was more likely he was upset that you had in fact ruined his night. With a soft squeeze to your shoulder, he was gone.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” T’Challa asked you, and you nodded.

His wife, Nakia, came hurrying over with a glass of water, and you gratefully took it. You were even more grateful that you could keep it down, and you sent her a small smile as you handed the empty glass back to her.

“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” she said, shaking her head. “You must be feeling awful. I’m grateful that I don’t get sick often because the only time I have ever vomited is when…well, when I was pregnant.”

She chuckled, and you froze.

“…and I love my children dearly, but I do not want to go through that again.”

You joined her, a nervous laugh escaping you just as Bucky returned with your coat. You jumped, having been surprised to feel the fur draped over you, but you allowed him to help you up. He rubbed your arms through the fabric, voice low.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Nakia’s words had your mind racing, and your lips parted because honestly? You didn’t know. You didn’t want to scare Bucky over nothing, but you also wanted to voice your sudden fears that you had never even considered before. All too soon, the two of you were meeting Steve at the door, and Steve’s grip was firm as he took you from Bucky’s hold, eyes hard.

“I got it from here, Buck. Thanks.”

His voice was clipped, and you frowned at him, but Bucky simply nodded, bidding you both goodnight before reluctantly making his way back inside. You wanted to tell Steve that he didn’t have to be rude to Bucky just because you ruined his evening, but another wave of nausea hit you.

Your head leaned against the window as soon as Steve deposited you into the car. The fresh air was ebbing your nausea a bit, the low rumble of the car helping. You hadn’t taken the limo, and you were starting to regret that because you really wanted to lie down, but fatigue still found a way to slowly creep up on you.

If only Steve had allowed it to do so.

“I really wish you had told me you weren’t feeling well. We would have stayed home,” he said.

You sighed.

“I was hoping it would go away. Our attendance was mandatory, Steve,” you whispered.

“Not at the expense of your health,” he sneered.

You rolled your eyes, realizing the root of his annoyance.

“I promise you, I’ll be in good enough health to give you your heir. It was just some bad food…”

Steve heaved a sigh, and you felt his eyes on you.

“This isn’t about a baby. This is about you. Watching you drop to the floor like that was…scary,” he admitted.

“I’m fine,” you said, feeling like a broken record.

“Well, you don’t look fine. You look sickly. Are you taking care of yourself like you should?”

You scoffed, wondering where this was coming from. The man who barely talked to you in almost 2 years was suddenly acting like your father, and you didn’t like it.

“Of course, I am.”

He exhaled.

“I just know that the house can be…lonely. It can get to you if you’re not careful.”

You rested your head on your hand, breathing through your mouth.

“I’m far from lonely, Steve, so really. There’s no need to worry…”

You could feel his eyes on you again, a soft ‘oh’ reaching your ears.

“I’m glad to hear it. Maybe you should go and see a doctor,” he proposed, quickly changing the subject.

You swallowed another sigh, not wanting to talk about this another minute.

“I told you, it was just some bad food.”

That was what you told yourself, but Nakia’s words almost made you want to hurl again. It only recently occurred to you that you hadn’t gotten your period in a while, but you didn’t think too much of it because you had never been regular. Still, you and Bucky weren’t always safe, but that was what birth control was for. What were the odds of your birth control failing you during one of the few times you didn’t use a condom?

However, the next day, as you stood in the bathroom, looking down at the positive pregnancy test in horror, you realized that the odds were great.

 ~

tags:  @mcudarklibrary​ @sherrybaby14​ @harryspet​ @xoxabs88xox​ @darkficreposter​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @honeychicanawrites​ @honeychicana​ @nickyl316h​ @captainchrisstan​ @sebabestianstan101​ @readermia​ @villanellevi​​ @lokislastlove​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​ @coconutqueen21​​ @hurricanerin​​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​​ @quaksonhehe​​ @nerdygirl8203​​ @patzammit​​ @mandiiblanche​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​​

[mochegato]

Shut Up and Dance

“Gotta keep your eyes on me,” Ladybug taunted as she launched herself at Red X.

“Not a problem, Pixie,” he answered quickly, jumping just out of her reach so her fingers only grazed his sides.  But, while they missed his body, they were close enough to grab his cape and yank.  He yelped as he fell backwards towards her.  He recovered enough at the last second to kick back, forcing her to jump away to avoid him.

“You sure?  Because you’re looking around an awful lot for someone who has no problem keeping their eyes on me.”  She smirked at him.

He examined his partially ripped off cape and looked back at her.  If she could see his disappointed glare, he was sure she would feel at least a little guilty.  “Just making sure we were alone.”  He jumped to deliver a roundhouse kick that she easily dodged by leaning back into a back flip.

“Why?  You embarrassed to get your ass kicked in front of others?”  She gave him a fake sympathetic look.

“Naw, I’m always looking to show off my moves.”

“I can’t wait to see how you dance.” She swiped at his leg to knock him off balance.  She followed up with a kick to his chest, but the kick was just short of enough force to knock him off the roof without his grappling hook.

He landed in a fighting stance.  He warily eyed the ground from the skyscraper they were on, that he almost fell off of.  He’d survive it, probably, but she had no way of knowing that and it would take more resources than he wanted to use.  Thankfully, she hadn’t actually knocked him over.  She was damn close though.  If she had just moved her leg a fraction faster, she would have done it.  And she could do it too.  He’s been watching her… for research on his enemies... and she could definitely move faster.  He suddenly cocked his head to the side.   After a second he straightened up, his arms relaxed at his side.  “You’re holding back.”

She furrowed her brow and jumped at him.  “Shut up and dance.”  

Her feet connected with his chest.  The force from the impact knocked him to the side, away from the edge he had almost fallen over before.  It had definitely cracked at least two ribs and breathing was already a bit harder, but he could tell she was pulling it.  “Why are you holding back?”

“What makes you think I am?” she asked while throwing a punch he was able to easily deflect.

He trapped her arm between his arm and his chest.  “I’ve studied you.  You can fight better than this.”

“So you’ve been watching me for a while,” she smirked at him before twirling quickly to elbow him in the neck.  He instantly released her.  His hands flew up to his throat as he gasped for breath.

As soon as he was able to catch his breath, he faced back toward her.  “I study all my… enemies.”  The last word came out awkwardly.

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “Is that what we are?”  She gave him a condescending smile and shrugged.  “Maybe I don’t think you’re that much of a threat.”

Red X let out an offended scoff.  “I think you’ve forgotten who the villain is here.”

“Villain,” she scoffed back.  “I’ve fought megalomaniacs who tortured babies and turned them into weapons to terrorize millions of people.”

“What the fuck,” he sputtered, rising out of his fighting stance.

“So, you’ll understand how someone stealing secrets from corrupt corporations doesn’t inspire my need to cause more damage than necessary to stop you, like say killing you, even if their entire goal in life appears to be to embarrass me and my team.”

He stared at her uncertain how to react to that so he went with his default; deflect.  He launched at her.  He looked down as he moved.  Ladybug jumped to flip over him, but he straightened up and caught her arms instead. He slammed her into the wall, pinning her hands above her head.  “Don’t let the other Titans hear you being soft on me,” he said thickly.

She groaned in annoyance.  “Can’t believe I fell for that.”  She banged her head lightly against the wall and gave him an annoyed glare. “Bold of you to assume they haven’t heard this entire conversation, and they aren’t on their way now.”

He looked her up and down and hummed in appreciation. “Thanks for the warning.  Guess we better wrap this up then.  I’m leaving.  You going to finally put effort into this?”

“Make no mistake, if I wasn’t holding back?  You’d be splattered all over that building over there.”  She nodded toward a skyscraper a few miles away.  “But don’t worry.  I’ll put in enough effort to impress you.”

“I’d love to see it, Cupcake.  But later.”  He ripped off the rest of his cape off and threw it in her face as he pushed off against her and rushed toward the edge of the building.

Did he really think she didn’t know how to get out from under fabric that had fallen on her?  That was her specialty.  She ripped the cape off in 1.7 seconds flat.  “Does that mean we won’t be dancing, Sweetheart?” she asked as she threw her yoyo at him.  The yoyo wrapped around him, pinning his arms at his sides and tying his legs together. He fell with an inelegant thud. “Shame.  I was looking forward to it.”  She gave him a mock pout.

“Not today, Pixie.”  He worked his hands slowly up to his belt as he spoke.  He angled his head to look up at her.  “And you’re wrong, I’ve never tried to embarrass you.”  He pushed the switch on his belt, allowing him to teleport out of her yoyo string and disappear.

Ladybug cursed under her breath.  Clearly not enough effort after all.  She had just started to pull her yoyo back when the rest of the Titans arrived.

“Red X?” Robin growled.

“Can teleport, so that’s good to know,” Ladybug noted with a hint of annoyance.  “Note for future interactions, don’t let him touch his belt buckle.”

“Planning on interacting with him in the future, are you?” Beast Boy asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Ladybug narrowed her eyes at him and grabbed his discarded cape as she turned to get on the jet.  “Hopefully,” she whispered just loud enough for her own ears.

<><><><><> 

“Well look at that.  It’s our friendly neighborhood Red Hood.  Except you’re not so friendly, are you?” Ladybug observed mockingly with a pout as she landed in front of Red Hood, blocking his path forward.

“Oh, I’m more than willing to be friendly to you,” he waggled his eyebrows at her, which admittedly would have been more effective without the helmet.

She cocked her head to the side and raised an amused eyebrow at him.  “And I don’t really live in this neighborhood either,” she noted casually.  “And, you know, I never did ask, why do you call yourself Red Hood if you don’t have a hood?”

Red Hood made a facial expression she couldn’t see under his helmet, but his pause and cocked head let her know he was thinking about his answer.  “The Joker used to call himself the Red Hood.”

Ladybug stopped and stared at him.  “Why would you call yourself after the Joker?”

“Because I took it away from him.  I’m planning on taking so many things away from him, but the name is just the first.  It’s my name now.  It doesn’t represent him anymore.  When people think of Red Hood, they think of me, not him,” Red Hood announced.  His voice was fragile and determined at the same time.

“Razing his legacy to the ground.  Nice.”  She nodded in understanding.  Her eyes softened at him for a few moments before sharpening again.  “But, I can’t let you do this.”

“You can’t stop me,” Red Hood scoffed.

“That sounds like a challenge.”  She cricked her neck to the side to stretch.  “Something you should know about me, I am extremely competitive.”

Red Hood let out an annoyed sigh and got into a fighting position.  “Something you should know about me, I don’t back down from a fight.”

“It’s only backing down if there’s already a fight. There doesn’t have to be,” she said softly, her eyes almost pleading.

“If you’re standing between me and him, there does.” His eyes had taken on a harsh edge, determined and cold.

“I can’t let you go in there.  You won’t survive.  I know you’re good, but there’s more going on in there than you know.”

“Oh Pixie, I have moves you haven’t even seen yet.”

Ladybug’s brow furrowed at him.  “You don’t get to call me that.”

“Special name, is it?”  His voice was mocking, but there was something more behind it that Ladybug couldn’t quite define.

She scowled at him and started swinging her yoyo around. “You know what, show me.  Show me your moves.  Show me I’m wrong.”

“Or we can do it together,” he offered.  He relaxed his pose slightly to show her he was sincere. “Come on, working as partners to take out the Joker.  Think of how many people it would help.  Think how much better Gotham would be with him gone.  And we could do it… together.”

Ladybug stared at him contemplatively for a few seconds.  Red Hood’s heart started racing.  She was considering it, they could work together to clean up Gotham’s streets. His hope was short-lived.  It died as soon as she shook her head.  “I won’t mourn the death of the Joker, but I can’t. I just… I can’t go in intending to kill.”

“Fine,” he huffed and settled back into his fight stance.  “Let’s do this.”

Ladybug pursed her lips and pulled her yoyo out. She swung it around in preparation. “That’s cheating, don’t you think?” he deadpanned.

“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow at him.  “You think they’re not going to use weapons?”  He cocked his head to the side and stared at her. “Fiiiine,” she groaned.  “Keep your eyes on me.”  She made a show of reeling her yoyo back in and placing it on the half wall running around the roof.  “Happy now, you big baby?”

“Ecstatic,” Red Hood nodded.  He launched at her, reaching out at the same time to grab her around the midsection.  She jumped over his arm, landing in a summersault.  He moved to kick her in the chest, but she bent back twisting just under his leg; the advantages of fighting a significantly bigger opponent. She could dodge his kicks without much effort.  It was harder for him to kick low enough to make it difficult for her to dodge.

She elbowed him from behind, catching him in his side. He grunted and elbowed her back, catching her in the back of the head; the disadvantage of fighting a significantly bigger opponent.  If they were closer in size, it would have hit her shoulder instead of her head. She fell forward from the impact, but kicked back as she fell, catching the back of his knee.  She turned and waited for him to stand and face her again.

“You’re holding back,” he tutted, a smirk on his lips she couldn’t see.

“You’re the one that said you had new moves,” she shrugged.

“So?”

“So, shut up and dance,” she grunted as she lunged at him. He easily sidestepped her, twisting as he moved so he was facing her back.  He kicked at her, intending to send her sprawling on the ground, but she twisted at the last second and shoved his leg hard enough to set him off balance.

She kicked him in the back of the helmet hard enough to knock him off center.  She jumped on his shoulders and threw herself back, twisting and squeezing as she did, bringing him down with her.  She summersaulted off of him as soon as she touched ground.  He jumped back up and punched before his feet landed.  She braced against the hit, redirecting it, but he grabbed her hand instead and used it to twist her arm behind her.  She twisted with the arm and swung her other arm wildly attempting to connect with his chin, but he grabbed it too.  He wrapped both arms in front of her, trapping her against his chest.  He lowered his head to whisper into her ear.  “Not the kind of dancing I’d like to do with you, gotta be honest.”

She turned her head just enough to look at him.  The helmet made it impossible to tell if he was teasing her or if he meant it, or if it was both.  She furrowed her brow and reeled her head back to head-butt him. She braced herself for the impact, vaguely wondering how well her magic would protect her head against slamming into the helmet designed to withstand getting shot.  But before she could make contact they felt a rumble below them. Red Hood let go of her to let them both brace themselves.

She stumbled over to the edge of the building so she could look over the side.  She let out a surprised cry as the wall started collapsing on itself.  She didn’t have time to move before the ground she was standing on followed suit, crumbling down at the loss of support. She scrambled to get above the wreckage, but couldn’t get above it.  She reached for her yoyo and let out a frustrated groan as the realization that she had set it on the other side of the roof earlier set in.

Red Hood staggered toward her, but fell backward as his side of the building started to collapse too.  He grabbed his grappling hook and tried to run toward where Ladybug had fallen, grabbing her yoyo as he ran, but the ground fell through under him and the grappling hook fell away somewhere.  He crashed through the roof, landing two floors down with an unceremonious thump.  He groaned and tried to push himself back up.  He rubbed the spot where he had landed on the yoyo.  That bruise was going to last for weeks.

He pocketed the yoyo and limped to the window to assess the damage.  His heart stuttered at the sight.  The side of the building Ladybug had been on was completely destroyed and he couldn’t see any sign of her.  He moved to a different window and looked again.  He felt an ice cold blast surge through his veins.  The Joker’s henchmen had dragged her out of the wreckage and were dragging her to a waiting van.

“Son of a b…” Red Hood ran toward the stairs only to find them gone.  “Oh, fuck you,” he grumbled.  He ran back to the window and gauged the fall.  He was eight stories up.  He couldn’t just make that fall.  He pulled out the yoyo and examined it.  It was essentially a magic grappling hook, right?  He threw it out and gaped when it hooked on a roof a block away.  He gave an experimental tug and let out a surprised scream when it pulled him in toward the connection point and momentum allowed him to continue, sending him in an arc that lasted another half a block before he started to fall.

He quickly tugged on the yoyo again, already seeing where this was going; if he didn’t get another connection point quick he was going to hit the ground at a deadly velocity.  The yoyo retracted quickly.  He threw it again and vowed to never return it to Ladybug.  It was a hundred times better than a grappling hook.  He felt like Spiderman.  He looked for the van and was finally able to spot it a few blocks ahead.  It was only outpacing him by a little.  At this rate, he should be able to at least keep eyes on them even if he couldn’t keep up.

He was proved right when the van pulled into a warehouse about twenty minutes later.  He took a breath and sent a message to Dick, the first message he’d sent him in over five years.  ‘You might want to check your little bird’s tracker.  Joker’s not going to wait until you finally realize she’s gone before he starts torturing her.’  Dick might not recognize the number, but he would check.  That should be enough to tell him he needed to act.

Red Hood took his guns off safety in preparation. He wound up the yoyo again and threw it at the warehouse above the window he’d chosen to crash through.  He flew through the air and braced to crash through the glass.  He landed on a metal walkway near Joker who was holding a rope with a barely conscious Ladybug tied up on the other end, hovering above a vat of acid.

“Oh come on.  You couldn’t have given me five more minutes to get this set up?  That’s the problem with you new rogues, no patience. No respect for your superiors,” the Joker chastised him.

Red Hood scoffed.  “The only thing you’re superior to is Egghead and that’s only because your puns aren’t egg related.”

The Joker growled at him.  “Well, Red Hood, it seems like you have a choice to make don’t you? Because if you shoot me, I drop the rope and she dies.  You get closer to me, I drop the rope and she dies.  The only way to save her is to grab her,” he gave him a mock sympathetic pout, “but then you don’t get to shoot me.”  He shrugged emotionlessly, letting Ladybug’s rope slip down a bit as he did.  “But then again, maybe you’d get the shot off.  I don’t know Robin, how good is your aim?

“So,” he continued without waiting for Red Hood to answer, “what are you going to choose?  Well, I say choose.  It isn’t much of a choice is it?  If you kill me, you not only get me dead, you get to be directly responsible for the death of one of Batman’s little birds.  You get to hurt the big, bad Bat in a way nobody else can.  And let’s be honest, that’s the real prize isn’t it?  Hurting the Bat.”

Red Hood growled at him, but waited where he was. If they could hold out for Batman to get there, one of his little sidekicks could save her and he could get the Joker.  He tightened and loosened his grip on the yoyo, trying to come up with contingency plans. He couldn’t let the Joker get away. He was right there.  He was so close he could almost smell his bad breath. He couldn’t just let him get away.

The Joker suddenly groaned in frustration and hummed as if in thought.  “I’m already bored of this.  Time to make your decision.”  He let go of the rope and backed away, a malicious look in his eyes.  His mouth widened into a revolting smile as he waited for Red Hood to act.  He frowned and let out a disappointed snarl when Red Hood immediately threw out the yoyo and dove for Ladybug.  He caught her a few inches above the acid.

They crashed onto the metal walkway on the other side. Red Hood checked to see where the Joker was, but he had escaped during the rescue.  Red Hood growled, but focused back on Ladybug and started checking her over for injuries and freeing her from the ropes.  Ladybug let him check her over, focusing on staying awake. She tried to bring her hand to her head, but it dropped midway there falling on her chest instead.  “Easy there, tiger.  Don’t know how you managed to get a concussion in your magic suit, but I think it’s a pretty safe assumption that’s what you got.  Little worried about what happens when you get out of it actually.  Make sure you’re careful when you take it off.”

Ladybug stared at him intently, or as intently as she could.  Finally speaking after he had removed the last of the ropes.  “Why did you choose me?”

“I’ll always choose you,” he said gently.  He brushed her hair out of her eyes and cupped her face. He stared into her eyes for a few seconds before looking away.  “You said that to me before, you know.”

“What?” she asked hazily.  She leaned into his touch more than she probably should considering he was their enemy.

“Shut up and dance,” he elaborated as he lightly traced her jaw.  “You said that to me once before, Pixie.”

She froze at his words, suddenly considerably more awake. There was only one person she’d said that to.  The same person who called her Pixie.  “Red X?” she breathed out, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the bats and police arriving on the scene.

He cocked his head to the side marginally and started backing away from her, but kept his eyes on her until the sounds were coming from the next room.  He gave her a two finger salute and jumped through the window.  She watched the spot frozen.  It was Red X.  Red X became Red Hood.  Was that comforting?  Or terrifying?  She laid her head back down to let it rest and smiled as she closed her eyes.  One thing was for certain, he was alive, which is more than she knew five minutes ago.

<><><><><> 

This was exactly what Marinette needed.  She could admit that, even if it meant admitting Alya was right, which she was loathe to do considering she had teamed up with Artemis and Cissie to trick Marinette into it.  But feeling the rhythm of the salsa that was almost finished and the eyes of the ungodly handsome man that had asked her to dance immediately after getting to the club and the several drinks the four of them had before going out, she couldn’t deny how good it all felt.

Even the depraved jerks that had just tried to feel her up could ruin her night.  She kneed one in the balls and Hot Dance Partner… she should maybe find out his name, but then again, she didn’t plan on seeing him again once they left this club… had glared the other man into running away with his tail tucked firmly between his legs.

Even after the two had disappeared, he continued to glare after them.  “Hey,” she whispered.  She cupped his cheek to redirect his face back to her.  “Ignore them.  I came here to dance.  Just keep your eyes on me.”

His eyes immediately snapped to hers.  He smiled at her.  “My pleasure, Pixie.”

She cocked her head to the side for a second and gave him a strange look until another dancer bumped into her, knocking her out of her stupor.  She gave him a hesitant smile and a nod before she started dancing with him again. She twirled away from him and grabbed his hand to twirl back into him.  He guided her through a few more turns until the end of the song.  He dipped her into a low dip, but her body was stiff, like she was unsure about him.

“You’re holding back,” he chuckled.  She stared at him with curiosity that turned into surprise when he pulled her back up, her face close enough to feel his breath.  “This is where you tell me shut up and dance,” he whispered to her.

“What?”  She looked up at him wide eyed.

He smirked at her.  “That’s what you usually tell me.”

Her eyes darted over his face.  Her hand reached up to touch his uncovered face.  Her fingers traced his cheekbones before moving lightly along his jaw.  “Red X,” she whispered out.  “It’s you.”

“Not anymore,” he whispered back.  He cradled her face.  He’d seen her out of costume from a distance before, but this was his first time seeing her civilian self out of costume up close.  The first time she’d let him get this close.  He really had no idea how she was going to react now that she knew who he was, so if this was the last time he’d have the opportunity, he was going to take it.   He was going to relish finally being able to feel her skin free from gloves, feel how soft her skin felt, how his fingers tingled after each touch.  

“Red Hood,” she said a bit more gravitas in her voice. She swiped her thumb over his lips. It was the first time she’d seen them. They were as soft as she had always imagined they would be.

He looked at her for a few seconds.  “Not right now.”

“And who are you right now?”

“Jason Todd.”  He took a breath before continuing.  “And you’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.  She should have figured out he knew who she was considering everything he had said so far, but she had been too caught up in seeing his face for the first time to connect those dots.  “How did you know?”

“Because of your affiliation with Bruce,” he admitted. “I think I can count on one hand the number of people in his life that aren’t associated with this life in some way.”

“How did you…”  She moved away from him, her expression morphing into a hurt scowl.  “So this is your way to get back at him?  By seducing and betraying one of his allies?”

“No, this isn’t about him.  This has nothing to do with him.”  She scoffed at the apparent lie.  “I think this might be one of the few things in my life that has nothing to do with him,” he growled.  He moved closer to her again.  “This is just for me.  I want you just for me.”  

He rested his hands back on her hips, waiting to see how she reacted.  When she didn’t pull away, he pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her and keeping her close with a grip strong enough to hold her in place, but not keep her there if she didn’t want to stay.  “And I promise you, if you give me a chance, I’ll never betray you.”

She shook her head unsure.  “Why?  If not to stick it to Bruce, why?”

“Have you really not noticed?”  His voice was gentle as he searched her eyes.  “I’ve been watching you since before you started working with Bruce, since the Teen Titan days.  Since the first time I saw you.”

“Why?  I need to know why.”  She was searching his eyes almost desperately.

He sighed and lowered his forehead to hers.  “Because you’re good.  Because you’re kind.  Because you’re strong and fierce.  Because you’re brave.  Because you genuinely want to help, but don’t get stuck on rigid right or wrong. Things aren’t wrong because they’re illegal.  They’re wrong if they hurt people.  Because you look at the big picture, but don’t forget about the details.  Most heroes can’t do that.  They focus on one or the other, but you keep your eye on both.”

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, slowly kissing each knuckle and looking at her from under his lashes.  “Because you’re beautiful and graceful.  Because your smile blinds me.  Because even when I was your enemy, you still treated me with respect, you still saw me.  Because that’s who you are.”

“You forgot funny.”  He looked at her questioningly.  “I’m funny too.”  She smirked at him.  “I’m hilarious.”

He grinned at her and brushed a strand of hair over her shoulder before returning his hand around her waist.  “I’d really love to find out for myself.”

She looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You once told me you have amazing dance moves.”

“Yes?”

“So… shut up and dance,” she whispered next to his lips. He grinned and pushed down to kiss her, but she moved just out of his range.  She smiled up at him and giggled.  She pulled his arm back toward the music, swaying her hips to the beat as she walked.  He growled lightly and pulled her back against him and moved his hips in rhythm with hers.  He wrapped his arms around her to keep as much contact between them as possible as they danced.

He lowered his head to run his nose along her neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.  She moaned lightly and reached up behind her to wrap her arms around his neck. He took advantage of the newly exposed skin to run his hands over her sides.

She ran her hands into his hair and he was gone.  He turned her around and leaned down until his lips were a few centimeters away from hers.  “May I?”  His voice was husky and deep like he was barely able to stop himself but would if she asked and the sound alone was enough to cause shivers up and down her spine. She nodded and pushed up to close the gap.

Their lips slid against each other in an electric symphony. She could feel the current all the way down to her toes.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders for support when her knees suddenly weren’t strong enough to support her any longer.  He wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her closer.  His other hand cupped her face, his fingers wound into her hair.  The symphony continued until they reluctantly pulled away, gasping for breath.

“Why don’t we move this somewhere else?” he whispered into her ear.

She shivered from the sensation of his breath against her neck and ear.  She looked up at him and bit her lip shyly.  She examined his eyes for a second before nodding.  

Jason beamed back at her, relief and excitement pushing through.  He wrapped his arm protectively around her waist as he guided her out of the club.

<><><><><> 

The roses were in full bloom and their fragrance drifted across the garden with the breeze.  It was almost like Marinette had planned it that way, made sure the roses bloomed in full force the day before and invited the breeze to gently blow as they gathered.  And maybe she had.  She did have miniature gods at her disposal.  But then again, they could have done it on their own to make her day perfect.  God knows she deserved it, not only for all she does for everyone around her, but for being able to deal with him.  And she agreed to be with him until death.  She deserved a goddamned parade in celebration of her patience and determination.

Jason smiled down at Marinette as she laughed and gushed with their best friends, a mix of Parisian and American heroes, vigilantes, and antiheroes.  He ran his fingers over her back, exposed in her white, backless dress.  He would never not relish the sensation of feeling her skin with his after years of only touching her with gloves on.  He would never not relish the small, intimate, delicate touches after the years of punches and strikes and kicks.  And while he did enjoy sparring with her, he lived for these touches, the touches only he was allowed, the touches she only wanted him to feel.

He chuckled as her friends pulled her onto the dancefloor with them.  She leaned close to him and whispered, “Keep your eyes on me.”

“Nothing else I’d rather watch,” he whispered back. He gave her a chaste peck on the lips before she disappeared.  

He watched her in a peaceful quiet for a few moments before he felt a pat on his shoulder.  “You look happy, Jaylad.  I’m happy for you.”  Bruce stood next to him and watched the group dancing rather than looking in Jason’s eyes. “And… I’m proud of you, Jason.”

Jason scoffed.  “Managing to get someone like her to look at me, let alone marry me is definitely deserving of praise.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed slightly but he quickly smoothed it out.  “I wasn’t talking about this.  You… It took a lot of strength to decide to change, to not let it consume you.  You were always stronger than me like that.” A ghost of a smile passed onto his lips. “But yeah, you did good today.”

Jason turned to stare at him, unsure how to respond. He was saved from having to respond by Marinette bouncing over and collapsing into Jason and wrapping her arms around his waist.  “Hey, Love. How are you doing?”

Bruce smiled at her and kissed her on the cheek. “Congratulations again to you both.” He gave them one last smile before moving back to speak with her parents.

Jason watched him walk away for a second before returning his gaze to Marinette.  A bright smile made its way onto his face and he wrapped an arm around her waist.  With his other hand, he traced the edge of her face with his fingers.  “Did I ever tell you I knew we were bound to be together the first time I saw you?”

Marinette scoffed.  “The first time you saw me you tried to throat punch me.”

Jason shrugged.  “It was easy to avoid and I knew you would.  I wanted to see you dodge.  Watching you fight is like watching a ballet, but a much more interesting one with blood and black eyes and broken bones.  And I could usually taunt you into a smirk or into getting that playful look in your eyes.  It was worth the bruises.”  He smiled when Marinette let out a peel of poorly concealed laughter.  “You know, some of the break-ins and thefts were just so you would come to fight me.”  

Marinette blinked at him.  “No way.”

“Sometimes I would watch the fights you had with other rogues.”

She gave him a dubious look.  “I think I’d remember seeing Red X watching us.  One of us would have noticed.”

“I’d watch as a civilian and not out in the open, obviously.  Couldn’t have Dick seeing me or Batman when we were in Gotham.  I liked watching you, especially after the fights, after helping someone.  Seeing the way you treated everyone, the way you help.  You’ve always had the biggest heart I’ve ever seen.”

Marinette smiled lovingly at him.  “That’s extremely creepy.  You realize that, right?”

Jason barked out a laugh and pressed his forehead into her neck for a second until he stopped laughing.  “Villain, remember?”  He shrugged.  Marinette rolled her eyes at him.  “You never smiled like that with anyone else.  Your eyes never lit up like that, not even with your teammates.  I could see the future in your eyes.  I knew then it wasn’t just me.  I knew then you were my destiny.”

He stroked her cheek and she nuzzled into his touch. “Those were always my most and least hated fights.  I knew you had a good heart.  I liked playing with you, but I hated hurting you when one of my hits landed.”  She cuddled in closer to him.  “Felt even worse about it after I saw your face.” She grinned up at him and patted his cheek.

Jason gave her a smug smile.  “I would sometimes do it when I knew Dick was out of town so he wouldn’t interfere because I knew he liked to and I wanted to have you all to myself.”

“I knew it!” she exclaimed and slapped his shoulder. “I knew you were doing it when Robin wasn’t around.”  Jason grinned proudly.  Marinette shrugged casually, but her eyes sparkled with mirth.  “I thought it was because you were afraid of Robin.”  Jason gasped dramatically.  “We all did.”

Jason narrowed his eyes playfully.  He leveled a warning finger at her.  “Bullshit and slander.”  Marinette laughed and hugged him closer.  “I take it all back.,” he groused.  “I was wrong about everything.”

“Jason,” she interrupted.

“Yeah, Pixie?”

She pulled him down for a passionate kiss.  They heard a round of cat calls rise up around them and decidedly ignored them. “Shut up and dance with me,” she whispered against his lips.

He grinned down at her.  “Whatever you want, wife.”

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

Laid out cold, now we're both alone (part 2)

A/N: Hello, this fic is very important to me because I tried my best to give justice to such a cool idea and I hope I did a good job. Plus I don't do multichapter ofter, so this was a challenge. 

I wanna thank the lovely @livdonna for proofreading my work, you're literally the best <3. 

P.S. If you want to get tagged in the next chapters, let me know.

Summary: Nikki visits Mick to give him a very important task.

Warnings: Major Character Death,Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug Use, Angst, Overdose.

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee

Chapter 1

Taglist: @slashscowboyboots @witchytombstonesmile @arnold-layne @emometalhead​ @i-dont-like-rice​ @nikki-sexx​ @smokeandmirrorz​

Mick was supposed to not give a shit about Nikki. He and the stupid drummer had tormented him and his wife for months on ends, making the whole tour a living hell and he didn’t need to have even more things to worry about. So what if his bassist decided to get addicted to heroin? He was a fucking dumbass but it wasn’t his problem.  He would end up killing himself and it wasn’t like Mick could have done something, not when his whole body was torturing him.

The only problem was that he cared, deep down. He cared about the fucker and hearing the news that he was gone forever hit him.  He lost one of his friends and the band all together in a day, what would have happened? He hated to admit he was scared about the future, it was hard to imagine Motley Crue without Nikki.

He sighed, turning off yet another discussion about his death. They didn’t call him yet but something was telling him that they had to release a statement soon.  Doc was probably freaking out somewhere crying for all his millions of dollars lost.

“Fucking Nikki, you had to die at the worst moment, didn’t you?”

“Yeah… sorry about that, man” A voice incredibly similar to Nikki said, making Mick jump up.

Nikki didn’t feel anything, one moment they were in the ambulance and the other they were on the beach.  He was confused for a moment before he remembered that Mick had a beach house, and stared at it for a bit. He didn’t know much about the guitarist, maybe almost nothing but he respected him so much.  He was one of the strongest dudes he had ever met.

The weirdest thing about all of this was probably how he was only able to feel certain things, no cravings or sand under his feet as he was walking, yet he would still feel guilt, fear, love, worry… it didn’t make sense but he wasn’t in the mood to question the universe’s rules.

People can’t see you until you decide to show yourself. You have to remember or otherwise they can’t hear or see you.

The voice still freaked him out, but at the same time he was grateful for it to be there… it made him feel less alone, which was great considering how he felt lonely for his entire life.

“You’re not alone Nikki, I’ll always be there with you, through highs and lows”

“God it sounds like a marriage vow, T-Bone”

“Well if I could I’d marry now…”

He shook his head, trying to get the memory out.  It wasn’t the time to be sentimental and risk fucking everything up, so he walked ( more like flew) through the front door and found Mick sitting on the couch.

“Fucking Nikki, you had to die at the worst moment, didn’t you?”

“Yeah… sorry about that, man”. The bassist hoped that he was heard, otherwise it would have been pretty embarrassing.

Mick visibly jumped at hearing Nikki’s voice and quickly turned around to look at him.  From his widened eyes and confused expression, he knew he probably looked fucking transparent.

“Okay first of all why the hell are you here talking to me if you’re dead? Then why the fuck can I see myself through you ?”

The black haired man just realized that he had no idea how to explain everything and be believed, he just went along with whatever the voice in his head was saying, but now it was different. He fumbled with his hand and realized he couldn’t feel them, while he tried to come up with the best way to explain to his friend how he was a ghost and why he was there.

“I died… I have no idea how I came back but I have unfinished business and I need to talk to you!”

The guitarist looked at him up and down, clearly skeptical.  However, there wasn’t much arguing… Nikki’s ghost was literally standing in front of him.

“Okay I have no idea if this is a dream, I’m dead or in a coma, or simply I drank too much but now I’ll grab some vodka and you’ll spill your little secrets as you like”.

Nikki smiled a bit… He honestly felt normal for the first time since he was brought back.  Having Mick joking was so familiar, usually Tommy was the aim of his jokes and they all laughed because they were all so unexpected…

Tommy. Thinking about him still hurt, again he wondered if he was okay and how much he missed him… but it wasn’t his time now.  He had other things to talk about as Mick came back into the living room with his glass.

“Mick… you gotta promise me that you won’t let Motley Crue die, that you will fight to keep the band’s legacy.”

The older man looked at him surprised, rolling his eyes.

“Well that’s a bit hard when our bassist and songwriter died!”

Rage and resentment were heavy in his voice but there was more : fear and sadness. Nikki felt guilty and he fucking hated it, it was so unlike him but he couldn’t help it… Mick cared about the band as much as he did.  He always said the band was his life, before heroin came into the picture, but it was also Mick’s and he probably destroyed everything.

“You will find another one, another bassist who is also a songwriter…” The words felt so foreign coming from his mouth.  They even hurt a bit but they were necessary.

“I know you care about this band as much as I do, Mick. I know how much you’ve worked your ass off in shitty bands, trying to find the one that was going to break… I might be dead but Crue can’t have the same fate”.

Mick scoffed, taking a long sip of his vodka.

“It’s not easy, it’s not like we can find the perfect match like we did. Plus, everyone will probably hate him for replacing you!”

The frustration was almost tangible, but there was something else… Mick was scared, he knew everything was about to fade away because of Nikki’s actions, he was already looking at the boat sinking. Nikki started to panic because his band had to live, even in his death! It was pointless and selfish but that was the only thing people could remind him of.

“If you give up, then Vince and Tommy will do the same! I know that you think no one will take you, but the truth is they will. Crue is what it is because of our vision, you are part of it and I’m asking you to keep it going. Think of this as my dying man’s wish… even if I’m already dead”

The older man’s grip on his glass got tighter, his eyes lost in thought as he was pondering Nikki’s words. It was hard to take in, hell that was an understatement, it was fucking insane and probably wouldn’t work but the bassist needed to have this false hope.

“It’s so fucking weird, you know? To realize you’re fucking dead yet here talking to me.”

He was deflecting, Nikki knew it, but didn’t want to push it too far. He learned to know Mick, he kept his promises and he was a hard worker and with a good dose of luck and jokes, you got him to your side.

“Yeah, do you remember how I said you weren’t going to make it in that interview? Well, karma hits like a bitch!”

“Mick might not make it , he drinks a little too much and it looks rough” Mick quoted, trying to imitate Nikki’s voice.

“Yeah and then you said something like I heard what you said and you’re dead, fuck I guess you were right” He laughed but Mick didn’t.

Oh c’mon so what if he was joking about his death? It’s not like anyone really cared about him.  They just saw him as a burden, which he was. Not his mom, nor his band or his Tommy would have really missed him… they would eventually move on.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” He said annoyed but his lips formed a small smile.

“I know, I know. Mick… please promise me that. If Crue is going to end, then my whole life didn’t mean anything! Ple…” He stopped himself, he was so fucking close to begging but he couldn’t. Nikki Sixx didn’t fucking beg, not in life or death.

“I’m thinking about it!”

He really meant the first part. He spent all his teenage and adult years creating the band of his dreams and making sure they conquered the world.  This band was his escape; his attempt at redemption after his shitty childhood. Nobody loved Frank Feranna but he didn’t care, he would become Nikki Sixx and be super fucking famous!

He didn’t need anyone’s love, except that he did.

“ I love you, Nikki.”

“ No you don’t, nobody does, T-Bone”

“Well I fucking do. You gotta pass on my dead body before you’ll hear me not saying it over and over”

His heart might have stopped, but he still felt the big wave of nostalgia hitting him. He couldn’t do it, he would have never been ready to see him again.

“Okay, I will. But listen to me, it won’t be easy and I’m an old man with a fucked up back, so don’t send demons against me if I fail!” The little spark of determination in his eyes relaxed Nikki, he was on board.

“I fucking knew you were the best, Mars! If I wasn’t dead I’d probably tattoo your face on me as a thank you!”

“Oh gross, never say that again!” He pretended to be disgusted but his eyes betrayed him, the small softness in them told Nikki he felt touched.

“Who knows, maybe in hell they have tattoos for the ghosts. God we used to hate each other and now we are two peas in a pod.”

“I still hate you.”

“Ugh, you crushed my heart Mick”

The guitarist flipped him off, rolling his eyes. Nikki desperately wanted to keep talking, if he did then he could have pretended nothing changed, right? He didn’t have to face Vince and Tommy and go through the light… everything would have stayed the same or he could fool himself that it would.

I think it’s time to go to the next person.

The voice was demanding yet still calm. Nikki knew that he couldn’t stay forever, they had to prevent spirits from just lingering into the real world like that, it made him a bit angry but he understood it. It wasn’t like he could have done much anyway…He was just a shell of what he used to be.

“I gotta go Mick…” He wanted to punch himself because he sounded so fucking pathetic, but the other man gave him a compassionate smile.

What he fuck are you, a little small puppy? Oh look Frankie is scared to leave his illusion of a family.

Mick walked him to the other without saying anything, but before turning the handle, which was pointless because Nikki could have just passed through the door, he broke the silence.

“Try to give us some signs, okay? Show us that you’re there… but don’t you fucking dare spill my vodka or I’ll make you two times dead!”

“Oh that’s exactly what I’ll do, thanks for the suggestion!”

He stepped outside and looked at Mick one last time.

“You promised, alien. You gotta do it!”

“Yeah yeah, you better repay me when I come to join you there…” And with one last look, Mick closed the door.

Nikki felt all of the weight crushing down on his body, even if it was made of air. He simply stood still, his mind racing like a freight train, trying to take everything in but also getting ready for his next move… being overwhelmed was an understatement, he felt peeled down like an orange and this was only the beginning. He felt like a fucking coward but he just wanted to get over it, was it that bad to accept his fate and disappear without facing anyone?

You are going to abandon him again? You know why you need to talk to Vince, and you know this will be your last chance to see him, asshole!

He went to kick the sand, but he couldn’t touch it. God, how frustrating was that!

So where are we going next?

Nikki would have wanted to scream at him, give him the middle finger and just run away but it wouldn’t have been helpful, would it? So he forced himself to be as neutral as possible.

“Vince Neil. Take me to his house.”

[umisabaku]

Hi! I'm a huge fan as of a week ago when I discovered designation miracle and speedread through all of it. I really love your writing so much, so I had to ask: please please write a reki/langa piece? It can be AU/scifi/fantasy anything you like, and doesn't have to be long but I would so love to see your fic/minific! also, i saw that you had posted about tying the kuroko fantasy AU together -- have you thought of looking at 1001 nights instead of grimms, they have a lot of nested stories

It doesn't take him long to figure out that 1) he died and 2) apparently reincarnated in the body of Kyan Reki, minor trash character in Ice Infinity, long-running web novel series he used to read because his younger sister made him. Which, holy shit, he did not think that actually happened, and apparently he should have paid more attention to transmigration web novels instead of skating. (Nope, that wouldn't have happened. He loved skating. Still loves skating. This is clearly his little sister's fault, for being fond of dark fantasy harem novels instead of transmigration novels.)

He tugs his floofy red hair and thinks that this isn't the worst possible novel to wake up in, but it's pretty bad. At least he's familiar with the story line. Protagonist Hasegawa Langa, aka Prince of Ice and Snow, was cursed as a baby (although he doesn't know it) to have a frozen heart. He competes in a (very long, drawn-out) magic tournament, and becomes super awesome magic ruler of all time, but each battle brings out a darker side of him, and the more evil he gets, the more the world begins to ice over. This is, in part, due to the manipulations of Demon Lord Adam, who wants Langa's powers for himself. Meanwhile, various women try to "unfreeze the prince's heart" or whatever, with the implication that if someone managed to melt his broken heart, the world wouldn't be destroyed by ice.

(Reki gave his sister so much shit for liking this story. It was still ongoing, and the world was almost destroyed by ice. There'd been, like, fifty different women who were potential love interests throughout this saga, and the Prince still had a frozen heart. Also, he was pretty evil at that point. Reki's not sure what the appeal is, although now that he's in the book, he's at least grateful that he knows what's coming.)

The problem is, Kyan Reki dies in the first chapter. Killed by Langa, in fact, which Reki (now that he is Reki) does not appreciate. Reki was a brash, arrogant jerk, with low level fire magic. He was Langa's first opponent in the tournament, and had insulted the memory of Langa's dead father, which is what provoked the killing. Langa hadn't meant to kill Reki, but the accidental murder is what started the long path towards evil, frozen heart, and the end of the world.

So now that Reki knows what's coming he thinks, Well, I'll just not do that then.

Seems simple enough. He comes up with a Plan of Survival: He won't compete in the magic tournament, he'll stay away from the Ice Prince, and maybe move to a tropical island or something. He doesn't like the idea of the world freezing over, but that seems like a problem far in the future. And hey, this world doesn't have skateboards, but it has all the materials he needs to make skateboards, which means it's not so bad, as fantasy worlds go. Fire magic is pretty cool too.

Step one: withdraw from tournament. Easily done! Everyone looks surprised when he announces his withdrawal. Shadow says, "What are you talking about?? We're supposed to have our grudge match! Weren't you telling everyone that you were going to kick their asses?"

Wow, that's embarrassing. Reki wishes he woke up earlier in the book, before his character made stupid brags. "Nope, I'm good. Have fun, though!"

Step two: Stay away from the Ice Prince. This also seems like it should be fairly easy, since Reki isn't going to the magic tournament.

Except the very next day he practically runs into Langa on his newly made skateboard.

"AH! Ice Prince!" Reki says from the ground.

"What?" Langa says.

Oh right, no one calls him that yet.

"That's, uh, the name of my skateboard," Reki says. He gets up and dusts his pants, and then moves to retrieve his board. He spins one of the wheels and then, mostly to himself, he says, "I think I need to adjust the balance."

"Your what?" Langa says, looking over Reki's shoulder.

Reki tenses, feeling very close to death right now. Don't insult his dead father. Don't insult his dead father. "My skateboard," he says. "For skating." And then, because he can't help himself, he brags, "I made it."

"You did?" Langa says. His voice doesn't reveal a lot of emotion (frozen heart, and all) but he sounds impressed. "Is that what you were doing earlier? With the loops?"

"Oh, you saw that?" Reki says, embarrassed.

"Do you have wind magic?"

"Nope, just fire," Reki says. Then, remembering their fight to the death, hastily adds, "Low level fire magic. Very low fire. Practically nonexistent, really."

"And you still flew in the air like that?" Langa says.

"Because of the skateboard!" Reki balances on the board and circles around Langa so he can get a good look.

"Is it for transportation?"

"It's for a lot of things! But mostly, it's for fun!" If he accomplishes nothing else but introduce skateboarding into this fantasy world, Reki feels like he'll have made an important legacy. Then, because Langa still looks intrigued, Reki says, "Do you want to try?"

"Can I?" Langa says, sounding surprised by the invite.

"Sure! Anyone can skate." Reki hops off the board and shows Langa how to get on, all the while revisiting his Plan for Survival.

He doesn't really want the world to freeze over. And that Adam guy is a dick. Langa probably wouldn't have killed so many people if Adam hadn't been manipulating things in the background. Maybe... maybe Reki should stick around Langa, show him how to have fun, introduce him to some nice girls, and keep him from turning evil and destroying the world.

He completely misses the marveling look Langa is giving him, like he's just seen something wonderful.

A/N: Thank you, anon-friend! I'm glad you enjoy my stories. I've been wanting to write something for SK8 but wasn't sure what kind of AU I should do. Since I've been reading and watching a lot of Isekai lately, and I've never written that as an AU before, I thought this would be fun! Hope you enjoyed! (also, I kinda want to stick with Grimm, but would consider branching out for other fairy tale stories!)

[xjoonchildx]

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter five: italian leather gloves

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, smut

rating: 18+

word count: 6.0K

A/N: so the smut warnings start to go into effect in this chapter, guys! i can’t believe how many kind messages i’ve gotten about this story. please just know that i read every single one and i promise they all make me so happy.  i really hope you guys like this chapter and i hope it answers some questions.  of course i must thank the squad @ladyartemesia @taetaewonderland @ppersonna for being an amazing support system and kick ass beta readers.  love you guys.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

****************

Everything hurts.

The moment you open your eyes, you wish you hadn’t.  Late morning sun streams bright and unforgiving into your bedroom, making the ache in your temples even more pronounced.  You spend a good ten minutes lying flat on your back, staring at the ceiling and remembering everything that went wrong last night.

So terribly, terribly wrong.

Your punishment today -- apart from the pounding headache and sour stomach -- is that despite doing your very best to drink yourself to blackout, you remember every minute of last night in painstaking detail.  There’s a cruel clarity to the way your mind replays the awkward dinner with your boss and the confrontation with Donghyuk.

And your fight with Hoseok.

Shame curls in your gut when you recall the nasty things you’d said to try and get a rise out of him. The nasty things he’d said in return when your goading finally worked.

“People like me do the dirty work so people like you can impress rich assholes at stupid parties.”

It’s not like you didn’t already know Hoseok saw you as some kind of entitled rich bitch -- but that didn’t make hearing the words spoken out loud any easier.  It didn’t make the anger you provoked in him any less jarring.

And it didn’t make the moment he saw your scar any less humiliating.

That’s when you feel like you might be sick -- when you remember the way Hoseok went completely still at the sight of your damaged skin.  The way he’d tried so hard to look like he wasn’t staring and failed.

You get out of bed and slip an oversized sweatshirt over your head, take a few deep breaths to try and calm the wobbling sensation in your stomach.  

That’s when it hits you. 

You don’t smell coffee.

****************************

Kim Seokjin looks like he’s made himself quite at home when you finally work up the nerve to leave your bedroom. He’s reclined deep into your couch, long legs propped up on your living room table, tablet in hand.  He looks up from the screen to take in your bedraggled appearance with wide eyes.

“Rough night, huh?”

“Something like that,” you say quietly.  You make your way to the kitchen in search of a glass of water and Seokjin stands up from the couch to follow you.

“Hoseok, uh --”, he pauses for a moment, rubs one hand across the back of his neck,  “ -- said he needed a couple of days to take care of some personal stuff.”

You pour lukewarm water into a glass, take one tentative sip and say nothing.

“So you’re stuck with me,” Seokjin continues slowly, “For a little while, anyway.”

You stare into your glass, unwilling to meet Seokjin’s eyes.  It shouldn’t surprise you one bit that Hoseok took off after what happened between you last night.  It probably shouldn’t hurt either.

But it does.

The little water you’ve managed to get down feels like it might come right back up.

“You okay?” Seokjin asks after a long pause.

“No,” you admit.  “I don’t feel good.  Probably going to stay in bed for the day, so it’ll be a quiet one for you.”

Seokjin nods sympathetically. 

“You know what’s good for when you’re feeling sick?” he asks.  “Samgyetang. I found some in your fridge.  It’s pretty good too, kinda --”

Your stomach lurches at the mention of that goddamned soup.

You leave Seokjin mid-sentence to retch in the privacy of your bathroom.

*****************************

The next time you open your eyes, it’s to complete darkness.

You wake disoriented, not sure if you’ve slept for hours or for days.  The last thing you remember after getting sick was barely getting down some painkillers and a little more water before crawling back into bed.  

Then it was lights out.

Physically, you feel better.  The hammering headache is gone and the motion sickness is gone with it.  But as you lie awake in the darkness, there’s no way to escape your tumultuous thoughts.  The ones that keep going back to Hoseok and that fight.

“People like me follow orders so people like you don’t have to.”

No doubt the story of how you left the Gajog has been distorted over the years, passed between gossips in some twisted game of telephone. No doubt the story that’s told now is not about the scared teenager desperate for any semblance of stability; it’s about some spoiled little girl who decided she was too good for everyone else.  

“People like me stay behind and handle our responsibilities so people like you can walk away from yours.”

That was definitely the worst blow of the night, though.  

There is just enough truth to that accusation to make it stick, to make it sting.  You did walk away. You did leave your brother behind.

You run a hand through your hair and reach for your phone to check the time.  9:30 PM.  

You feel almost human by the time you get out of the shower and walk out into the living room to find Seokjin dozing on the couch.  You feel guilty for rousing him, but it’s his job.  You know this is something you have to do right now.

“Jin,” you call out, nudging him gently.  His eyes blink back, unfocused as he tries to get his bearings.  

“Yeah?” he’s alert at once, looking around.  “You okay?”

No, but I’m going to be.

“I’m alright.  I need you to take me to see my brother.”

****************************

Namjoon has a beautiful penthouse on the water, a luxury apartment high above the Han River.  But there’s no wife, no children waiting for him at home.  Nothing in that place but echoing walls and modern art.

So he spends most of his nights at the office.

Seokjin called ahead, just in case -- but you knew your brother would be there.  He’s still dressed in his suit, a tumbler of scotch in hand when you arrive.  Seokjin doesn’t have to be asked to leave.

“You don’t look well, Amsaja,” he says quietly as you sit in the chair opposite his grand desk.

“You are not the first person to allude to that today,” you say with a humorless laugh.  You look down at your giant sweatshirt and jeans, and shove a hand through your still-wet hair. “Message received.”

His eyes are soft with concern.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” you say, blowing out a heavy breath.  “Everything.  I just -- I just needed to see you.”

You were still a little girl when you learned the hard way that tears were futile and pointless and only served to make you a target. But you feel them welling in your eyes anyway.  The reflex feels foreign and rusty after so many years of disuse.

“I’m so sorry, Namjoon,” you choke out, voice thick.  “So, so sorry.”

Namjoon sets his tumbler down on the heavy wood of his desk, walks around it and over to you. When he gets down on one knee and reaches out a hand to brush your cheek you don’t see the grown man at the helm of Seoul’s largest criminal empire.  You see the brother who took care of you when no one else would.

Despite your best efforts to stop them, the tears come anyway.

Namjoon holds you close, strokes your hair while you cry into the jacket of his expensive suit.  He doesn’t say anything for a while, just waits for your body to stop shaking with the force of your sobs and for your breathing to even out. 

“Why did you let me leave?” you ask once you’ve managed to regain some control.  “Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

Namjoon sighs, standing to stretch his legs.  He grabs his drink before walking over to the window to peer down at the lights streaking by below.

“One of us deserved to have a choice,” he says quietly.  “It was never going to be me.  I didn’t want the same for you.”

Your heart breaks all over again, hearing Namjoon say those words out loud.  Your brother, born into a legacy he never asked for and a responsibility he could never run from. Your protector who let you walk away from the life he couldn’t escape.

“You saved me,” you whisper.  “He would have killed me if I hadn’t left Seoul.”

“I know that,” Namjoon admits, “I saw it coming, too.  The worse his drinking got --  I couldn’t let that happen.  I refused to let that happen.”

You stand out of the chair to walk over to the window.  Your brother’s profile is illuminated by the passing lights, mouth set in a grim line.

“You forced him to let me go.”

It’s not a question. Namjoon nods.

“I told him I would disappear if he didn’t let you leave.  And then what? He’d have spent his entire life grooming me for nothing.  He was just weak enough from the drinking to agree. He couldn’t fight me on it anymore.”

You shut your eyes against the fresh tears that come.

“I’ve been so selfish.”

“We’re all selfish, Amsaja,” he sighs.  “We all want things we can’t have. That’s human nature.”

It makes your chest squeeze -- how desolate that admission sounds.  You think about your brother’s massive, empty apartment.  Who takes care of him? Who does he have to talk to?  You swallow past the taste of guilt in your mouth.

“We could leave all of this behind, Jaegyueo. Start over.  Make our own choices this time.”

Namjoon huffs a sad laugh into the rim of his glass.

“How I got here is not the point anymore,” he says.  “You think if I dismantled this organization right now that all of this would just stop?”

He turns away from the window to look you in the eye.

“There would be ten syndicates ready to fill the hole we would leave overnight. And I promise you,” he shakes his head, “None of them would conduct business as neatly as we do. This organization keeps everything from going to shit. This is our way of balancing the scales.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look back out the window, out to the lights that make the city glow at this time of night.  You know your brother is right.  

This is his destiny.  

“You talk about being selfish,” he continues quietly,  “How’s this for selfish?  No matter how much you’ve suffered in the past, I still want you here by my side.  I still want you to come back.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“Namjoon, I --”  He interrupts you with a raised hand.

“You don’t have to defend your stance.  You have every right to leave this all behind you forever. Just know that you are the only person on this Earth that I trust without question.”

The ice in his scotch tinkles in the quiet of the office as he swirls the contents of the glass.

“Just know that there is a part of me that will always be waiting for you to come back.”

*********************

HOSEOK

Hoseok had to get out of there.

He had to put space between you and him or he was going to lose his mind.  

Thankfully, Seokjin didn’t ask too many questions when he’d phoned in the middle of the night asking to be relieved for a few days.  Seokjin didn’t press too hard when he asked about how you were doing and Hoseok nearly took his head off.  And Seokjin hasn’t asked why Hoseok is texting him every day to make sure you’re alright.

Sometimes -- rarely -- Seokjin knows exactly when to shut the fuck up.  

Hoseok knows he should be using this time to get his shit together. 

He knows he’s this close to doing something stupid.  He knows he’s got to figure out a way to release the pressure building inside of him before he explodes.

He thinks about how satisfying it would be to put his fist through Kang Donghyuk’s face.

He stares down the stone-and-glass entrance to Kang’s apartment from the driver’s seat of his car, one hand tight around the steering wheel.  He tightens his grip on the wheel and loosens it, over and over and over.

A call comes through.

“Hey, it’s Jimin.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says flatly, eyes never leaving the entrance to that apartment building. “What’s up?”

“I already briefed Namjoon but he wanted me to call you, too.  We finally got a hit on Lee Hyejin.”

Hoseok sits up straighter in his seat.

“What did you find?”

“We got access to her accounts.  Regular payments, every two weeks -- coming through an offshore wire.  Started about three months ago.”

“Shit,” Hoseok says under his breath.  “A Ssijog account?”

“We’re still working on confirming that -- but yeah, like 99% sure.”

Hoseok scrubs a hand down his face.  

Who gets to break the news to you that your only friend has been fucking with your case -- fucking with your entire life? He thinks back to how blank and despondent you’d looked the night of the snake incident, how withdrawn you’d been the night of the charity dinner. 

How much more of this pressure can you withstand before you explode?

“What about the guy?” Jimin asks, after the line is silent for too long. “Any news on him?”

“Not yet,” Hoseok murmurs, tightening his grip around the wheel again.  “But it’s coming.  I know it’s coming.”

“Okay.  Tae is still trying to get a complete list of accounts linked to that offshore one.  If we find out more, I’ll make sure you know right away.”

Hoseok ends the call just as another call comes in.

He takes one look at the screen and rubs his fingers across his tired eyes before sending it to voicemail.

He knows he could have handled the situation with Dae with more care. He knows he could have done more than end their casual arrangement with one call.  Dae had been furious, demanding he give her some kind of explanation so she could understand why it was over.  

Hoseok hadn’t been lying to her when he said he didn’t know why.

But as he sits in the dark -- staring at the entrance of Kang Donghyuk’s apartment building -- he considers for a moment that he might have been lying to himself.

His phone rings again.

“Jung,” Namjoon’s voice comes over the line. “You in the middle of something?”

“Nah,” Hoseok lies easily.  “Just relaxing.  What’s up?”

“Come have a drink with me.”

*********************

It’s nearly midnight by the time Hoseok makes it across town.

Namjoon appears to be in a contemplative mood tonight, glass of scotch in hand, long body leaned back into his plush chair.

“You’re off-duty tonight,” Namjoon says, taking a sip of his drink.  “Scotch?”

Hoseok makes a face.

“Definitely not.  Have any whiskey?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got a bottle around here somewhere.”

Namjoon picks up his desk phone to reach his assistant, who makes quick work of finding a bottle and a clean glass.  She delivers both with practiced silence before slipping out of the room.  

Hoseok can’t help but notice his boss’s gaze lingering on the pretty young woman as she retreats. He keeps his mouth shut because he’s not an idiot.

Once he has a tumbler of whiskey in hand, Hoseok leans back into his own chair, undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt.

“Something specific you want to talk about?” he asks, sipping his drink.  

“Just checking in,” Namjoon says quietly.  “I’ve barely seen you these past few weeks.  Want to make sure everything’s alright where you’re concerned.”

“I’m fine,” Hoseok says.  “Jimin called me about the shit he found on the Lee girl, though.”

“Yeah. I don’t think my sister’s going to take that news well,” Namjoon murmurs.  “She’s not exactly the trusting type.  A betrayal like this -- ”

He trails off, abandoning one thought for another.  

“Does she talk to you?”

Hoseok clears his throat. 

He tries not to think about the last time he saw you and the terrible things you’d said to one another.  He tries not to remember the look on your face before you turned away from him.  

“Not really.  Keeps to herself a lot.”

“Yeah, well.  She’s had to put up with a lot of shit over the years,” Namjoon admits, rubbing his fingers across his lips. “She keeps things close to the vest.”

Hoseok sags deeper into the plush chair and takes a drink, welcomes the burn that comes with it.  He already knows Namjoon is not looking for some kind of dialogue tonight.  Namjoon is looking to unload.  

Hoseok keeps quiet and lets him do just that.

“My sister has been punished for things beyond her control since the day she was born,” he continues.  “My role was clear from day one and hers much less so.  My father was too ignorant to figure out how to raise a little girl without a mother and too disinterested to even ask for help.”

Hoseok’s fingers tighten around his glass.

“She spent half her time trying to get his attention and the other half regretting when she finally did.”

The image of that scar comes into Hoseok’s mind, unbidden.  The jagged lines of it, the deep indent of it.  All of the tiny details that speak to the brutality behind the wound.  

“He hurt her,” Hoseok says quietly, looking past Namjoon to stare out into lights outside the window.

“A thousand different ways,” Namjoon sighs, shoving a hand through his hair.  “I did what I could, but I couldn’t keep her from all of it.”

The ice in his glass tinkles as he empties his drink.

“I know what people say about my sister, Hoseok,” Namjoon exhales.  “None of them know what they’re talking about.  She was going to be damned either way.  She did what she had to do to survive.”

Hoseok swallows the last of his whiskey around the knot in his throat.

************************

He almost took the night off.

Hoseok’s body could have used the rest, and his mind certainly could have, too.  But every time he closes his eyes he sees you, hears your brother’s words.  

The pressure inside him keeps building.

He woke up this morning thinking about that photograph inside Namjoon’s desk -- the one taken inside your apartment.  The one taken while you were sleeping and at your most vulnerable, inside your own home.  

Every cell in Hoseok’s body is telling him that Kang Donghyuk took that picture.  

That’s why he’s in his car tonight, following Kang home from the office again.  That’s why he’s pulled into a space just outside the man’s high-dollar highrise prepared for another night of waiting and watching.  

Fuck, he’ll do it every night until he gets the answers he’s looking for.

A call comes in from Seokjin.

“Hey,” Hoseok answers on the first ring.  “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin sighs.  “Quiet.  She’s busy working in her room or something.  Why do I have the feeling you’re not at your place taking the personal time you said you needed?”

“Mind your business,” Hoseok mutters. 

Seokjin laughs.

“Honestly, I just called because I’m bored.  Wondering if you ever plan on coming back to your post.  I’m going out of -- “

“-- Shit,” Hoseok interrupts, sitting up straight in his seat.  “I gotta go.”

He ends the call before Seokjin can ask why.

Hoseok squints against the dark when he sees Kang Donghyuk walk out of the entrance to his building.  Kang stands on the curb, hands shoved into the pockets of his dress pants.  Even from a distance, Hoseok can see he’s looking up and down the street.

He’s waiting for someone.

Hoseok’s entire body is tense as he watches a sleek silver car pull up outside the building’s entrance and Kang slip into the passenger seat.  The car takes off and Hoseok’s pulse picks up.

This is it.

He waits until the sedan is a few hundred feet ahead to pull out into the street.  He’s careful to keep pace with the surrounding traffic so he doesn’t give himself away.  And after a short drive, the silver car parks outside a run-down warehouse in one of the shittier parts of the city.  

Hoseok pulls into a dark space, cuts the ignition and hides the bright display of his phone.

He watches Kang Donghyuk get out of the passenger seat, followed by the driver of the car.  A man Hoseok recognizes as Ssijog right away.  The men have a short conversation in the street before disappearing into the warehouse.  

Hoseok’s hand tightens around the steering wheel, then loosens.  Again and again and again.

He knows the protocol.  He knows he should have called this in five minutes ago.

He hasn’t.  

He won’t. 

Instead, he reaches into the console to pull out his favorite pair of Italian leather gloves.

*************************

Dressing the part has always served Hoseok well, even in this line of work.

Tonight -- his meticulously chosen suit and tie are his ticket inside Kang Donghyuk’s secure high-rise apartment building.  Hoseok walks right past the security guard on duty so casually that the man barely looks in his direction.

It takes him only a few minutes to find the door to Kang’s apartment and the entrance to the service elevator nearby.  Hoseok stands back into the recess and balls his hands into fists.  He concentrates on the stretch of his leather gloves.

Then he waits.

Kang Donghyuk doesn’t keep him waiting long.  

Just a short while later, he’s at his apartment door, fumbling with his keys.  Hoseok waits until he nudges the door open before making his approach.

One firm hand to the back of the neck and one firm shove is all it takes.  

Kang Donghyuk falls through the entrance to his apartment just as Hoseok is closing the door behind him.  He rolls onto his back on the floor, eyes wide and sputtering.

“What the fuck man?”  

Hoseok doesn’t bother to answer that.  

He pulls out his pistol and points the barrel at the cowering man.  Kang’s pupils blow wide and Hoseok feels a pulse of satisfaction at his obvious fear.

“Start talking,” Hoseok says, voice low and controlled.

“About what?” Kang squeaks -- voice slipping out an octave too high.  

Hoseok clicks the pistol’s safety into place and off again just to ensure Kang hears the sound.  The coward reacts immediately, covering his face with his hands.

“Alright man, I’ll talk.  Just chill -- “ he wheezes.  “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

“I need to know everything, Kang,” Hoseok says between clenched teeth.  “Start fucking talking.”

Donghyuk sits up slowly, hands raised and eyes fixed on Hoseok.  

“They came to me a few months back.  All they said is they wanted her to fuck up the case.  That’s all, I swear.”

There’s no feeling of satisfaction for Hoseok when he hears the words spoken aloud.  There’s no victory in confirming the guy he thought was a piece of shit all along is actually a piece of shit.  

The pressure inside him continues to build.

“You’re working with the Lee girl?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuk admits miserably, eyes unmoving from the barrel of Hoseok’s gun.  “She would help me make copies of her keys and shit.  She knew where the important files were, too.  I mostly had to keep her out of the apartment when they needed to get in and -- ” he clears his throat, “ -- other stuff.”

Hoseok sees red. 

Fury ignites inside of him at the innuendo packed into those two short words.  His pistol seems to warm in his hand. 

“You took that picture,” he whispers, finger tightening around the trigger. Donghyuk winces, swallows so hard Hoseok can see his Adam's apple jump in his throat.

“Yeah,” Donghyuk admits, curling in on himself.  “They asked me to.”

Hoseok turns the gun in his hand so fast Donghyuk barely has the time to put his hands over his face again.  He cracks the butt of his pistol against the side of Donghyuk’s skull and the man whimpers as he rolls over in pain.

The pistol whip should have been enough to take the edge off of Hoseok’s rage.  

But it’s not enough. 

He holsters his gun and Donghyuk stares up at him from the floor, terrified.

“Get up,” Hoseok hisses.  

Blood has started to seep from a gash on the side of Donghyuk’s head but the man complies.  He stumbles to his feet just in time for Hoseok to take him off balance again.  He wraps one hand around the man’s throat and squeezes tight, pushing him back against a wall.

Donghyuk’s eyes bulge as Hoseok pins him to the wall with that hand.

“Never, ever --” Hoseok spits the words, grip crushing the man’s neck,  “-- go near her again.  Do you understand me? That’s not something I have to repeat even for someone as stupid as you, right?”

Donghyuk’s face is mottled, features frozen in fear as he attempts to nod his agreement. 

 Hoseok tightens his grip and the man starts to turn a satisfying shade of red.  The color deepens as Hoseok squeezes harder and all he can think about is how easy it would be to end him, how just a few more seconds of this pressure could cause his windpipe to collapse. How one more hard press of his fingers could solve the problem of Kang Donghyuk forever. 

But protocol.

Hoseok finally releases his grip on the man’s throat and Kang immediately slumps down the wall, into a pile on the floor.  He gasps, hands clutched to his chest as he fights to regain his breath.

Hosok stands back, straightening his coat and adjusting his jacket underneath.  

He gives Kang Donghyuk one last glance before walking to the door.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he warns quietly.  “I’d hate to have to pay you another visit.”

Hoseok waits for the door to click closed before pulling out his phone to call Namjoon in the quiet of the hallway.  He’s a little breathless when his boss picks up on the first ring.

“Regarding Kang Donghyuk,” he murmurs. “There’s been a development.”

**********************

Namjoon’s call comes late the next afternoon.

“Hey,” Hoseok breathes into the receiver, balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear.  He drops his hand back into the bowl of ice water at his side.  “What’s up?”

“I need you to come in,” his boss says evenly.  “So we can discuss next steps.”

“Be there in ten.”

It’s a little pathetic, the way Hoseok perks up at having somewhere to be.  

Even meeting with his boss to explain how he broke protocol and nearly choked a man to death beats sitting in his apartment, icing his sore hand.  It sure as hell beats sitting on his couch, staring at the TV and trying not to think about you.

Namjoon takes the news of Kang’s involvement and Hoseok’s insubordination surprisingly well.  

He’d listened to Hoseok’s account of how he’d tracked Kang to the warehouse and ambushed him outside his apartment with quiet calm.  Maybe it’s his imagination, but Hoseok could swear he almost saw Namjoon smile when he described pistol-whipping Kang inside his apartment.

Yoongi -- pragmatic as ever -- laid the options out plainly.  

He argued that the Gajog could get rid of either Lee Hyejin or Kang Donghyuk, but not both.  Killing both, Yoongi reasoned, would put an entirely different kind of target on your back.  Both Hoseok and Namjoon agreed with that assessment.  Yoongi has always had a mind for strategy, even if his delivery leaves a bit to be desired.

Namjoon promised to think over the options before dismissing them both.

*************************

Hoseok’s hand still aches.

He’s been driving around the city for more than an hour now, not ready to go home and not certain which move to make next.  Each turn of his steering wheel sends a throb of discomfort through his grip.

Fucking up Kang Donghyuk was satisfying, no doubt.  But it’s not enough.

Hoseok doesn’t feel the sense of relief he’d expected to enjoy after choking that man to within an inch of his life.  There’s still a dull ache inside his chest too insistent to ignore.  

He tries to focus on the street signs that come and go, the traffic lights that glow against the backdrop of the setting sun.  He drives until the night takes over completely and then he drives until he parks outside of your place. 

When Hoseok cuts the ignition, it’s like he’s just come out of a fog.  He looks up at your high-rise and takes a deep breath before climbing out of the car.

******************

Seokjin’s bag must have already been packed.  

After a quick debrief he’s out the door in seconds, leaving Hoseok alone inside the quiet apartment.  He sinks down onto the couch and stares at your closed bedroom door.

He should knock, he thinks to himself.

He should get the apology sitting on the tip of his tongue out of the way so the two of you can move forward from what happened the other night.  He should apologize for the way he’s treated you and he should beg for your forgiveness.

Hoseok scrubs a hand down his face before resolving to do just that -- at the same time your bedroom door opens.  He watches you walk to the kitchen without so much as a glance in his direction and then he hears the sound of running water.   

He follows you.

Hoseok worries for a split-second that you might drop the glass in your hand when you finally spot him.

“Oh,” you breathe, “It’s you.”

Hoseok thought the last time he’d seen you -- when you’d worn that incredible gown and pulled out every stop -- he thought that was the most beautiful you’d ever looked.  But somehow that pales in comparison to how you look right now, figure swimming in an oversized sweatshirt, hair loose and framing your bare face.  He can’t even bring himself to look lower because you’re wearing those godforsaken shorts.  Has Seokjin seen you in those things?

His brain derails and it takes a moment to get back on track.

“Sorry,” he says slowly.  “Yeah, it’s me.  I’m back now.”

“Okay,” you exhale, setting your glass of water down. 

“I’m sorry.”

Hoseok had planned on saying something a bit more heartfelt, something with a bit more depth.  He had not intended on blurting out his apology the moment he saw you.  

“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” you say softly.  “I don’t want your pity or anyone else’s.”

Hoseok steps closer and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, a nervous gesture.

“That’s not what I said,” he insists, shaking his head. “I’m not sorry for you, I’m sorry for me.  I’m sorry because I’m a fucking jerk.”

You blink back at him.  “What?”

“I’m sorry -- ” Hoseok takes another step forward, “ -- that you have to put up with assholes like me who think they know everything about you when they really don’t know anything.”

Hoseok ignores the voice inside his head warning him not to press you too hard, not to take this too far.   

“I’m sorry anyone has ever tried you because I promise you they are going to pay,” he vows, stepping even closer.

You lean back against the heavy stone of your kitchen island, eyes wide. 

“And fuck -- ” Hoseok practically chokes the words out, “-- fuck, I am so sorry for wanting you as badly as I do when I know I have no right.”

There is a moment after those words tumble out when Hoseok thinks he may have just fucked everything up for good.  A moment when your mouth drops open but you say nothing and Hoseok is certain you’re going to make him leave.

But you don’t.

So he kisses you.

Hoseok swallows the sound of surprise you make when he slants his lips over yours.   You reach your hands around his neck to pull him closer and go up on your tiptoes to make up for the difference in height. Hoseok groans into your mouth when your nails scrape against the back of his neck.  

Any moment now -- any moment now he’s certain you’re going to come to your senses.  You’re going to demand he take his filthy fucking hands off of you.  He braces for it.

But you don’t.

Instead, you melt into his touch and whimper into his mouth and what’s left of Hoseok’s sanity evaporates. The sounds of panting and groaning echo off of the stone in the kitchen as you meld your body to his.

“I want you so much,” he whispers, gripping your waist to lift you onto the counter.

It’s easy to ignore the way his hand aches in protest when you’re wrapping your legs around his waist and sinking your fingers into his hair.  His cock is so hard in his pants he feels like he might explode.

You pull away from him, breathless, to lift your sweatshirt over your head and Hoseok’s chest tightens at the flash of doubt that crosses your features.  The heat that creeps into your cheeks when your scar is bared and on display.

He leans close to brush feather-light kisses against it, lips soft against the rough skin. “Every inch of you is perfect,” he whispers, sucking gently at the indent in your collarbone. “Just the way it is.”

You suck in a sharp breath and release it with a strangled sigh as your fingers grip the back of Hoseok’s neck.  He trails kisses from your scar, slowly down your breast, onto one aching nipple.

“Hoseok -- please,” you beg.  “I want -- “

Your plea breaks apart he takes your nipple into his mouth, teeth teasing at the straining bud.

“Tell me what you want,” Hoseok murmurs, burying his face into the soft skin between your breasts, “Tell me and I swear to God, I’ll give it to you.”

Your fingers fumble for his belt and Hoseok groans when you work it apart.  There’s no way he’s ever been this hard -- ever.  He’s certain he could come just from rutting against the counter with your voice in his ear.

“Hoseok,” you whisper again.  “Hoseok -- “

He doesn’t catch on to the panic in your tone until you go rigid in his arms.

“There’s someone at the door,” you whisper, eyes wide. 

“Shit.” 

Hoseok shuts his eyes, leans his forehead against yours.

You slip out of his hold and he leans over the kitchen counter, arms braced against the stone while he tries to collect the last remaining scraps of his self-control.  You pull your sweatshirt back overhead and run quietly to the door.

You’re back only a moment later.  

“It’s my brother,” you whisper.  “And Yoongi and some guy I don’t know.”

Holy shit.

Hoseok grits his teeth, takes a deep breath, and silently wills his rigid cock to stand down. Thinking about Kim Namjoon’s face on the other side of that door helps, actually.  It helps a lot. 

The door knocker thuds again loudly and Hoseok can hear Namjoon’s voice coming from the hallway.  You wait until he’s managed to straighten his shirt and secure his belt before opening the door.

He can see your brother’s frown from ten feet away.

“Hoseok should really be the one to answer the door, Amsaja,” he says, eyes narrowed.  “Is he not here?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Hoseok calls out, hoping like hell that his voice sounds even.  “Sorry. I was just -- uh, in the middle of something.”

Actually, I was trying to be in the middle of something.  That something being your sister.  That’s not going to be a problem, is it?

Yoongi looks between you and Hoseok and Namjoon but says nothing.

“So what’s going on?” Hoseok asks, desperate to move the conversation along.  “Something wrong?”

“Jeon is going to stay over tonight,” Namjoon says, pointing to the youngest man on his team.  Jungkook walks into the apartment and bows to you before taking a seat on the couch.

Namjoon nods at Yoongi before turning to Hoseok.

“The three of us have somewhere to be.”

**********************

tag list!

@saintjeonofbusan @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sunkissed725@shadowhale @sugaminyoonjiji @jinhitwhore @trust-me-im-joly @daydreambrliever @ultraanonymousey @yoon-bug @multistantrash17 @poohsaidhi @alyboo-jpeg @sahmfanficbts @yoongissugarmommy @p-polaroid @vi-hoshi @stressedinmedschool247 @jgissle12 @ctvrty @btsnatalena​ @strawbewymiwk​ @stephleee​ @jalexa83​ @livanthi​ @fantasybangtan​ @trviahope @mono-kookie​ @hauntedlilies​

[dadsbongos]

Treehouse

Movie/Game/Show: My Hero Academia Dynamic: Katsuki Bakugou/Reader (and a lot of other people) Warnings: Spoilers for bakugou’s hero name ahead!!, songfic for this song Summary: Katsuki’s grown a lot since middle school, hasn’t he? ~~~

Do Not Enter's written on the doorway. Why can’t everyone just go away? Except you. You can stay.

Katsuki looked down at the girl in his arms, eyes fluttered shut and lashes fallen over her cheeks. Lips parted ever so slightly to let out puffs of even, laxed breathing. The golden sunlight shone in her hair as it beamed through his thin curtains, soft warmth spreading over both of their bodies. His fingers carefully danced over the tender skin of her arm as he held her close. Her head over his chest and he was sure that the sound of his thunderous heartbeat would wake her eventually.

It felt nice, he concluded, to hold his love so dearly. To let his chest deflate and not have to be the best of the best. He didn’t have to be anyone. He didn’t have to be Bakugou, Katsuki - top of the class. Bakugou, Katsuki - Dynamight. Bakugou, Katsuki - Kacchan. Bakugou, Katsuki.

If he didn’t want to, he didn’t have to be anyone. She’d hold him just as close with any other persona he wanted to wear. It was his real security. His real home - right in her arms. A home he didn’t want to leave.

He wasn’t sure when it hit him. Just one of those random thoughts you never expect but deep down, you knew the entire time. Something so simple and yet so earth shattering that merely breathing it into existence seemed catastrophic. He wasn’t sure when it hit him that he was terrified of losing her. So innately terrified that the very thought was enough to send his muscles a tremor.

The feeling, it wasn’t nice. But he knew exactly what was - living the life he could with (Y/n).

What do you think of my treehouse? It's where I sit and talk really loud. Usually, I'm all by myself.

“Man, you’re really saving my ass here, Bakubro!” Eijiro grinned, exposing his unnatural shark teeth.

Katsuki huffed, “Don’t think about it, shitty hair. You’re still not passing.”

“I know, I know,” the redhead nervously grinned, eyeing the rolled up newspaper in Katsuki’s hand as he did so, “It’s just manly of you to help me is all. You’ve changed, man, it’s kinda cool.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious!” Eijiro put down his pencil, “It’s cool.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes but didn’t retort further. Whether he was ready to admit it or not, that usually would’ve gotten Kirishima, Eijiro a first-class newspaper swatting but he supposed he could let it pass. Just this once. 

I’m the captain but you can be the deputy. I'm really glad you think I'm so funny. I don't think I'm ever gonna let you leave.

Denki bit at his bottom lip in concentration, more effort going into thinking about cracking the egg in his hand than actually cracking the egg in his hand. His brows were drawn tight toward his face, contemplating how he should go about his cracking to avoid a mess. The last time he was trusted to crack eggs, he’d gotten shell in the bowl and yolk all on the counter and his fingers. The last time he was trusted to crack eggs, he felt like an utter fool. 

Looking over to the electric blond, Katsuki snarled at how little the boy had gotten done. Walking over, he took the egg still encased in its roughened shell from Denki in one hand and a bowl in the other. Tilting the porcelain bowl just right, Katsuki snapped the egg against the lip of the dish, pulling his fingers apart to hold the crack in the egg open so the yolk could drool down. Tossing out the eggshell, Katsuki watched as Denki took an egg for himself before copying exactly what the explosive teenager had done.

As two yolks drowned together in whites within their little bowl, Denki sung the praises of his dear friend, of Bakugou, Katsuki - and in Denki’s opinion, apparently, a masterchef. 

Nodding stiffly, Katsuki turned back to his own task at buttering the pan as it laid atop its burner. He let silence rule the kitchen until Denki would break it with a lame joke he would never admit he liked.

Do Not Enter's written on the doorway. Why can’t everyone just go away? Except you. You can stay.

“You have such great lid space, though,” Mina clasped her hands tighter, “I think it’d be fun!”

Katsuki grumbled under his breath before sighing and tossing his head back, “I’ll give you twenty minutes. Starting fucking now.”

Squealing, Mina hopped onto the common room couch before unzipping her makeup bag, “Thanks, Bakugou!”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, barely managing to hold his underlying frustration inside, “Your damn funeral if you fuck up.”

“I won’t…” Mina pouted, “C’mon, don’t you believe in me? Just a little? You’ve seen what I can do.”

“I’ll believe for now.”

What do you think of my treehouse? It's where I sit and talk really loud. Usually, I'm all by myself.

“Oh, didn’t know the balconies were occupied,” Hanta awkwardly muttered.

Katsuki looked up from the ground below, brows furrowed and eyes stinging, “If you say anything to anyone, I’ll kill you myself.”

Putting his hands up, Hanta showed off that stupidly large, stupidly infectious grin, “Hey, man, everyone needs a good cry. I think it keeps us sane.”

Nodding silently, Katsuki stood at his railing, head hanging over and eyes clenched shut in a new effort to keep his tears in.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I’d rather die.”

“Maybe, instead of dying, you could just vent to a trusted friend who cares about you?” Hanta suggested, “You go to (L/n), right? Well, now you can come to me, too. We’re friends, Bakugou, we’re there for each other.”

I’m the captain but you can be the deputy. 

Stirring inside his mind, were the thoughts he’d been keeping to himself since that fight. His real fight with Izuku. Where Katsuki won. The successor to All Might and boy wonder was beaten by Katsuki. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

Izuku was making progress fast, far too fast. He was leaping towards the top and Katsuki could only watch on, feet trapped in the cement. The ground swallowing his body as Deku, the Quirkless one, the useless one, the crybaby, bound forward in success.

It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t enough. Bakugou, Katsuki was simply not enough.

That’s what he was beginning to believe; where he couldn’t even save himself from villains, Deku came rushing in to save him and succeeded. 

Sitting at the kitchen island, alone, in the middle of the night, that’s what Katsuki was beginning to believe.

Lights flicker on, “Kacchan?”

Closing his eyes, Katsuki pretended there was no voice. Nobody behind him. No one but him awake at this awful hour.

“You’re usually in bed by now. Way before, actually.”

There was no reply. There didn’t need to be one. Izuku sat beside Katsuki all the same, an uneven, slightly nervous, smile on his face as he did so.

Katsuki opened his eyes, looking at the other boy from the corner of his peripheral, “You’ve made the power yours.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not as useless as I thought.”

“Thanks… you know, I’ve been meaning to ask… would you- would you train with me sometime? I think that I could really improve if I fought someone like you.” 

“Someone like me? The fuck does that mean?”

“Strong. Well-versed in your Quirk. Other than Todoroki, you’re probably the best at Quirk application, so I wanted to see if I could fight you.”

“Ask daddy issues.”

“But then we couldn’t have our rematch. I still need to beat you, Kacchan, you know?”

I'm really glad you think I'm so funny.

Katsuki found himself staring at the back of Izuku’s head, brows furrowed. Anger. Frustration. Confusion. He couldn’t tell what exactly it was. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see her. (L/n), (Y/n) smiling at him softly, perfect lips tugged into a perfect grin on her perfect face. God, what he wouldn’t give to just grab her and kiss the smile off her face just to do it all over again. What he wouldn’t give to scream to the world he loved her.

“You okay? You’re tense.”

Glancing to the front, Shota still sleepily tucked in his sleeping bag in a corner of the room, Katsuki nodded, “Fucking fine. Just thinking.”

Setting her chin in the palm of her hand, (Y/n) tilted her head ever so slightly, “Wanna tell me about it?” shaking his head, the ash-blond went to refuse when she spoke up again, “Not here, if you wanna wait.”

He felt almost unworthy. Losing to Deku, killing the legacy of All Might, getting kidnapped by villains - Bakugou, Katsuki felt unworthy of his own lover’s comforts. Looking at the face of an angel would make you crazy - at least that’s what his father told him once. And so, he nodded slowly, “Sure. Later. Alone, though, I’m not talking shit in front of Raccoon Eyes and Dunce Face.”

“Whatever you need,” she murmured, giggling quietly to herself, “I’m here.”

I don't think I'm ever gonna let you leave.

“I’ll say this once.”

He burned the image of them into his brain. (Y/n) and Eijiro on either side of him on the common room couch. Denki just about ready to cut through the carrot cake Mina and Hanta slaved over despite trashing on the choice the entire time. Izuku was slightly off to the side, ready to hand off gifts to his childhood rival.

Katsuki sighed quietly, looking to his feet when a hand grabbed his, (Y/n) rubbing her thumb into his skin. He swallowed his pride before letting everything he felt about each and every person in the room manifest into the best phrase someone like him could imagine.

“Thanks. For everything.”

[bi-dazai]

all of the fucking annoying ass idiots going on about "aaaa stingrays are dangerous and scary and killed steve irwin" need to shut the fuck up because it's really not helping safety or conservation of these animals in the great barrier reef, which is already difficult because the government here has a hard on for letting agriculture bleach our coral.

stingrays are actually incredibly sweet, lovely creatures. there are innumerable tour guides in countries all over the world that actually INVITE guests to swim with stingrays because of this. You can go to various aquariums in Australia and actually visit a stingray touching and feeding pool, where folks of all ages can reach into the water and pat the stingrays. If you want to know what that feels like - they are incredibly silky and soft.

furthermore, as someone who actually remembers when steve irwin died, im pretty sure most of u spouting this shit are either too young or didn't read any good articles about it because every single one points out that one of the things steve irwin HIMSELF tried to specify is that sting rays are not aggressive creatures and should not be seen as such because this could have massively dangerous effects on the conservation of these animals - think how after jaws came out shark populations were severely affected.

If you didn't know anything past "a stingray killed steve irwin", let me enlighten you on what actually happened:

Irwin was at port douglas in 2006. He'd been filming a series called oceans deadliest. However there was a lull in the weather, making the crew unable to film the series. At the time his daughter, Bindi, age 7, had begun to film smaller tv shows mainly based around health and movement in children. He decided to snorkel in shallow water to film a segment for her show. At about chest-deep water, he came across a stingray and approached it with his crew in order to film it moving away. Just to be clear here from my own personal perspective growing up in a seaside qld town where p much everyone has a boat and has gone snorkeling around stingrays at some point in their lives - this is perfectly normal to do, and usually the stingray just runs away when you get within a metre or so of them. They're extremely skittish and mostly harmless - much like huntsman spiders. However we have to keep in mind that irwin was also surrounded by a film crew, meaning more people and massive equipment on a boat beside him. The stingray was boxed in, not just approached like it usually would have been. I can only guess that Irwin, who had a tendency to get distracted by the animals he interacted with, had a moment of very human forgetfulness, and tried to approach the stingray as if he were on his own. The stingray panicked, and shot its barb before swimming away.

stingray attacks are almost never fatal. Irwin's death was the second stingray-related death in Australia since 1945. However the stingray barb punctured Irwin's heart. He died from traumatic bleeding.

I cannot stress enough how much the legacy of Steve Irwin has been tainted by people becoming vindictive and hateful, even jokingly, towards stingrays. Steve Irwin would have NEVER wanted anyone to BLAME an animal for his death. It was a tragic accident resulting from a moment of human forgetfulness. And as someone who lives in Queensland who grew up around sea creatures, being taught of the dangers of the sea around me and how to interact with it - stingrays are probably the least of your concerns when near one. You are far, FAR more likely to be hurt by a stonefish, a razor clam, a bluering octopus...Growing up, you learn that stingrays are some of nature's most gentle animals. They're skittish, of course - mostly they just run away when people get close. But they're also lovely creatures, and can be socialised to interact with humans.

It still makes me angry and even queasy that after 15 years people - and especially people who are not australians - continue to repeat this blaming rhetoric, and even claim that stingrays are dangerous because of steve Irwin's death. This is the kind of rhetoric that leads to conservation efforts being taken less seriously, something that is desperately needed especially with even more coral bleaching and mass ecosystem destruction being carried out on the great barrier reef each year.

also its a fifteen year old joke about a guy who would've hated it, it isn't funny and it never was.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Whumptober 2020 Day 7 - Support/Carrying

Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake Summary: Jason knew a thing or two about in securities.  A/N: Tim gets hopped up on pain killers later and thanks Damian for not laughing at him and Damian’s never been more confused in his life. Jason just pats his head and tells him to smile and nod.

Ao3

~~

Jason couldn’t help but chuckle throughout the whole ordeal.

“In you go, little baby.” He teased, lowering Tim as gently as he could.

Tim groaned dramatically. “Just leave me here to die, man.”

“No can do.” Jason sighed wistfully. “Cassie likes you too much. She’d kill me if I left you here.” He sniffed, waited until Tim situated himself to a little more comfortable a position. “Besides, embarrassment is a shitty thing to die of.”

“That’s why you’d leave me here. I’d rather die of the elements, than embarrassment.” Tim snapped. He slumped back. “I mean, picture yourself in my position. You really want to be wheeled back into the bunker with a broken leg…in a freaking kids’ wagon?”

They’d found it next to the dumpster of the apartment building they’d just left. And if Jason hadn’t also been hurt in the fight – a dislocated left shoulder and sprained ankle at least – then they wouldn’t have even looked at it twice. He’d have carried Tim on his own.

But considering they’d been captured and driven to said apartment building, and that they were closer to the Bat-Bunker downtown than where their bikes might be, it was really their only option if they wanted to get anywhere before bleeding out or exhausting themselves to the point of collapse.

Jason snorted again in amusement. “I don’t know, man. I might feel like I was in a parade or something.”

“Yeah, the world’s saddest parade. Whoopie.” Tim scoffed, crossing his arms. He tensed his muscles, took a deep inhale.

“Leg hurt?” Tim pursed his lips, reluctantly nodded. “Then this is what we’ve gotta do, kid. Sorry we don’t all have fancy cars like B-man has.”

“At least he’s out of town.” Tim mumbled as Jason picked up the wagon’s handle. “I might just kill myself if he was there when we got in.”

“Right, he’d be the worst.” Jason drawled as he rolled his eyes. “So it’s great that it’ll just be Damian there instead, huh?”

Tim froze as Jason stepped out onto the street. “…He’s out of town.”

Jason clicked his tongue, waving as a drunk couple walked by them, staring. “Got back last night. He and ‘Wing are staying at the Tower for some dumb sentimental reason. I don’t know, kid didn’t say why.”

“Oh no.” Tim slouched in the wagon, let the back ledge dig into his neck. “Oh…no.”

“What, thought you were just going to run into our sister? A certain blonde?” Jason laughed. “And Duke is with B.”

Tim hid his face in his hands, curled in on himself. “Jay, please, for the love of god. Seriously. Just kill me.”

Jason stopped at a crosswalk, watching the blinking orange hand. He glanced back at Tim, but frowned. At first he thought Tim was just being purposefully dramatic, but as he watched Tim run his fingers through his hair, sigh deeply every few seconds, keep his eyes closed in focus, he frowned.

“…The kid isn’t going to make fun of you. You know that right?” Jason mumbled. “He’s grown past that shit. He…kinda likes you now, I’m pretty sure.”

“Yeah, okay.” Tim scoffed. “If you say so.”

“I’m serious.” Jason pushed. “And, really, so what if Bruce saw you? I mean, he’s going to know you broke your leg eventually. Probably by tomorrow, from Alfred.”

Tim remained curled around himself, sheepishly shrugged his shoulders.

“…You never got over that, did you?”

“…Got over what.”

“Thinking you’re not good enough.” Jason accused as the light turned and he stepped off the curb. “That one wrong move and you’re getting kicked out of the family, or the costume, or whatever.”

“Are you saying you did?” Tim snapped in defense. Jason didn’t take it personally.

“I never had to get over a fear of being kicked out. I left of my own free will.” Jason hummed.

“Oh yeah. You left so hard you come back every Sunday for brunch still.” Tim pouted. “And keep a room at the manor, and use the library and the kitchen and-”

“Alright so maybe left was the wrong word.” Jason drawled. “But…you know…” He sighed. “See, that’s the difference between me, Dick, Cass, Steph, and the rest of you. You all still care too much about impressing each other and being good enough and shit. Legacies.”

“That is literally the opposite of what is true for you and the girls. Your legacy is just from an evil madman.” Tim hummed. “Dick is the only one who creates his own legacies, not follows one. And even him you can’t count completely. He was Batman for god’s-”

“Will you let me just compliment you, Red?” Jason cut off. “Fuck almighty!”

Tim sucked his lips through his teeth.

“…I’m not going to stand here and tell you that you shouldn’t feel not good enough. Every one of us do, and me telling you that you are good enough and always have been might not get through that wall in your brain, especially now that you got knocked on your ass. I get that. Totally.” Jason explained. “But what I am going to remind you of is the fact that the family loves you. A lot.”

“Yeah, I kno-”

“No, you don’t.” Jason hummed simply. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be more focused on being embarrassed than the fact that you’re hurt.”

Tim blinked, and glanced at his leg.

“And…yeah, okay. If there’s one thing I learned about our ragtag crew of psychopaths, it’s that they’re…eternally unconditional.” Jason lifted his hand to flip off a car that catcalled them as it sped by. “That means forever, no matter what. I learned that in recent years. Damian luckily learned it faster than the rest of us, thanks to Dickie. The girls are better at emoting than the rest of us so they got it on like, day one. So. Now it’s your turn.”

Tim silently reached out to test the pressure points on his legs, feel where it’s more painful.

“Christ, kid and I have killed people. You’re really going to let your brain make you think they’re going to suddenly hate you or think less of you because you broke your leg?”

“I mean…” Tim tried to smile. “I didn’t say that…”

“You didn’t have to.” Jason smirked. “Like you just said yourself in a roundabout way, I’ve already been there.”

Tim leaned forward, doubling over his leg, stretching his back a little, focusing on that pain, not the one in his leg.

“Now their worry over your leg, and yes I include Robin in that, that’ll probably be a little annoying and smothering.” Jason rambled. “But they’re not smothering because they hate you, that’s for sure. So. You know. Try to remind yourself of that when your brain starts to get a little wild.”

Tim glanced up as they rounded the corner. “…You including yourself in this little emotional intervention?”

“I’m pulling you in a fucking wagon in downtown Gotham City.” Jason snapped. “What the hell do you think?”

Tim smiled. Laughed lightly, but grabbed his chest when it rattled his nerves and flared through his leg.

“…Thanks, Jay.”

“Don’t mention it.” Jason sighed, looking up at Wayne Tower as it appeared in the distance. “Seriously, don’t. Dick and Duke will never let me live it down.”

[lilyharvord]

The Secret Correspondence of the Dancing War - Part 3

A/N: Part 3 of the accurate epilogue of Broken Throne because once again, Regina and I are bitter that Victoria did not give us the closure we want. This letter while burned to almost a crisp was saved by me and @elane-in-the-shadows.  Part I / Part II 

iii. Cal 

                                         December 10th 330

Maven,

It’s been a while since I wrote to you or visited you. I hope you don’t mind. Things have been busier these past few years. I honestly don’t remember the last time I got a full night’s rest. Even now, I’m writing to you at 3 in the morning because I can’t sleep.  Mare’s going to kill me too. She already has a hard time sleeping because of the baby. She doesn’t waste time blaming me for that. Funny enough, I don’t mind her teasing about it. The fact that it is even happening makes me feel like I could make electricity myself.

Right, I should probably catch you up on what’s happened. To be honest, a lot of it is fuzzy for me. Since my promotion two years ago, I’ve spent more time on the front lines dealing with the Lakelanders than I have in my lifetime. Your ex-wfie is more of a pain in the ass than I ever thought possible. Like you, she’s a brilliant strategist. I think… given time you two might have found kindred spirits within each other. And while this whole dance between the States and the Lakelands has been exhausting, the good news is that Iris hasn’t had the chance to throw me in any more bays. Mare probably wouldn’t think that joke is funny, but I’m sure you will.

Anyway, four months ago Mare wrote to me telling me to ask for a leave of absence. That she needed me to come back to Montfort because it was urgent. It took more convincing than I would have liked to get that leave. Sometimes I miss being a prince, for the sole reason that if I needed something I didn’t have to wait for people to sit around debating about it, it was just done. But that’s beside the point. When I got back to Montfort, Mare had a, let’s just call it a surprise for me because I can’t think of anything else to call it. A gift? It certainly didn’t feel like it at first. I think all the blood drained from my face when she told me. We argued about it. It’s honestly the first fight we’ve had in a long time, but she won. She always does, as you know. I retired my uniform and she retired hers and we bought a little apartment near her parents’ town house. She wants them close when the baby is born. I get that. I would want my family there too. I wish you could be here. I think you’d be surprised how strong she already is. The other day Mare made me feel how hard she was kicking and it was one of the strangest things I’ve ever experienced. How can something so small kick that hard? She’s going to be a force of nature; I know she will be. Mare’s her mother after all. I can’t even begin to tell you how strange it is to write that. To think that in a few weeks she’s going to be here. 

Mare agreed to let me name her, as long as she gets to name the next one. She had her fingers crossed for a boy. She wants to name any son we have after her brother. I think I’m going to name our daughter after my mother though. Coriane Barrow Calore sounds pretty doesn’t it? But I may just be biased. 

At first, I wanted to drop my name and just keep Mare’s, but she insisted we keep both. Our family line is as much a part of my daughter’s legacy as it is mine. Removing our name would be like trying to erase the past. We’re trying to correct it though. I’d say so far we’re doing a decent job. Notra is on track finally, and Evangeline has been hard at work as an ambassador with both the Lakelands and Prairie. We’re both desperately trying to fix the mistakes our ancestors made.

And I guess I’m writing to you tonight because of that. I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because all I can think about it that family name. Our father’s name, and ours. Looking back on everything, I realize now what you went through, what you must have felt like. I can’t sleep because I’m terrified of repeating our father’s mistakes. He made so many. I didn’t realize it until Mare told me she was pregnant and I started thinking about my own childhood. I’m terrified that I’ll somehow show my daughter that she doesn’t matter to me, that there is something or someone who comes before her. What if she sees what I do and what I am, and wants to follow in my footsteps? What if she does that because she feels like she has to? I don’t want her to struggle like I did. I don’t want her to think she is duty bound to a fate because of me or because of Mare. You would know what to say. You always knew exactly what to say.

And I guess I also was hoping you could… endow some of your speech ability on me to write another letter to the Silver Session. You handled them all so well as king, (better than I ever could have hoped too) and I wish I had half of your political sense, just because it would make my life so much easier. You always had such politic ways of telling people to go screw themselves. I need a way to say that right now that doesn’t turn a bunch of cranky, old, irritating silvers into more of a political threat.

By my colors I miss you. It comes at me like a wave sometimes. I’ll just be walking or sitting and then it’s there and I feel like I can’t breathe. You left a hole that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to close. The other night, I realized your birthday was coming up. You would have been 28 this year. I realized that while Mare and I were walking back from dinner. When she asked me why I got so quiet, I told her the truth. She was quiet for a long time too, then she asked me if we would tell our children about you. I don’t know if you want me to. Or which person I should talk about. A part of me didn’t believe the last thing you told me. I know that the boy who used to stay up until ungodly hours playing chess with me was in there somewhere. I know that the brother who used to joke with me and play along with my terrible lies I told to get out of trouble was in there. I know the young man that was braver than I ever could be was in there somewhere. I wish I could have found him. I wish I could have saved you. Maven I have never regretted anything more than the fact that I turned a blind eye to your suffering or what your mother did to you. Maybe you’d be here with me today if I hadn’t. Maybe you would get to hold your niece. Or maybe, maybe she wouldn’t even be here. To be honest, I don’t know. I learned a long time ago that playing the what if game just hurts more.

I hope you are at peace. I hope you are resting and that you somehow do get these letters. I hope you know that even at the end, you were my brother, and I loved you. I still do. I’ll come visit you soon, maybe after Coriane is born. Although I’ll probably be even busier then. I suppose I’ll just have to write in the meantime.

As always, your brother, 

Cal

@elliemarchetti @farleydiana @scxrletguardsdawn @petergrantkavinsky @freaky-freiday @inopinion @mareshmallow @evangelineartemiasamos @evangeline-of-montfort @delilahlbard @king-maven-calore @whatsup-gorls @redqueenetwork

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #28: Humiliations Galore

Prompt: irenic | Master Post | On AO3

This fill is partially in response to @ahlis-xiv‘s fill for ultracrepidarian, which you can read HERE! (And it goes without saying you should read her other fills and assorted writing, too!) The Ahlis mentioned herein, of course, belongs to her. \o/

--

Synnove felt her face twist into something foul and ugly and absolutely capable of curdling milk as she stared down at the letter on her desk. Halulu took one look at her and immediately fled back to the relative safety of her own office one floor down.

The envelope was fine vellum, waxed to protect its contents, tied with twine and the tie further sealed with wax. It was unremarkable, really, and appeared no different from any other important missive that Mealvaan’s Gate might receive from near and far.

Save for the seal of the University of Radz-at-Han pressed into the wax.

Synnove’s lip curled up in a sneer.

Mama, just open it, Galette sighed from her usual perch draped around her shoulders.

Synnove grimaced, but reached for the envelope and slid it closer to herself on the desk. She wedged her thumbnail beneath the wax seal and wiggled back and forth until it popped off, then slid the vellum from the twine and opened the flap. Reaching in, she pulled out two letters, folded over and individually sealed with different wax and stamps, at which she frowned.

And then raised her eyebrows as she noticed the thicker letter of the two, the one closed by deep red wax with a plain stamp, had writing in a very familiar hand on the outside.

READ THE OTHER ONE FIRST.

Now, what in the six hells was Thaisie Valeroyant up to?

Synnove stared with narrow, suspicious eyes at the letter from the Chair of the Department of Arcanima from the University of Radz-at-Han’s College of Mathematics, drumming her fingers on her desk for long moments as she mentally flicked through a list of possibilities. Finally, she let out a heavy sigh and scowled, snatching up the other letter, popping the wax seal, and unfolding it.

My dearest Mistress Greywolfe—

Synnove dropped the parchment, recoiling with a disgusted shriek. Galette HISSED, rising to a crouch as she bared her teeth and bristled her fur, tails lashing.

She knew that handwriting, knew that deep blue ink, knew that absolutely repulsive cologne that wafted into her face.

The first letter was in her hand in an instant, wax seal ripped off and parchment unfolded.

I promise, Synnove, the other letter is worth soiling your fingers and eyes.

Synnove ground her teeth, rage roiling through her, but she took a deep breath through her nose for a five count. Held it for another five count. Let it out with a final five count.

“Thaisie, you are going to owe me so much alcohol,” she muttered under her breath. She set down Thaisie’s letter and reached up to pet Galette, soothing them both for a few moments. Then, she picked up one of the half-sticks of graphite from the pile in the corner of her desk, and used it to poke the other letter flat, sneering as she did. Once that was done, she threw the graphite into her trash bin.

Finally, with a grimace, she leaned over her desk to read the letter from Bahram Zarir.

Synnove sat back after the first flowery paragraph and exchanged a confused look with Galette. “Did he actually…?”

I think so? Galette chittered, ears flat against her head.

They leaned forward again to read the next paragraph.

“…Ah. Never mind. He still, in fact, has his head shoved up his ass so far that the apple on his throat is actually his nose. Good gods, how as he gone this long without developing critical thinking skills, or the ability to remember what he wrote in a previous paragraph?”

She continued reading, occasionally muttering comments such as, “My gods, you absolutely disgusting piece of worm-ridden filth,” to which Galette snickered. Finally, she reached the end of the letter, and slid back into her chair.

And started giggling.

It evolved into a full body guffaw, rising from deep in her belly, and Synnove bent over as she howled with laughter, for so hard and so long it became silent heaving that shook her whole body. Galette sighed and rolled her eyes, holding on as her perch pitched to and fro. As Synnove finally calmed again, she brushed tears from her eyes.

“Oh, my gods, that was hilarious,” she wheezed. “Gods, I only hope I’m there on the day his hubris gets his sorry plagiarizing ass killed so I can laugh him all the way to the Hell of Water. What a cunt.”

Still chortling and catching her breath, Synnove carefully picked up Bahram Zarir’s letter with the very tip of her thumb and forefinger, and dumped it in the trash.

“Please remind me to get Ivar to burn that later,” she said, wiping her hand on her pants.

Yes, Mama!

Then, finally, she picked up Thaisie’s letter to read.

He really is such a prick, isn’t he? It’s a wonder he hasn’t become a victim of Thavnairian politics, but then he’s probably too thick to be a credible threat to any of his relatives or their myriad enemies. Just a shame we got stuck with him. I’m fairly certain the dean was dreaming about defenestrating him and a few other of the legacy children during the last open thesis read.

In any event, I thought you might enjoy the attached to make up for the toad’s sorry attempt at civility: a copy of the abstract for Master Zarir’s latest article. It’s still technically in peer review, but you’re a peer, as dirty as that no doubt makes you feel. Do what you will with this.

Also, yes, I know, I owe you alcohol. I already have a nice bottle of arak picked out for the next time Thubyrgeim allows you off your leash, or I’m able to attend a Lominsan conference.

Kisses!

Thaisie

“You’re such an asshole, Thaisie,” Synnove said fondly, shuffling the parchment to the second page. Zarir’s greatest weakness as a researcher was that frequently, he did have original ideas…but was frankly terrible at the execution and he outright stole others’ work in bits and pieces and tried to make a whole from it that fell apart if one breathed on it too hard. So, what trash was he on about now?

She read the abstract once. Blinked. Read it again, slower this time, than gave it a third pass.

Synnove set the parchment down flat on her desk, mind racing.

Zarir’s article was in peer review, and therefore it wasn’t public knowledge or in open circulation; the only individuals with copies would be Zarir, the reviewers, and Thaisie. He wouldn’t be able to add anything, with how the University handled its legacies’ attempts at academia, the peer review was mostly for show and the article would be published in the latest issue of their mathematics journal. There would be no turnaround time for Zarir.

And there was no way for anyone else to possibly know what he was publishing. Further, it was incredibly common for academics to hit on similar ideas and develop them in parallel without knowing until the other was published.

Zarir’s idea was similar to that of someone else’s here at the Gate. Oh, not hugely similar, but enough for the mainstays in the field to have a solid guess of which articles either had been reading and drawing inspiration from. But Ahlis had gone off in a completely different direction and what was more, her math was sound, the research actually done rather than theorized, and with a high chance of her succeeding and creating a new breakthrough in arcanima. And Ahlis’s work was ready for presentation at the upcoming research symposium. At which a few of the Hannish—not Zarir, if only because the dean didn’t want to deal with the political fallout of letting him set foot in Limsa Lominsa and the resulting murder—from the University would be attending.

Synnove smiled, slow and deliberate and sharklike, a dark chuckle rising in her throat, as she reached for a piece of fresh parchment and a graphite stick. She was quite thankful now that she hadn’t replied to Ahlis’s note just yet.

Ahlis,

I think you are more than ready! You’ve done your due diligence, even surpassed it, in laying your foundation. I still cannot find flaws in the theorems and equations you’ve laid out—your mathematics might need the occasional proofing, but your grasp of the principles is superb, and we’ve all needed a second set of eyes on our work when we’ve looked at the numbers for too long.

You are an excellent arcanist, Ahlis. As intimidating as it is to present research, the symposium presents a wonderful opportunity to receive feedback and collaborate on further avenues to explore your hypothesis. And, if word on the grapevine is true, I have no doubt your work will be leaving certain members of our community absolutely green with envy.

Give ‘em hell!

-Synnove

She signed with a flourish and folded the letter into neat thirds, wrote Ahlis’s name on it, and bound it with some of the leftover twine from Thaisie’s packet. “Amandina, Roksana,” she called out as she tied off the string, “would you like to run an errand for me?”

The twins poked their heads over the edge of their basket, the picture book they had been carefully pawing through forgotten. Their ears stood straight up, noses twitching in excitement—and then they were tumbling out of the basket and darting right for Synnove’s desk. Oh oh oh yes yes yes! they peeped excitedly. Errand errand errand we can do it!

The carbunclets skidded to a halt at their mama’s feet and looked up at her with huge eyes, their mass of tails shaking with excitement. Galette huffed, exasperated as always with their endless amounts of energy, but didn’t otherwise say anything as Synnove leaned over with the letter in hand.

“Do you remember where the Gate’s mailroom is?” she said, solemn.

Yeah!

The arcanist held out the letter, and Amandina very carefully accepted it, clamping down with her teeth to hold it firmly.

“Bring this down to the mailroom,” Synnove said, “and give it to Coster, and only Coster. He’ll make sure it’s delivered to its intended recipient! And then, once you’re done, come right back here, all right?”

Okay, Mommy! warbled Amandina, a determined set to her face.

We’ll be right back! said Roksana with a peppy chirp.

Then, rather than turn and trundle towards the door to her office, as Synnove thought they would, Roksana took one of Amandina’s ears into her mouth, and with a pop! of displaced air they were…gone.

Dead silence, as arcanist and carbuncle both stared, jaws hanging open, at the space the twins had been in just a few moments before.

“When did they learn to do that?” Synnove said, faint and bewildered.

I dunno. Galette tilted her head. Can I learn how to do that?

“Absolutely not, you’ll use it to break into the coldbox for my pies.”

Galette slumped into a full body sulk.

[second-chance-stray]

(Split Ends) RP Log: Cravs, Riylli, and Rising revisit Baldur in Limsa Lominsa.

Cravendy Hound - After entrusting Baldur, the ill-fated boy, to the healers based in Limsa Lominsa, the trio decided to head back to the company...at Crav's insistence, really. Every extra second spent in the maritime city was a second too much. And so, after taking the aetheryte home, we find the three on the company lawn.

Riylli Aliapoh lets out a stretch as they arrive, a bit groggy from the teleporting. "It's a shame you missed it Cravs, Rising ran in while I was castin' one of my spells and I knocked her a clean 20 fulms in the air!" She said, grinning with a bit too much pride. She then seemed to remember Rising was still there. "...By the way, you okay?"

Rising Lotus was patched up after their encounter as well, her right arm was coating in bandages, along with some other patches along the exposed skin of her body. She winced with each step, the healers picking all the needles from her form and now leaving her body to do the rest of the healer. She merely grumbled as Riylli spoke to her, putting her weight on her spear to take some of it off her leg.

Cravendy Hound: "Magic and melee don't mix, Riylli. But, er, 'ow are ye 'oldin' up, Risin'? That injury ye got looked somethin' fierce."

Riylli Aliapoh rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, taking that as a 'no'. She turned back to Cravs, deciding to ignore the issue like a mature adult. "So... Y'wanna tell us what that was all about? Why're you goin' so far to help this guy's kid?"

Rising Lotus: "...I'll be fine. Kinda a feel like layin' down." she glanced at Riylli, nodding afterwards "Aye. I'm curious 'bout that too."

Cravendy Hound: "I'm still confused 'ow a cactaur of all things made it to La Noscea. Could be a freak accident, but somethin' about it doesn't sit right with me." She sighs in thought, brow knitted and bothered. "....Ah. Uh. I guess I owe ye all an explanation."

Riylli Aliapoh plopped herself down on the step, ready for a story

Cravendy Hound: "Oi, get up! I-I'm not gonna bore ye with all the details," Cravs stammers. "Look. I made a promise to the kid's father. 'is dyin' wish was to see his son grow strong, with his own strength."

Riylli Aliapoh tilted her head. "...Y'know... It aint really his own strength if we had to step in to help... You sure you should be meddlin' like this? I mean, it was just a little cactus thing"

Rising Lotus "...Someone might not want that. I remember the merchant mentionin' somethin' 'bout some folk not carin' for him or his family or somethin'." she shrugs, wincing in pain afterwards "...also cactuar are from Thanalan, don't know how one would of gotten there."

Cravendy Hound nods to Riylli. "I agree, and originally, I just wanted to see if 'e was doin' okay. But this cactaur business...I think someone /else/ is meddlin' with 'im. And if we meddle to remove the meddler, then it'll cancel out, right?"

Riylli Aliapoh 's ears perked up in interest. "Y'mean someone left that cactus out there to take the kid out? Who exactly was this kid's sire? Why's he got so many enemies that would go so far as to try and kill his kid after he's already gone?"

Cravendy Hound shifts in place, heat under the collar. Unusually, she speaks slowly and thoughtfully, as if the wrong word could set off a mine. "Kid's father was a pirate captain, but one with...'onor, I suppose. Steal from the rich, give to the poor. Which lead 'im to rob from the same, powerful set of targets."

Cravendy Hound: "If ye got raided by Captain Thorne, ye didn't -just- lose yer shite. It was a kind of...a mark. A blow to yer pride, and that didn't sit well the rich."

Riylli Aliapoh thinks about this for a moment. "...So if we know who the targets are, why don't we just hop over an' kick their teeth in? Bet that'd gettem to stop messin' with the kid!"

Rising Lotus huffs, closing her eyes tightly for a few moments before glaring at Cravs. "...So what's gonna happen when these powerful targets  learn we're helpin' the kid? Last thing I need is to be marked like the boy, or if they learn we work for Heartwood an' create problems for the others."

Cravendy Hound: "That's step one. Gotta find who's still got it out for the kid, out of a handful of options." She then turns to Rising. "As long as we don't do anythin' illegal we should be alright. And we can threaten to expose 'ow they torment a kid to keep them from doin' anything to us."

Cravendy Hound: "Nothin' illegal, alright? That means even if they're an ass, we can't just kick their teeth in." Cravs lectures to Riylli.

Riylli Aliapoh frowned. "It aint illegal if they're a bad guy! And ain’t kickin' teeth in how pirates settle their differences anyroad?"

Rising Lotus tried to give Cravs a skeptical look, but just ended up grimacing from the shift of posture, then just looked exhausted. "That ain't how it work if you're rich. Can get away with anythin'."

Cravendy Hound: "That's not 'ow the law works! And while that may be 'ow we settle problems on water, on land...under the Admiral's stink eye, we'd probably cause more trouble doin' that."

Cravendy Hound: "The rich still 'ave their pride. I'm thinkin' if word got out that the bugger pesters a goddamn child for 'is late father's legacy, it'd be enough to twist their arm."

Riylli Aliapoh looked to Rising, then to Cravs, and then up to the sky as she let out an exasperated sigh. "...Y'see? This is exactly why we Miqo'te got our own rules..." She grumbled, before finally looking back down. "Fine! We'll do it your way! But if any of 'em tries to swing at me it's fair game, yeah?"

Rising Lotus grumbled, pretty much done with the day. "Well in the case it does go tits up, we can handle ourselves much better than that boy I 'spose."

Cravendy Hound nods. What an exhausting day. "...well. Ye look like ye could use two days worth of sleep, Risin'. That's all I 'ad to say."

Riylli Aliapoh hops to her feet and dusts off her pants. "Alright! Just gimme a shout whenever you get a lead or whatever. Always happy to lend my skills to a good cause!" She flashes Cravs a grin, and very pointedly tries not to look over to the wounded Rising

Rising Lotus "...Aye. You know how to reach us. Though we ought to expect somethin' worse than a cactuar next time." she sighed and started making her way toward the door.

(Cravendy Hound) seems a good place to timeskip to next scene? any last posts and then :P )) (Rising Lotus) I'm good!)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Timeskip ready! (Cravendy Hound) AAAHH that outfit!!! )) (Cravendy Hound) the blade harness xD )) (Rising Lotus) Oh yeah I don't think you've seen her in it yet!)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (No fair, its so hard to get glams for Riylli ;-; (Cravendy Hound) it looks extremely good )) (Cravendy Hound) *timeskips in same outfit* xD )) (Cravendy Hound) HERE we can at least start in the company so it doesn't feel like, literally seconds after xD )) (Rising Lotus) Guess we'll have to have a fashion montage for Riylli at some point)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Yknow what, its totally canon that RIylli only has one set of clothes (Cravendy Hound) ahahaha )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Oh, I DO actually have a glamour change! (Rising Lotus) so pick out something new then we can figure out how she got it!)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (alakazam (Rising Lotus) mask (Cravendy Hound) fjkdslf just the gloves?! )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Theyre bandages ^o^ Shes been practicing the fire spell! (Rising Lotus) Damn I thought you were just going to throw that mask on xD))

Cravendy Hound - A week later, Cravs has reached out to Riylli and Rising for company (or maybe help?) again. It's related to the business in Limsa Lominsa, and she's wearing her disguise dress again. Oh boy.

Rising Lotus was eyeing the bandages wrapped around Riylli's hands. "...How's that fire spell going?"

Riylli Aliapoh grins to Rising. "It's goin' well! I got the basic formula down, just gotta work on intensity and duration!" She beams proudly, giving Rising a bandaged thumbs up.

Cravendy Hound: "That...looks painful."

Riylli Aliapoh gives a mock bow. "You gotta suffer for art y'know"

Rising Lotus couldn't help but smirk at Riylli's enthusiasm. "...We'll get it down before you touch anythin' we fish up..or the lava." she turned her attention to Cravs, holding back a snicker at seeing her dolled up again. "You find out more 'bout the boy then?"

Cravendy Hound: "Seems ye got some more sufferin' to do then," Cravs notes in a bright tone.

Cravendy Hound: "Right, the Baldur business - I narrowed it down to a couple of names. But that's as far as I can go gatherin' information out 'ere. Thought it'd be more efficient to ask the kid 'imself. Which means." Cravs gestures to her outfit. "I'll need some escorts to talk for me once we're in Limsa again."

Riylli Aliapoh was clearly enjoying the attention, but quieted down to let Cravs speak. "Why not just talk to the kid as Cravs? If he's lost his sire, it... might be nice for him to know he's still got people close to him out there..."

Rising Lotus "Hmm...'spose maybe she doesn't want him to turn her in for the gil? If he really needs to be supportin' him an' his mom anyway." she shrugged. "Doesn't look like the type to sell out someone who's helpin' him though."

Cravendy Hound went as white as a sheet at the suggestion. "A-ah, that's...Uhh, we've got, um. A misunderstandin' between us. If 'e knew it was me, 'e'd flip out for sure. Trust me, it's easier this way." Cravs clears her throat and then hurries out before Riylli or Rising can ask further.

Cravendy Hound - The trip over is pretty awkward. If the subject was brought up again, Cravs would simply pick up the pace and pretend not to hear. And, once the trio were in Limsa, her lips were sealed, clarification frustratingly out of reach. That said, she was definitely walking somewhere with purpose.

Rising Lotus gave up askin' fairly quick, she knew she wouldn't get anywhere at the moment. She'd pry it out of her later though, one way or another. "So... you know what he'll be up to today? Or you jus' hopin' we run into him?"

Riylli Aliapoh wouldn't bring it up again, at the very least smart enough to see Cravs didn't want to talk about it. Instead, she would offer fun facts of things she had learned so far in her research. "...So, did you guys know that a forge runs hotter than lava?"

Cravendy Hound mimes holding something heavy and swinging it around. And to Riylli's fact, she gives the miqo'te a doubting look. Really?

Riylli Aliapoh nods. "Yeah! Turns out lava is only like... half as hot as your average blacksmith forge! It aint even hot enough to melt iron! Makes my job easier, but it's kinda disappointin' y'know?"

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Thank you for subscribing to Lava Facts)

Cravendy Hound desperately wants to ask if that's how Riylli has been testing her fire shield spell - by dunking her hands in a forge. Cravs moves her hands around as if dipping them in something.

Riylli Aliapoh tilts her head, unable to figure out the mimicry. "Can't you like... at least whisper or somethin' when were alone? Surely they don't got ears everywhere?"

Cravendy Hound looks around and finds it acceptably empty. "Did ye dunk yer 'ands in the forge to test yer spell?!" She whisper-yells.

Rising Lotus narrowed her eyes at Cravs "...So he's... carrying somethin'.. then puttin' it in the oven?" she seemed to be combining the conversations. Then Cravs actually spoke. "Oohh you're talkin' 'bout that. I hope you didn't do that, use a fire or somethin' first Riylli."

Riylli Aliapoh blinks at her. "What? You crazy? What if the spell failed?" She said, shaking her head. "Nah, I've been usin' a campfire! Got a problem with the magic runnin' out too fast though..." She muttered, rubbing her poor cooked hands

Cravendy Hound stifles back laughter, and pats Riylli on the back. There there.

Rising Lotus: "I can get ya some cream for that. Know a gobbie that makes some quality stuff. Don't worry it works too, used it after gettin' a nasty burn from some giant bug sparyin' me with gunk."

Riylli Aliapoh grumbles and glares up at Cravs at the treatment, but lets it slide since she couldn't tell if it was meant to be mocking or not. "...That'd be great, thanks. I don't gotta pay for it, right?"

Cravendy Hound: "Bug....gunk? Bug gunk...That sounds. Hm." Cravs raises a brow at Rising but doesn't say more.

Rising Lotus "Well I ought to considerin' how you made me a pin cushion on our last outin' together." she snickered a bit, the first time she cracked a joke about it. "But nah, he owes me one anyhow. Next time I'm up there I'll grab ya some." she gave Riylli a firm pat on the back.

Riylli Aliapoh grumbled again, but couldn't really argue back. "...Thanks." She muttered, not exactly enthused about all this back-patting she was receiving

Cravendy Hound had earlier given Rising a notepad with names written in it. One of them, hopefully, belonged to the person who was harassing the kid. Her heels clicking on the docks, Cravs would eventually lead the little crew to a dusty corner of Limsa where the kid (B) was presently practicing his form with the ax.

Cravendy Hound - The heavy ax is far too big for the kid. Every swing pulls him comically forward with the weapon. He stops his 'practice' and looks up at the approaching trio with a wide smile. "I remember you two! You helped me with that monster the other day."

(Cravendy Hound) more back pats )) (Cravendy Hound) i demand more )) (Rising Lotus) I feel like Riylli and Rising would have back pats that would eventually devolve into a hitting contest)) (Cravendy Hound) actually cravs and rising would have to squat down to pat Riylli's back ahah - otherwise it'd be a head pat )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Cravs and Rising know it's too dangerous to headpat Riylli, they'd probably get bit (Cravendy Hound) sometimes my tall friends would use my head as an arm rest.....annoyed me, and yet I can see Cravs doing that to Riylli lmao )) (Rising Lotus) I've done that to my shorter friends before xD))

Riylli Aliapoh perked up as she got recognized by the kid, offering him a friendly wave. "Hey! How are you holdin' up after all them needles?"

Rising Lotus watches the boy fling himself with his strikes, smirking with every swing.  "Aye that was us." she eyed up his weapon for a few moments. "You ought to get somethin' a bit lighter by the way, gonna leave yourself open if you take too long liftin' your weapon."

Cravendy Hound - The kid bashfully itches the tip of his nose. "I'm doing fine, thanks to you all...Woke up on the softest bed I've ever been on in my life, healing expenses all covered." Baldur's eyes drift over to Cravs, and then back to Riylli and Rising. "Oh, I plan to! I'm just using this old thing because it was the only thing I could afford. Once I earn enough, I'll buy a better one...after everything else, haha."

Cravendy Hound turns away, avoiding eye contact. It's overkill given that she's wearing a mask.

Rising Lotus eyed Cravendy, she had to pay for the needle removal out of her pocket. "...well I'm sure them healers were excited for the chance to de-needle someone. Don't see many cactuar over here after all, bit strange." she nodded as he brought up upgrading his armor and weapon. "A good set of armor is jus' as important as a good weapon, smart thinkin'."

Riylli Aliapoh nudged Rising with her foot to try and bring her back to the task at hand, snatching the list out of her hands. "Hey, so... Were kinda lookin' into something, think you might be able to help us out? You know any of the names on this list?"

Cravendy Hound - Baldur nods enthusiastically, dreads bouncing on top of his head. Admiration for Rising and Riylli is practically gushing from every inch of the kid. "So that was a cactaur? I've never seen one before."

Cravendy Hound - Baldur snaps into attention. "Oh, right away! I'd be thrilled to help you two out. Let's see..." He takes the list and scans it. "Only this last one. Mindred Rot. She's who I go to if I need a loan."

Rising Lotus "Aye, I grew up 'round them, used to hit them with sticks then ru-" she glanced at Riylli as she bumped her and had the list snatched away.

(Cravendy Hound) dfsd hit them with sticks and run???? chaos child )) (Rising Lotus) She didn (Rising Lotus) didn't have toys or anything xD Played with bugs and lizards and cactuars))

Riylli Aliapoh raised her eyebrow at the name. "...'Mindred Rot'? Well that's a bad guy name if I've ever heard one." She said, nodding along until she remembered Cravs' full name. "Er... Right, anyroad, what's she like? If she lends you money she can't be that bad, right?"

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Poor riylli about to learn the horrors of capitalism)

Cravendy Hound - Baldur smiles as he hands the list back to Riylli. "Oh, yeah, her name's pretty rotten. But in some ways...she looks after me. No one else'll give my family loans."

Rising Lotus "You need to get out of the woods more..." she shook her head at Riylli's comment. She hummed at Baldur's words about the woman. "Hmm, how generous of her."

Riylli Aliapoh wrinkled her nose. "Honestly I'd rather get out of the woods less... How in the world do you lot handle that salt in the air?"

Cravendy Hound - Baldur's gaze wanders to Rising's axe, and then to Riylli's staff. "So, you two must be adventurers, huh? You think you could teach me a thing or two? Punch better, smarter, harder? Oh, and! I didn't mean to be rude." He turns to Cravs. "Who's your friend?"

Rising Lotus Grinned, giving him a nod. "Aye! Do a lot of guard an' merc work. Takin' me all over, mostly back an' forth between Idyllshire an' places though. This one is still gettin' her footin' for it though." she snickered a bit as she eyed Riylli. "Oh, an' that's Singin' Gull. She's uh...a great singer an' has to save her voice most the time. We're guardin' her on her...singing journey?"

Riylli Aliapoh puffed her chest out. "Yup! Name's Riylli, Warrior of Earth!" she declared proudly, possibly forgetting Cravs and Rising were in earshot. "I'm a master of earth magic, but I'm sure I could give you some tips! Oh, and this is..." She trails off, staring at Cravs as her mind blanks on what her alias was. Thankfully Rising was there to have her back, though the Roegadyn still earned herself a glare from her little comment

Cravendy Hound 's frown twitches slightly. Singing Gull the Singer. Really? But she goes along with it anyway.

Cravendy Hound - Baldur's mouth forms an 'o' in awe. "Idyllshire? Never even heard of the place. Sounds cool though...And magic? How would I even start?" He turns back for a second to rest his rusty axe against a crate, and then hops right back into the conversation. "Like, just think really hard and magic happens? Hrrrghhhh.."

Riylli Aliapoh shook her head at the kid. "Nah, it aint that simple. It's more like... Y'know how you can move your fingers with your mind? You basically do that, but you move your aether about instead, and get THAT aether to move the aether OUTSIDE of you, and... Honestly I might not remember all the lessons, it's kinda just a reflex at this point. But you shouldn't be wastin' your talents on magic anyroad! You're a highlander right? You're gonna have plenty of muscle when you grow up, you should use-

Riylli Aliapoh -that instead!"

Rising Lotus could talk for hours about Idyllshire, but she resisted and tried to steer the conversation back on topic, which of course meant giving Riylli a light smack to the arm to get her to focus up. "Anyway, you know were we could find this Rot lady? Gull here is lookin' for gil for her next performance an' were hopin' to find some donations."

Cravendy Hound - Baldur is trying so hard to follow Riylli's explanation, but it leaves the poor kid's brain all tangled. "Huh, what? Huh? Uhh, oh, you want to meet Miss Rot? She's usually really busy so I have to schedule in advance. But I can ask if she's free to meet you all next time."

Riylli Aliapoh sighs. "Y'mean we gotta come all the way out here again..? Fine, I guess... Not like we can just go kick the doors down and demand to talk to her after all..." She muttered, offering a small glare to Cravs out of the corner of her eye

Rising Lotus cleared her throat, glaring at Riylli as she glared at Cravs "We'd appreciate that, jus' say that..uh..an up an' comin' singer is lookin' for fundin'. " she gave Baldur a nod, hoping that selling Cravs like that would make her the perfect target for a loan shark.

Cravendy Hound looks similarly annoyed, but shakes her head no to Riylli. It's not like they could go in there with wild accusations anyway - seemed worth strategizing over first.

Cravendy Hound - With the night fast approaching, Cravs motions with her hand to signal her intention to head home. Without bothering to wave goodbye to Baldur, she walks on ahead.

Rising Lotus watches Crav hurry away. "Uh sorry..." she put her hand to her mouth to muffle her words "Sort of a diva that one. Good luck out there lad!" she gave him a thumbs up before hurrying after 'Singing Gull'.

Riylli Aliapoh sighed once for not being allowed to rampage mindlessly, then once more as Cravs walked away without saying bye to the kid. She offers Baldur a wave. "You keep practicin' okay? We'll come by and see you again later, and maybe I'll share some of my adventurin' secrets with you!"

Cravendy Hound is a good distance ahead. As she passes by a stranger, there's some kind of odd collision that ends up tripping Cravs. Her mask drops off and rolls a few ilms forward as the stranger awkwardly, but quickly, makes their escape without even a sorry.

Cravendy Hound scrambles to recover the headware and fasten it back on. By the time Riylli and Rising have caught up, she's still kneeled over on the floor, troubled.

Riylli Aliapoh pretty much has to run to keep up with Cravs' long-legged walking, blinking in confusion as she notices her state. "H-Hey, you alright?"

Rising Lotus hurries to catch up to Cravs, quickly stepping in front of her to shield her face as she glanced around. "Aye..did you know that man or somethin'?"

Cravendy Hound: "I'm fine. Rattled is all." She whispers as she wobbles back up and takes a deep breath. ".....no, I didn't recognize them."

Rising Lotus looked around at the few bystanders eyeing the scene. "Maybe it'd be best to get out of here...before there's a chance to cause more of a scene." she said the last part in a whisper. Last thing they needed was the yellow jackets upon them.

Riylli Aliapoh raises her arm up seemingly to try to comfort her, only to hesitate and lower it back down. "...Let's talk outside of the city, all this salt is starting to make me sick..." She says, awkwardly attempting to give Cravs an out

Cravendy Hound: "...Right. No point in worrying about it now. Let's just get out of 'ere." She mutters.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 88

Sophia, the day after her conversation with Tyche.

Thank you to @satan-parisienne and @baelpenrose for keeping me going and on an even keel! Sorry the Author’s Note is so short... I didn’t realize until I had about 10 mins before I had to be back at work that I forgot to queue this for today *facepalm*

The next day was an entire education on new places I could be sore. A hot shower and analgesics only took the barest edge off, and I ended up needing a transport to get to my office instead of my routine walk. I did my best to ignore the grin on Conor’s face every time I moved too fast and winced.  After the third time I scowled at him, I brought up my datapad and did some research, careful not to tap my legs as I gestured, which had become something of a habit.

 “That snot,” I gasped. Conor glanced at me, so I clarified. “Tyche had me doing fencing footwork yesterday…. Intermediate footwork, it turns out. No wonder I’m so sore.”

 “Least it wasn’t sparring,” he pointed out cheerfully, gently lifting my chin to get a look at my lip.  “You should have let Noah heal that, love.”

 I brushed my cheek against his hand. “I want the reminder. May even let her do it again once it heals.”

 This time, it was his turn to scowl. “Not funny.  That face has been bruised enough for one lifetime.” He gently rubbed my cheek as the transport stopped. “Okay, time to go be the boss.  No fighting with the other kids.”  Despite the joking tone, his eyes were serious as he leaned in to kiss me before he headed to his shift.

 I realized that Alistair not only beat me to work, but could apparently hear me groaning as I tried to walk, because the door opened before I was even within three feet of it.  True to form, he gave me an appraising look before his expression settled on my face. “Door get a bit mouthy today? Or did your feet decide you needed to stay home?”

 “Tyche punched me, actually.” My tone was light as I inched my way to my desk. “For defending myself. And then she decided I need more ways to defend myself, so now I can hardly move.”

 “Solid logic,” he deadpanned as he handed me a cup of coffee. “I feel obliged to point out that the coffee is hot, seeing as you display a disturbing propensity to get hurt.”

 “Very funny.”

 “You have been warned, et cetera, so on, so forth.” He waved a hand nonchalantly as he turned, bringing up my agenda for the day. “Your first meeting is the one to discuss medical testing ethics, criteria for volunteers, and determination of the necessity of the procedures. Then you have time set aside to review the status of the Galactic Core Curriculum, along with proposals for expanded learning topics and their existing analogues in the education systems of other planets - “ He paused and tilted his head. “I will never cease to be caught off guard when sentences like that exist.”

 I restrained the urge to nod - or more accurately, my back twinged with a warning not to even consider it. “Believe me, I understand. Noah and I were talking about other species a few weeks ago. Did you know there is a species of avians out there who essentially live on a planet with no surface atmosphere?”

 “The Preeyar, yes,” he sighed wistfully. “Knowing that Fermi was simply impatient has been quite eye-opening, so to speak.”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” I conceded. “We were too young for extraterrestrial civilizations, we weren’t listening properly, they apparently weren’t trying to contact us until recently…  But they do exist.” A smile crept on my face at the idea that we really hadn’t been alone in the universe.

My office door opened without warning, and a familiar voice chimed in as Alistair turned with clenched fists. “I do argue that we are entirely too dangerous to have been contacted.” Arthur Farro stood leaning against the frame, and Alistair relaxed marginally. “At least we were until relatively recently…. Throwing nuclear ordinance at each other the moment killing each other in the thousands - rather than the millions - stopped scratching that vicious itch. Who does that?  We’re like demented eight-year-olds who got bored of burning ants and started setting each other’s hair on fire instead.”

“You really should keep that door secured,” my assistant sniffed as he closed out my agenda, right around the time he caught Arthur squinting at it.

“He has the code,” I admitted.

“Or maybe that was accidental,” our resident history teacher continued, ignoring us. “I’m a big fan of assuming stupidity instead of malice where possible.  And, dear lord, does our track record make it plausible.”  Finally entering the room, he flicked a finger at my face. “That was not, however.”

Before I could stop him, Alistair took one glance between me and my friend, and strode to the door. “No.”

“Alistair…”

“I’ll clear your calendar. No. Have a good day.”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Arthur asked as the door closed behind my soon-to-be-ex assistant.

“That he’s a coward,” I muttered.

“You know damned well that’s not what I mean.”

“Tyche already decked me.” I gestured at my split lip and the bruise that bloomed on my chin overnight. “So, yeah, I know - “

“No, you really don’t seem to.”

“Arthur, stop.”

“I will not.” He stepped forward and placed both his hands, palms down, on my desk.  He knew I hated that gesture. “Bjornson’s entire narrative hinges on you being more dangerous than anyone realizes, and you putting up a display of false helplessness to make everyone trust you.  By decking one of his followers, not only did you show that you do, in fact, have violence in you - meaning that it’s now entirely plausible you’re as Machiavellian as they claim - but you’ve also gone and indicated for whatever reason that Jokull is enough of a threat to drop that premise.” Straightening, he crossed his arms in clear disappointment. “If you wanted to give him more credibility, good job. You succeeded.”

I swallowed every bit of hurt I felt at his words, reminding myself they were nowhere near as barbed as the ones Tyche had given me the day before. Instead, I tilted my head and arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you done? Did you say everything you needed to say?” I paused, giving him a chance to respond. When he didn’t, I poked harder. “Feel better?”

“Not particularly, but big picture? I’m not a terribly gleeful person, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. But yes, it is your turn now.”

“Gracious of you,” I cooed sarcastically.  “Tyche made the same points yesterday, after punching me in the face, with the added gravitas of a guilt trip served with that special seasoning of having watched me almost die and thinking I abandoned her as a child. Also three hours with a rapier, whipping my ass. So. Far more impressive, I assure you.”

“Foiled again by the smaller Reid,” he sighed dramatically before catching himself.  “Rapier, you say? I was going to say no pun intended, but I’ve decided I did that on purpose. Yep. Totally intentional.”

I rolled my eyes before pulling up my tunic to show the bruises on my midriff. “I’m not very good at it, for the record.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, saber’s a better style anyway.  And I’m not just saying that because it’s my favorite.”

“Uh huh,” I nodded, not entirely convinced. “As far as Bjornson… seriously. She gave me the scoop.  I seriously fubared the entire situation yesterday.  Apparently, our suspected cult leader only believes in physical attacks on those who would defend themselves. No honor in beating a beaten foe, et cetera.”

“Mmm hmmm,” he nodded, like I was a student he was letting reach her own conclusion.

“Which means I just made it open season on Sophias,” I groaned.

“Really, saber is much better for brawling tactics,” he hedged.

I laughed bitterly. “Doesn’t matter.  My walking privileges are revoked until further notice. Must be accompanied by one of six people, or two out of another ten, and on a transport.” The last word came out like a profanity.  It was a known fact I hated using them.

Hence why I was now being forced to, unfortunately.

“If you think there is any possibility that I’m going to argue against Tyche on that decision, I need to talk to her about that head scan,” he told me pointedly. “Then again, you and I have different definitions of the word ‘think’, but I’ll be clear - it’s not happening.  Moving target, faster than a walking pace, with a protective attachment? Which roster am I on, again?”

“Very funny. You already know.”

His expression softened slightly when he realized I was actually upset. “There is some good news in all of this.”

I threw up my hands and spun in my chair. “Oh, do tell, great military historian and warlord. What is the shining silver lining to the fact that I just gave a man who thinks I am the only thing standing between him and his New Start a golden ticket to sic his followers on me?”

“Okay, first off, sassy shit, my main career is a school teacher. I only moonlighted as a warlord to pay those apocalypse bills. Not my fault I was good at it.” Suddenly, he got serious. “The good new is, if he was too stupid to realize that your talent for inspiring loyalty meant you were a massive problem for any takeover plan, and a problem he’d have to deal with sooner or later….. Well, he’s probably too stupid to keep his little cult together much longer.  Leaders who don’t recognize more than one kind of strength never manage to build a lasting legacy.”

“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair…” I said, half to myself.

“Yeah, our guy is no Ramses II,” Arthur replied.  “Besides, those who seek power are rarely good at keeping it.”

“I would have given him my seat on the Council if he’d just asked,” I admitted.

“Besides the fact that you literally just proved my point, if he was suited to the Council, he’d be on it.  It’s not like you were the only candidate.”

I shrugged. “No idea. I didn’t even know I was on the Council for the first week. I think it was a week.”

When I turned to look at him, I was met with a flat stare. “I know it was explained to you at some point.  How does that search function work?” He reached forward like he was going to tap my head before I swatted his hand away. “You were appointed to the Council to replace Simon, you represent a specific population on board the Ark, when we arrive at Von, you will serve an additional two planetary standard years before elections are held, of which you cannot be a candidate….”

Ugh. “I was put forward as a recommendation by Simon. The other Councillors put forward their candidates. The population I represent voted based on my personnel file, since no one even knew any of the candidates at that point. We’d only been on the Ark about six months. Some of us, anyway.” Glaring, I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t know how you figured that out, but I have a feeling I’m going to kill someone.”

He waved a hand at me in a very familiar gesture. “I see other people do it all the time. Jog your memory, and some phrase or word triggers it.  Cool to watch, though.” With a shrug, he continued. “Point is, Bjornson wasn’t even a candidate, same as me.”

“How do you know that?” I asked incredulously.

“Fuck, Sophia. You really need to keep track of your constituents.”

“Hey, I didn’t even want to be a - Wait. You are one of my so-called ‘constituents’!?”

“Even voted for you,” he grinned.  “Didn’t know it was you-you, but… Communications background, peaceful but intelligent attributes to balance out our resident warhawk, fair enough to offset Huynh, and you seemed like the type to actually listen to Grey, Pranav, and Eino.” He shrugged. “To be fair, I was right.”

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