#but instead of dealing with what i went through like an adult. i turned around & said some incredibly abusive & fucked up things to >

[rabbithaver]

there is Discourse about whether it's morally okay to kill abusers on my dash. it's affecting me more than i would like

[skyahri]

Hate |Naruto Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Kakashi Hatake, Shikamaru Nara, Sasuke Uchiha

Summary: Hate is a strong word, but it's also a very fragile one.

Warnings: Brief smut, kissing mentions of p and v. Some angst, but all comfort. Mentions of blood, violence, and death.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Kakashi Hatake

You hated how full of himself he was. He was always talking down to people, to his teammates and so-called friends. He goes out of his way to show people up no matter how inappropriate the situation may be.

He hated that you always stuck up for people he considered weak. He hated how much time and energy you put into helping others instead of focusing on your own training. He hated that you had so much potential, yet seemed to waste it at every opportunity.

As time went on and you were forced into each other's inner circles, your occasional arguments became a constant bicker. It got even worse when you were assigned to his ANBU team. You questioned his every move and fought every decision he made.

In return, he always gave you the least desirable night shifts. He'd make you write all the reports, saying something about needing to learn to respect your elders (he's only a few months older than you).

Once you were put in charge of your own team, things quieted down. Not because either of you had mellowed out, but because you didn't cross paths as often anymore.

Because of how rarely you saw him, you always made sure to make your brief encounters worth it. You had practically written a list of insults to throw his way. He returned the same energy with out hesitation.

Eventually, after his genin team had gone their separate ways and you had finally retired from ANBU, you had a seemingly infinite amount of time to rekindle your rivalry with him.

He always seemed to be heading in the same direction as you were. It didn't matter if you were on your way to the Hokage's office, the shops, or meeting up with someone- he was always there.

You tried to fight with him like the good old days, but it was different now that you were grown adults. Maybe the ungodly amount of trauma combined with the wedge distance had created in your odd relationship had finally put an end to your petty war.

Thinking back, maybe this is what it had been all along, and your stupid kid brain was too proud to admit what was really going on.

Your arguing had turned into kissing the moment he stepped through your apartment door. Things moved quickly, expert hands doing away with endless layers of Jonin uniforms in a rushed attempt to feel more of each other.

It felt right. Like the decades of tension had finally come to a head and you were being forced to deal with it in the most animalistic way possible.

"I hate you."

Your mumbling between desperate kisses. He doesn't acknowledge you immediately, opting to instead lift you by your ass so your legs could wrap around him. He pushes you against the wall, pressing his clothed election right against your womanhood.

"I hate you, too."

Neither of you acknowledges the elephant in the room, that the word you're looking for isn't actually hate. But that's beyond your cloudy minds right now.

Shikamaru Nara

Shikamaru has never really bothered with social pleasantries or subjected himself to cater to what people like and dislike. In fact, he often chastised people for caring what others think.

He always commented about what you wore, how well groomed you were, and the overall effort you put into your appearance each day.

You hated listening to it, which is why you always did your best to avoid him.

It wasn't even about you specifically. You hated hearing how rudely he'd shut down Ino when she would ramble on about anything. You hated when he complained about how loud Naruto and Kiba were despite knowing that they're just excitable people. You hated hearing the damn near sexist remarks he'd make about how stupid people were for giving any shots about how they looked.

It was annoying. It didn't seem to phase anyone else anymore, but that almost made it worse.

You were at your breaking point. Just one comment away from losing your composure and you prayed to God you'd be able to refrain from saying anything too harsh.

But alas, Kakashi had assigned you to yet another mission with him- the sixth one just this month.

At least he waited until you were at the Inn before he started up with you. You honestly don't know why he let you shower first if it was going to be such an issue.

"Finally. I thought you'd be in there forever."

"What the Hell is your problem with me?"

He paused in his tracks. He wasn't expecting you to say anything to his usual grumbling, and especially didn't expect it to be so hostile.

"You always take forever in the bathroom."

"It was twenty minutes. You'll live."

"It wouldn't be that long if you didn't bother with all the extra shit you use."

"Why is it such a problem that I care about what I look like? I don't ever involve you in it and yet you're always talking about it."

He rolled his eyes, about to blow off whatever you were saying, but you started up again before he could.

"All you ever do is bitch and whine and moan about dumb shit that doesn't concern you. I like to look nice. I like wearing clothes that compliment my figure and putting time into the health of my hair and skin. It's not the end of the world, so shut the fuck up about it already."

You walked past him and lay in one of the twin beds, tired from the journey and pissed about your teammate's usual poor behavior.

He didn't say anything. He continued with what he was going to do before the argument and carried on like nothing had happened.

He kept any conversations strictly professional for the duration of the mission, something you were ecstatic about.

It wasn't until a few days after you returned home that you heard from him. He showed up at your apartment unprompted, looking irritated and slightly flustered.

"After talking with my team, it may have come to my attention that I might be kind of an ass."

You invited him in, curious as to what he had to say. He admitted that he had never been called out on it. Most people don't take him too seriously and he may have gotten a bit too comfortable voicing every thought that crossed his mind.

Although he had mostly soothed any nerves you had, you still decided he owed you.

You dragged him into your room, sat him at your vanity, and laughed when he groaned. You pulled out all the stops for him. You took him through your entire routine start to finish and when you were done, you asked him hiw it felt.

He hated that it felt nice. He hated that he suddenly realized how dry his skin usually was and how clean he suddenly felt. He would never fully admit that to you, though.

Him showing up at your apartment the next day, conveniently around the time you usually started these things, was all the confirmation you needed that he no longer deemed it a waste of time.

Sasuke Uchiha

He hated going to the Hokage's office, not because he was still in the thick of earning his freedom after the war, but because he hated Kakashi’s assistant.

You annoy him. He hates that you so confidently push his buttons. He hates that you're just a civilian, but you've been given so much authority over him. It was an unfit existence for the last Uchiha.

You enjoyed messing with him. He would grumble when given his assignment and you made sure to mock him with a playful pout. You'd check in with the ANBU watching over him to make sure he was behaving. You always used that word- behaving. As if he were a child.

Unfortunately for Sasuke, Kakashi isn't in the village right now, meaning he's stuck taking orders from you. He swears Kakashi picked you to oversee him intentionally, knowing how much it would bother him.

He's sitting next to you, helping you go through seemingly endless piles of paperwork. He wasn't sure if this was better than all the D-rank missions he'd been assigned lately, but he begrudgingly accepted the change of pace.

He glances at you through his peripherals. The sun is just going down, the orange light illuminating your soft features. Your usual bratty expression was replaced with a more peaceful one.

This was most likely just as much a break for you as it was for him. He wasn't oblivious to the way you had to reel Kakashi in every day, damn near having to tie him to his chair to get anything done.

"You can go home. I'll finish up here and we can resume tomorrow."

He didn't argue, thankful for relief from the horrifically tedious task. As he was leaving the building, he suddenly got this feeling in his gut that he should stay.

Of course, not wanting to do more paperwork than he was required to, he ignored the feeling and carried on.

He should've stayed. Just an hour after he left, while you were packing up for the night, the tower was raided by rogue nin.

The alarm sounded in the village, immediately calling all available shinobi. Bee, the ANBU assigned to him, gave him permission to lend a hand, and off they went to the tower.

He teleported himself to Kakashi’s office, knowing you would most likely be in there or at least somewhere near. What he wasn't expecting, however, was you standing over a body, kunai in hand and blood splattered across your body.

"Y/N?"

You didn't move, couldn't move. He reached forward, tugged the blade out of your shaky grip, and let it fall to the floor. You let him, not really in the mood to fight any more than you had to right now.

"Is he dead?"

Your question caught him off guard.

"I've never killed anyone before."

Ah. Civilian. Right. Sure, you belonged to a Shinobu village and even worked under the Kage, but that was vastly different than being on the front lines.

He thought for a second. Was he in any sort of position to be responsible for you at the moment? Should he hand you off to one of the other nin and return home?

"Cover your eyes."

It took a minute for his words to register in your hazy mind, but once they did you obeyed. If there was one thing you knew would benefit you, it would be allowing him to take the lead for now.

He put his hand between your shoulder blades and guided you through the hallways, down the stairs, and away from the tower completely. He glanced around, but couldn't find Bee, so he opted to take you back to his apartment. It would cause a lot less trouble if he was where he was supposed to be after all.

At home, he sat you down in the tub and turned on the water. He left you there, letting all the blood loosen from your skin. He returned a moment later, setting a stack of clothes down on the counter and grabbing a rag from the cabinet.

Neither of you spoke as he gently scrubbed your face. When he was done, he got a little bit of shampoo and worked all the red out of your hair.

You were slowly coming out of your daze. It was nice being brought out by something kind and comforting. It was almost enough to distract you from the night's events. Almost.

When he was done, he handed you the cloth, telling you to finish up and see him when you're done. You nodded, standing up and undressing when the door closed. You noticed how clean the water ran, most likely due to how thoroughly the Uchiha had taken care of you.

When you stepped out of the tub, you noticed the clothes on the counter. Upon closer inspection, they were similar to the ones he was wearing now- a t-shirt and sweats.

You joined him in the adjacent bedroom where he waited patiently. He all but forced you into his bed, shutting down all of your protests. When he went to leave the room, you quickly grabbed the fabric of his shirt to stop him.

"Please stay."

He didn't fight you. He walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard and staring blanky in front of him.

You were thankful for the comfort of simply not being alone. Not after tonight, when so much had happened and the trauma was still fresh in your mind.

He tried telling himself that this was not a personal act, but instead one that would aid his village. But who was he kidding? He was realizing you weren't all that terrible and he had just allowed his angst brain to manipulate him into thinking so.

[recklesssezon]

𝗛𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | alessia russo x mma!fighter

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Alessia encounters an unwanted attention and tries her best to hide it from you, knowing that you would absolutely do anything to keep her safe.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 | blood, assault, violence, ptsd, cursing, maybe attempt of murder

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 | ik its been two months almost thre-anyways. this is 9 thousand something words and it took a lot of brain capacity.

The night was young, streetlights lit the city as rowdy adults filled London with joyous laughter. It was like any other Saturday night to most but not to Alessia.

She was leaving you home alone to attend Kyra's birthday party along with the other gunners. Usually, you'd be by her side through it all, but you were still healing from your previous fight.

Patched-up cuts and bruises here and there. None that you deemed bed-rest worthy, yet remained home to steer clear of the scolding you would get from your coaches.

So, here you were sitting with a large bucket of popcorn and the latest season of Love Island. It took a great deal to convince Alessia to leave your side for the night, refusing to go firsthand as the urge to smother you with love and care surged as time went on.

After countless reassurances and kisses, Alessia reluctantly switched out joggers for jeans and a pullover for a top. She stood in front of you, twirling to give you the 360. Deep down, you started to regret inducing her to go. While Alessia had a full blowout, you lounged on the loveseat with shorts and a sports bra. "And to think you didn't want to leave."

Alessia grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it, pointing a non-threatening finger at you. "Do not start teasing me. You were the one who was so adamant about me going. It's your fault I'm in this vest instead of my jumper."

"Love, if it makes you feel any better. I prefer you in nothing at all."

Alessia rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in annoyance. You grinned, beckoning her over, even when you managed to annoy her Alessia could never resist you. She trudged to you, pursing her lip when you patted your lap.

You grunted as she plopped down on you, the unexpected force taking you by surprise. It was Alessia's turn to grin, hooking her arms around your neck, yours to her hips. "I take it you didn't like my joke."

You were unfazed by Alessia's evil eye, more than used to it. "You do not get to make jokes like that. You're forcing me to go to a party I don't want to go to and you're watching Love Island without me. You're being mean." You snorted, and with a click, the game show switched to one of your old fights.

Alessia turned her head away, your fights always made her a bit queasy hence why she never watched them. "Yes, how can I be so cruel to my lovely girlfriend? I should be punished for my crimes." Alessia slapped your chest, not a fan of your mockery.

"Quit the sarcasm. Save that for someone else other than the love of your life."

You pecked her cheek, a quick apology. "You're right. The love of my life only deserves respect and devotion." She nodded her head in agreement, her pride growing as she had the big bad fighter everyone knew lay down the treatment she deserves.

"That is correct but don't think this sucking up made me forget what you've done to me."

You groaned, throwing your head back. "Love, you haven't left my side since my fight, normally I wouldn't mind but you've been cooped up all week. And it's Kyra's birthday, imagine the headaches she'll give you for missing it."

Alessia could already see it, Kyra having a kick at her for not showing up. The Australian was known for her little sister energy that never ran out, much to the unlikes of her teammates. Alessia recalled Kyra's recent mischievous act.

A week ago, Steph forgot to grab Kyra's favorite candy when making a store run and a childlike Kyra took it to offense. She hadn't stopped yapping the entire day, Steph departed training with ringing ears that lasted the next day.

Alessia didn't want to have a similar outcome.

"That rascal hid my boots last time because I refused to prank Katie. A nuisance she is." You smiled, Alessia's annoyance that wasn't targeted towards you was amusing to watch. You slipped a hand under her top, rubbing the warm bare skin a contrast to your cold hands.

"So, what I'm hearing is that I'm right."

Alessia gave you no acknowledgment, gasping when she felt your thumb dip below her waistline. You leaned in for a kiss, though you were met with a flat palm to the face. You pulled back, scrunching your nose. Alessia smiled widely, "No messing up my lip gloss, darling."

For the very first, you scowled at Alessia's bright pink lips. The desire to botch Alessia's perfectly applied lipstick grew by the second. You exhaled sharply, leaning back to put some distance between you and her restricted lips. "That's unfair. You look ravishing and you're saying I can't kiss you? Must you tease me?"

Alessia giggled under her breath; she kissed your neck, unapologetic about her teasing. "Oh, my big baby. Have the consequences of your actions come to play?" You frowned at Alessia's mocking pout, the way she spoke as if she were speaking to a child stirred something within you.

You roughly tugged her closer, inches away from her lips. You removed one hand from her hips, gripping her jaw in a tight-loose hold. Your thumb swiped her bottom lip to the corner. Her once-perfect gloss now smudged and not in the way she would have liked.

You brought your thumb to your lips, putting on a little show, humming at the taste of strawberries on your tongue.

Alessia froze, she didn't expect you to turn the tables on her so fast. You grabbed Alessia's phone out of her back pocket, hearing a ping. You opened her phone, purposely ignoring her. "Vic's here. You should get going if you don't want to be late."

Alessia remained unmoved, stuck in a trance you led her into. You chuckled, no emotion behind it, standing up causing Alessia no choice but to do so as well. You took her chin in between your two fingers, "A little quiet, aren't we? What's the matter, Alessia? Have the consequences of your actions come to play?"

Alessia gulped at the bite in your tone, she shouldn't have baited you. It always ended with her pinned to the bed, a position she loved yet a lesson she never intend to learn. Alessia's phone pinged once again, she paid it no mind too focus on your little stare-down. "Better get going before Vic comes up and knocks down our door."

Alessia hesitantly took her phone, squinting as if she was trying to figure out your plan. "Just like that?" You raised a brow, ignoring the pinch of pain as your stitches stretched.

"I can do worse than a smeared gloss, you of all people should know that. I suggest you leave now before you don't at all." Alessia's finger hovered over her lips, she could feel the slight stickiness at the corners of her lips. You hadn't done much to taint them, but Alessia wished you did.

Your eyes began to soften at Alessia's timid stature, tipping her head up with a finger. Wiping away the small mess you created. "Have fun tonight, okay? I love you."

A smile grew on Alessia, puckering her lips for a kiss. "I thought you didn't want to ruin your makeup" She rolled her eyes at your cockiness, pulling you down to finally bring you into a kiss you both craved.

Alessia was the first to separate, "I love you too. Don't wait up." She gave you one last peck, grabbing her purse on her way out. Swaying her hips side to side, mindful of your wandering eyes.

"Not having the time of your life are you, Less?"

Lia winced as Alessia's head snapped to her, "I am. Why do you ask?" Lia didn't believe the young girl and it showed, Alessia stuck herself at their rented-out booth, doing nothing else other than sipping on her club soda.

"You haven't moved since we got here. What? Are you not used to having your little bloodhound with you?"

That got a laugh out of Alessia, Lia grinned cheekily. You were always a topic used to tease Alessia, two total opposites that fit together like a puzzle. She pushed the national captain as she poked fun at her. You were deemed 'The Bloodhound' early in your career by the media after endless fights where you left the cage a bloodbath.

"You can say that. She's still heal-" The boisterous of their teammates cut Alessia off, stumbling and cackling at whatever their drunk minds thought was funny. Leah threw herself next to Lia, pointing to Katie, her finger unsteadied as a result of her tipsiness. "I got it last time, McCard. It's your turn."

The Irish childishly shook her head, throwing up the bird, "No." Leah huffed, her infamous frown appearing.  She turned to the person next to Katie. "Fine. Caitlin, you go."

"She's not going."

The blonde threw her arms up in frustration, so much for being capitan. "Someone had to go, Katie! You've been weaseling your way out of rounds for the last two months!" The said weasel denied it, though the smirk on her lips said otherwise.

Leah's glare intensified, she wasn't a quitter, far from it. Even as a drunk, giving up was never in her dictionary. She stood up, ready to drag the queen of reds to do her go.

Lia, being the only sensible one there, quickly sat the Williamson down, giving her a warning not to start a fight.

"What about our depressed lover over there? She hasn't done anything. No dancing, no drinking. A little mood killer if you ask me." Katie winced as she received slaps from all around, unable to pinpoint who exactly hit her. Alessia cleared her throat, dumbfounded by how she got dragged in.

Lia held out a hand, stopping Katie from going off her rockers and possibly digging her own grave if you were to find out about how she spoke to your fiancé. "Hey, now. Alessia isn't in the mood, we should respect that and be happy she's even here." Alessia squeezed Lia's hand, thanking her for coming to her defense.

However, the people-pleaser side of Alessia won. She moved to stand, but Lia's hand halted her from doing any further. Her concerns made Alessia glad that she had someone in her corner for the wild night. "It's fine. She's sorta right, I've been a killjoy. Maybe this will loosen me up."

"Are you sure?"

Alessia gave Lia the okay, slipping out of her hold, and down to the crowd. Internally gagging at the stench of body odor hitting her unexpectedly. Fresh air welcomed her as she exited the crowd, breathing deeply, the cool air traveled through and around her body.

She rested her arms on the bar, calling the bartender for the round she volunteered to collect. Alessia daydreamed as she waited, snuggling up against you after tonight sounded like the perfect dream to make into a reality.

"Hi."

Alessia didn't flinch at the new voice, too caught up with herself to realize that she was being spoken to. She jumped slightly at the tap on her shoulder, surprised by the close proximity. "Oh, hi." It was small and brief, a simple acknowledgment of him. That's all. At least Alessia thought it was.

"Are you here alone?"

Alessia shook her head uninterested, looking back at the bartender to see if he was preparing her order. He wasn't.

"Who are you here with?"

She sighed, annoyed that he couldn't get the hint. Unbothered to look at him, Alessia answered, hoping the mentioned presence of her team would scare him off. "I'm here with my mates."

"Brilliant. Would your mates mind if I tag along?"

Alessia isn't the type to be easily angered, she grew up with two brothers by force she learned how to have more patience than the average person when it came to men and their small minds.

But something about this stranger irked her. So, she bit her tongue of what she really wanted to say, 'fuck off' and instead said, "They would actually. It's a girl's night and they'll be really upset if it was intruded."

Her saving grave, the bartender came back and he wasn't alone. Alessia quickly picked up the platter, leaving without so much of a goodbye.

There were no cheers or clicking of the shots, as everyone threw their head back to down the hard liquid. Kyra emerged from the crowd, eyes blown and a big smile that stretched cheek to cheek.

She latched onto Alessia's arm, "You're being boring tonight! It's my birthday!" Kyra tugged her to the middle of the room, an area Alessia tried to avoid.

Alessia grabbed onto the nearest person, drawing them along, soon enough a chain of gunners were trailing behind her. Alessia took shot after shot, shortly after, her body relaxed into the rhythmic beats.

She neglected to notice the unexpected hands on her waist as the hands closed around her, squeezing tightly, Alessia instantly knew that these hands weren't a friend of hers.

She roughly pulled away, spinning to see the stranger from the bar. He wore a smirk, smug that he got as close as he did with her. "What the hell are you doing?" He threw his arms to the side, showcasing a little dance of his.

"Dancing, dear. Come back, we were just having some fun."

Alessia shook her head, disgust seeped under her skin. She felt repulsed at some stranger touching her. "No, leave me alone. I am not interested."

"It looked like you were pretty interested. What was that move you did? The one where you were moving your hips side to side. Do you mind doing that again?"

Alessia turned away, thinking it would be best to take her leave rather than speak to him any further. Alas, the stranger couldn't care less. He followed Alessia, shoving bystanders out of his way. "Wait! Do not run off!" She ignored him, scurrying to the booth of gunners.

Just as Alessia was about to reach the table, she was pulled back. She gasped as a huge body engulfed her, Alessia mustered up the strength to push away but the attempt was too futile. "Get off!"

Alessia curled up as much as she could in his hold, his efforts to land a kiss on her neck was challenged by her strong resistance. "I'm a nice lad! Don't be so difficult!" He laughed in disbelief as Alessia struggled, the scene began to gather the attention of nearby clubbers.

"Let me go! Fuckin prick!"

Everything happened in a flash, Alessia was yanked away, bodies meddled between him and her. Mixture of brunettes and blondes filled Alessia's sight.

"You're okay. They're handling it."

Alessia could hardly register Viv's soft voice, the tall Dutch led her out the club, withdrawing from the chaos as the fight got bigger. Viv rubbed circles on her back, trying to calm the shaken girl.

She ignored the security guards that rushed into the building, faint sounds of glass breaking reached her ears. "I'll take you home as soon as Beth is done."

Panic swept through Alessia, red eyes going wide at the thought of returning home. "No! If I go home, she'll know something happened. I can't- I can't-" Viv hushed Alessia, hugging the younger as she spiraled.

Alessia didn't have to specify who she was talking about, only one person was waiting at home for Alessia. That person is you.

"Less, are you scared of yn?"

It was a question Viv didn't want to ask but did. Alessia's reaction to going home wasn't normal especially if it held the person who loved you and you, her. It's a red flag that Viv wasn't so quick to brush off.

Alessia flinched, staring at Viv as if she said the most absurd thing known to man. "What? No! No! Never! I'm scared for her! If she finds out what happened tonight-" Alessia suddenly stopped, she didn't want to believe what happened, happened.

How close he was, how his hands were all around her, how she felt his front pressed up against her. It physically and mentally sickened Alessia to the core.

She collected herself the best she could, staring straight into Viv's eyes. "She'll kill him. Viv, those beatings she does in the cages are nothing. That's her having fun. But this will set her off. You have to promise me that yn wouldn't hear a word about this. Viv promise me."

You couldn't find out, not when Alessia knew the lengths you'd go to protect her. Not when she knew how ill-tempered you were and how easily you got lost in your fit of anger. Alessia was your weakness, she knew that you knew that. Which is why you couldn't know, Alessia had no doubt you'd go on a manhunt to track down whoever harmed her.

Viv gazed into the abyss, unable to comprehend the fear Alessia had for you. You were someone with physical power, that Viv knew, you had the skills and scars to prove it. It was what you trained for, nearly two decades you've been building up your skills to hurt people for a living.

The active terror Alessia showed let Viv know that you were lawless by your own rules. "Okay, okay. I promise. And the others will too." That calmed Alessia down a bit, she leaned into Viv's side watching the passing cars as they waited for the rest.

"Fuck off!"

Katie came out first, followed by the rest of the players and security guards. Yelling and cursing lingered in the air, Viv ignored it, guiding Alessia to the car. "Let's wait in the car. It'll be a while before they quiet down."

The unfortunate events replayed in her mind like a broken record, it kept playing and playing. If she was lucky, sometimes it'd short-circuit. Then, all she could see was you, it felt like a dream. Like you weren't real, and that she was simply imagining someone to protect her to the very end.

But you were real.

You were real and Alessia had a tough time believing that. Believing that you her knight in shining armor. Whispers of promises in her ear at night, how you engraved that into her. But, you were nowhere to be seen when Alessia needed you the most. Instead, you were at home resting.

Part of Alessia wanted to blame you, yet she couldn't, she wouldn't. Not when you were her person, especially not when Alessia understood very well that if you were with her, you'd be in a jail cell by the time the sun rose.

You lost the ability of control when it came to Alessia, if someone were to so much as trip her, you'd return the favor tenfold. The more Alessia thought about you, the more she desired to go home.

"Hungry? We can go to Greggs."

Beth peered over at Alessia, the young striker hadn't made a peep since arriving at the couple's flat and that was hours ago. Beth and Viv stayed up the entire night nurturing Alessia to a certain extent, she allowed. Which wasn't much.

She inhabited the couch corner, not even a slight inch off. She hadn't spoken, eaten, or moved, her brain going haywire, and they couldn't do anything about it.

Beth kneeled, placing a comforting hand on Alessia's knee, gaining her attention without spooking her. "Why don't you take a shower? I imagine sticky sweat isn't the best feeling on the body."

Ease rippled through the couple as Alessia finally moved in the last eight hours, though it was short as Alessia's movements were slow and calculated. Beth patiently waited for her, directing Alessia to the awaiting shower that called her.

The shower did more than just cleanse Alessia of sweat, the overwhelming emotions of the night washed down the drain never to be seen or felt again. Alessia preferred it that way, it was better to believe that it was gone rather than it be stuck on her.

She'd rather be numb than feel what she felt in that dreadful encounter.

Alessia avoided looking into the mirror, squeezing the towel around her tight as she exited the warm steam. The coldness of the early morning greeted her, she walked over to the bed, holding up the Arsenal pull-over Beth set out for her.

She quickly put it on, brushing it down only for her eyes to catch the coloring on her hips. Her fingers lightly grazed the finger-print bruises, her breath hitches as flashbacks of his firm grip on her were physically felt in that second.

Alessia wanted to cry, she didn't want to feel as if someone was standing behind her, she didn't want to feel as if she was being touched like some sort of pet.

Alessia pushed down her tears along with anything else rising to the surface. She walked out the room, the conversation hushed as she came into view, and Alessia didn't care to bring it up knowing fully well it was about her. She sat next to Viv barely returning a smile, "Feel better?" Alessia ignored her, that was the better option.

The truth would raise more questions than she could handle right now. "I'm going home. Yn probably stayed up for me and I don't want to keep her waiting any longer." Understatement of the century. Alessia couldn't grasp the fact that time passed, only assuming, too stuck in her void to feel time's existence.

"Don't fret. I called her and told her you were too tired to make it home. She knows you're here."

Stunned, Alessia sent Beth a nod. "Thanks, but I should really get going." Viv and Beth got the obvious hint that Alessia didn't want to be there anymore, she quickly shoved her phone in her pocket, zipping past them.

The couple hastily followed behind, catching Alessia right at the door. "Let us drive you. We can get Greggs on the way." They didn't give Alessia too much room to argue, Viv grabbed her keys as Beth pushed her out the flat.

"You can ride front seat."

Alessia carefully closed the door, releasing a breath now that she was alone. Beth and Viv had been absolutely sweethearts to Alessia during her stay, but she needed time to herself, time away from eyes that were waiting for her to break.

Slowly and quietly, she shuffled to the kitchen, not a single object out of place since she left. Alessia grabbed a water bottle, the first source of intake she allowed her body to have. The Greggs paper bag perched on the counter, dismissing what Viv had gotten her.

In the safety of her own home, Alessia felt her body ease into itself, the familiarity of these four walls secured her protection and well-being. Something Alessia never thought she'd crave so much.

She went in search of the only person wanted, needed. Weights were lifted off of Alessia's chest when she caught you sleeping in bed, looking ever the most peaceful. A state that she wasn't going to ruin with the truth.

Alessia brushed loose strands out your face, laying on her side, snuggling up in your arms absent from the scary world. Her breath hitches as you pull her closer, "You're back." Your voice husky, eyes still shut half-asleep. Alessia's fingers found your dog tag, turning it over to see the engravement of her name and jersey number. A chain you wore proudly. "I'm back."

"Did you have fun?"

Her fiddling stopped, a small shutter of breath escaped her as the haunting hours came back, this is where Alessia was supposed to spew a little white lie. But she couldn't. Never has Alessia lied to you, never thinking she would need to. This would be a lot harder than she thought.

"Less, is everything okay?"

Your eyes barely opened, the bright light peaked through the curtain nerved your sensitivity. Alessia used her finger to soothe your wrinkles, humming as she tried to lull you back to sleep. "Can't remember much of it. I had too much to drink."

Two lies in one.

Alessia remembered everything and frankly, she didn't drink enough to forget.

You patted her back, comforting, "That's alright. You're home now." Your words brought her more comfort than you can imagine. Alessia was home now; she was home with you, within these four walls. She couldn't be more safer than she is right now.

In your upcoming years as a fighter, you were taught to control your emotions going as far as to eliminate them. The human instinct to feel sympathy for beating another wasn't an option when it came down to winning titles.

By default, you suppressed them to the alternatives outside the cage. Thus, you didn't experience the depths of anxiety or stress like many others did.

But, in recent times it seems as if you're experiencing life in a new manner. You've never been more uneased as you have in the past week. Even minutes before your matches were you never this stressed.

And the main reason for it all is Alessia. The only person in the world to cause you to feel things you normally wouldn't. A blessing and a curse.

Alessia wasn't acting like herself lately, a bit distant something she never was before. Alessia, by nature, was clingy. She clung onto you like a koala does a tree, cuddles, hugs, anything to make your bodies become one, she did. Which is why, her being so distant with you was concerning.

It's been a couple of days since her behavior shifted, at first you thought it was due to the rough start of the week, you were back in camp for your next fight thus your time with Alessia was shorten, she as well was dealing with some tension at work, none she was willing to elaborate.

You figured she needed some alone time to get through.

You tried to be there when she seeked you, yet she hardly did. And you didn't want to push her during a tender time, so you let her be until she was ready. Though, that didn't stop you from actively caring about her, little things such as making her breakfast, washing her uniform, nothing excessive in your mind. Still, Alessia appreciated it all.

Curiosity spiked when she began to wear long sleeves as if it were a second skin, typically you'd brush it off, thinking she hopped on some sort of fashion trend, but the summer heat had her drenched in sweat.

Your attempts to get her into your shirts-which she loved to steal and wear-was useless. Refusing constantly, Alessia stuck to her long-sleeves. You didn't push further, despite your worry each time she went out.

The electricity bill was off the charts that month in turn to keep her cool.

Your agitation heightened when Alessia started to spend more time in the guestroom, it was odd at first considering she rarely stepped foot in the room, in the two years you've lived there.

Guests sleeping over wasn't common therefore your guestroom remained unoccupied most of the time. Not anymore now that Alessia had taken the room for herself.

Aside from the guestroom, it appeared as if you were living alone. You were the only one occupying the common spaces, Alessia nowhere to be seen unless you looked for her. Eventually, your small time together doubled down to nil.

It pained you to see Alessia isolate herself, the last time she acted in such a way was when she was coping with body issues. An unpretty chapter in Alessia's life that none of you spoke about. To prevent a defense lock if confronted, you did whatever you could to build Alessia's self-love without addressing the matter upfront.

It was a bit difficult at first since Alessia's determination to avoid you persisted. You were limited to passing compliments, soft touches, and love letters that you laid in the middle of the bed for her to read when she got home.

Your brief time didn't stop you from showering your girl with the love that she needed and deserved.

The rough week passed and Alessia semi-returned to her normal state. She went back to stealing- your shirts, a more fitting attire for the summer- and her time in the guestroom lessened. She still retreated to the room here and there for an hour or two, nothing you were too worried about now that she seemed better.

Everything was going back to place that is up until, the festival incident.

It happened on a Wednesday afternoon, you and Alessia had gotten caught in the middle of a London festival. One you were aware of too late and thanks to your ignorance, Alessia faced the consequences.

You pushed through the busy festive, pulling Alessia by hand. Bodies pressed up against each other tight spaced, trumpets and cheers blaring in your ears. Rising temper balancing on the cliff's edge as you kept trying to find an escape route, the provoking factors placed you and Alessia on the brink of disaster.

You stood at a whopping six feet using the height advantage to look for an outlet, naive to the shifts in Alessia's breathing. Behind you, Alessia felt her mind and body going haywire.

She could feel her heart beating against her chest, head whipping side to side anxiously seeking for an out. Her throat closed up at the multiple touches on her, she shut her eyes to block out her surroundings but that only made it worse as she instinctively focused on her senses.

Alessia's eyes snapped open, feeling you tug on her. She instantly found your figure, taking her all to concentrate on you. Alessia internally struggled to not think about the prying flashbacks at the back of her mind.

It fought so hard to come forward, to torture her in broad daylight, but Alessia fought harder. She tried to pinpoint the difference between then and now.

The sun was the first she identified, the sun gave her clear view of everyone and everything around her, unlike the colored lights in the dark club. Then there was you. You were the major detail that differed to Alessia, you were there to protect and love her, that's all Alessia needed.

Yet, it didn't stop the strength draining from her body, replaced by what Alessia could distinguish as emptiness. It was in her best efforts to push down the vile feelings, but it was all in vain.

You stumbled back as you felt a cease in Alessia's step. You looked over your shoulder to see her head down, her form shaking like a madman. Without thinking, you closed the distance, calling out to her, but she made no sign that she heard you.

You lifted her head, eyes gaping when Alessia's red teary eyes made contact with yours. Less than a second, you wrapped Alessia in your arms, forcibly pulling her through the crowd, recklessly pushing people out of your way.

You sighed in relief as you and Alessia finally broke free of the bustling street ducking into a small alley. You leaned up against the building, Alessia sobbed into your neck as you settled her. Tears flowed nonstop, you ran your fingers through her hair, humming to tune out the festival's band.

"Can we go home please?"

Alessia looked up at you with her big blue puffy eyes, your heart broke. Your thumb wiped away the lone tear, pecking her forehead. The answer was a no-brainer, you pulled down your hood on Alessia's head, guiding her out the alley and to a taxi, keeping her as close as possible through it all.

For the next few days, you and Alessia isolated yourselves from the world. Alessia didn't want to speak further about it and as much you wanted to, you knew better than to push. You were just glad she wasn't shutting herself in the other room like before.

And Alessia hated it, she hated that you were walking on eggshells with her. She didn't want you to treat her as if she's fragile. Alessia's strong, she knew that she believed it, so why didn't she feel like it?

Instead, she felt suffocated. Alessia began to loathe herself because of it. The constant looks over her shoulder, checking her body as if bruises will appear, it's been two weeks and she can't move on.

A concern started to brew in Alessia's mind, she feared that your relationship may be the cost of her erratic paranoia.

In attempts to salvage or drag out the inevitable, Alessia spent more time with you, she no longer went on your daily walks, but rather to sit on the balcony for her daily fresh air. You didn't mind, she knew that you only went on those walks because Alessia suggested it first, couples' cardio she said.

In all her years, Alessia didn't know what to do, she didn't know how to save herself.

Too stuck in her head to feel Kyra poking her, the Australian entertained herself jabbing the mindless blonde. Giggling when Alessia didn't flinch at the dirty towel thrown at her face.

The younger picked up her water bottle spraying at Alessia, bursting out laughing when she screeched. "Kyra! Go away!" The mischievous player dodged the towel thrown back at her, running away before Alessia could do worse.

Alessia wiped the wetness with her shirt, thankful for Kyra unintentionally pulling her out of her prisoned thoughts. Leah patted the striker's shoulder, pitiful that Alessia had been chosen to be on the end of Kyra's pranks. "So, is the hound coming next week?" Alessia's lip twitched at your alias.

"What's next week?"

"You forgot? The sporting event remember, Jona told us two months ago."

Alessia racked her brain, trying to remember the said event. Then, it hit her, it was a small thing some organization was having to spread the word of football, gain some investors, nothing Alessia wanted to do with. She shook her head, tying up her laces. "I'll skip out. Not in the mood for socializing."

Leah gave her a look, "Mate, it's mandatory. You can't get out of it." Alessia groaned, her plans to laze around with you was a bust. Alessia liked the small bubble, you and her built in your time together, and she wasn't planning on leaving it so soon. But, it looks like she didn't have a choice.

"I'll ask her."

"Is there really a point to? We all know what she's going to say."

Alessia pushed Leah, the captain grinning cheekily at her, a teasing underlining in her words. Everyone who knew you and Alessia's relationship personally knew that you'd do anything she asked.

If Alessia wanted food from a place a town a way, best be known that you're driving all the way there. If she wanted a new car, you're taking her to the dealership within the next hour. In this case, you'd be attending before you were even made aware of it.

"Okay, I'll stop with the teasing...for now. We'll see you there, oh, and it's a white-themed dress code. So, tell the missus, no black. It's not a funeral." Alessia snorted, waving to Leah as she left the locker room. The drive home was about as peaceful as one can be after a long day at work.

Alessia pulled into the lot, funny enough, catching you as you stepped out of your car with a takeaway bag. She kissed you, your favorite way to be greeted by the love of your life.

You swung her gym bag over your shoulder. "What did you get?"

"A protein bowl from that Japanese restaurant down the street and your usual."

Alessia grinned, pecking you on the cheek. "You're the best." You hummed tiredly, holding the door open for her. "I have to speak to you about something." You perked, thinking that she would finally be open about what's happening these few weeks.

"There's this thing, me and the girls are attending. It's obligated that we go but on the bright side, we can bring a plus one. So, darling will you be my plus one?"

You deflated, disappointed but smiled nonetheless. Setting the bag aside, wrapping an arm around her waist, "I would love nothing more. Now, let's eat up. I'm starving."

"It also has an all-white attire. So, no digging deep in your closet for your black suits, darling."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Damn, mami!"

Alessia fought back a smile as you exclaimed loudly, she placed her hand in your reaching one, unable to fight a growing grin any further. She squealed as you spun her, her dress flowing in the air. "You look so good. Are you trying to put me to shame?"

Alessia rolled her eyes, slapping your chest, passing over to the mirror to put on the finishing touches to her outfit. "You flatter me too much." You looked at your girlfriend through the mirror, clearly offended by her words.

"If this is too much, then I'm not doing a good job. Because my girl deserves all the compliments in the world."

You rested on her shoulder, Alessia applied her red lipstick, in your mind she did it too slowly. "You do an excellent job, my love. I can promise you that." Alessia handed you her necklace, beaming at the sight. It wasn't just any necklace, but a 23-karat diamond necklace. One of its kind, personally designed for her.

You gifted to her on your first anniversary, a token that she belonged to you, an object of your love for her.

You clipped it, staring intently as she stroked the diamonds around her neck. Alessia's eyes flickered up to you, blushing, instantly recognizing the emotion swirling in your eyes. You bowed down to kiss upon it, your gloss sticking to her neck painting it with the outline of your lips.

Alessia tilted her head to the side, eyes closing in bliss. You pulled her closer by the waist, your fingertips resting on the zipper. Alessia pulled away when she felt the dress loosen around her, "We can't." You huffed at her breathless words, drooping your forehead on her uncovered back.

"Why? No one will notice us missing."

"Kim will. She'll have me running laps next practice."

You rezip up Alessia's dress, creating some needed distance. "We can't have that now, can we? Let's get going before I rip that dress off." You led her out of the flat, focusing on the numbers as the elevator went.

Internally fighting the urge to drag Alessia back to bed and have your way with her.

You grunted, feeling the hovers of Alessia's fingers dancing across your chest as she played with the buttons on your shirt. You wore a white pantsuit, two out of five unbuttoned, revealing your cleavage and dog-tag.

You looked too good, the longer Alessia studied you, the more regret bubbled in her stomach. She jumped at the elevator chime, you chuckled removing her hand from your chest, intertwining them. 

You opened the car door for her, bending down to match her height as she sat in the passenger seat. The proclaimed passenger princess. "You gone a little quiet, Less." She ignored you, texting whoever was on the other end of the line.

You mockingly pouted, "Don't be bratty with me, love. You're the one who didn't want to take one for the team and run laps." You chuckled at Alessia's silence, walking to the driver side.

You cleared your throat, sipping on a glass of bourbon. Classical music played while businesswomen and men spoke as if they'd do any actual work outside this meaningless gathering. You scanned the room; blinded by the bright white all around. Not an interesting thing in sight.

You concluded that white parties sucked, and parties hosted by old men sucked even more. Them and their greedy ass money, you grimaced as the cheap liquor coated your throat, their inability to buy a good brand irked you.

You hid away in the corner with Alessia and her team, hanging off Alessia's shoulder like a piece of meat. You had no business being there, other than being her eye candy.

Usually, you'd be talking to Katie about her newly collection of red cards that never seemed to stay consistent, but she was too busy sucking up to her girlfriend and there was no way you'll get in the middle of that.

You prepared yourself as your eyes caught Kyra walking over after being shooed off by Leah, the mischievous smirk on her lips let you know that she found her next target, you.

Kyra plopped beside you, instantly ambushing you. You smacked Kyra's prying hands, "Kyra down! Down Kyra!" The little tussle wasn't fair, you refused to remove your arm from Alessia, but even with one hand, you were stronger than Kyra.

The younger girl ignored your demands, continuing her attempts to wrangle your drink out of your possession and into her mouth. "Kyra! I'll buy you a fucking drink! For fuck sakes!" Immediately, like an obedient puppy, Kyra unlatched herself from you, hands intertwined in her lap as she smiled innocently at you.

You whispered your departure to Alessia, well aware that you were doing everyone a favor by taking Kya away. "Follow me, you brat." She trailed behind you, sticking her tongue out at Steph when the older Australian caught her shadowing you to the bar.

As you left with the little troublemaker, the atmosphere in the Arsenal corner became a little calmer. Alessia giggled At Vic's story, the Dutch dodging the slap Alessia delivered, poking fun when she missed.

Vic's laughter died down as her eyes caught on something or someone. Alessia of her own subsided, curiosity knocked on her chest as Vic's body language changed into something Alessia couldn't identify.

"Less, is that the guy from the pub a few weeks back? The one who-"

Vic couldn't bring herself to finish, the effect still remained with Alessia, it was evident to all the girls. Alessia slowly and surely began to act like herself again, but the Arsenal girls knew better. They knew better than what Alessia was leading on.

She squinted as if it would help her see better through the vast crowd, a few bodies shuffled to the side revealing the reason for her all her recent troubles.

London was a big city, the percentage of running into the same people is less than one. The world had to be playing some sick joke on Alessia, as though it wanted blood to be spilled tonight. Something Alessia's been terribly trying to avoid.

Warmth drained out her system, suddenly everything felt chilly yet sweat lingered near her hairline. Alessia struggled to allow oxygen into her lungs, head snapping left and right,desperate to find you.

Vic tried to calm her, speaking in hush tones to get Alessia's attention. But it was useless, Vic called Leah over. Despite yelling for Leah, the entire team heard the urgency in her voice.

They rushed over, huddling over Alessia's shaking figure. Leah kneeled, cupping Alessia's face in her hands, coaching her through her panic. "Less! Alessia! Breath! Mate, breath!"

You shoved Kyra when she blew in your ear, rubbing the ticklish feeling away, never have you met someone so fearless of you. Granted everyone knew you wouldn't hurt Kyra despite her annoying antics. "You little shit, I swear-"

"Are you that MMA fighter? The Bloodhound, right?"

Kyra snickered, you pursed your lips giving her a look, one that meant that you're little fued wasn't over. You turned to the man in suit, he looked like every man in the room...dull. Can no man dress to save their life?

"Yeah, what's up?"

Kyra peeked over your shoulder, wanting a look at who took your attention away from her. Dread, that's all Kyra felt at the sight of him. She couldn't forget him, the bastard that hurt her best friend, someone you didn't know existed until now.

Kyra was aware of Alessia's severe desire to keep what had happened at her birthday celebration a secret.

Steph and Caitlin practically drilled it in her mind, not to slip up when you were around. Kyra didn't expect to see him again, no one did. But, to have him up front and center talking to you freely after what he had done to Alessia, sickened Kyra.

The Aussie searched for her teammates, hoping to catch someone's eye to tell them of the presence of their number one hit list. And Kyra did, however, it wasn't as she had hoped. Laura frenetically waved her over, pointing to you urgently.

"Do you mind if we took a picture?"

Before you could answer, Kyra wasted no time, pulling you away in the direction of her team. You let Kyra do as she pleased, taking in her hurried steps and anxious expression to mind. "Kyra, what-"

"Yn!"

You rushed past those in your way, cupping Alessia's face in your hands. Deja vu hit you like a truck, red teary eyes staring deep into your soul. You placed her on your lap, coaxing her to take deeper breaths. "I'm here, baby. I'm here."

You looked at the Arsenal women for answers, their troubled aura triggered the heap of anger lying underneath your skin. "What the hell happened?"

Some stared at you and Alessia with sorrow, others avoided your eyes, looking at literally anything else.

Out of everyone, the only person who had the galls to look you in the eyes was the captain herself. "Mate, it's not for us to say." Leah glanced over to Alessia, silently telling you that if you wanted answers it would have to come for her.

Leah loved Alessia like her own sister and she couldn't watch her be destroyed by what happened and as your friend, she couldn't allow you to suffer in the dark, clueless.

"Less?"

Alessia's refusal to meet your eyes remained, your jaw clenched. You loved her with all your being, but the anger brewing was too hot to handle. Everyone knew something you didn't, something regarding Alessia, and it didn't take a genius to know that it was serious.

"Alessia." Your voice stern, you were no longer allowing Alessia's excuses to fly over your head. Alessia shook her head, "Please. Please don't make me." Your heart clenched at her pleading, deep down you didn't want to pressure her, but she left you no choice.

"Alessia, what am I missing? What are they hiding? What are you hiding?"

Alessia looked at her friends for help, at the back of her mind, she knew they couldn't. But it was worth a try. Lia nods in encouragement, something so small but so powerful for Alessia.

She cradled your jaw, leaning in your ear, unwilling to see your murderous anger spiral to what she knows will end in crime scene.

The gunners observed as your face hardened, concern switched to rage in seconds. Your brows deepened, jaw and lip tight, what caught their attention was your clenched fists. Veins popped out from your arms to the back of your hand, knuckles ready to take some action.

Alessia pulled back, caressing your pale knuckles. Her lips moved but nothing was coming out of them. You couldn't hear her begging you to not do anything, you couldn't hear her tell you she loved you. You couldn't hear anything but your blood pumping in your ears.

You abruptly stood up, bringing Alessia up with you. You passed your fiance to the nearest person, Beth. "Get her out of here." You pecked Alessia's forehead, ignoring her calls for you to come back. You head to Katie, the sole person on the team who supported violence. "Where is he?"

Wordlessly, Katie pointed him out and what do you know? It's the same dude that asked you for a photo, you scoffed at the sheer audacity of men. You pushed past Katie, sidestepping Leah's hand.

You expertly navigated through the crowd, stalking up to him. Even at a distance, you could make out his figure, he was lean and scrawny, nowhere near your built physique.

You sized him up as you approached, just in time, he turned to notice you, overlooking the smoke coming out of your ears. "Hey! Back for that pic-" His words cut with a right hook to the cheek, and in no time, he dropped to the floor.

You climbed on top of him, balling his collar in your fist, the other delivering strike after strike.

The feeling of your knuckles connecting with his jaw was exhilarating, with every punch you imagine his bones cracking. You grunted as he fought against you, but he was weak.

The first blow was enough to knock him on his back, the countless you landed after offered multiple hospitalization conditions.

You yelled as you felt hands pulling you off. You shoved the random men off you, glaring them down as they took in your physical state. "Touch me again! I'll fuck all of you up!" You momentarily forgot that this was a sports event, the people surrounding you most likely knew who you were.

You watched recognition hit them now that you were in your true form. They heed your words standing back to let you do what you were trained to do. They couldn't save a man getting beaten, but they can definitely save themselves from you.

Huffing, you quickly grabbed the bleeding man by the throat, slamming him onto the bar. The sound of glass pierced everyone's ears, but you paid it no mind. Holding his upper body against the bar, smashing his face in.

You were aware that even your worst opponents didn't get this type of treatment, he was different. He touched your girl, he hurt her, and he was going to pay for it with his life. "Why did you touch her?! Huh?!" An answerless question, you didn't want an answer.

And it wasn't like you were going to get one, the amount of blood flooding his mouth limited him aside from his faint pleas for you to stop.

That only angered you further. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!" You let him fall to the floor once again, neglecting the slippery coat on your hands.

Alessia watched from afar as you mounted the stagnant body, repeatedly bashing his face. Beth tried to drag her out of the venue, but Alessia's too stubborn.

You did so much critical damage in a short span period, even from where she stood Alessia could see the blood streaks on the bar and floor. Leah took off first, Katie, Stina, and Steph following behind.

They all knew that you weren't going to let up any time soon and if you weren't stopped now. You were actually going to commit homicide.

Leah and Katie hook their arm around you, yanking you off. "That's enough! He's down!" It was a struggle for the two, you were too strong for them. Steph eventually aided in holding you back, and Stina helped push you four towards the exit.

Alessia quickly ran after you, the rest of the gooners chasing behind, unable to fight the curiosity to check the result of your wrath. When they got outside, they were met with you kicking a poor trash can into the road.

The four that dragged you out stood a safe distance away. The street bustling with dim lights and occasionally passing cars.

Alessia joined the four girls, knowing better than to interfere in your fit of rage when it was at its peak. Alessia studied your new appearance, growing breathless.

Hair ruffled; shirt wrinkled...stained with red patched. It was what Alessia was afraid of, you covered in red. You had blood splattered across your face; blood handprints swiped across your neck, your fists being the most coated.

You rubbed your hands together as if you were moisturizing, the blood quickly drying due to the cold night air. You sighed, a bit calmer now, muttering nonsense to yourself as you paced up and down the sidewalk.

Alessia took it as her cue to walk over, none of the gunners tried to stop Alessia. Wise enough to know that you would never hurt Alessia even in a foot of rage. "Baby. Baby." Her voice was soft, not to startle you.

Your wide eyes darted to her, unexpected by her presence. You were too lost in your fury to be conscious of your surroundings.

She tried to reach for you, but you retreated, shaking your head. "I'm okay, darling. You won't hurt me." You swallowed the lump in your throat, Alessia tried once more, pleased when you didn't move away.

She grabbed your hands, inspecting the cuts on your knuckles, it was hard to see but Alessia managed to pick out the open wounds.

She ignored the blood on her hands, roughly pulling you into a hug. The weighing of all these weeks came crashing down on Alessia, relief flooded her. However that relief was cut short by the sound of sirens, "We have to go! Now!"

Alessia balled the bloodied clothes, throwing them in the trash, it consisted of your entire outfit along with her dress. Its beauty gone as soon as another color tainted it.

Alessia didn't want a reminder of what happened tonight, even though it represented the degree you'd go for her. You nearly beat a man to death for her, guilt tormented Alessia.

The last thing she wanted was for you to run into problems because of her, Alessia roused from her mind upon hearing the water ceasing. Alessia walked into the bathroom, leaning against the doorway.

You sat in the tub, steam rising from the water. You held out your hand, silently offering her to join.

Alessia didn't think twice before she began stripping from her undergarments. She hissed at the heat, lowering herself deeper into the water until it reached her collarbones. Alessia rested back into you, your arms wrapped around her nude waist, burying your face in her neck.

You two sat in silence, embraced by the steam and contents of the hot water. There were no words to explain tonight, Alessia wasn't going to scold you and you weren't going to apologize. You both knew that tonight was needed for both your sanity.

When you passed Alessia over to Beth, the separation that you placed between you and her signified that you were going to do something she wouldn't like. Your attempts to get her out were for her sake, not yours. You weren't keen on her seeing the monster you become.

"I love you, you know that?"

Alessia rested her head back as you peppered kisses on her skin, her eyes fluttered open staring right in yours. Eyes that held love, more than she's ever seen in her life. "I know."

Alessia didn't need to say those three magic words back, you knew, you always knew. What you need to know is that if she knew. If she knew that you loved her more than the world could imagine. 

[fredwkong]

A Little Cocky

Evan had been very tall his whole life. He wasn’t unreal tall, the kind of height that gets you modelling deals or sports scholarships, but he had been the tallest boy in his class all through school, despite his beanpole build. He bumped his head on doorways, trees, and hanging decorations regularly.

This was the kind of tall that makes a man a gentle giant. Evan never wanted to step on anyone or take up too much room. He had a soft, gentle voice and tended to slouch everywhere he went. This continued into his adult life. At work or at parties, Evan did his best to blend in with the crowd and not get noticed. Even though he had a big, wrist-thick cock and was a pretty exclusive top, he always let his boyfriend tell him what to do in bed.

His boyfriend even sometimes made fun of him for his height. “You know, your dick looks pretty much normal sized because you're so tall,” he often joked. It was true. Even though Evan was still slender, even well into adulthood, the length of his body made even a big dick look proportional.

So when Evan passed by a wishing well and happened to toss a coin in, it’s no wonder that he whispered, “I wish I was short,” under his breath. He never expected his wish to be granted.

He got home before he noticed anything different. For the first time ever, he didn’t have to duck to go into the kitchen. He looked up at the doorframe, a new experience for him, and realised he was still shrinking.

In a flash, Evan dodged into the bathroom to watch as he continued to get shorter and shorter. First his thighs and then his groin slid out of view below the counter as more and more wall became visible above his head. Somehow, he didn’t lose any weight, so instead of looking ultra-skinny, he suddenly looked well-muscled, even buff.

And his dick! Evan had always had a bit of a visible dickprint no matter what he wore, but as he continued to get shorter his dick stayed exactly the same size. Everything was visible as it stretched down his leg, looking like it went halfway to his knee. The flare of the head looked enormous, and the shaft looked like Evan had a water bottle shoved in his crotch.

By the time Evan was absolutely sure he had stopped getting shorter, he was very short. From now on, his feet were going to dangle off the floor in most chairs, and he would never be able to reach any top shelf without a stool. Around most people, like his boyfriend, Evan was going to be standing somewhere around their chest height. His muscles weren’t huge, but he was no longer a super skinny guy. He looked fit.

As he looked at himself, Evan felt an irrepressible cockiness growing inside him. Guys this short never had to worry about being too loud or taking up space. They basically had to yell just to be heard. It was like all of the self-confidence and aggressiveness that had been spread out in his taller body was getting more and more concentrated as he smirked and posed at himself.

“Babe!” he shouted. His voice sounded sharp, cocky, and commanding now. The thought made his big dick start to inflate and tent his oversized sweats. “Come check this out!”

“Evan, are you home? Why are you being so loud?” asked his boyfriend, coming out of the bedroom. He stopped short when he saw Evan, his jaw dropping. Evan had to crane his neck to look his boyfriend in the eyes now. It felt good.

“Don’t I look hot?” said Evan. He whipped his too-long shirt off over his head, revealing his tightly muscled torso. “Yeah, I do. I look really fucking hot.”

“Wh-what happened?” his boyfriend stammered. “H-how did you—“

“Shut up,” said Evan. His boyfriend’s mouth snapped shut. “Yeah, I’m in charge now,” said Evan, flexing his new muscles, showing off for his boyfriend. “You go lube yourself up for this fat cock,” he ordered, cupping his bulge between both of his smaller hands. “I need to wreck your hole.”

His boyfriend turned and went back to the bedroom without any resistance. “Yeah,” Evan told his reflection, grinning at himself and popping his pecs. “I can fuck him as hard as I want now.”

From that moment on, Evan became a totally different person, a cocky, aggressive dom who loved showing off and getting in people’s faces. He was always ready to prove that, even though he was short, he was still in charge of any room he walked in.

Of course, Evan was always willing to show off his big juicy cock. His boyfriend didn’t last long. When they broke up he told Evan that he just wasn’t willing to sub that often. So Evan started showing off his hot little body online, and pretty soon he had a different subby bottom to gape open every night of the week. And whenever any of them asked how Evan’s dick was so big, he would just laugh and say, “I guess it was just made for a taller guy.”

(inspo courtesy of @idesofrevolution)

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Lightning Bug - Chapter 24

Masterlist

Warning: self harm, mention of past trauma, angst with fluff, Natasha and Wanda being good parents

Word count: 3.1k

“Stephen,” America said. You stood up slowly, but the room began to spin. “Hi. This is-” You lunged to the side, throwing up the food Wanda made for breakfast in a bowl next to the stairs.

“She’s throwing up in the cauldron of the cosmos.”

“Yeah,” America said slowly. “I’m surprised it took her this long.” She started to rub your back. “You threw up much quicker.” You stood up, and a red cap brought you a glass of water and a napkin.

“Uh, thanks,” you took the items from it, and the cap returned to its proper place around Stephen’s shoulders. He was wearing all blue with a brown belt around his waist. The most striking thing about his appearance was a necklace around his neck. You took a sip of water. “Hi,” you waved. “Sorry about that. I’m Y/n,” you introduced yourself.

“I know who you are,” oh. Okay. Well, that was ominous. “What were you thinking?” He turned his attention back to his pupil. “You could have gotten separated or, worse, caused an incursion .” America sighed, looking down at her feet.

“I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking.” You weren’t the biggest fan of how he was talking to her.

“Hey, chill,” he looked at you, and you heard America quietly say your name in a warning. “No one got hurt. We are back in our correct universe,” well, you hopped you were. “She made a mistake. It happens.” The man crossed his arms.

“I don’t have time to explain the complexity of the multiverse to another child.” You never wanted to slap an adult more than you do now. “America knows it was more than a simple mistake.” You disliked how quiet America was being. It was so unlike her. You wrapped your pinky finger around hers. Stephen’s eyes followed the path of your hand, and you saw his eyes soften at the gesture, but his mask went back on quickly. “I believe your presence is being requested at the tower and America,” your friend raised her head. “We will discuss the consequences of your actions later.” He raised both hands, and orange sparks surrounded the both of you.

You yelped as you fell through the portal Stephen created. Instead of hitting the ground, red magic surrounded you and America and gently rested you down. You stood in the common floor kitchen with a very amused Black Widow looking at you. “Imagine our shock,” she began. “That Vision gave you the day off because you weren’t feeling well, and FRIDAY tells us you and America left the tower,” you cringed at her tone and looked down at the floor.

“You must be feeling better,” Wanda added.

“It’s not her fault,” America defended. “I woke her up to hang out with her,” Natasha said your name, and you looked at her. You saw a playful twinkle in her eye, indicating she wasn’t mad at you.

“Go to your room and get some sleep,” you nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” you looked at America, interlocking your hand with hers. “Sorry you got in trouble,” you squeezed her hand.

“No big deal,” she shrugged her shoulders. You smiled at the couple, pleading with your eyes for them to go easy on her, and took the stairs to your floor.

You took each step slowly, your body was still sore, and the adrenaline was wearing off. “There you are,” you looked up to see Bruce walking over to you. You smiled at the doctor, ignoring the concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you headed towards the kitchen and grabbed a glass to fill with water. “Do you need something from me?” You sipped on the water as Bruce flipped through the clipboard he was holding.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been going through many batteries,” he said. Your fingers tightened around the glass you were holding. “I’m glad you are using it, but I want to ensure you use it safely.”

“I am,” you said. The lie ticked the back of your throat. “I use it in the morning and sometimes at night.” It wasn’t a total lie since Maria liked to use the machine during training. He nodded.

“Well, I wanted to give you this too,” he took a piece of paper and slid it across the counter that separated you and him. “It’s a list of places that have used the batteries.” It was a list of hospitals, schools, and clinics that you never heard of before. It made you smile. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.” You giggled.

“Will do,” you said. “Thank you, Bruce.” The doctor waved as he left towards the elevator. Sighing, you cleaned the glass you used and walked into your room. You dropped the paper onto your nightstand. Lying to Bruce did not feel right. It was like when you first moved to the tower. All these lies were stacking up on each other; you crawled into bed and wrapped the blankets around you. You prayed for a dreamless sleep.

*

“I can’t believe she traveled the multiverse and got out of her lessons,” Natasha laughed, cutting up some vegetables for Wanda. “In the same day! I’m a little impressed.” Wanda smiled, resting her hand on the small of Natasha’s back as she walked over to the fridge.

“Are you impressed or jealous America took her?” Wanda asked.

“Both, honestly,” the witch laughed and kissed her cheek.

“Well, we did tell her to be a kid. Ditching class and getting into trouble does fall into those categories.” She wrapped her arms around Natasha’s waist and leaned against her back. It made it a little tricky, but she made do. She would never deny the feeling of her girlfriend’s arms around her. It was calming as she felt every beat of Wanda’s heart and breath. “You don’t think we were too hard on her, right?” Her girlfriend asked. It was a delicate balance that Natasha was unfamiliar with. They needed to enforce some rules, but she refused to be like the young girl’s biological parents.

“I don’t think so,” the Black Widow said. “But we’ll check in with her after she’s gotten some sleep.” Natasha was worried about her not feeling well. Wanda nodded, kissing Natasha’s shoulder.

“She’s special,” Wanda mumbled. Yeah, Natasha couldn’t agree more.

*

Sweat poured down your back as you tried to catch your breath and stared down the machine. You needed to do it tonight. You woke up from a nightmare involving America, and at dinner, those scenes danced around your head. It was awful; it was the only way you could find a word to describe it as America’s screams echoed in your mind, and you were the one that caused them.

“Whoa,” you placed your hands on your temples as the room spun. You shut your eyes tight and felt your body fall to the ground. A pained groan left your lips, and you opened your eyes. The room was no longer spinning, but your head was pounding. This was a new feeling. It made you feel weak, and you hated it. Maybe this was what it felt like when you hit empty. On shaky legs, you stood up and covered the machine with the sheet.

You needed to go to sleep. With every step you took toward your bedroom, your legs felt like lead. You had half a mind to fall asleep in the hallways, but you figured that would raise many more questions. Suddenly, you were standing before a door that wasn’t yours. Wanda and Natasha. Before you could knock or turn away, the door opened, and you were staring at the Slovakian. “Oh, hi.”

“Your nose is bleeding,” you instinctively went to touch it, but Wanda grabbed your hand. “Come with me, and I’ll clean it.” Wordlessly, you let Wanda drag you to the kitchen and sat on the stool. She quickly wet a towel and sat down next to you. “I made sure it was warm,” she said, gently whipping the blood off your face. It was warm, but a shiver still went down your spine. “Did I hurt you?” She pulled away.

“No, you didn’t,” you whispered. “Just not used to this.” You didn’t elaborate, but Wanda nodded as if she understood.

“You know,” she smiled. “You remind me a lot of Pietro. He was very protective of me and the other kids,” you remembered her telling you about him. He was killed when they fought against Ultron while saving Clint and a little boy. “He would steal food for us when we couldn’t afford it.” You smiled.

“Sounds like Caleb” she tossed the towel in the sink and walked around the counter to the other side to clean it and her hands. “How do I remind you of him?” She was quiet momentarily, focusing on washing the towel and her hands. It amazed you that on the most straightforward task, she chose to do it the mundane way instead of a wave of her hand, and the mess would be gone. You believed she needed to keep her hands busy whenever a painful memory arose.

“He never wanted anyone to worry about him. He kept every worry and pain to himself and covered it with a smile,” she shook her hands dry. “Why are you up?” She asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she playfully rolled her eyes at you. “I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted as Wanda grabbed two mugs and filled the electric kettle. “I haven’t been sleeping well since I told everyone what happened to me,” she placed tea bags in the mugs. “Every time I close my eyes, I relive everything.” The water began to boil, and she filled each mug. With her magic, she made two spoons appear.

“When was the last time you slept?” You chuckled, pressing down the tea bag with the spoon.

“I sleep every night, Wanda,” but an intense feeling of guilt ran through you. Gently, she tapped her finger against your hand, but you refused to look at her. “I’ve been hurting myself,” you whispered. “Not in the same way before, but it’s the only way I’ve been able to sleep.” Once again, she tapped your hand. You gathered the courage and looked at her. There was no judgment in her green eyes. Instead, there was love; you’ve seen mothers look at their daughters like this.

“Thank you for being honest with you,” she said. “How have you been doing it?” You took a sip of the tea.

“The machine Tony and Bruce made me. I’ve been using it to the point my powers are depleted,” you explained. “It’s the only way for my mind to shut off,” you bite your lip and trace the mug’s rim. “I just came from there, and I think it’s what caused the bloody nose. I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” She asked. She was frowning when you looked up at her.

“I promised I wouldn’t do this anymore,” you whispered. “And I broke it.” You heard a slight hitch in your voice, which Wanda also heard. She quickly rounded the kitchen counter and pushed away a few tears that fell with her thumb.

“Healing isn’t linear,” she said. “It’s messy and complicated. Sometimes, you take one step forward and three steps back, but that’s okay. I’m not mad at you, sweetheart, and I’m proud of you for being honest with me,” she wiped a few more tears and kissed your forehead.

“You’re the only one that’s ever done that,” you admitted. She tilted her head, a little confused by your statement. “I’ve seen my mother do it to Henry a few times and random families on the street, but you are the first to kiss my forehead.” Her green eyes softened, masking the anger you saw that wasn’t directed at you. It was directed at the shitty deck of cards that life gave you. She kissed your forehead one more time and grabbed your hand.

“Come on, you need sleep,” you felt your eyes get heavy as she led you to the couch. She sat down first and encouraged you to cuddle against her. Your head rested on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. It was soothing. A blanket was pulled up to your shoulders, and her hand began to draw circles on your back, but you moved to look at Wanda.

“You and Natasha would make perfect parents,” you told her. “Have you ever thought about having kids?” It would be adorable to see a mini Wanda and Natasha running around. Wanda smiled.

“Maybe one day, once we are done with all the Avenging,” you nodded. That was understandable; their life was so uncertain. “Besides, I think we have our hands full with you lot here,” she ruffled your hair, which caused you to giggle.

“Night, Wanda,” you turned on your side and closed your eyes. The feeling of Wanda’s hand on your back and the calmness of her heartbeat helped you fall asleep in no time.

*

When Natasha reached over to pull her girlfriend closer, she found the spot empty and cold, which was not expected. They made a promise to one another to wake the other person if they had a nightmare. Frowning, she got out of bed and pulled on a sweatshirt. The tower was always cold, and she hated it. The cold reminded her of Russia, where her life was changed forever. She walked out of her room and found her girlfriend on the couch. “Hi, malen’kaya ved’ma (little witch),” Natasha whispered, walking over to her. The witch was awake, running her hand through Y/n’s hair as she was fast asleep. The sight warmed Natasha’s heart as she knelt behind the couch and kissed Wanda’s shoulder. “Everything okay?” Her girlfriend hummed.

“Yeah, she just needed some cuddles to help her sleep.”

“Is she okay?” Wanda sighed but nodded.

“I think she will be. We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Natasha wanted to talk about it now, but she learned not to question her.

“Do you want to move her to our room?” Wanda nodded and moved her hand to the young girl’s back.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Wanda whispered, gently shaking her awake. “Can you wake up for a second? Then we can go back to bed?” The girl groaned, blinked open her eyes, and rolled onto her back. Her eyes flickered to Wanda, then Natasha.

“Your girlfriend is a comfy pillow,” the girl mumbled. Natasha smiled.

“Don’t I know it,” she said. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” The girl stood up from the couch, taking the blanket with you. The Black Widow was surprised she didn’t fight them when they laid her in their room. When Wanda opened the door, she crawled into the middle of the bed and under the covers. Her eyes closed as soon as her head hit the pillow, and she fell asleep. Natasha chuckled.

“Glad we got the bigger bed,” Wanda smiled and got onto her side of the bed. Immediately, the teen searched for her warmth. The sight made Natasha smile.

“Are you joining us?” The Black Widow nodded and got in bed. “What’s on your mind?” Natasha gently brushed the young girl’s hair out of her face.

“We should ask her soon. Make this little family official.”

*

Wanda set down a plate of eggs and pancakes in front of you. “Thank you,” you said. “For breakfast and last night.” Natasha set a tall glass of orange juice next to the plate. “Honestly, it was the best nights sleep I’ve gotten in a while.” The Black Widow smiled as she watched you pour syrup over the flood and cut into the pancake.

“No need to thank us,” she said. “We are here whenever you need us.” You nodded; it was a concept you were still trying to learn. “Actually,” Wanda stood next to her girlfriend. ‘We do want to talk about something.” Your stomach dropped, and you placed your silverware on the plate.

“You aren’t in trouble,” Wanda added, but her assurance didn’t help the anxiety spike. “We think it would be good if you see someone to talk to about everything you’ve been through.”

“Like a therapist?” You questioned. The couple nodded. “I don’t know.” You hated opening up to a stranger when it took you forever to tell the Avengers.

“It’s something you don’t have to decide right now, okay?” Natasha smiled. “Just something to think about.” She ruffled your hair, and it brought a smile to your face. The couple began to discuss their plans for the day - a meeting, a training session, and what they would do for dinner. You knew you were damaged, a little broken from everything you’ve been through, but you weren’t sure if talking to a stranger would help.

“Just the family I’ve been looking for,” Sam said, stealing a piece of a pancake from your plate. You stuck your tongue at him as he sat down next to you. “I’m guessing you’ve gotten presents for Barton’s kids,” he told the couple. Natasha nodded her head. “What the hell did you get them? AJ's birthday is coming up, and I have no idea what to get.” You were not sure what birthdays were until you lived on the street and read a book where the main character had their birthday with friends and family. It clicked, then. Once a year, Henry had friends over, your mother made a cake, and he went to unwrap colorful presents. He was celebrating his birthday, something you never got the pleasure to do. Once a year, you lay in bed and listened to a party no one invited you to.

“Hey,” you were pulled out of your thoughts by Natasha. “Where did you just go?” She asked. All three of them were looking at you.

“Nowhere,” you said, but Natasha gave you a pointed look. “I was thinking about birthdays. I never celebrated mine.”

“Well, when it is?” Now, that was a great question. You tilted your head.

“I’m not sure,” you slowly said. “I guess my parents would have had to tell me or Caleb, but no one did,” you shrugged. “It’s fine,” you quickly added. “I went this long without a birthday party. I’ll be fine.” You ignored the look on their face and focused back on your breakfast. A birthday party sounded fun: presents, cake, and being surrounded by people who cared about you. But you were fine without one. Right?

_

taglist: @aestruvx, @toouncreativeforausername, @modedddd, @julilamoment, @mythixmagic, @yourmamacom, @vicmc624, @cherlenovix, @liliesandrosies, @whitewidowsbite, @clintsbigtoe,   @blackbirdv98@arualdcg@yoyo-w​  @natbelovasblog, @johnnyhulu, @blackwidow-3, @theenglishswiftie, @faith-olsen

[milevenstancyendgame]

Mike's Intuition

Something I haven't seen talked about yet, is Mike's talent of intuition.

We see the most of it in s1, I think. His immediate connection to Eleven is the first glimpse we get of it. Whether you see it as love at first sight or not (the s4 monologue confirmed that, but that's not the point), he acted in a deeply compassionate, empathetic, and very mature way for his age (compare Lucas and Dustin's reactions). Instead of being freaked out by El, he just saw a lost child in need, and he understood that she must have gone through something awful, even though he had no idea what it was (just look at his face when he sees El holding the soft sweater to her cheek).

He also just "knew" that she wasn't a dangerous/bad person. Which was something the others were very worried about, especially after she displayed her superpowers. He just felt sorry for her and instantly liked her, just like that.

I think his most consequential decision came after he asked El to ring at their door, so his Mum could call for help, and she refused and made it clear that it would get both of them killed.

Instead of freaking out, he did what? Turned his bike around after having departed for school, and went straight back home to give El company for the day and play host to her.

Seriously, the switch is astounding. One moment, El thinks he's gonna tell his Mum about her and they will all die, and the next they are playing and laughing like happy, little children.

There's zero logic in this decision, it's just Mike acting on pure gut instinct. He cares for this girl without knowing why, despite knowing nothing about her, except that she means danger, and he just follows that feeling.

And nothing changed that, not her powers, not when the danger became real.

When El recognises Will on the photo, he also immediately believes that she can help them to find Will, and he never wavers in this conviction. But all that happened, was that she wordlessly pointed at Will.

Lucas' reaction to Mike's belief in this is actually really helpful to emphasise their strengths - Lucas is the voice of reason, while Mike is the voice of intuition. Dustin is in-between them.

Which is also why they make such a great team - they balance each other out, and you need both to solve a mystery. And typically in this kind of crime or mystery-solving story, you need at least a few characters who just follow their hunches, even though they know that it doesn't make any sense rationally and might just lead to a dead-end.

Mike is exactly that character (and Joyce is too, btw. There's even a beautiful visual parallel of both of them running into someone's arms at the end of "Holly Jolly"). When they pack their things for "expedition Mirkwood", Lucas once again doubts the whole plan and El, but Mike shushes him with "Just trust me on this one, okay?", which effectively shuts Lucas up. So it seems like they have good reason to trust Mike's intuition.

I also think that there was a good deal of self-blame afflicting him after they saw Will's fake body, and this was (among other things) the reason why he lashed out so strongly at El. He had trusted her, and he also had trusted his own evaluation of her and his belief that she would lead them to an ALIVE Will (which others had doubted). Even though there really was no reason to believe that Will would still be alive, just because El had presumably seen him at some point.

But then El uses the walkie talkie to prove to Mike that Will really is still alive, and it shows us that Mike's intuition had been right the whole time - again, like Joyce's.

Throughout the rest of s1, Mike remains the most open to any new explanations and possibilities that open up (like the idea of an interdimensional gate).

When Nancy and Hopper call them on the walkie talkie, he's immediately inclined to respond and makes the final decision.

After they team up with the teens and adults, and Hopper asks El to confirm the details of the gate, Dustin wonders "How does he know all of that?" And Mike responds "Because he's been there," giving us another neat example of his deeper understanding/reading of what's going on.

In s2, he likewise senses from the get-go that something seriously dangerous is happening to Will, so he supports him. He has no trouble understanding what Will is sharing about his supernatural experience and he easily syncs with Joyce in trying to connect Will's vine tunnel drawings (crazy together, lol). And again, he connects the dots and realises that the Mind-flayer lured them into a trap.

His intuition also remains just as adamant about El still being alive, as it had been about Will being still alive in s1! And the fact that he actually could sense El in the void is BIG. This boy has superpowers of his own.

S3 and s4 moved him into more comedic scenes/genre, so we saw less of this, but it's still a core character trait:

In s3, he again notices Will's unease in the cinema. He also was right on the money about El overexerting herself (which only got confirmed in s4 by Brenner, who said she had suffered from something like a stroke), which no one except Lucas (!!!) paid any heed to ("Oh shit, is that like a thing?").

In s4, apart from the comedy, the focus is precisely on Mike's insecurity and self-doubt overshadowing his intuitive understanding. Will has to give him a pep-talk and remind him of why he's their leader, which is the cue for him to tap into his superpower and pour out his heart/love to El to save her (Will's "You're the heart, okay? Remember that!" is pretty cryptic, even with the knowledge of what he's referring to, but Mike immediately switches from a panicking mind to his heart/intuition).

[inchidentally]

just find it super interesting that carlos didn't go out to celebrate with lando, considering how monumental of a moment this is in lando's career...

honestly as someone who has been turned off the ship itself by ppl being out of their minds and way over-crossing certain lines etc, I will gladly say that Carlos not going out w Lando wasn't intended with ill will at all and is way more to do w how the two of them have naturally grown apart over the years. it's been happening since around 2020 anyway but it was always going to happen more since their only shared interests are F1 and golf and their mutual friends only consist of Carlos' team and other F1 drivers. their relationship is the same as Lando's w Daniel and George - they'll play padel/golf and go out to dinner and travel on the same jets occasionally during the season but Lando is very much still a carefree young man early in his career while the others are well into their long term relationships and more 'serious' phases of life and career. Oscar may seem like an old settled relationship guy but he's not really - the more a lot of us catch up on his F2 and F3 stuff it's clear he likes to have fun and isn't actually allergic to going out and he literally was already friends w guys in Lando's life. and Max V is rly the only driver where Lando has a lot of mutual interests and they specifically and consistently spend time together outside the season - bc while his relationship situation seems mature, Max off duty mostly sticks to gaming and going out w friends just like Lando.

so it makes sense that the guys who went out w Lando after his win were all closer to his age/lifestyle etc and that Max arranged the whole thing. (we'll hand-wave Pierre bc Kika has helped him de-age a little lol)

like, the lasting bond Carlos and Lando will always have was formed as that big brother/little brother dynamic when Lando desperately needed someone to help him out of his shell. Carlos had just gone through the same experience w Max so he was already prepared for a nervous barely-adult anxious creature clinging to him. and as we've seen, that bond between Carlos and Max is strong as well.

but it's why ppl honestly set themselves up for bitter disappointment pretending that Carlos and Lando are remotely like what Lando is with Max F or Carlos with his closest friends. Carlos will always burst w pride over Max's achievements and Lando's achievements but they're still younger guys and their friend groups and private lives only superficially overlap with his. and like... the Sainz family do love Lando yes, but they also love and make a lot out of the publicity that carland0 brings. literally in Miami Carlos and Caco clocking the Netflix guys and making a sudden beeline right next to them for McLaren hospitality to do a "heartfelt moment" w Andrea and John aslfgaljfg) the whole Sainz wedding thing was very sweet but again, if we're acknowledging the publicity aspect of it then a massive society wedding is the perfect place for that ! again, not saying it's all fake! there is a bond there! but the bond is uh definitely made to be bigger than it is when cameras are involved.

but yea tl;dr if ppl weren't insane and carland0 wasn't the corporate sponsored publicity department approved ship then no one would've felt it was a big deal that Carlos just stuck w a hug and posted a story and nothing else. no one would be inventing crazy theories that Carlos wanted to 'be on the podium with Lando' instead of how Carlos actually said he wanted to win the race himself ! and that Lando said he only wanted Carlos on the podium so he could finally look down on him and show him how it feels !! bc they've built their careers their entire lives and these guys aren't gonna throw any of it away just for grid buddies !!

so how Carlos has reacted to Lando's win fully suits the stage of their real non PR friendship as it is now. it's what he did for Max's first WDC too. and like the last time Carlos was at a club was w Rebecca last year and it wasn't somewhere single guys like Lando go to hook up saklfgsajfgl)

and tbh it's what always makes me a bit sad bc with the ship being so over the top and everyone wanting it to be this huge immense thing it means that reality never measures up and just seems like a big disappointment. where if ppl were like oh it's so sweet that these guys have this brotherly bond and still make time to catch up! then everything would actually be more enjoyable !!!

.

.

.

(and it does crack me up that if Max looked like Carlos then it would knock carland0 completely out of existence w how much more 'content' there is between him and Lando slfgslajfgafas)

[onlycosmere]

Knights of Wind and Truth preview

Brandon Sanderson: Jasnah found it difficult to sleep. A part of her wanted to blame this stupid bed. Wit adored plushness; he wanted a mattress that would swallow a person, and he had found her previous one to be unsuitable. So now she swam in stuffing, lying on her side, listening to his breathing.

Wit didn’t snore when he slept, but he did occasionally whistle. She turned to her other side–which, since they both tended to sink toward the center of this awful mattress, should have jostled him. He just laid there on his back, whistling softly as he exhaled. Was he even actually asleep? Things he’d said to her indicated that perhaps he went to other places at night around the Cosmere, visiting other worlds, engaging in political machinations at which, even still, she could only guess.

“You lie to me sometimes,” she whispered to him. “You realized that means it can’t be a true relationship. I can trust someone with secrets—but someone who lies?” If he was aware, despite his sleep, he didn’t say anything.

She’d caught him so far only in the most mundane of ways. He’d engage with wordplay with her, or toy with puns, and she’d ask him to stop. He’d promise, and seem to have done what he said. But then she’d notice that the games hadn’t stopped; they’d only grown more inscrutable. Wit, twisting the wordplays to a deeper level, another layer of esoteric, more difficult to spot. He seemed to think it would engage her, push her. Instead, it signaled something disturbing. Wit would do what he thought was best for people, not what they wanted from him.

Despite her efforts, she knew she wasn’t connecting to him physically as much as he’d like. That made him feel anxious, as if he were doing something wrong. He thought if he listened better, tried harder, he’d do something mind-blowing and change the way she felt.

In turn, though, she wasn’t connecting to him on an emotional level. Something she did want—if only he’d be up front with her. If only he’d tell her.

She turned back on the other side; a stiff pillow did little to counteract the strange stuffing. The feathers of baby chickens; or perhaps the smallest feathers of adult chickens? She hadn’t been able to parse the way he’d said, but either way, she didn’t like it. A good lavis-husk mattress was far superior, shredded to not have awkward lumps.

Storms. And this is why it was best to avoid relationships. Nine days until Dalinar confronted Odium, and she was worrying about a relationship? Perhaps this was a way to distract herself; because despite all of her training, all of her learning, all of her preparation, it came down to someone else. She would have no part in the final confrontation; Dalinar had decided he would use no champion.

She did not dispute that choice. He was a Bondmsith. He had built the Knights Radiant. He’d had dealings with Odium and understood the creature better than, perhaps, any mortal. Jasnah had written out her reasons that he was the best choice, and she still agreed with them.

Yet�� could it have been her? If, instead of hiding what she was, she’d gone out in the open? Told people what she was, what she could do, what she feared? Her life and Dalinar’s life seemed to be very different things. He’d burned a city in the open, and people forgave him. Yet when Jasnah had been honest about what she feared, what she believed, what she discovered… well, condemnation and judgement had chased her like twin headsmen, each looking to get a whipping in before the final execution. She’d barely stayed ahead of them. Because when Jasnah Kholin spoke her mind, people hated her. Perhaps she had learned the wrong lessons from that. But could she be blamed?

She curled up at that thought, listening to the quiet sounds of Urithiru. Water in the pipes, moving of its own accord. Air whispering as it was pumped through vents. Voices echoing far outside, despite the late hour. Trembling there, she realized, finally, why she hated this mattress so much. It reminded her of the soft restraints they’d given her when she’d been young. When those who loved her had taken away her own freedom for her own good. Those terrible months that basically everyone had forgotten about as an anomaly. Except by Jasnah, who would never forget.

Wit suddenly sat up in bed. “Oh, hell,” he whispered.

Jasnah became alert. It wasn’t difficult, considering how far from sleep she’d been. She formed Ivory as a blade—short, stout, basically just a dagger—and called for her armorspren to be ready. She reached for the cover of the bowl of spheres beside the bed, but did not remove the black shroud, lest she ruin her night vision. In a second, she could have Stormlight, but she hesitated on this, too, as the light rising from her skin would highlight her in the darkness.

Wit sat there, barely visible by moonlight, wearing his silken nightclothes. His hair was immaculate, despite having slept on it. How?

“What?” she finally hissed at him.

“Oh, bollocks!” he whispered, leaping from the bed. “The darkest, hairiest, greasiest bollocks on the most unkept nethers of the most wanton demon of the most obscure religion’s damnable hellscape!”

“Wit?” Jasnah said as he rushed to the counter, searching frantically among his things. “Wit!”

He looked at her, wild-eyed, then he pulled the shroud off some spheres and washed the room in light.

She blinked, dismissing her blade. If Wit wasn’t worried about blinding them, then this wasn’t a physical danger. It might just be another of his strange <range of> oddities. Except… the way he looked at her. Eyes like glowing spheres. Lips drawn without even a hint of a smile. Jaw taut, hands clenched, breathing quick. Genuine panic. She felt like summoning her blade again, if only to have something to hold as a chill went through her. “Wit, she said, “please. What’s wrong?”

“G-give me a moment,” he mumbled, turning back to his things. “I need… I need a moment.” He pulled out a notebook and began writing.

She rose and, though the air was warm—her mother’s transformations to Urithiru heating the air to unnatural levels for this elevation—she felt cold in only her nightgown. She threw on a robe and leaned over Wit’s shoulder. She couldn’t read what he wrote. The symbols were unfamiliar, one of the many languages he could speak from worlds beyond theirs. It looked like a table, though, not paragraphs. And those notations to the left of each line? The dots and lines? Numbers, perhaps? They repeated far more often than the other symbols did.

He wrote, increasingly furious, his handwriting growing sloppy. She didn’t miss that he’d gotten out some of the strange, color-changing sand he used sometimes when experimenting with various uses of Stormlight or other, more arcane abilities. And as he did, he seemed to grow more intense.

The doors began to shake. Jasnah had a sword in hand a second later, but then realized it was him. Nobody was on the other side; it was exerting some kind of strange pressure that made the doors vibrate. The rings in her jewelry box, also on the counter, pushed back and began to spill onto the floor. The shoes by her head scooted across the floor, pulled by their latches. Every bit of metal in the room, save for her sword, reacted to him in some way.

Then, the sand burst into light with a mother-of-pearl luminescence and hovered above the table. The filmy clothing on Wit’s back began to writhe and contort as if alive. His motions increasingly frantic, in a flash, it seemed like smoke expelled from his body, blown away by some invisible wind. He was another person. Similar, but different. Shorter, with stark white hair and subtly different features making him seem foreign. This is the real him, she realized. A man not from their world; a man who masqueraded as Wit.

That man turned to her, pencil snapping in his fingers as he grabbed it and broke it across a knuckle. “I’ve been tricked,” he said.

“How,” she asked.

The light of the sand went out, and it sprayed back down on the counter. Wit was back as his familiar self in a blink of an eye, and the odd effects stopped with an abrupt immediacy, as if on an order from him. He stood, again taller than she was, and held up what he’d written. “I’m missing,” he said, “three minute and twenty-seven seconds.”

“I’m not following, Wit,” she said.

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to parse this, but… Storms, what’s happening? Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, slumping back onto the seat beside the stone counter, a natural feature of the room that jutted from the wall, as was common in these rooms of Urithiru. “I’ve lived a long time, Jasnah. A long, long time. Longer than any mortal’s memories can track, so I must use other means to maintain myself. I store memories in something called Breath: an easily accessible, if costly, form of Investiture that a person can adopt and, with training, use to expand one’s soul and memory. That part isn’t specifically important; I periodically review memories, deciding on what is vital to keep and what can be jettisoned. It is one of the only ways to remain sane after such a long existence as mine. And in that review just earlier, Jasnah, I found something. Something unexpected. Something terrifying.”

“Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds?” she whispered, looking again at the notes on his page. As if by force of will, she could decipher them. “Missing. When?”

“One day ago,” he said.

“And what were you doing at the time?”

He let out a long breath, then met her eyes. “I was having a chat with Odium.”

“A chat?” she said flatly. “With the most ancient enemy of all humankind? The being that seeks to destroy us, to crush my family, to dominate—perhaps weaponize—all of Roshar for his own ends? A chat?”

“We have a history,” Wit explained. “As I believe I’ve told you.”

Jasnah pulled a chair over and sank down, feeling a spike of pain. A kind of final spike of pain. “I asked you, Wit,” she whispered. “I asked you to involve me in any dealings you had with him.”

“I’m telling you now, dear,” he said. “That is technically involving you.”

She held his eyes and knew. Perhaps he did, too. He will continue to be himself, a man so full of secrets he needed some kind of strange magic to keep them all inside his head. And one, it appeared, had been excised. There would never be a place for her inside of his deepest self, would there? She’d always just be another thing on the outside, maintained as part of his collection. Enjoyed, perhaps even loved, but never confided in.

In that moment, she knew she’d have to withdraw, for herself. She tucked away feelings of betrayal. She had known what she was getting into with him. One did not court a god lightly.

“Why?” she asked him. “What were you saying to him?”

“I…” he shrugged. “I had to gloat a little. It was requisite, Jasnah, considering our history.” His eyes became distant. “I remember feeling odd about the encounter… a sense of repetition? Something happened that day in the lost minutes. He got the better of me and excised the memory from my mind, letting me instead think I had won the exchange. I can find the remnants, now that I look, as it was awkwardly done, as if by one unfamiliar.”

“This is wrong, isn’t it?” she said.

“Very wrong. Rayse is a megalomaniac, Jasnah. For all his craftiness, it would hurt him to let me walk away thinking I’d bested him. In this case, he encouraged it.” Wit leaned forward and took her hand. “He’s grown. After ten thousand years, Rayse has actually learned something. That terrifies me. Because I can’t anticipate what he will do.”

“Then what?”

“We need to reread the contract between him and Dalinar,” Wit said. “Now.”

Jasnah had a copy nearby, but before she’d opened her ledger, a pounding on a <nearish> door, real this time, drew her attention. She passed out of the bedroom, through the sitting room, and eased open the outer door to reveal <Hemnid> of the Cobalt Guard. A man with discretion to match his general poise, she trusted him as much as she trusted any, so she wasn’t bothered as he glanced at Wit as he approached. “What?” she said to him, light spilling from the guardroom into her quarters.

“Radiant Shallan and Highprince Adolin have something to report,” he whispered. [Brandon: I’m gonna cut that out so you have some anticipation for what’s coming.] “Your uncle has called for a meeting immediately, despite the hour.”

“Tell him I’ll be there shortly,” she said, then closed the door, looking back into the darkened sitting room towards Wit. [Brandon skips another section.]

“It should be,” Wit said. “I need to study that contract. There might be loopholes.”

“And if you didn’t see them?” She said. “You didn’t before.”

“You’re right,” he said. He took a deep breath. “You’re… you’re right. We need an expert, beyond even my considerable knowledge in the area.”

“Do you know any?”

“From your world?” he asked. “Only one, but she and I aren’t on speaking terms. I will, instead, see if I can contract an old friend.”

[britcision]

I’m spoiling you all, really, the last chapter was just last night

Buuuuut it’s WIP Wednesday, so enjoy!

Chapters in the tag

——————

Pay Attention To Me Dammit

“Okay,” Danny sucked in a deep breath, surfacing from Jason’s suit to two deeply concerned pairs of blue eyes, “let’s get somewhere private real fast.”

Tucker snickered, helpfully extracting both him and Sam from Jason’s arms.

“I can’t fucking believe you forgot Vlad was coming,” he sighed, voice still shaking as he gave Jason a once over.

Sam, sucking in huge gasps of air, pinched his arm as she straightened.

“Oh shut up, not like you brought him up either,” she wheezed, still grinning.

“Vladdie’s gonna be fucking heartbroken,” Tucker sighed happily, shoving Danny towards a corner.

People were definitely looking. And not just the other four bats; regular guests were watching behind fans, hands, or just deadass staring.

Tim took over, catching Danny’s wrist and pulling the other boy after him. They weren’t that far off the same height.

“So, should I take it that “Vlad” being here is a good thing or a bad thing?” He asked, pulling on his best socialite smile, heading for one of the hall exits instead.

“Side room?” Jason wondered, guiding Sam and Tucker quickly after him. Tim nodded without looking back.

“They shouldn’t be busy yet. We can talk without being overheard,” he added to the other three, who obligingly sped up.

“As for your question, Vlad being here is… probably gonna end up being nothing?” Danny offered, doing his best smiles for the rich assholes they passed.

Sam kicked him in the ankle.

“Wait til we’re alone,” she said quietly, hustling Tucker along.

Unsurprisingly to Jason and Tim, the first side room already had four other people sitting in it, on two extremely plush couches, angled at right angles and facing a fireplace. Before Danny could turn to find another, Steph caught his hand and pulled him in.

“Hi, Stephanie Brown, friend of the Waynes, we’re gonna talk all about Jason’s adorable little crush on you but first, what did you need privacy for?” She asked, eyes bright with innuendo.

Danny grinned right back, already liking this one, and relaxed when Tim and Jason guided the others in and shut the door.

“Well, I guess you all being here means no one has to be found later… and the more eyes the better in this case,” he mused, looking over the other teens and young adult.

Dick waved at Tucker, grinning sarcastically.

“Danny. And Danny,” he added, nodding to Danny himself.

Sam hid a snicker behind her hand.

“That’s what you went with?” She asked Tucker, and he grinned entirely unrepentantly back.

“What, Jason said he told them who I was,” he said in his very best innocent voice.

Before they could get going, Jason raised a hand.

“I’m gonna guess there was a reason you snuck Danny in other than getting back at Sam’s parents? Vlad Masters,” he prodded, dropping to sit on one of the plush royal blue couches next to Cass.

All three Amity Parkers sobered immediately.

“Right… yeah, we should sit for this,” Tucker agreed, glancing around the room. Seating for nine was going to be tight, but… well, he may no longer be a teenager, but he was still seating-flexible.

Introductions were made as people juggled themselves around, finally ending with Cass, Jason, and Danny on one sofa, Sam, Steph, and Damian on the other, and Dick and Tim perching on windowsill or sofa arm respectively. Tucker took the floor.

Once movement stilled, Danny exchanged glances with Sam and Tucker. Maybe hoping that for once, he wouldn’t be doing the explaining?

He shoulda known better.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and didn’t lean intentionally into Jason’s side. It was good to have another halfa around, that was all.

“Sooooo… cliff’s notes? Vlad Masters is a shady millionaire who uses some seriously unethical shit to make predatory deals with other millionaires to steal their fortune. We think he’s here to make his way to that final “b”, byyyy stealing your dad’s fortune,” he explained quickly, glancing around at the Waynes and adjacents he could see.

They did not look convinced.

Tim frowned, leaning forward on his knee and steepling his fingers.

“If you have proof of that, shouldn’t someone already be looking into him?” He asked contemplatively, eyes fixed on Danny’s face.

It was. Weirdly intense.

Fighting down discomfort, Danny shrugged.

“So remember when I said deeply unethical? Think like, mind control. He’s hard to investigate.”

“You make him sound like a supervillain,” Dick noted from the windowsill.

Sam raised a pointed eyebrow at him.

“Duh, we said “millionaire”.”

“Hey,” Tim protested, leaning around Steph to frown at her, “I’m a millionaire.”

She stared him dead in the eye while Steph snickered.

“I said what I said.”

“And so are you,” he shot back sharply, eyes narrowing.

Sam didn’t blink.

“I work at a plant nursery my parents don’t approve of and pay my own tuition. My family are millionaires; I’m not,” she said plainly.

Tim puffed up his cheeks, but let them deflate silently. Jason definitely wasn’t smirking.

Cass leaned forwards suddenly, eyes darting around the room searchingly before settling on Sam.

“Masters. Your connection?” She asked softly, the others stilling to hear her.

Both of Sam’s brows rose, but she didn’t comment at hearing the other girl’s voice for the first time. She looked to Danny instead, raising an eyebrow.

Danny blew out a huff of air, ruffling his bangs.

“So… we… well…”

“He wants to fuck Danny’s mom and adopt Danny,” Tucker said bluntly, tipping his head back to hit Danny’s knees and grinning up at him.

Danny poked him in the forehead, but didn’t refute it.

“Yeah. So he’s kinda been my problem for a while. And he’s the mayor of Amity Park now? Is he still?” He asked, looking from one to the other.

Sam shrugged.

“Think so. I haven’t heard about anyone new.”

The Waynes and co were all kind of just… staring at them. Danny gave them jazz hands.

“And now he’s heeeeeere. He probably won’t make any moves if he knows I’m around, but we should keep an eye on him around Mr Wayne anyway.”

“And we can add him to the fuckery list, along with Sam’s parents,” Tucker added with a very satisfied smile.

It drew all eyes his way, ranging from intrigued to sceptical.

“How?” Steph asked, eyes bright.

Tucker waved a hand over the room.

“Black hair. Blue eyes. For one thing, Mr Drake-Wayne is even the same height, so if he sees you from behind, he could be confused. Dick’s not far off either. And best of all,” he added while the others did quick visual comparisons, decidedly smug, “we hint that Bruce is thinking of accepting Danny as an intern. Step one of Wayne Adoption.”

Sam’s eyes lit up with evil glee.

“Oh he’d do his fucking nut if you cozied up to someone richer than him, Danny,” she gasped, hands bouncing on her lap.

Danny hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Jason. Who was looking back, gears clearly turning. Seeing that he had Danny’s eye, he leaned in quickly.

“Vlad Masters would be Vlad Plasmius, yes?” He asked in a low voice. He’d scanned the database more than read in detail, but he knew the basics.

One very important basic.

Vlad was the other halfa.

And Vlad could sense other halfas. For a hot second Danny very nearly took off out of the room, ready to go find and kick Vlad’s ass and keep him far, far away from Jason.

He didn’t realise he’d clenched his fists until one of them was held in a large, hot hand. Slowly, shakily he uncurled them, checking for blood in the deep half moon crevices now dug in his palms.

Nothing. He was fine.

“Danny?” Jason asked softly, and Danny looked up to his face. There was something in his eyes, something familiar in the way they flashed a deep, sudden green when their eyes met.

Yeah, Jason’s Obsession was fucking definitely Protection, at least in part. Danny clasped his hand quickly, half worried Jason was gonna do just what he’d had to try so hard not to.

Would it have been that bad if Jason was just his friend, not his knight?

There was no way to know anymore.

Covering Jason’s hands in both of his, he gave Jason the best smile he could.

“I’m fine. But yeah, that’s him. And we… should probably also have a private word.” Because there was this sudden, very nasty little temptation curling through him.

“Would this private word have anything to do with Jason almost going full feral?” Dick asked with a studied innocence that had at least a master’s degree.

Which was when Danny noticed that the rest were all staring at them. At their clasped hands. At Jason’s still a little too green eyes.

**

Jason grimaced, fully aware of what they must have seen. He tamped the green down firmly, pushing against the wave of protect-protect-PROTECT the pit was damn near screaming inside him.

Wasn’t entirely sure it was only the pit.

Watching Danny tense up like that, clearly in the throes of fight or flight, pulled at something primal inside him.

Jason didn’t know who Vlad Masters was, what he looked like, what he was doing, but he was fully willing to throw him out of the building by the neck if Danny would relax even a little.

He threatens my king, something growled in the back of his mind and Jason’s hands jerked.

That was fucking new. And not fucking welcome.

He looked to Dick instead, giving him a strained smile. It was the best he could do right now.

“Yeah,” he admitted, not fully comfortable with how strained his voice sounded. How tight his throat felt.

Had the pit tried to use his mouth? Make him speak?

Just the thought made him want to puke, but he pushed that down too. He had shit to do today, and the pit wasn’t gonna ruin it.

“I told you he was helping me with the pit,” he added when Dick still looked calculatedly calm. Definitely not about to tackle him to the ground if he moved too suddenly.

Fuck Jason hoped Dick never tried. When they fought for fun, for training, sure Dick could hand him his ass six ways from Sunday. But when the green took over…

He didn’t want to hurt his brother. None of his brothers, ever again.

Except maybe a little bit psychologically.

“Fenton’s eyes changed too,” Damian said sharply, and oooh absolutely nothing in Jason liked that accusatory tone.

Not about Danny. Not about his king.

His head snapped around to glare at the youngest and knew his eyes had gone green again from the way the others recoiled. All but Sam and Danny. And Damian himself, suicidal little gremlin.

All but Cass, who slipped herself carefully but immovably back into his lap, hooking her feet into the backs of his knees and hands on his cheeks. Pinning him in place.

Making him look at her, not Damian.

She studied his expression intensely, her eyes saying more than even Dick could manage.

And there was a hand in his again, gently soothing across his fingers until his knuckles opened, and Cass let him look away to Danny. Doing just what Jason had done less than a minute ago.

Danny didn’t have to tell his secrets to anyone he didn’t want to. Not now, not the first time they met, not before he trusted them.

Anger-protect-not their business

And Danny smiled back, all gentle and soft, and Jason settled back, relaxing muscles he hadn’t noticed tensing.

Reassurance-calm-safe safe safe-trust

If Jason trusted them, Danny would too. And if that didn’t sting something right in his chest.

Danny cleared his throat, turning back to the rest of the room and giving them a slightly tighter smile.

“Yeah. I. Uh… I was exposed to the Lazarus pits? About a year before Jason was. So I know what it’s like when it gets too strong.”

Half truths at best, but close enough to be believed. To make sense.

Close enough that no one except Damian, tactless boy wonder, would ever ask.

“Only the dying can survive exposure to the pits,” the boy snapped, eyes sharp as he studied Danny in a new light.

Jason’s hands nearly clenched again, but this time Danny’s was in the way. Protecting Danny meant not crushing Danny’s hand.

Good loophole.

“The dying and the dead,” Danny agreed placidly, calm just barely tinted by amusement.

Jason closed his eyes, let himself focus on breathing in Danny’s aura.

Was that a hint of trouble-fun-plans plans mayhem?

Damian squinted at Danny for another long moment, then nodded sharply and sat back. Steph punched him.

“Damian, you can’t just go asking people if they’ve died,” she hissed in a comically loud whisper.

“It was relevant to the conversation!” Damian insisted, immediately sitting back up to defend his honour. Steph tweaked his nose and he properly growled, gearing up to tackle her.

“It was rude, Baby Bat,” Dick coaxed gently, coming from the windowsill to the couch to scoop Damian into his arms.

The only one of them who could have done it and survived. Damian glowered up at him too, then folded his arms and scowled at the floor.

Dire retributions would surely be incoming.

“Hey, it’s cool,” Danny caused, grinning along with the others now that the tension had broken. “He just wanted to know I’m not gonna hurt Jason, right?”

All eyes turned back to Damian, who squinted suspiciously at Danny again. Jason was ready for the flare of protectiveness this time.

Danny was fine. He could handle the demon brat, even if Dick didn’t have him in hand already.

Jason didn’t want to hurt his brother.

Which caused a different, confusing flare of protectiveness because what he needed to protect Damian from was himself, and the self same flares.

He stifled a chuckle that would probably only make things worse.

Finally Damian huffed, turning away into Dick’s arms.

“Tt. Ridiculous. I only wished to be sure you spoke the truth,” he snapped, and the room resettled.

Danny raised both hands, grinning, and Cass shuffled to rest her ear over Jason’s heart.

“Okay?” She asked softly, moving her feet from his pressure points. Jason brought his other arm up and around her, squeezing gently.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” he replied just as quietly, resting his cheek in her hair.

“Well, this does also kinda simplify things,” Danny added with a chuckle, leaning back against the couch. “I can just tell all of you; Vlad’s also been ecto…. Pit contaminated. And we can sense each other, so he’s going to know Jason is too.”

That geared the bats back up, all turning back to stare at Danny. Who grinned utterly wickedly.

“So Vladdie gets to be on the rare and extremely valued double fuckery list.”

“Is he gonna try and do anything to Jason?” Steph asked sharply, posture tensing towards the door like it might open at any second.

Tucker shrugged, moving back to lean against the couch next to Danny’s legs. He’d wisely made himself scarce when there was a chance either halfa would make a break for it.

“Like Danny said, Vlad probably won’t try anything if he knows we’re around? He can’t do his mind control on Danny so he’s gotta keep it in his pants, even if he’d rather not.”

Sam brightened, catching on to where the boys were going.

“But because Vlad is like… Obsessed with Danny for being like him, there’s a chance he’ll wanna try and adopt Jason too,” she said slowly, her smile becoming full and wicked.

“And since we’re already planning to have me and Jason caught in some indelicate way to upset the Mansons,” Danny added, utterly self satisfied, “we can fry his brain thinking he can only adopt one of us.”

“And that’s after we make him play Find The Real Danny,” Tucker jumped in, grinning broadly, “because it’s not specific enough to track a single person in a busy room. Do you guys do accents?”

Tim and Dick exchanged glances and shrugged.

“Yours wouldn’t be hard,” Tim pointed out, a smirk pulling across his own face as he nodded to Danny.

“I’d like to know why we’re also fucking with the Mansons though?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam. Who shrugged.

“They refused to let me bring my girlfriend as a plus one. So we’re gonna ruin me for men and make them think twice next time.”

“Wait, so you’re not dating Danny?” Steph asked, proving she had been hovering during their little meet and greet.

None of the Amity Parkers seemed surprised. Not by her listening in, anyway.

Danny flushed cherry red, Tucker burst out laughing, and Sam smirked.

“Not since high school,” she said casually. Danny groped around for a throwable pillow but came up short.

For some reason, Jason felt absolutely no need to protect his king from some righteous bullying. Another fun loophole.

Must be the lack of potential stabbing.

Dick grinned suddenly, now leaning on the other arm of the couch from Tim.

“Okay, but we definitely don’t tell this part to Bruce,” he said eagerly, beckoning all the others closer. “If Jason’s job is to flirt with Sam and defile Danny, we were also here to meet Danny as Jason’s friend.”

“Let Bruce think Danny’s leading you both on!” Steph finished, clapping her hands and cackling. “Oh it’s perfect!”

Sam cackled along with her, turning a much warmer smile on the other girl.

“Oh, my parents would love to trash talk Danny to him too, they’ve probably already hurried off to let him know I’m “eligible”,” she agreed with the most sarcastic air quotes Jason had ever seen.

Steph lurched immediately to her feet.

“We’re gonna miss it! Okay, so our first task is to make sure Vlad knows Danny is here, right? So he knows not to try anything on Bruce,” she added to confirm, looking between the Amity Parkers.

Danny frowned thoughtfully, touching his lower lip. Jason tried not to focus on it.

“He should know as soon as we get within proximity of each other… so probably once we’re both in the big room?”

Tim nodded, rising along with Steph, the fire of planning in his eyes.

“Sam and Jason need to be seen to be flirting, but Danny doesn’t have to be with them. Dick and I can wander through the crowd, keeping an eye out for Masters but keeping our faces turned away. Cass, can you help with that?”

Cass nodded, sitting straighter and resting her head on Jason’s shoulder instead.

“Yes. Can be Dick’s eyes, signal you both.”

Tim nodded, turning to point to Damian.

“And if you can get as close to Masters as you can, you can signal us too if he gets too close to Bruce or us.”

Damian nodded, all ruffled feathers smoothing as he straightened his suit.

“I shall watch him for any suspicious moves. I can also run interference if he approaches Father.”

Steph nodded happily and clapped her hands, pointing both at Tucker.

“And you can join me in spying on the Mansons and recording them if they talk to Bruce, for the rest of us to enjoy later!” She declared triumphantly.

Tucker shot to his feet, grinning broadly.

“Yeah! And if they catch us we can tell them Jason and Sam are doing something, or ask if they’ve seen Danny,” he agreed, bouncing on his toes. He stuck a hand out in front of him. “Ready?”

Steph slapped her palm down on the back of his hand.

“Ready!”

The room now filled with purpose, everyone came to join Tucker, sticking their hands in in a circle, even as Damian complained about “ridiculous social rituals”.

No one else seemed to mind, tossing their hands into the air as they all whispered “BREAK!”, not wanting to be heard from the hallway.

As the room emptied, Danny hung back, catching Jason’s eye.

“So I know you’re probably not ready to talk about this,” he said softly as Sam lingered in the doorway, her back conspicuously to them, “but I just need to ask you if there was electricity involved when you died.”

Jason felt his whole body tense, less than pleasant memories rushing to the fore. Broken bones. A blade in his leg. Explosion.

No electricity.

He could see the strain on Danny’s face as his mind cleared, and shook his head.

“No. Why?” He asked warily, suddenly very concerned.

Danny made a face that did precisely nothing to lessen it, looking away.

“Because there was when I died, and Vlad knows it. And he… he can control electricity. But you’ll be fine, well, other than the usual “oh no a bad guy is shooting me with electricity”, right?”

Danny was babbling now, clearly trying to distract himself, but all Jason could see was pure, pulsing green. Before he knew he’d moved he had an arm wrapped firmly around slender shoulders, crushing Danny to his chest.

He didn’t need to be told that reminders of a ghost’s death wounds could be debilitating. He’d have known without the data. Without the catch in Danny’s voice.

“If he ever lays a fucking finger on you again I’ll fucking kill him,” he growled, his voice coming out almost as low as his helmet modulator.

Danny stiffened for just a moment in his grasp, then relaxed against him.

“I mean, I can handle myself,” he protested weakly, voice somewhat muffled in Jason’s jacket, “but I’m not gonna fight you on that one, Jay.”

It soothed something inside him, something hot in the center of his chest that burned at just the thought of anyone hurting the man in his arms.

Attacking him. Using the pain and trauma of his death against him. Attacking his king.

A gentle hand soothed up and down his spine.

Safe-protected-I’m okay-safe

It took a minute before Jason could bring himself to let go, smiling sheepishly down at Danny.

“Sorry. Guess I’m… uh, not used to dealing with anything other than rage from the pit,” he explained weakly.

It felt stupid, comparing something as soft as the urge to protect to those bloodthirsty rampages. That didn’t make it any less true.

Danny shrugged, rolling out his shoulders and grinning up at him.

“Hey, like I said. Shoulda seen me when I first changed. Anyway, shall we go make Vlad’s night a living hell?” He asked wickedly, a cheeky smile on his face.

Jason nodded and made for the door, giving Sam a small smile of appreciation. She looked between the two of them and snickered.

“Yeah, rumpling you both up in a closet’s gonna be easy breezy,” she said lazily, pushing the door open again. “You should trade ties.”

Danny’s hand flew to his throat and he chuckled softly, then shook both of his hands out.

“Okay… time to go make sure Vladdie knows I’m around,” he sighed, cracking his neck. Like he was limbering up for a fight?

Jason cocked a brow, taking Sam’s arm.

“What are you gonna do?” He asked as they moved out into the hall, back towards the ballroom.

Danny shot him a quick grin.

“Expand my aura to cover the whole room. He’ll know I’m flexing, and he won’t be able to miss it. Should help confuse him about Tim and Dick too, since the whole place is gonna feel like me,” he added, and Jason grinned.

Alright, that was gonna be a useful trick. Time to see that famous Ghost King aura put to the test.

He wasn’t really expecting to feel a change really. He was close enough that Danny’s aura was still brushing gently over his, soothing the pit that he was right there.

Ready and close if Jason needed to protect him.

And then Danny’s brows furrowed for a moment, he flexed his shoulders back, and Jason was surrounded in pulsing waves of DANNY-DANNY-DANNY.

He didn’t know he’d stumbled until Sam caught him, her hand small on his chest right over the thudding pulse of his heart.

He barely felt it. All he could see, all he could hear, all he could feel was the raw power surging out of the man beside him.

Feeling Frostbite in the Far Frozen had been overwhelming. This… this rewrote the beat of his heart, crawled with his breath into his lungs, curled around every deep and intimate part of himself.

Everything was right in the world. His King was here. The pit fucking sang in his veins.

Aaaand Jason hadn’t been this hard in dress pants since he’d been an excitable teenager who couldn’t help it. Eyes closing, he swayed back against the hallway wall.

He could just barely feel Sam’s hand still on his chest, a grounding point as he sucked in deep breaths. Heard her snicker as the ringing in his ears began to die down.

“You’re getting better at that, Danny,” she noted, and Jason hissed.

This could have been worse? More? How?

And then Danny’s hand was at his shoulder too and he didn’t need to open his eyes to know it. Knew the touch, the feel, the way the pit surged warmth to the spot.

Heard Danny’s soft voice as though it were being broadcast straight into his head.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked quietly, and Jason honestly wasn’t sure.

Think about Bruce’s old underwear commercials. Jane Austen novels. Alfred’s expression if Jason ruined his good pants this fucking early into a party.

Later, maybe, it’d give a flare of authenticity but Danny almost certainly wouldn’t be down.

Danny. There was someone here who wanted to hurt Danny.

Jason’s eyes snapped open and he sucked in another deep breath. It was still redolent of Danny’s aura, still cupping him on every side, but he had a purpose now. A job to do.

He managed a slightly strained smile.

“‘M fine. It’s just a shock.” He cleared his throat, reaching down to tug at the front of his trousers as subtly as he could. “Is, uh… is it always like that?”

Danny looked confused for a moment, still concerned, but it was easier to miss the pulsing beat of his emotions now. Easier to focus.

He’d protect Danny’s feelings too, but he couldn’t do that if he was overwhelmed.

Finally Danny shrugged, glancing out towards the ballroom.

“I wouldn’t know… it doesn’t feel all that different to me. Just like everyone in the room is now inside my personal space,” he added, pulling a face.

Jason stared at him for a long moment, wondering how the hell he was going to ask. If he even wanted to mention the effects it had had - was still having, cleaning guns, Alfred in lace, Vlad was still here.

Nope.

Just. Nope. Not opening that can of worms today.

If Danny didn’t know that just feeling him all around him like that was gonna send Jason to horny jail, Jason was just never gonna tell him. And if Vlad had an even similar reaction, Jason would double kick his ass.

Hauling himself away from the wall, Jason cleared his throat again and fixed his jacket.

“Alright… I’m good. Shall we?” He asked Sam, offering her his arm this time. She gave him a quick up and down, raised a brow, but didn’t comment.

“Sure you are,” she chuckled softly, taking his arm with a reluctant half smile, turning back to Danny. “Are you gonna stick close, or do you wanna recon Vlad?”

Danny considered it for a moment, moving with them as they returned to the hall. Then he shrugged.

“I might go take a peek, but if I see your parents I’ll third wheel back on over. You guys should go mosey,” he added, waving a hand quickly.

Jason nodded, tucking Sam closer, turned back to the room, and… froze. Sam, utterly unaffected, made it a couple steps forward before she noticed and turned back, frowning.

“Hey, what’s up?” She asked in a low whisper, eyes flicking around them.

Good fucking question.

Jason closed his eyes, sucking in a slow breath and trying to work out what had shot down his spine like cold water. Brows furrowed, he tried to will his feet to move.

Took a step backwards and opened his eyes again, frowning back at Sam.

“Alright, I didn’t mean to do that,” he hissed, head turning automatically… to where Danny had taken a couple of steps away.

Green surged below his skin, asking what the fuck he thought he was doing. Abandoning his post. Leaving his king.

There was someone here who’d hurt him, who’d used his fucking death against him, and Jason was gonna what? Not be close enough to break his fingers for thinking it?

Eyes closed for a moment, Jason weighed the odds he could just push this down and keep going. Felt Sam tuck closer. They did have a whole ass plan…

Felt a sudden wash of concern-what’s wrong-protect from the surrounding warmth of Danny.

And sighed, shaking his head, pulling Sam with him after Danny. With each step the green sung, a deep satisfaction not his own rising inside.

He gave Danny a sheepish smile and a shrug.

“I don’t think I can leave you alone. Not if he’s here,” he added a little more quietly, well aware they were being watched once again.

Confusion flashed across Danny’s face for a moment, then he groaned and slapped himself in the forehead.

“Fucking Clockwork… alright, we stick together. Tim and Dick will have plenty of fun with Vlad anyway,” he said, grin slowly spreading again as he tucked himself in to Sam’s other side.

“And we can have more fun with my parents,” Sam pointed out innocently, scanning the crowd around them. Shot them both a sidelong glance each, half smirking. “And I get two lots of cute arm candy.”

Danny and Jason turned automatically to look each other over, Jason’s grin broadening as Danny’s cheeks flushed.

Dick had said he looked a treat in this suit. Must have been right about something.

Suddenly Danny’s aura was all very studious and concentrated nothing to see here.

Jason bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing, letting his eyes trail a little slower over his king’s frame.

Wherever Danny had gotten his suit from, they knew a thing or two about tailoring. It fit him well, emphasising the lean lines of his legs and torso. Didn’t quite square off his shoulders.

Jason still hadn’t had much practice with projecting his own emotions back, but he had the feeling his… appreciation got through when Danny’s blush darkened.

Grinning down at Sam, Jason patted her hand.

“Only if my code name’s Gummy Bear.”

A startled laugh from Danny was the reaction he’d been going for. Sam’s sudden, utterly wicked smile was a lot more concerning.

“Alright. Danny’s is gonna be Jawbreaker,” she decided, her gaze darting briefly down to Jason’s lips as she smirked.

Jason looked away quickly, his own cheeks uncomfortably warm as Danny choked.

———————

Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog1 @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic

[shion-yu]

A Safe Place (part 2) [day 7]

Cliff’s cough turns into something more serious. For @monthofsick Day 7 “Too feverish to think” and my @badthingshappenbingo space “Delirium”. Wasn’t expecting this to be more than 2 parts but the boys had other plans! 3,385 words, original work, TWs emeto, references to parental homophobia/abuse. [Part 1]

The night Cliff showed up soaked and feverish on the doorstep of Elliot’s family home, Elliot held him and stayed awake until dawn. Cliff was asleep, his overly warm body in Elliot’s arms. Elliot, on the other hand, was wide awake. He was disturbed by Cliff’s sudden appearance and the shape his boyfriend was in. He didn’t know what happened or how to deal with this. He was nineteen and usually he felt like that made him an adult, but right now all he wanted was to go wake his parents up for help. Of course he wasn’t going to turn Cliff away - he’d protect Cliff however he could - but the lack of context was maddening.

At seven, Elliot’s alarm for work went off. He left Cliff asleep in his bed and crept downstairs where he usually ate breakfast with his mom and dad before heading to work at his dad’s auto shop for the day. It was Saturday, so they were only open in the morning. Elliot never missed a day of work and was extremely reliable, but knew today he’d have to let his dad down - but first he had to tell his parents what happened. His dad was already working on one of the plates of toast on the table and his mom was packing the two of them lunch.

“Good morning honey,” his mom, Rachel said. His dad Giovanni nodded at him around a sip of orange juice. Elliot swallowed nervously, hovering awkwardly instead of sitting down.

“I need to tell you guys something and I hope you’re not too mad,” he said. His parents’ faces immediately grew serious and Rachel wiped her hands off and sat at the table. They looked at him expectantly. Elliot took a deep breath. “You know my boyfriend Cliff? Well... last night, he showed up at our door. He was soaking wet and didn’t have anything with him and I don’t know what happened, but... he’s in my bedroom.”

“You boyfriend’s here? In this house?” Giovanni repeated incredulously. Elliot nodded.

“Is he okay?” Rachel asked.

Elliot shook his head. “I don’t know. I think not really. He has a fever and his breathing sounds bad. I know I should’ve told you last night but it was like three in the morning and, I don’t know. I should’ve come to get you. But I’m really worried about him.”

Rachel just nodded, and Elliot felt a rush of relief that neither parent seemed like they were about to lecture him. At least not yet. “It sounds like he’s sick,” she said, “I’ll go take a look at him.”

“Please,” Elliot said. His mom was a nurse, but more importantly she was a mom and he didn’t know what to do in this situation all by himself. “And um, I’m sorry dad but I don’t think I can come to work today.”

Giovanni stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Do what you need to do today, alright kiddo?” Elliot gave him a quick side hug and hurried upstairs with his mom. Cliff was right where Elliot had left him, huddled under several blankets and his noisy breathing audible from the moment they stepped closer.

Elliot crouched in front of the bed and shook Cliff’s shoulder. “Cliffy? Wake up. I want my mom to take a look at you.” Cliff felt even hotter under Elliot’s hand than before, causing a pang of panic to run through Elliot’s body.

Cliff blinked awake sleepily, calm until he noticed Elliot’s mom in the room. Then his face turned to one of fear and he shook his head no, pushing away from Elliot as if the other side of the bed provided far more distance than it did. “No no, Cliff, it’s okay. She’s really nice. I know you don’t like being touched by other people but I think you’re really sick. Please let her look at you. For me?”

It took a few long seconds, but Cliff eventually acquiesced and pushed himself into a sitting position. His arms were shaking with effort and Elliot wrapped an arm around him so he could lean for support. Rachel gave Cliff a gentle smile and sat on the edge of the bed. “Hi Cliff, I’m Rachel,” she said in what Elliot knew to be her nurse voice. “Elliot’s told me so much about you. I’m really glad to meet you. You don’t look like you feel too good though right now, do you?”

Cliff didn’t confirm or deny, but clutched onto Elliot’s hand tightly. Rachel grabbed the thermometer from where Elliot had left it on the bedside table last night and held it up to Cliff. “Under your tongue please,” she said. Cliff obeyed. Elliot could feel him trembling. He watched as the number kept going up until it beeped and settled on a glowing 102.7. Rachel frowned and said, “I think we need to go to the doctor.”

It was as if something in Cliff snapped and his grip on Elliot became painfully tight. “No, no, no hospital,” he said. “I-I can’t go to the hospital. My dad - my dad’ll be mad. Please don’t make me.”

Elliot’s heart broke for Cliff. He knew Cliff’s parents weren’t very nice people, but this reaction seemed extreme. He remembered how Cliff had begged him not to go to the hospital when he had the flu, too. Rachel had a similar pitying expression on her face. “Cliff, honey, we need to make sure you’re okay. We can go to urgent care though, alright?”

Cliff settled down a little, but he still looked afraid. “Hear that Cliffy? Just urgent care. It’ll be super fast and your dad will never know.” It took several seconds, but finally Cliff nodded.

“You boys get ready to go and meet me downstairs,” Rachel told him, leaving them in the bedroom alone. Elliot sighed.

“Cliff... What happened?” He asked. It still felt the wrong time to question his boyfriend, but he felt like he needed to know before this went any further. This felt serious and he couldn’t keep running on speculation. He also doubted that Cliff would tell any doctor the whole story.

Cliff looked at him with exhausted, watery eyes. "I came out to my mom,” he said hoarsely. “It didn't go well."

"Did she hit you?" Elliot asked, feeling like his heart was in his throat. "Did she kick you out?"

"No," Cliff said quietly.

"Then why, in the middle of the night, in the rain...?"

Cliff shrugged. "I just had to get out of there," he said simply. "And I really needed you."

Elliot wanted to know more. He wanted to push Cliff to keep talking. But Cliff seemed so delicate and they really did need to get him to a doctor, so Elliot let it drop for now. “Well, you’ve got me baby. Let’s get you looked at and then we’ll be right back here in bed, okay?”

Getting Cliff to urgent care was like leading a child. He was sluggish and acted a little confused, which scared Elliot. His mom drove while Cliff laid in the backseat with his head in Elliot’s lap. Elliot helped him into the waiting room and then checked him in. The wait was thankfully not too bad, something Elliot was exceedingly grateful for as he listened to Cliff’s breathing become more labored. He had a cough that sounded wheezy and painful, and the secretary waved a mask at Elliot until Rachel grabbed it and helped Cliff put it on.

Cliff sat on the exam table once they were led to a room and had his vitals taken by a nurse. His temperature was 102.9 now and he was shivering. Elliot climbed onto the table next to him and let Cliff rest against him until the doctor came in. Cliff predictably clammed up when the doctor started asking questions, so Elliot explained that Cliff had spent the night in the rain and had asthma. The doctor listened to Cliff’s lungs and ordered a chest x-ray. “You said his temperature was low last night? Rebound hyperthermia can usually cause a fever afterwards, but a cough like this wouldn’t have shown up overnight. How long have you been sick, Cliff?”

“A while,” was the near whispered answer. Elliot squeezed Cliff’s forearm, urging him to elaborate. “Maybe three weeks.” Elliot felt his stomach drop. Cliff had been coughing for three weeks and his parents hadn’t said anything? His dad was a doctor for goodness sake.

The chest x-ray didn’t show pneumonia, the doctor said, but Cliff had definite bronchitis and needed to rest. He was prescribed a 4mg prednisone taper pack and a new inhaler, and then they were allowed to head home. By the time Rachel parked the car back at the house, Cliff’s face was a pasty white with a tinge of green. He stood up, then sat back down. "Dizzy?" Elliot asked. Cliff nodded minutely. "Okay. Just hold on to me and we'll walk really slow." Elliot supported Cliff into the house, wishing urgent care had given Cliff something for the fever while they were there.

It felt like a long way all the way back up to the second floor, but Elliot got Cliff into bed and tucked in before going to get some fresh water and something to eat for himself. His mom was waiting in the kitchen and said, “Okay, let’s talk honey. What’s going on here?”

“Honestly, I don’t know that much,” Elliot said tiredly, sitting at the table heavily. The half-night’s sleep and worry was getting to him. “Cliff said he came out to his mom and it didn’t go well and... I think they were abusive growing up. He’s really scared of them.”

Rachel looked sad and gave Elliot a hug. “Well, it seems like he trusts you more than anyone. Just let us know what we can do and we’ll do it,” she said. “He can stay here until school starts and then you guys can go back together.” Elliot hugged her back, so grateful that he had the parents he had and not Cliff’s.

“Thanks mom,” he said, unable to help tears from filling his eyes. School would start in two weeks. It wasn’t that long.

Elliot ate his now cold toast from earlier and then went back upstairs, expecting to find Cliff in bed. Instead he followed the sound of retching into the bathroom, where he found Cliff kneeling over the toilet seat throwing up quite violently. Elliot winced, glad he hadn’t given Cliff his steroid from the doctor yet. “Oh Cliff,” he sighed sadly, sitting next to him and rubbing Cliff’s back.

“This is gross, go away,” Cliff groaned, weakly trying to shrug him off. Another wave of vomit caused him to launch back over the toilet seat.

“It’s fine,” Elliot said. “You sat with me when I threw up, remember?”

“That was different, we were drunk,” Cliff managed to choke out. He coughed into the bowl, the water making the sound echo a little. He slumped forward, resting his forehead on the edge of the toilet miserably. “Everything’s spinning.”

Elliot wet a washcloth and rubbed it against Cliff’s hot, sweaty neck. Cliff shivered. “I’m right here,” Elliot said evenly. “Take your time.”

It was about five more minutes of Cliff intermittently gagging until Elliot was sure he had nothing left in him and pulled Cliff into his lap. He wiped the rest of Cliff’s face off, and his hands which had some of the puke on them. “Bed?”

“Don’t wanna throw up on you,” Cliff mumbled.

“There’s a trash can. You need to lie down and take your meds.” Elliot helped Cliff stand up, which proved to require some core strength with how heavily Cliff leant on him. They hobbled back to Elliot’s bedroom where Cliff collapsed onto the mattress, panting heavily. Elliot popped out the first doses of prednisone and two Tylenol into his hand and held them out to Cliff. “You’re supposed to eat with these...” He said, “Do you think you can - no, didn’t think so,” he didn’t finish the question when Cliff interrupted him with a loud whimper. “Okay, let’s just hope for the best.”

Cliff took the pills and his new inhaler, mumbling a weak, “Thanks.”

Elliot climbed into bed next to him and spooned Cliff protectively. “Thank you for going to the doctor,” he said. “Now you can rest.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Elliot had never heard someone cough the way Cliff had been coughing and he was extremely worried. In the week since Cliff had shown up unannounced, he’d been weak but after that first full weekend in bed his fever broke and he seemed a little better. He had been eating again and had become less painfully shy with Elliot’s parents. Elliot went to work with his dad the following week and Cliff seemed sick, but well enough to insist on helping out with the chores around the house. Rachel said he was a very good assistant.

Cliff told Elliot a bit about his internship this summer and one afternoon they even drove to get Cliff’s college stuff from his parents’ house at a time when Cliff was sure nobody would be home. There was no incident doing this and Cliff seemed like he was on the mend. It seemed as if their final week of summer vacation was going to be actually spent together having a little fun. Elliot’s father planned to release him from work for the season so he could spend the last week before school started getting ready and relaxing a bit. Elliot thought about all his favorite places that maybe he could bring Cliff, like his favorite state park.

That cough just wouldn’t go away though, especially at night. By the end of the week, Cliff's cough had grown much deeper and he seemed like he was in pain every time he did so. It was just the cough and a low grade fever though, so Elliot still hoped it would go away. That hope was shattered when he came home after work on Saturday at noon to find his boyfriend sitting up in bed, struggling to breathe. Cliff was clutching a fist to his chest and his face was contorted in pain. When he looked up at Elliot his eyes were glassy and unseeing.

“Cliff!” Elliot exclaimed in shock. Cliff had seemed mostly fine when he’d left this morning, what had changed? He pressed a hand to Cliff’s forehead and was able to feel a searing heat in the second before Cliff jerked away from him.

“Don’t touch me,” Cliff gasped. He looked angry, and Elliot felt hurt until Cliff added, “I’ll be good, I can go to school. Don’t call dad.”

“Cliffy, it’s me, Elliot,” Elliot said slowly, climbing onto the bed and holding his hands up when Cliff shuddered away from him. “Your mom and dad aren’t here. It’s just us.”

Cliff looked at Elliot suspiciously, his breathing labored. Elliot could hear that asthmatic wheeze back in his breath, but worse than that a deep, hollowed out noise underneath. “It’s just us,” Elliot repeated. “I promised you I’d never put my hands on you to hurt you, remember?”

It took a while, but finally Cliff nodded hesitantly, like he couldn’t quite trust that memory was real. “I don’t wanna go to school,” he mumbled. “M’tired.”

“Okay, that’s okay, no school,” Elliot reassured him. “Can we take your temperature?” Elliot slid the small instrument under Cliff’s tongue waiting anxiously for a reading. 103.2. Shit. Cliff had barely had a fever the past few days, mostly just a low one at night. Now it was noon and it was higher than ever. This didn’t seem right. Cliff whimpered in pain and wrapped his arms around himself. “What hurts?” Elliot asked.

“Chest,” Cliff said. It made a chill go down Elliot’s body. That was it. There was no begging it off this time, Cliff needed to go to the hospital. The question was how to get him there, because Elliot knew the second the word hospital was mentioned that Cliff would freak out. He racked his brain for a solution. They were the only ones home right now.

Cliff shivered and coughed that horrible deep cough that made Elliot’s stomach twist in pain. He knew Cliff might never trust him again if he did this, but he felt like he had no other choice. Cliff really needed help and he didn’t think urgent care was going to cut it this time. He made his decision. “Alright Cliff, my sweet guy,” he said. “I know you don't feel so good but we gotta go out for a bit.”

“Huh? Where?” Cliff asked suspiciously.

Elliot tried to keep an innocent expression. “Just out. Just for a bit. I need you with me though, can you do that for me?”

Elliot held his breath waiting for Cliff to answer, but finally Cliff nodded and said, “For you.” Elliot pushed down the guilt he was feeling and forced a smile at Cliff.

“You're the best,” Elliot forced himself to say with fake cheer. He coaxed Cliff into the car and drove well over the speed limit to the emergency room. He kept one eye on Cliff, anxious to get someone with medical knowledge to listen to that horrible cough that left Cliff gasping. Cliff seemed too out of it to notice when they pulled into the ER parking lot and Elliot took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable fight Cliff would eventually put up.

“Cliff?”

“Hmm?” Cliff's eyes were closed, his face disturbingly pale and his chest heaving with the work of breathing. Elliot grit his teeth and forced himself to be truthful.

“We're at the hospital. I need you to get seen by a doctor.” Cliff’s eyes opened and immediately Elliot could see a mix of pain, fear and betrayal. He felt like the worst boyfriend in the world right now.

“You said we weren't going to the hospital,” Cliff’s voice wobbled. His eyes blurred with tears. “No way, I’m walking home,” he said.

Elliot, knowing Cliff had literally made his way here all the way from Newark last week, was afraid he actually would and grabbed Cliff's wrist. “Baby, please, listen to me. Cliff. You're so sick. I don't know what to do. Just let a doctor see you, we're not even in the city, your dad won't know.”

“He’ll figure it out,” Cliff said desperately, attempting to tug his arm away but Elliot didn't let go. Cliff was too weak to shake him off. “All I do is cause problems for them. I can’t.”

Elliot leaned forward so he was as close to Cliff as possible, his expression and tone begging. “Please Cliff. I’m going to protect you, but just come in with me. I’m scared. For me, please? If nothing else, for me?”

Elliot didn't think it was going to work. He physically slumped in relief when Cliff stopped pulling away and said, “Okay. For you, just this once.”

“Thank you,” Elliot gushed earnestly, squeezing Cliff's hand. “I love you, Cliff.”

“I love you too,” Cliff said, looking at Elliot with watery, exhausted eyes.

Elliot blinked in surprise. He wasn't expecting the first I Love You to come right now, or anywhere close to right now when he had just tricked and then pressured Cliff into going to the one place he was most afraid of. “You do?” He said, his voice high pitched.

Cliff nodded. “I do,” he said hoarsely. He was mostly looking at his lap but gave Elliot a sideways glance.

“Oh,” Elliot said. “Thanks, Cliff.” He wasn't sure what else to say, but Cliff looked embarrassed and was definitely clamming up, so he added, “That makes me happy. And I'm really grateful you trust me enough to get checked out. I’ll be right there the whole time.”

“Okay,” Cliff said. Another harsh coughing fit overtook him that lasted so long that by the end of it, tears were streaming down his face. He breathed sharply through his nose, trying to catch his breath. “Can't breathe, El.”

“I know. That's why we're here baby,” Elliot said worriedly. “Let's go in now.”

“Promise you won’t leave me?”

“I promise,” Elliot swore. “I’ve got you, Cliff.”

[Part 3]

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

More Precious Than Rubies: Part 4a

This is an alternate timeline story that has a Rafael Barba track and a Sonny Carisi track. The two paths split off in part 3.

WC: 4229

TW: SVU-typical talk of rape and sexual assault cases; idiots in love.

AN: The prompt was "Everything will fall into place."

The day had started great.  Barba had a grand jury return an indictment on a difficult test case, and the week only looked to get better as it progressed.

He left the courthouse and paused at the top of the steps.  He squinted against the bright May sunshine, slid his sunglasses on, and took in the scene around him.  There was something about the springtime that lifted the relative drear of his life.  The trees in Thomas Payne Park were in bloom, a gentle wind was curving through the columns of the courthouse.  Spring was a season of possibilities.

He started down the steps when he felt someone come up behind him.  He heard a familiar voice call out, without social niceties or preamble, “we need to talk about the Forni case.”

He turned in time to see you fall in step beside him.  He glanced you over as you both descended the steps and paused at the bottom to face each other. 

Your usual pencil skirts usually hit precisely at the knee, but the navy blue one you wore now hit an inch or two higher, showing off your shapely legs.  He was glad for his sunglasses hiding his eyes, but you smirked at him anyway.

“Nothing to talk about, counselor,” he replied.  “We couldn’t reach a deal, so I’ll see you in court.”

Your smirk transformed into a wide grin.  You reached into your satchel and pulled out a folded paper that you handed to him.  He went to take it, and you held it for a beat, making him tug it out of your grasp as you smiled at him. 

“Ah, but you won’t see me in court,” you said.  “I got Forni shifted to family court.  I’ll be seeing a one Ms. Pippa Cox instead.”

Barba opened the paper and scanned it in disbelief.  “How…what…?” he sputtered.

If your smile got any wider, it’d split your face in half.  “Turns out Judge Barth is open to certain studies that show how racial disparities affect minority communities when it comes to underaged people being tried as adults.  She agreed that the case belonged in family court.  I’m off to see Cox now to talk about a reasonable deal that serves justice without vengeance.”

He crumpled the paper in his fist and glared at you, and you only gave him a light laugh.  You waved your hands in front of him like you were doing a magic trick.  “Poof, there goes your case,” you declared.  “The Amazing Girl Wonder does it again.”

You walked away, and he watched you go, trying to ignore the way your skirt strained a bit around your ass and how your legs looked in your heels.  He gritted his teeth and felt a migraine start up in his left temple.  McCoy was going to hate this, and Liv would probably have something smart to say too.

-----

He heard that you and Cox hammered out a deal that got Anthony Forni into a juvenile treatment facility.  Less than a month into him serving his sentence, certain crimes committed against him came to light, and SVU was put on the case.

You had been right:  Anthony’s uncle had been molesting him since he was a young child, and the more SVU dug into the old man, the more victims they found.  Before long, Barba had a strong case with multiple victims and incontrovertible evidence.  It was a slam dunk, and the jury was only out for a bit before they came back with a guilty verdict.

You sat in the gallery during the sentencing.  Anthony was there to give a victim impact statement, and when it was all over, Barba caught your eye.  You did that usual irritating head tilt of yours, but you nodded at him too.  And then you smiled.

-----

May turned to June, and Barba didn’t have another case against you for the entire month.  It should have been a relief – just his usual slate of cases without quite so much aggravation – but it didn’t mean he didn’t think about you.  Just the opposite, in fact.

Barba prided himself on having a good read on people based on first impressions, and that went double with his fellow lawyers.  He knew, for example, within five minutes of meeting Buchanan that the man was a money-grubber without a shred of moral integrity.  He knew that his fellow ADAs were a mixed bag:  Callier was competent but treated the job like a job without much passion for justice, and O’Dwyer punted off any case that he couldn’t twist into a headline or a law review article. 

Barba had similarly judged you, but you kept surprising him.  He was constantly revising his impression of you. 

First, he thought you were just some barely functional law lackey and had landed in public defense because it was all that was available to you.  When you proved yourself as competent, he revised his opinion of you.

Then he assumed that you were one of those lawyers who used public defense to vault into a lucrative career of criminal defense.  That’s what Buchanan had done, after all.  But after a while, Barba heard through the gossipy channels of his lawyer networks that you’d been offered positions with a few different firms and had turned them down.  Revision number two.

He was currently settled on thinking that you really were some sort of do-gooder, revise-the-system sort of advocate.  He saw the way your eyes shined when Anthony Forni finally got justice.  There was no faking that sort of genuine feeling. 

He wondered where your zeal for justice came from.  He knew his fair share of bleeding-hearts in his career, but you were specifically driven – you didn’t have the vague, do-gooder, we’re all one people sort of passion.  You were laser-focused on specific issues.  Something had made you that way.  He wondered what it was.

He almost felt bad – public defenders either burned out quickly or became embittered.  As much as you were a thorn in his side, he would readily admit that you were a good lawyer with a sharp intellect for the law that belied how green you really were.  He’d hate to see you in ten years (or five, or two), that sparkle in your eye and that annoyingly defiant head tilt gone. 

But Barba was irritated by the fact that you were taking up so much space in his head.  And it didn’t get any better.

In fact, it got worse.  Barba went out with the squad one night to celebrate a hard-won case, and he had too much to drink.  Your name had come up over the course of the evening – Fin complaining about you, remarking that he hated hearing your heels clicking down the hallway when SVU caught a new case with a public defender.  From there, Barba couldn’t shake the image of you at the sentencing of Forni’s uncle, when you nodded and then smiled at him.  Too many scotches in, and he couldn’t shake the image.

Liv had to load him into a taxi, and he stumbled home to his empty apartment.  He only got himself half undressed before he collapsed into bed, and the combination of too much alcohol and a well-fought win and you on the brain left him feeling…well, amorous. 

Barba rarely ever bothered to take care of himself, but in the spirit of celebration, he did – and as much as he fought it, he kept picturing you.  His mind, soaked in booze, spun though a series of improbable scenarios:  in his office, in the courtroom, in the SVU interrogation room. 

His mind finally settled on a cliched stuck-elevator scenario that he’d be embarrassed by in the morning, but in the meantime…he pictured the two of you trapped in an elevator (power outage, it’d take hours to fix), you panicking (you were claustrophobic), him comforting.  He imagined you doing that infuriating head-tilt you did, but in his mind, you tilted your face to his, pleading with him to distract you. 

From there, the scenario deteriorated, and he brought himself to climax with you on his mind, and then he rolled over and slept the sated sleep of the near-dead.  He didn’t wake up until late morning, but it was a Saturday and he didn’t have anywhere to be.

In the light of morning, he cleaned himself up soberly, his head throbbing and a twist of Catholic guilt at masturbating in the first place.  He vowed to stop thinking about you.

-----

It was easier said than done. 

Barba found himself collecting interactions with you like a magpie collection shiny baubles and lining his nest with them. 

There were the usual meetings to review possible plea deals when you had one of his cases.  He probably should feel ashamed to have thought about you that drunken night after the bar, but he was always able to meet your gaze levelly without hesitation.  When a plea couldn’t be reached, there was the usual trials.  You usually lost, but it was never a complete loss – you always managed to get more serious charges dropped or found ‘not guilty,’ and you managed to get a lot of your clients more lenient, alternative sentencing. 

But there were other interactions too.

There was the time he saw you across the street of the courthouse.  You were waiting for the light, and you turned your face to the sunlight and closed your eyes for a second.  He saw you take a deep breath and smile at the stolen moment of serenity in what he assumed was a life as busy as his.

There was the time in the courthouse elevator, when he stepped on at one floor and you joined him on the next.  You nodded at him and then turned your back to him, and he watched you and prayed for a non-fatal elevator disaster to strike.  But god’s attention was clearly elsewhere because the elevator deposited both of you on the ground floor, and you strode away without a backwards glance.

There was the time he saw you running in Riverside Park.  You were obviously doing some workout – sprinting for a distance on the trail, then walking back to your starting point while frowning at a giant watch on your wrist.  Then repeating it, over and over.  He had been out for a rare Sunday afternoon walk, tired of being cramped in his office all weekend, and he had stood and watched you from a distance until he was certain someone would call the cops on him for publicly leering at women in the park.

There was the time at the wine bar when he was just settling in his seat as you were paying and leaving.  When you noticed him, you smiled and repeated the magic-trick gesture that you’d done with the Forni case.  Then you left, and Barba found out the next morning that you’d yanked another case out from under his nose.

There was the conference on sexual crimes and cyberspace, and Barba only noticed you during a break before the keynote.  You stood at the refreshments table and frowned at the offerings of stale bagels and burnt coffee, and he watched you sigh heavily before you speared a few slices of cantaloupe.  He walked over to stand beside you, and he pretended to get a coffee.

“Counselor,” he said in greeting.  “Learning about the new crimes you’ll have to defend?”

He watched you turn to face him, and he watched you look him up and down.  He was glad to have worn one of his better suits, but he still wondered what you thought of him.  Your mouth twisted into one of your half smiles, but that could mean literally anything with you.

“I have to stay one step ahead of the D.A.’s office,” you admitted.  “They have some really tough lawyers over there.”  You paused a beat, then added, “O’Dwyer is one of the best, honestly.”

Then you snorted at the look on his face and walked away with your plate of fruit, leaving Barba flustered with his cup of awful coffee.

********

You loved your job.  You lost more than you won, but that was the life of a public defender, and you managed to divert a fair share of non-violent and first-time offenders into alternative sentencing arrangements.

The best was when you scored a hit against ADA Barba.  You were cordial with the other ADAs – Callier, O’Dwyer, Niles – but Barba was linked to SVU and pompous to boot.  You wondered if he learned how to smirk at Harvard, or if it was a natural talent.

You didn’t know how he was with other defense lawyers, but he seemed to enjoy arguing with you.  You’d been offended by the “girl wonder” comment, but then you leaned into it, tossing it back in his face when you beat him.  You loved the way his handsome face got stony, how his green eyes turned stormy when you bested him. 

The best was when he clenched his jaw so hard that you could hear his molars straining under the pressure.  You made a deal with yourself:  if you got him to crack a tooth in frustration, you’d take a long weekend and go to the Catskills for a mini-vacation. 

And if he never did, at least you could enjoy needling him.  You loved throwing him off his game.  Barba was just another politically-minded ADA, taking certain cases so that he could claim the “tough on crime” tag when he made his eventual run at a judgeship. 

Still, he seemed okay as a person.  You may even vote for him, if he ran for an elected position.  Maybe turn up to one of his campaign events just to stare at him and wait for him to blink first.  Or imply that one of his coworkers was better than him, like you did when you ran into him at a conference.  The look on his face, somewhere between surprise and offense, had been hilarious.

Your life had a comforting rhythm.  You worked.  You went home.  You ate lunch too often at Salvadoreño, probably keeping them afloat with your addiction to their pupusas.  You took up a half-marathon training plan to justify your daily lunch calorie count.  You hung out with your friends when you had free time, and you just contributed to an ongoing text string when you didn’t have time.  Your friends were mostly lawyers too, and no one had time for anything other than work.

Work was a convenient excuse for your appalling lack of love life.  After Sonny, you refused to date for a while.  Once the heartache faded a bit, you went on a few first dates that were like slow-motion train wrecks.  The Wall Street guy who spent the evening on his phone.  The Bronx ADA who lambasted your job.  The corporate lawyer who talked about himself the entire evening and then parted ways with you on the street afterwards after telling you that you weren’t his type, physically.

You only saw Sonny sometimes at work.  It could have been easy to fall back into bad habits, but he kept his distance from you and only exchanged the smallest of small talk.  Every so often, you caught him looking at you with a woebegone look on his face, but more often than not, he was joined at the hip to Amanda.  Leaning on her desk with his lanky legs stretched out in front of him.  Sitting in interrogation with her.  Bringing her a ginger ale from the breakroom.  Trotting after her like a puppy when a new case came in.

Almost two years later, and it still nettled to see it.

You were in the 16th precinct to talk with a new client who was going to be arraigned the next day.  It was a Barba case, and you each did your usual snark-filled banter across the interrogation table.  His eyes got their usual glint in them that made you question, as usual, if he was turned on by arguing.  Then your client was led out in handcuffs, and you assured him that you’d be there in the morning for his arraignment.

When you went to leave the room, Barba opened the door for you and then fell in step with you.  He was saying something about the case, making a final bid for some deal, but you barely heard him.  As you walked through the precinct bullpen, your eyes drifted to Sonny and Amanda standing by the big-screen in the corner. 

And you saw, clearly, that Amanda was pregnant.

It was like a punch in the gut, pulling all the wind from you.  Your eyes went from her swelling stomach to Sonny’s face – who was looking directly at you with his bright blue eyes.  The expression on his face was unreadable, and you turned away and walked as quickly as you could to the elevator.  Barba matched your speed and kept up with you, but he had fallen silent.  He watched you jam the ‘down’ button furiously, then joined you when the elevator doors slid open.  He watched you jam the ‘door shut’ button just as angrily.  You heard Sonny call your name from the hallway, and you hit the button and kept hitting it until you felt a tentative hand on your wrist.

“It’s shut,” said Barba softly.  “You can stop.”

You couldn’t look at him.  Your vision was blurry with tears as you stared at the elevator panel.  You hadn’t meant to start crying – it felt like an involuntary reflex, seeing Amanda pregnant and Sonny solicitous with her.  How long had he waited before he started sleeping with her after you broke up with him?  Had he already been sleeping with her?  Your mind stretched back to all the broken dates and the times he stood you up to be with her….

And of course, the one single time you got emotional at work, it had to be in front of your harshest competitor.  You could envision a long stretch ahead of you where Barba mocked you for crying every time you tried to hash out a plea deal. 

But he didn’t say anything right now.  He removed his hand from your wrist and reached into his suit jacket.  He pulled out a handkerchief – an actual cloth handkerchief, like some member of the landed gentry in a period piece, for fuck’s sake – and handed it to you without a word.  You took it but just stared at it; it was a blindingly snowy white, and it felt like a bridge too far to wipe your tear-stained face on it, especially with his embroidered initials staring back at you. 

When the elevator deposited you on the ground floor, Barba put his hand on your upper back lightly and steered you towards the ladies room, plucking his handkerchief from your hand and pushing you inside the bathroom. 

He didn’t follow, thank god.  You stood at the mirror and braced yourself against the sink.  You took deep breaths.  You pushed aside the mental image of Amanda and Sonny together.  Not just pushed – you shoved it into a box, taped it shut, and tossed it into a dark corner of your mind with the rest of the awful life experiences that you compartmentalized.  You were pretty good at it – you had lots of experience, after all.

You waited a long moment, just staring at your own reflection.  You felt like an idiot.  Of course Sonny would end up with Amanda.  And regardless of when it happened, it didn’t matter anymore.  You weren’t together. 

What did matter was keeping your composure, especially in front of people like the entire SVU squad and ADA Barba.

When you exited the bathroom, the latter was standing outside, waiting for you.  But if you expected him to smirk or gloat at your sudden show of emotion, you would be wrong.  He just stood there, sharp in his black three-piece suit, with a look of concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and he didn’t sound like he was teasing, so you nodded at him.

“You look like you need a drink,” he continued, and he gestured for you to walk with him.  You did.

“It’s only 11:30 in the morning,” you replied with a watery laugh, and he held the door for you as you both left the building.

“Lunch then,” he said.  He took your elbow and steered you out to the street.  “And a glass of wine wouldn’t hurt.”  You opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off and led you towards a little Italian place on the corner.  “You’d be surprised how much smaller problems seem on a full stomach and a bit of pinot.”

You followed him mutely into the tiny restaurant, to the tiny table jammed against a wall.  You ordered a Caesar salad and allowed him to order you a glass of pinot, and he placed his order too.  When the waiter dropped off your drinks and left, you braced yourself for whatever snarky comments Barba had planned.

You were wrong again.  He didn’t even mention your dramatic scene at the 16th.  He asked how you liked being a public defender, then segued to talking about lawyers you both knew.  It turned out that you had a lot of mutual acquaintances – the law community of New York City and its surrounding environs was shockingly small.

When your food came, the conversation shifted to your individual experiences at law school.  It turned out that you were both scholarship kids and knew the divide it could cause with your fellow classmates.  You were both editors of your respective law reviews too.

“Though Harvard Law has a little more brand recognition,” you admitted with a small smile, and Barba only shrugged modestly and asked what topics you had written about.

It felt weird that it wasn’t weird, sitting across from your toughest opponent, eating lunch and chatting about things casually instead of bickering about plea arrangements.  And, to his credit, you had barely thought about Sonny and Amanda since you sat down to eat.  You’d have to revise your opinion of him as a pompous type.  Maybe a person could be pompous and nice.

The waiter bussed your empty dishes and dropped the check, which Barba took without comment and paid.  When you tried to protest, he made a snarky comment about your paltry salary as a public defender, so you glared at him.

You both stood to leave, and you each paused on the sidewalk in awkward silence.  You finally spoke up to thank him, and you hoped he knew it wasn’t just for the salad and wine.

He cleared his throat.  “It’s probably not what you’re thinking it is,” he said.  “But I know what you’re going through.”  He sighed, paused, then added, “everything will fall into place.”

You dropped your head and looked at your feet on the sidewalk.  “I don’t want your pity, Barba.”

He swung his briefcase to nudge it against your own satchel, making you look up at him.  “If you think for one second I’m going to go easy on you, Fordham Law, you have another thing coming,” he said with a smirk.  “No pity.  And no mercy either.”

“Bring it, Harvard Law,” you replied with a grateful smile.  His smirk turned into a smile in return, and he parted ways with you – he walked to the left, and you walked to the right.

-----

You kept the Sonny and Amanda situation carefully compartmentalized over the next month.  Sonny tried to talk to you once in the precinct, but you carefully kept the discussion focused on the new suspect you were representing.  He eventually stopped trying, and you had a way of unfocusing your gaze when it drifted over your ex-boyfriend and Amanda.

Work was busy, you ran a lot with your training group, and any time your mind drifted to those thoughts, you shoved them away by focusing on other things.

Barba, for example.  Still pompous, and not granting you an inch, as promised.  He was still your toughest ADA:  Callier was always open to reasonable deals, O’Dwyer ducked most of the cases you handled…but Barba always had fight in him.  You could put the best deal on the table and he’d still argue with you about it, layering in platitudes about the law and justice while accusing you of being a softy.

You argued at SVU, you argued in court.�� You each got pulled into chambers and argued your points there.  Judge Hawkins, herself a champion smirker, watched the two of you bicker for a full five minutes before she interjected and told you to get a room.  Barba sputtered in shock, which allowed you to get your final point in without interruption, but Hawkins split the difference and only threw out half the evidence you were trying to get expunged.  It was still better than nothing.

You still glared at each other during court, but there was no real weight behind it.  He started calling you “Fordham Law” all the time, which was miles better than “Girl Wonder.”  In return, you started shaking his hand after trials concluded, even the ones where he won. 

And if you felt anything when his warm hand enveloped yours, you compartmentalized that too.

[the-elder-polls]

Response to the formal invitation :'3 *throws my stupid TES children at you*

(P.S. his story is everchanging as I figure out what the heck is happening in TES lore, but all of the core elements will likely stay the same) SO, his name is Djai. Djai the Curious, to be exact. Djai is a khajiit, more specifically Cathay. I'd like to split the information of him in two parts because his story is very much "before all of that shit happened" and "after all of that shit happened". His story is also very much based on the saying "curiousity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back". He lived in Elsweyr for his first years of life, before his parents sold him along with a familial artifact for many reasons. Luckily, through black market slave trading he actually was "bought" by some rich people, but luckily they had some common sense(Crazy for people in TES, I know) , and they raised him pretty much like their own child. They brought him to skyrim, where he would grow up. When he was a young adult, he "moved out", so to say. He actually just said "fuck all of this shit" and went adventuring. He traveled for a long time, met some people, made some important connections - which led to him joining the collegue of winterhold under a fake/pen name, and eventually becoming the archmage, before he resigned because he wanted to adventure more. Later, he met an argonian woman Wonders-About-Stars, who had grown up in morrowind [Most likely in solstheim.] and only recently arrived in skyrim. They became rivals for a long time, but eventually they became friends and got married. Bought a house in riften and,, happy ending for them both, right?

. . . But something wasn't quite right. Djai wasn't satisfied with this, like, at all. Sure, for some people maybe his life would be perfect but he - he craved new adventures. To do something, rather than settle down and live comfortably. And so, instead of doing that, he started going out almost every day to a cave, or a place he deemed interesting, and also started a collection. . . He also became a lot more paranoid than before, almost always feeling that he was being watched. First it was just random artifacts. Anything that was sort of unique, or appeared unique enough to him was added to this collection. But it soon appeared that this would be quite a big collection if he continued that. So he moved on to rarer artifacts: he only considered items that were very rare, or even legendary worthy of adding to it. Until one day, he came across an artifact that would change his life. Forever. A certain book. . .

From his wife's POV, Wonders-About-Stars woke up one day, just to find her husband gone. Didn't think much of it; He's gone all the time, not a big deal probably forgot to tell he was going on one of his adventures again. But the circumstances of his disappearance was getting stranger and stranger the more she discovered. And the more time had passed. One day of him being gone turned into days, then weeks, and when it was a couple of months - she's had enough, and she left their house. No, she wasn't coming back without him. Or, at very worst, without knowing what happened to him.

Meanwhile, Djai's out there living his best life. He got a patron in the face of Hermaeus Mora. Pros; Acess to funky library dimension, gets to satisfy his curiosity and do a bunch of chores for Mora that are centered around knowledge and books. Oh, also, he now has tentacles, so that's a plus. Cons; he now has quite a monstrous appearance. Being that long in apochrypha + under Hermy's influence doesn't do any good for your sanity or appearance. Another con is that he now has Mora in his head permanently and that's annoying hearing that guy go "ERM, actually" every time you think about something the wrong way. Also some side effects from his time in apochrypha for him are really similiar [I based them on it soo] to the symptoms of rabies in cats. He's also friends with my Dragonborn, Isabella/Abdulamassu [She's a dunmer who lived in morrowind until going to skyrim. No, she didn't live in solstheim. Yes, she did go to skyrim because life was absolutely shit] and her "brother" [Not by blood. Or, to be fair, very very distant relatives by blood, but it's complicated to explain. They've just decided that they're so close that they're going to be brother and sister] Ziikreh, my dragon priest OC who's pretty much a TES version of a boomer complaining about "back in MY DAY!!" because he was dead for, like, a LOT of time and got fully resurrected when the dragons got resurrected [Again, it's complicated, but his soul is connected to the soul of a dragon so when the dragon "woke up" he also did]

They are all my Skyrim OCs!! I have a bit more, but it's already getting long, so I'll wrap it up here.

I also have OCs for Oblivion and Morrowind, but since i'm in the process of playing both games rn I don't know the lore fully, so they're underdeveloped at the current moment!

Just going to spoil it by sayin my Morrowind OC, Ma'eric, is based on my friend's cat. That all started as a stupid joke about how her cat is very similiar to a khajiit, and now I made it real lmao. Ma'eric is a necromancer who isn't sure who he is quite yet, he can't help but feels like someone trapped in the wrong body. Always having to pretend that the body fits him by acting like a different person, when in actuality, it does not. Hm, I wonder what that could be foreshadowing. . .

OH THAT'S ALL SO COOL. hermy mory hitchhiking a ride in my head would also drive me a bit cuckoo bonkers. also the dragon priest's soul being tied to their dragon is SO COOL i love it

fact for a fact: my oc version of konahrik was pledged to vulthuryol, the dragon you find in blackreach

[pascaloverx]

Sweet Love

Summary: You're an up-and-coming writer, congratulations. To protect your beloved job, you're willing to do anything. Even strike a deal with the devil, better known as your sister's neighbor. You and Dean Winchester don't really see eye to eye, but in a moment of desperation, you agree to collaborate with him for a greater good.

Author's Notes: Many characters do not belong to me but to the Supernatural Universe (2005-2020). I hope you enjoy the fanfic's story. The fanfic will contain strong language and adult content.

chapter two chapter four

CHAPTER THREE

The next day seems to arrive faster than you imagined. Your sister is on a business trip, so you're alone at home. You wake up early, prepare coffee, and decide to clean the house. You organize things to receive Dean Winchester. With each room tidied up, you wonder if you'll actually go into all these rooms. The truth is, after yesterday, you're ready to explore your sexuality with Dean, even if it means surrendering to him completely. You prepare some pasta, and while waiting for the sauce to cook, you decide to send a note under your neighbor's door.

— If you're hungry, we can eat together while you help me... — You write on the note, hoping that Dean sees it and comes over. You knock on Dean's door. You chuckle when you realize how silly it is to do this, but it's too late. You can hear Dean going to his door and probably reading your note. You quickly retreat to your sister's apartment and close the door as if it could erase what you just did. A long sigh of nervousness escapes you as you remember that you left the sauce on the stove and you rush to turn off the flame that was still lit. Dean seems to have accepted your invitation, as seconds later you hear a strong knock on your door. You straighten your dress and hair to make it seem like you haven't been running around frantically in the last few moments.

"I don't bite, Y/N. At least not without your permission. You can knock on my door and invite me without fear. But I thought the note was cute. In appreciation, I brought something that might be useful later." Dean says as he holds a pan in his hand. You wonder what it is but let him enter the apartment before anything else.

"If you give me your phone number, I promise to only communicate through messages from now on. I don't want to risk interrupting a casual date of yours. Although it would be fun to knock on your door and make a scene pretending you're my boyfriend and you're cheating on me. Now help me set the table." You say as you hold the pasta, waiting for Dean to put the pot of sauce on the table, but instead, he comes up behind you and takes the pot from your hand.

"Sweetheart, you can pretend whatever you want, as long as you can handle the consequences. Now go sit at the table, and I'll bring the things over there. It's the least I can do." Dean says near your ear as he takes the pot to the table. You then decide to sit at the table and wait for him to bring the pots.

"What did you bring?" You ask, changing the subject. You can't afford to forget that the goal of your relationship with Dean at this moment is purely professional. Even if you use rather unprofessional methods.

"Our dessert. I think now we can have dinner, and later, I'll use what I brought on you." Dean says as he sits down and serves himself, while you look at him surprised. Dinner went well, but you're suspicious of what his intention might be with this dessert. It's exciting that he's thought of something to do with you.

"I managed to write a very good chapter, thanks to your last assistance. I must say, I'm enjoying our partnership." You say, almost finishing your plate of food. Dean, who has already finished eating, gives you a mischievous little smile as if he's very proud of himself.

"You can thank me later, princess. Now, I think you're ready for another lesson that involves you being blindfolded. Where do you think is the best place for us to do this?" he asks, placing his hand in front of you and guiding you to the couch. You feel nervous, wondering what he might be up to.

"Just promise me we won't mess up my sister's floor. Or her couch." You say, watching Dean take the blindfold out of his pants pocket.He nods as if assuring that we won't mess anything up, but from the smile on his face, you don't trust him very much. He then blindfolds you. You feel his hands gently holding his head as you tie the blindfold over your eyes.

"I promise you that I will make up for any mess you made today. Just trust me." Dean speaks and you feel him walk away for a few seconds after saying that. He must be getting dessert. You feel his presence close to you as his fingers lift your dress a little. He pours a warm liquid between your thighs. Then, before you can react, he licks the liquid from your thighs. Between licking you and nibbling you, you feel a certain pleasure in the situation.

"I melted chocolate just so I could use it on you. I'm going to teach you how you can create an entire chapter of pure excitement without making any of your characters actually have sex." Dean says and lightly bites your thigh, making you more focused on what's happening to your thigh than what he's saying. He then smears some of the melted chocolate on your chest. He licks your chest, while running his hand over your body. You don't see anything, which is even more interesting. But when his hand touches your lips, you feel like you're going crazy.

"What's your goal here, Winchester? To drive me nuts?" You ask, waiting for Dean's next move. You hear him smile. He must be loving this situation.He then puts the chocolate on your lips, and you taste it. It tastes delicious but when you finally feel Dean's lips on yours, you feel like your mind can only focus on that.

"My goal is for you to feel inspired, writer. In fact, that you want to fuck me so much that you write about it. That you remember the feeling of my fingers brushing your lips, chest and thighs. I want you to memorize me." Dean says as he rubs chocolate on your neck and kisses there. He certainly wants to leave marks on you. Son of a bitch.

"You are the devil himself, Dean Winchester." You say, pulling Dean closer to his face. The truth is that you are thirsty for his lips.b Dean understands what you want and kisses you, with even more desire. The hands of him pulling your waist as he devours your lips as if you were chocolate itself. But unfortunately, just as you two are making out tightly, you hear a knock on the door. It sounds like someone is knocking on Dean's door. 

"Dean, you dirty idiot. I think it's a good thing you're dressed and coming to open the door for your brother." You both listen to Sam speak. Damn, now it was so good to make out with Dean, Sam ended up getting in the way.

"What do we do?" You ask Dean as he takes the blindfold off your eyes. He seems pretty calm for someone who didn't want to get involved with you because of his brother.

"Do you have tools?" Dean asks, still dirty with all the chocolate. You look in the kitchen cupboards and soon find a toolbox. You quickly imagine that Dean will pretend to be a helpful neighbor. Both of you clean up the mess in the house, and just before Sam knocks on Dean's door, you open yours, revealing Sam with a suitcase in hand, surprised to see you and Dean in your house.

"Hi, Sam. Long time no see." You greet Sam from a distance. He still seems to be surprised that you and Dean are together. Dean is laughing at the whole situation as if he's an idiot. He doesn't even seem like the same guy from yesterday. You nudge him with your arm, and he stops laughing.

"You and Dean..." Sam suggests, pointing to the two of you. You and Dean shake your heads, denying whatever Sam might be thinking.

"The sink in her apartment started dripping on its own, she didn't know how to fix it, and I came to help. That's all." Dean says, grabbing the toolbox and placing it near the door to pretend that he was helping you. Then he goes to his apartment door and opens it.

"Well, I'll let you two have your sibling moment, but it was really nice to see you again, Sam. And Dean, thanks for the help. I owe you one." You say, and you can see the mischievous smile on Dean's face, but then you quickly close your door and feel the embarrassment of this whole moment wash over you. And then you realize, with Sam on the other side of the hallway, you and Dean will have to be very clever to keep him helping you. What a mess. And to make matters worse, you're all covered in chocolate.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Dinner Date Chapter 29

Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 29: Cold and Dark

Chapter Summary: Winter is stupid.

Chapter Word Count: 2166

~

Work was stupid. People were stupid. Wind was stupid. Snow was stupid. The sun going down before dinner was stupid.

Everything was stupid.

I looked around my cold apartment, lit only by the front light I bothered to turn on, and went over my priorities for the rest of the night. Those being: dinner, and bed. Dinner was also stupid. I could go out and get food. I could order food. I could try and scavenge through what I had. But I thought of how much work it was just to figure out dinner, and how tired I was, and decided, fuck it, fuck dinner, I was going to bed. Never mind it wasn’t even seven yet. I was an adult and it was Friday so who cared if I fucked up my sleep schedule a little. Steve was off at some super-secret training thing, (“It’s basically a work seminar, I don’t know why Fury has to be so dramatic about everything,” Steve had opined a week ago, with nary a glimmer of self-recognition), so I had no reason to stay up, and if I slept then I wouldn’t be hungry, and saving myself a few calories was probably a good thing, right?

My stomach grumbled but I ignored it and trudged to my room. Also, if I went to bed I could just curl up under the covers and save some money on heating, which was also good. Saving money, saving calories, saving energy. Good fucking job.

I briefly considered warming up first with a shower and washing away the week, but it too ended up seeming like way more work than I wanted. Instead, I dressed for bed and slid under cold sheets to distract me from getting even more negative and grouchy than I already was. When I did eventually warm up I didn’t really sleep, but I did get to doze a little. Enough that I had a dream of Steve coming home, walking into my apartment like he belonged there (which made me smile), kneeling next to my bed, putting his cold hand on my face–

I blinked open my eyes, because that felt– real. Wait. This was real. “Steve?” I asked and took his hand in both of mine to try and warm it up. I tried to lift my head but I felt groggy still, so I let it fall back on the pillow as I woke up fully. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d surprise you,” he said and flicked on the bedside lamp so I could better see his worried frown. Or maybe so he could better see me, though he was definitely getting the bad end of that deal. “Are you sick?”

“No.” I sighed, and then immediately broke into a yawn. “It’s just…cold. And I’m gross. And kind of miserable.” I considered moving. “Give me a second and I’ll get up.”

“You don’t have to,” he said and kissed my cheek.

“Are you gonna crawl in too?” I asked hopefully. I was not up for anything resembling physical activity, but I was totally down to cling to Steve like a limpet and suck up all his heat.

“In a minute. I’m going to take care of a few things first,” he said and stood. “Did you have dinner yet?”

“It’s too much work,” I said and curled up again. “I’m fine without it.”

He stayed there for a moment. “You aren’t going to eat at all?”

“It’s one meal. It won’t kill me,” I said. My stomach grumbled and I pinched it. Traitor.

He hesitated longer but before I could reassure him that I was fine, I was fully stacked for the winter (as if he could forget), he said, “Okay. I’ll be right back,” and left.

While he was out in the living room doing who-knew-what, I flipped on the other bedside lamp and scooted over to try and warm his spot a little bit so he wouldn’t have the shock of discomfort that was cold sheets. Because I was the best girlfriend ever.

Steve came back in just his pants and tank top, carrying a couple of drinks and a…tray? A tray that was covered with the miscellaneous snacks I’d had floating around in my cupboard and fridge, apparently. Steve set it down next to me as he slipped off his jeans to change into his sweats, and I lifted the paper towels to see what he had used for this impromptu snack party. “Oh shit; I was wondering where my baking sheet went,” I said and picked up the tray to hold it steady as he slipped under the covers. “I can make cookies again.”

That felt like a stupid thing to say, considering I couldn’t even do the minimal work of ordering a dinner for someone else to cook, but Steve smiled at me and I forgot to be mad at myself. “I’m glad you came to see me,” I said and leaned over to give and receive a kiss. “I’m sorry it’s not a nice homecoming.”

“I think it’s great. I ordered some food for us, but right now, sitting in bed with snacks sounds like the best thing in the world,” he said, took the tray onto his lap, and handed me one of the bottles he’d carried in. He gave me his best pleading eyes and added, “Will you share with me?”

I held my stomach tighter. Mostly-unbroken chips, a fancy trail mix I’d bought on a whim, some budget cookies I was too cheap to throw out– he’d even pulled together some crackers, torn up some leftover lunchmeat, and added some cheese for a poor man’s charcuterie. “I’m sorry you had to do all this work when you just got home,” I said as I took one of the cookies.

“I’m the one mooching off your apartment and food,” he said, snagging a couple pieces of cheese.

“I’m glad you are though. I’m always happy to have you here.” I pressed my forehead to his shoulder. “But you put the snacks together, ordered dinner…” And all I had done was crawl into bed.

“I had a good idea for dinner. You know I don’t mind,” he said, briefly pressing his head to mine as he took a cracker and stacked it with some meat and cheese. “I know dinner is a lot to think of sometimes, but you still need to eat.”

“Eh.”

“Hey.” He gently bonked his head to mine, almost making me drop the cracker and cheese I had just grabbed. “No skipping meals.”

“I didn’t want to,” I said. “But it’s not like it’d kill me. I’m not doing a whole lot that needs the calories.”

“Existing requires calories,” Steve said, like he was sharing an implacable truth.

Well…he kinda was. “Existing is stupid,” I said as a I munched and snuggled into him. After a moment, though, I reconsidered my words, and quickly swallowed my bite. “That came out sounding worse than I actually meant it.”

“Yeah, I got the meaning by your grumbling,” he chuckled and kissed my head. “Winter’s really getting to you, huh?”

“It’s stupid. And cold. And dark. And stupid.” I sighed as he rubbed my back. “And I’m going to miss it when summer is hot and bright and stupid. Seasons are terrible.”

“They’ve got their downsides,” Steve said. “But right now, winter is for warm blankets, and eating food. So we’ve got the right idea.”

“If you say so.” I kept sliding down though, until I was laying only slightly propped, and able to semi-burrow into his side. He slipped me another cracker, and I ate it. “I do like this,” I admitted and pushed my head closer into him. Laying down, resting my eyes and snacking with Steve felt…cozy. “How was your super-secret seminar?”

He sighed so dramatically, and then, without any further prompting, proceeded to tell me as much as he could, considering that the super-secret seminar was actually a super-secret mission, (“oops,” as Natasha had said), and he ended up being a decoy so Natasha and ‘someone else’ could do the real work–

He only stopped complaining to go get the food when it arrived, and though I would have been content to just eat crackers and listen to him bitch, I managed to pull myself up and eagerly take my container when he handed it to me. The tray was nearly empty at that point so it was easy enough for him to brush the crumbs aside so he could use it as a makeshift lap table for his multiple containers, and then he was right back to telling me how bad it was to have to mingle with rich people who were maybe doing something evil, how boring it all was (the number one sin when it came to Steve Rogers, if you listened close enough), and how at one point he’d dared Clint to attempt a trick shot off a fire alarm with a rubber band and a tartlet, but they’d gotten caught and yelled at about it.

“How was the food?” I asked, even as I shut the lid on my empty container.

“It was fine,” he said and flashed a smile at me. “Nothing like here.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I bet socialites have nothing on my store-brand crackers and cheese squares.”

“Well, they certainly don’t have anything on the company,” he said and pulled me in with one arm for a brief hug. Then he stuck the trash from dinner in the plastic delivery bag and picked up the tray. “I’ll be right back,” he promised and left.

I should have felt bad for making him clean up, but in actuality I felt better, even if truly tired for real now, and I dusted and picked up any stray crumbs before he returned. I lifted the blanket for him to get in, and finally, finally, I was able to attach myself to him like a strong current was threatening to wash me away.

“I’m glad you came home safe,” I said. However, one thing poked at the back of my brain still. A question I was too afraid to ask because of the potential for embarrassment. And yet, it would not leave, so I sighed, hid my face in the space between him and the pillow, and asked, “Did I leave the door unlocked again?”

He froze. “…No.”

I perked up, because my embarrassment potential was officially gone. “Did you break in?” I didn’t know whether I should laugh or be mad. I was…definitely leaning more towards the first, in all honesty.

He turned pink. Deep pink. “Natasha’s been teaching me a few tricks,” he mumbled. “I tried it on my place first. I swear I didn’t break anything.” He shrugged one shoulder and added, with a little half-smile, “Well…not literally, in any case.”

I stared at him a little longer, still torn between offense and hilarity. Then I reached back, snagged my phone, and opened up my texts with Natasha.

Me: YOU ARE A BAD INFLUENCE

I expected the next message to ask me for clarification, if only because ‘which thing’ would be very Natasha. However, clairvoyancy was also, somehow, very Natasha.

Natasha: I’m putting ‘corrupting Captain America’ onto my résumé Natasha: Not because I can sell it, but because I find it funny

Well. She had a point. And I, actually, had a way to circumvent that issue.

Me: Well from now on he can only use that party trick on people who aren’t me Natasha: Spoilsport

I sent back a bunch of kissy-face emojis and hopped out of bed before Steve could ask about our conversation. He did protest for a moment but I went to my key dish, grabbed the spare, and zoomed right back into bed.

“Here,” I said and gave him the key, quashing down the butterflies in my stomach. “I probably should have given you this a while ago. Also don’t lose it because if I lose mine I’ll need it back.”

“You make this so romantic,” he chuckled, but he gripped the key firmly in his hand.

I rolled my eyes, but I leaned over him, supporting myself partially with a hand on his chest, and kissed him gently; then I brushed my nose across his, once, and then again for good measure. “You’re always welcome here,” I said. I watched him turn soft and asked, “How was that?”

“Pretty damn good,” he said, set the key aside, and flicked off the last remaining light before he pulled me in closer. I snuggled in to rest my head against his chest, (maybe my actual favorite pillow), and let out a sigh as my body relaxed without me even having to try.

“Maybe winter isn’t as stupid as I thought,” I admitted as the dark settled around us.

“Only a little stupid?” Steve said.

“Only a little stupid,” I agreed, and fell asleep where the cold no longer touched me.

~

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide]

Now that Kelli has been gone for a bit, I feel like I can get this off my chest: Wolf Productions done fucked up.

Not for the first time, and not right from square one. But gosh, what a waste.

Kelli Giddish's Rollins was the only female character with the depth and acting chops behind her on the show since Cabot was a regular. She showed up and was able to go toe to toe with Mariska in carrying episodes - both personally related to her character, or to cases - not to mention had electric chemistry with Benson (sexual or not, take your pick).

With all the flack that SVU had taken over the years for not having a more diverse cast in regards to sexuality, Amanda was the earliest and best opportunity they had to develop a complex, interesting storyline of an adult woman coming to her sexuality late in life. I am not even necessarily the most ravenous Rolivia Shipper out there, but I'm heartbroken that they took Amanda's character over the years into the most boring, obvious, dissatisfying of directions.

I adored Amanda's wild/problematic side. Her episodes with her fighting with Amaro, dealing with her gambling addiction, shooting her sister's ex, or going rogue undercover are my favorite episodes of basically the last 10 yrs of the show. It was so good to finally have someone in the squad who was easier to relate to in a real-world sense. Someone who went to a Big Girl job in the day, but in the off hours was a mess with a rebellious streak.

It was always my hope that they would turn around the storylines where she seemed to chase men that were purposely bad for her, into a realization that it was because she was more emotionally into women. It fits so perfectly with her childhood, her background, and had ready-made holes in existing canon where they could have written it in with ease. (Pretending to be Liv's gf at the sperm bank, the remarks she makes in the episode Plastic, questioning her second pregnancy, etc.)

Instead, they had Carisi mope after her for years, all through the seasons where she showed no interest in him. I lost 50% of my respect for Carisi when he had that sulking tantrum after she fucked the bartender in Intent (a sexist double-standard btw, which would have never flown with fans if it had been Rollins pouting bc Carisi turned her down), and the other 50% after Carisi became ADA, with the writers seeming to then write him as rather victim-blaming.

The biggest irony, in my opinion, is that Dick Wolf complains that giving the fans EO will make the show too 'soap opera-y,' when what he/they did with Rollisi and Kelli's exit was far and away the most soap opera-esque thing they ever wrote! Fuck off with that obvious shit! Oh, the once-troubled blonde who is now straight as an arrow, rides off into the sunset with the Catholic altar boy and trades her powerful feminist position for a 9-5 (don't come for me, there's nothing wrong w being a professor, that's not the point here) and her two kids. Eat all of my ass, Mr. Cis-het, White, Only-Primetime-Billionaire Wolf. 🙄***

To make matters worse, they specifically brought in a POC actress to play a bisexual character, only to write her out as fast as possible for absolutely no discernable reason!?! The utter waste of what they did with Kat Tamin is an equal travesty. Give me Kat waking up in Amanda's bed. Give me Amanda making pancakes for breakfast and Kat carrying the kids to the table. Give me anything but the bullshit, Caucasian tripe that they sold us with Rollisi!!!

*takes deep breath*

And if - IF - the powers that be couldn't think beyond the end of an average-length cock when it came to Rollins, then for the love of all that is holy: her chemistry with Sergeant Khaldun was 1) vastly more believable 2) hotter 3) more diverse as an overall cast option and 4) less cringeworthily obvious.

I have loved SVU since I was 16 yrs old, and even though I gave up watching it around The People v. Richard Wheatley (for reasons unrelated to this specific rant), I still lurk in the background and keep myself vaguely caught up. But it's getting impossible to defend a lot of the choices they have made in the last three or four years. Good talent is so hard to hang onto these days in H'wood, and Dick Wolf seems just as, if not more, determined to fuck up his show as Chris Carter was in the 90s with TXF.

Thanks for coming to my TED Rant. 😮‍💨✌🏻

- HeartEyes4Mariska

***Not to mention the Barisi Shippers got robbed in the process.

[silent-raven13]

A Spider-woman named Billie!

Miles 2020 turns over to the direction then saw a young teenager girl running towards him giving him a big hug. "I've miss you!" She cries.

Everyone froze until they got a good look at the teenager, it was a variant of Billie Mariana Morales, Miles' little sister. She's a Spider-woman in her own world instead of Miles Gonzalo Morales.

Miles 2020 had heard through Mariana, a female version of himself telling him about this Spider-woman. He softly smile, let his hand rub her back, "I'm sorry. I'm not him, but it's okay. You can hug me as along as you want." He hugs her back, she needed the closure.

From what he heard, she been through a lot. So much so, she fit the category of a canon Spider-hero. He wants to give her the closure.

Billie sniffling, "Thank you."

"Who's hugging my daddy!" Mariana sitting on Miguel's right shoulder spoke out loud breaking the moment.

The teenager Spider-woman quickly pulled away being embarrassed, "I'm sorry. I know, you're not my brother... it's just- I dunno what came over me. I overreacted and didn't respond or be a smart-" Peter 616 quickly calm her down, "Hey, easy kid. Easy. Your good. It's okay. We get it. We been there. I know this must mean a lot."

"Thanks, Peter." She noticed children around and Miguel 928, she felt more embarrassed she was crying in front of them. And over a variant of her brother, too.

"Peter is right, sweetheart. It's okay." Jess went to comfort the teenager. They all seem to know about her since she had a massive panic attack and strong emotions when she saw Miles 1048. It felt raw so surreal for her that it got her to burst out crying. Mariana from Earth 1022 did informed them about this experience and to be easy on her. She made sure of it.

"Isn't Mariana supposed to be with you?" Miguel asked being worried to find the teenager alone by herself. He saw her breathing changing and body shivering as if she's living through a traumatic experience. "Do you need Med-bay?"

"No-no. Um, I was looking for her but got lost." Billie wrapped her arms around herself, she wants to protect herself, "Sorry..."

"No-no, nena. It's alright." Miguel being a protective fatherly figure went over to comfort her, while one hand hold onto Mariana's small body on his shoulder. Aaron got off as he went to his daddy to be carried. "This must be a big deal, you haven't met any other Miles in person. It's normal to react this way."

Billie sniffs having tears in her eyes as she cries into Miguel's arms, "It's so hard trying to be okay!" Peter 616 frowns at the young girl just like the rest of the adults. They saw how the curse of being a Spider-man can take a toll, especially when they lost a love one.

Miguel could relate, his left arm strokes the teenager's back trying to calm her down. The other children looks down at the crying teenager, it made them sad. All except for one little bugger, Marian leans over her tiny body to pat on Billie's head, "Crying gets you no where! Suck it up!"

"Mariana!" Miles 2020 gasps in shock at his toddler's comment.

"What! Papí always say to push through!" The toddler huffed, "No crying! Don't be a big baby! No one likes a big baby!"

"Esta niña," Miles 2020 went to grab his daughter from Miguel's shoulder and have Aaron be on the large man's shoulder instead. "How many times I told you that's very rude?" He began to lecture his daughter.

"NO! Papà always say crying helps no one!" The toddler shouted out loud.

"Well, it's okay to cry!"

"Then why when I cry for an extra cookie, he said no!"

Miles 2020 groans, "That's different, Mari!"

"No it's isn't!"

"Yes it is!"

"No, it isn't!" Miles 2020 turns to Billie, "I am so sorry. She's always speaking her mind."

Mariana struggles to get away from her daddy wanting to roam free. "I wanna be free, daddy! Let me go!"

"No, this is your punishment! Being right here with me! Mwah, Kisses and snuggles!" The twenty seven year old snuggles with his three year old baby girl, who is trying to get away.

"No! I don't want it! I wanna be free." She whines!

"Nuh-uh."

Billie wipes her tears having to smile at the funny toddler with her daddy. It's cute to see this variant being a dad, She looks up at Miguel, "Thank you, sir. I need that."

"It's okay, chiquita. I'll inform Mariana that you're here. I'm sure she will come by."

Peter 616 said, "Who's Mariana?"

Jess said, "That's Miles' female variant. Surprised you haven't met her."

"There are so many Spider-heroes... it's hard to keep up." Peter said, having Karl in his arms, the toddler chilling in the Spider-man's arm.

Petie nodded, "Oh yeah, Just the other day I saw like ten Miguels and they were all to different yet... oddly familiar. I couldn't remember most of them."

"You remember them? I just use my watch to scan their number and keep notes. Not gonna break my brain for ten of Jess Drews." Jess snorted with an amazing laughter in her throat.

"Or 100 Peter B. Parkers." Miles 2020 groans, while he tries to hold onto to his daughter, who's squirming around his hands, "Cookie, stop moving!"

"No!" Mariana scowls at her daddy, she didn't want to be held. She rubs her face against her daddy's neck almost crying, "Nuuuhhh, da-ddy!"

The Teenage Spider-woman had already pulled away from Miguel's arms, she stood watching Miles 2020 and his daughter arguing.

Billie giggles, "Hahaha, I'm surprised you're a dad... my brother never saw himself having a family." She watches her brother's variant holding the little girl, "I wonder how her mom would feel taking care of all three all the time."

"I gots no mommy, lady! I only got daddies!" Mariana spoke up before any adult could say anything.

Miles 2020 saw Petie giggling, then sighs, "Mariana, you need to use your inside voice."

"I don't wanna!"

Billie looks worried, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. No! It's just Miles 2020 is from the Omegaverse and he's an Omega-" Billie gasps out loud cutting off Petie. "Oh my god, that explains so much! I didn't know that world existed." No wonder Miles 2020 had this rosy pink glow around him, he's much softer and she could smell sweetness from him.

"You know about the Omegaverse?" Jess asked.

"Yeah, who doesn't?" Billie asked out loud, "I've read a few stories about them."

"Well, me and Petie are both Omegas. We gave birth to our children." Miles 2020 briefly stated, "We are both married to our Alphas."

"And girls can be Alphas, too!" Gabriella happily pitched in.

Billies blink at the girl, "Oh this is another Gabriella variant, isn't it?"

"Yes, I heard you are friends with Gabriel from Earth 3000?" Miguel said, he knew Lyla had other Gabriellas appeared in this place from time to time. He only met a few and a couple of Gabriels. Gabriel from Earth 3000 is son of Miguel O'Hara and Tempest in another world.

"Yeah, we work together on missions with Mariana sometimes."

"Gabriel? Like my tío?" Gabriella asked.

"No, nena. It's another Spider-man..." Billie said, "He's another you."

"Another me! Wow. When will I meet more me?" Gabriella turns to her dad.

"It depends... they come and go whenever they are needed, mi vida." Miguel tries to explain.

"Awe, no fair!" Gabriella pouts. Just when she thought she will meet another her.

Then Mariana, the toddler shouted, "Down with the establishment!" With her hands raised up high in a fist and her brothers did the same thing.

"Shh, nena!" His daddy tries to hush her.

"But Papí said to always fight for the unjust!" The little brown girl pouted at her daddy.

"Not when you can't control someone's time management!"

"Papá doesn't believe in time!" She said out loud.

Miles 2020 could only sigh while Jess and Peter were cracking up. "Must be nice to have triplets, huh?" Jess jokes.

"Wonderful!" Miles 2020 forced a smile, sometimes his triplets be so much. He's lucky none of his hair fall out from all the stress.

"Daddy, I wanna walk!" Mariana whines almost about to cry.

"Nope. You're gonna stay here with me." He uses his web to have Mariana stick on his stomach creating a baby carrier which got the three year old mad!

"NOO! WAHHHH!" She began fuming and struggling to be free, her Alpha canines appeared.

"Mariana, your papí wouldn't like you misbehaving like this." Miles said in a serious tone, "Look how quiet your brothers are and they are living their best lives." His sons were busy in the Spider-men arms. Peter had Karl chilling in his arms while Aaron is happily crawling around Miguel.

"HMPH!" Mariana's round face red, angry eyes made her look so cute.

Billie giggles, "She's so cute when she's mad." She got close to study Mariana's face, who turns her face away from the Spider-woman. "Awe, don't be so mad. Your daddy want you to be safe. What would I give to be with my big bro." Her own honey brown eyes sadden thinking about her brother, she misses him.

Mariana looks back with her own big honey eyes, then place her hand on Billie's face. "Don't be sad lady! It's okay!"

Miles 2020 smiles at his daughter. "Billie, would you like to join us for lunch? It'll be nice for you to get to know all of us."

"Yeah, it'll be great, kid. Mig, me and Jess are always around so if you're ever scared, you can come see us." Peter 616 said.

Miguel nodded, "Yes! You are free to come by." He placed his hand on his own daughter's shoulder trying to show affection. His other hand holding onto to Aaron, who's sitting on his shoulder just vibing.

"I can be your big sister!" Gabriella holds Billie's hand, "In have so much wisdom to teach!"

Billie giggles at how cute the little girl is, "Oh really? What advice you can give me?"

"Being sad always leads to chicken nuggets!" Gabriella proudly said out loud.

"Yeah, that's so true!" Mayday happily said. "I wanna be your big sister too. Number one rule, everything I say is facts!"

Gabriella giggles, "May, I'm the oldest so I'm her big sister."

"No, I am!" Mariana shouted still being upset she's trapped in her web baby carrier her daddy made. "First, rule! Free me!" She struggles.

"Este niña." Miles 2020 groans, "Callmàte, cookie! That's it I'm calling your papì"

"NO! FREEDOM!" She wiggles around trying to loosen the web. The adults chuckles at the little girl still wish to be free from her daddy's web.

"OH BILLIE! There you are!" Hearing a familiar voice. The group look over to find a Marian, a Spider-woman and Miles' female variant. Surprisingly she was followed by a group of Miles and the Punks plus Gwen with Pavtri.

(Part 2)