#hardly do that without giving more about their families and lifestyle. and well here we are

[zeb-z]

sw au Leo and Vegetta and Foolish OH MY

Leo! Foolish finds her as a toddler on Coruscant, the day the Jedi temple burns. He’s just an aide to his senator then, barely hired due to staff shortages caused by the war. She’s upset and alone and largely ignored by the rest of the people minding their own business on the lower levels. Foolish scoops her up, gets her some water and something to eat, and waits to see if anyone comes back for her. No one does. From then on, it’s him and Leo against the world.

She sits in on a lot of meetings she shouldn’t be in, is around for a lot of busy work involving information she probably shouldn’t be privy to. But that’s okay, because she’s hardly noticed half the time, and the other half it’s easily excusable - Foolish couldn’t find a sitter on such short notice since the last one quit, she’s hardly interrupting, it’s good lessons for her to learn if she’s going to step into power one day, or even just a raised eyebrow and a ‘are you really going to tell me how to raise my kid?’.

Rarely is Leo actually told to wait somewhere else with one of Foolish’s aides, even rarer is she forced to stay home. She never stays behind whenever her Pa has trips to other planets, especially to Coruscant, unless it’s an extremely extenuating circumstance that’ll last a few days, and Roier is able to watch her. When Foolish is elected Senator, and has far more responsibilities that require him to be present on Coruscant, and no longer can rely on Vegetta, he tries harder to find trusted caretakers that Leo could like - it takes half a year for him to give up entirely. As much as he doesn’t want his child around the nest of spiders that is the Imperial center, he’s not wrong in it being a learning opportunity. And his enemies know of her existence anyways - she’s much safer at his side. And that’s where she’d prefer to be. However, this does make it rather difficult to make friends her age - as if her role as a senators child wasn’t isolating enough.

Leo is adored and doted on, just absolutely spoiled, because Foolish has the connections and the money to do so, so why shouldn’t he? Especially because they didn’t start out that way, with credits to burn and a taste for finer things.

Vegetta is a sculptor, who’s branching out into architecture after gaining enough fame and wealth to be comfortable. Him and Foolish meet very early on, where everyone else always seems to meet - everyone of importance, anyway - at a high end party during Ascension Week. Young Leo bumps into Vegetta while looking for her dad, and he helps her find him, and they strike up a polite conversation. At the next party, one of the ones Leo is at home asleep for, because it’s a later in the night, champagne and under the table spice, kind of Ascension party, they bump into eachother again, bonding over something that isn’t just the usual greetings and well wishes, and the rest is history.

Early into Foolish’s role as governor for his planet, on a day like any other, Vegetta leaves on some sort of trip, purely business. This in and of itself isn’t unusual, neither is the lack of contact for a few days at least - as much as Foolish loves his boyfriend, he’s not the clingy type, he understands that they are both busy people, and he trusts him implicitly. He picks up their weekly hologram call without a fuss. “Don’t worry, mi amor, I’ll be home before you know it. Tell Leo I love her, and miss her very much.” Then he misses the next weeks call. And the next. And the next. A missing persons report and follow up don’t seem to go very far, despite the strings Foolish tries to pull - every sign points to the classic case of an upper class affair, where the guilty party can easily change their face and name to chase after someone else - according to Imperial Law Enforcement, at least. Foolish is introduced to Jaiden soon after, his first Ascension week without Vegetta in a long time. He’s certain this isn’t coincidence.

Roier! Son of Vegetta, pilot with a dream, you know his whole thing. He meets Foolish and Leo through Vegetta, and is adopted in very quickly. He stays around even after Vegetta disappears, still calls Foolish his father and Leo his sister. They try to make it to most of his races, somehow managing to blend in with the crowd without making a fuss of his status, even on the most backwater planets. Roier usually makes it to Ascension week parties at the minimum, enough to keep appearances, and to keep an extra eye on Leo. As much as everyone knows Leo as Foolish’s child, Roier is very often forgotten - which is a good thing. It means he can get away with the racing he does.

Leo meets Vegetta young enough to hardly remember much of a time before him, but she’s old enough to remember when he left. Per Foolish’s advice, she doesn’t read gossip rags, and doesn’t pay any mind to whatever she may hear along the grapevine from spending so much time around socialites and politicians. She’s learned enough to know that this is the game that is played, and that entertaining conversation doesn’t always mean honest conversation. Late nights back at home, when Roier is also over, they like to point at different stars and wonder if that’s where their father is at now. On one planet, he’s lost on a hike and is still wandering. On another, he’s finding inspiration for his next major construct in the zen of nature, and left his com (and ship key) behind. On this one he’s fighting dragons to get the greatest treasure to gift to his children. That one, he found a portal that took him back in time, and he has to fight as a knight of the Old Republic. Something fantastical that’s keeping him from coming home.

Roier teaches Leo to fly! After the first few lessons, Foolish lets Leo pilot if they’re just flying around their home world, and sometimes lets her handle part of take off when ascending out of the gravity well to reach hyperspace. Leo Taxi! :’)

[ayejayque]

The Features and Elements of social media

The Internet has redefined people’s lifestyles as well as behaviors and habits. Everyone has needs and wishes to communicate with others for the exchange of information, ideas, news, and so on. The Internet has empowered people to join in and communicate with not only one’s family but with people everywhere. The Internet has deleted the borders between nations. The participation from the community of people & society at large has provided the stimulus to the growth of Social Media Networks. We can hardly find anyone without social media. It could be for exchanging emails, using chat or posting photographs and music, etc. Because of the huge number of social media users, marketers are exploring this avenue. They think it is the most effective way of getting close to the customers and to know them. Marketers have a dual advantage here. They are able to get in touch with those who are already their customers and experienced your products and services. They can also rope in prospective customers who might be influenced to buy the product in the future. Features Social media is a new cup of tea compared to traditional news media The traditional media is where the viewers are passive participants. Social media is different. Here the customers and the customers-to-be participate and exchange information, share experiences, and voice their opinion and reviews. This is based on their understanding and experience. Markets are able to intermingle with the buyer in ‘real time’ and take advantage of the communication. The Organization listens to the customer. It understands the customer’s observation about the brand as well as the product etc. Social media channels assist to build collective opinions and invite healthy discussions about the relevant topics. The second important feature is that social media networks spread across a variety of channels and mediums as compared to what print and news media operate with. Social media networks operate with audio, video, text, audio pods, private forums, public discussion boards, SMS, chatting, emails as well as blogging, etc. Thirdly, social media network is a lively, supple medium that keeps changing in terms of content, and tools. It evolves all the time. The way the participants keep giving inputs, and the collective wisdom of the group results in change and updating content. It also creates demand for more tools to be accessible. Lastly, social media networks call for a different way of participating from marketers. Social media networks allow the contributors to pilot the discussion and the marketers have to listen than lead the discussion. Marketers need to approach prospective customers indirectly. They do this by fashioning public opinion and then indirectly piloting them toward it. This will end up in them taking an interest in your product. Social media networks evolve at a very fast pace. They are in sync with changing technology tools that are around. Marketers have to tune in with the media. They must know how things work and make sure they are present wherever required. Avoiding social media networks in present times is not a choice for marketing companies. Read the full article

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

This Game of Yours

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Jason was beautiful.

And somehow that scar that went from the right corner of his mouth up to his temple only made him that much more beautiful to Y/N.

Those blue eyes were the same color of water on a stormy day in the Irish sea. And somehow Y/N knew they held the same tempestuousness.

The white streak weaved with his jet black hair so naturally that Y/N would’ve believed he was born with it.

His shoulders were so broad, making his 6’3 height feel even more imposing. He had a presence. People noticed every time he walked into a room. It made Y/N wonder how he was ever able to sneak up on people as Red Hood.

He was wearing a black hoodie underneath his black moto jacket.

Y/N knew Jason didn’t give a shit about fashion. Yet he was well-dressed without any effort – more so than most of the models Y/N had shot throughout her career.

Not being able to control herself any longer, Y/N raised her camera and took a photo.

Jason stopped surveying their surroundings and his gaze snapped to her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

But his growl didn’t scare her in the slightest.

“Anyone who’s by me when I have a camera is at risk of getting their picture taken. No one is safe. Not even you,” she answered his question unapologetically.

Y/N was working on a personal passion project for her next show. Her collection would be about the poverty and crime of Gotham. Half of the photos would show the heaviest crime areas of the city. And the other half would expose the lifestyles of the wealthiest people in Gotham.

Why did so many suffer from the same system that helped the rich get even richer?

When Bruce found out Y/N was going to Crime Alley and the Bowery by herself, he was visibly upset.

But he realized that Y/N would do as she pleased, so his plan b was to give her protective detail.

However, Y/N didn’t know that Jason had volunteered, almost immediately.

Instead, all she heard was Jason grimly telling her, “You’re lucky you haven’t been fucking murdered yet.”

She had only responded with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not your escort so you can take my picture. I’m here so you don’t get raped or murdered.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?”

His only response was a glare.

Jason loved playing this game. The game of pretending to be irritated with her when actually he was absolutely infatuated with Y/F/N Y/L/N.

“The easiest way to stop getting your picture taken is to always be the one holding the camera,” Y/N added with a smirk and wink.

Jason didn’t answer, only thinking what a shame it was that no one got to photograph her.

Suddenly, the sunlight hit the top of his head perfectly, creating a halo around that thick and messy hair of his.

Y/N snapped another photo.

“Will you stop?” He warned.

It only succeeded in making her laugh.

And that just excited his heart even more.

“Jason, you were born to get your photo taken.” 

There was no joke underneath her words, only sincerity.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Jason had a hard time believing that. His skin was riddled with scars. And he was convinced that she’d be singing a different song if she saw his chest, with its thick autopsy scar amongst the so many others. The absolute last word he’d use to describe himself was beautiful. Strong and imposing? Yes. But never beautiful – or any other positive adjective, for that matter.

“I’m not kidding. If you ever want to stop the whole vigilante thing, you can easily become a model.”

Y/N had noticed it as soon as Jason took of his helmet that night. His domino mask had done nothing to prevent her from noting the obvious.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to realize Jason wasn’t like his “brothers.”

“Brothers.” What a strange word.

Should she consider all of them as hers?

Only Damian was actually related to her – and technically he was only her half-brother.

Y/N had watched Jason get on his motorcycle and leave the cave that night she’d almost died.

She’d agreed to stay for dinner and get to know everyone. And a part of her brain was excited to get a better read on the masked man that sat by her bedside as she’d recovered.

“He’s not staying?” Y/N had asked Bruce as he guided her to the stairs that led back up to the manor.

He only shook his head, but she noticed the disappointed expression.

Soon she found out that Jason was the black sheep of this strange family that had taken her in.

Dick was the one who told her about Jason’s dark past. All of it seemed unbelievable: murdered by Joker and brought back to life from a mysterious pit. Only to return to the family who appeared to have replaced him and never sought vengeance on Jason’s behalf. 

But it was true; Y/N had seen no lie in Dick’s eyes when he filled her in.

Suddenly there was yelling coming from around the corner.

Without hesitation, Jason shoved Y/N behind him.

He reached for one of his guns and then realized that he didn’t have any.

Y/N was rather vocal about hating them, claiming they made her extremely uncomfortable.

Her expression alone as she said it was enough for Jason to swallow his stubbornness and leave the things at home.

Bruce was rather taken aback by the gesture. Nothing he’d ever said was enough to get Jason to do that.

A gang of young men came marching around the corner like they owned the place…because they did. This was their territory.

Jason immediately recognized them as some of the Russian mob.

Despite pulling Y/N behind him, they still caught sight of her and looked her up and down without an ounce of shame.

“Hey, beautiful. How you doing?”

“Продолжай идти, придурки,” Jason growled at them.

He was outnumbered. But there must’ve been something about his body language that made the gang realize they shouldn’t pick a fight with him. Maybe it was the muscles or his height or that he looked like he wouldn’t even blink before murdering them.

So they just…walked away. Some of them mumbled threats or insults at him. But they realized they shouldn’t even so much as look at Y/N.

A split second before they were gone, Y/N took a picture of Jason.

“Really?” He asked.

She shrugged. “You look like a different person when you’re protective.”

Y/N was beautiful.

Jason watched as she passionately explained her work to a potential buyer.

He recognized the man as a local politician – luckily, one of the few that hadn’t been corrupted from this shitty city.

Y/N had the intimidating energy of her father, but the kind eyes of her mother. At least, that was what Bruce had told everyone, and they all took his word for it.

She wore a stylish white jumpsuit that made her look like a 1980s villain and black stiletto heels. 

Jason watched as men cowered in her presence, hating the fact that she proudly stood taller than them. She was just one less woman they could intimidate or manipulate – and they couldn’t stand it.

But Jason loved watching the emasculation in real time.

The bastards didn’t deserve her anyway.

Dick was one of the very few men Jason knew who didn’t blink at a woman towering over him. In fact, his older brother had a track record of preferring it.

“Surprised to see you here,” Bruce said beside him, catching Jason watching Y/N.

“Well, I was her personal bodyguard through all this. Figured I should see if it was worth me wasting my time or not.” Then he tossed back his champagne and slammed it on the tray of a waiter passing by. “Plus, free alcohol.”

Bruce just quirked an eyebrow, silently telling Jason that he knew he was lying.

“Are you buying something?” Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

“I have been strictly forbidden,” Bruce sighed.

Jason chuckled.

He knew if Bruce had his way, he’d buy every single on of Y/N’s pieces.

“I have to know,” Bruce began. “What exactly is holding you back?”

Jason finally ripped his gaze away from Y/N to give Bruce a questioning look.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You care about her.”

“All of us do,” Jason brushed off. “Even the demon spawn.”

Bruce knew there wasn’t a chance Jason would admit his feelings – especially to him.

“Not that I think you care…but you have my approval.”

Little did Bruce know, Jason did care.

Jason had convinced himself that their rocky relationship and past fights meant that Bruce would die before he let Jason be anywhere near his daughter.

And Jason could hardly blame him.

He didn’t deserve to be loved. He lost that right after he died and came back a monster. And that was the story Jason told himself over and over again.

So he would love Y/N from afar. And hope she would pick someone who was worthy of her love.

“She’s basically my sister,” Jason groaned in fake disgust.

It was quite the performance.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “We both know that isn’t what’s stopping you. And you’ve made it clear you don’t consider us your family.”

“Whatever, Bruce.”

Jason walked away, having enough of the subject.

“What was that about?” Clark asked as he joined Bruce’s side.

“Jason refusing to let himself be happy,” Bruce sighed.

Clark already knew what Bruce was talking about. He’d seen Y/N and Jason dancing around each other for months now. He’d never really seen Y/N take an interest in anyone before, so it was all new for Clark.

“Don’t worry. Y/N won’t let him get away with it for much longer,” Clark said through a smirk. “She gets what she wants.”

And Bruce believed him.

“It doesn’t bother you – the two of them together?” Clark asked with genuine curiosity.

“Jason reminds me every day that I’m not his father. And I’m hardly Y/N’s.” A soft smile formed on Bruce’s lips. “He’ll look after her. And she…I think she’d be good for him. I just want them to be happy. Both of them.”

——

Jason headed home rather early.

He’d never actually went to say congratulations or even hello to Y/N.

Every time he was about to go over, someone else stole her attention. He didn’t want to get in the way of her talking to potential buyers or even just friends.

Jason was just about to make himself something to eat when there was a knock at his door.

He froze.

Very few people knew where his apartment was.

Jason grabbed a gun and tiptoed to his front door.

With a peak through the peephole, he let out a irritated sigh.

Jason whipped the door open, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your head off.”

“Maybe don’t own guns and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like that,” Y/N snapped back.

“What are you doing here?”

“You come to my gallery opening and don’t even say hi?” Y/N accused as she stepped around him and into the apartment, not waiting for an invitation.

Jason eyed the paper bag that was in one of her hands.

“By all means, come on in,” he called sarcastically as he slammed the door behind her.

Y/N started searching through his cabinets. “Where are your glasses?”

“The one to your right. What are you doing here?”

Y/N had the brightest and almost mischievous smile as she pulled a bottle of champagne from the paper bag.

“I brought this as my thanks for you making sure I don’t – and I quote – ‘get raped and murdered.’”

Jason glared at her.

Here was the game again.

Y/N being charming and hilariously provoking..and Jason pretending like he hadn’t fallen for her.

She poured them both a glass. They weren’t flutes or coupes, but she couldn’t care less.

“We’re chugging these, by the way,” Y/N informed Jason as she handed him a glass.

He sighed, but obediently clinked his glass with hers and tossed it back.

Barely giving them a second, Y/N immediately refilled them.

“So, why didn’t you come over and say hi?” She repeated.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” Jason mumbled with a shrug.

She narrowed her eyes at his answer. “You’ve never bothered me before, Jason.”

Now he felt guilty.

Jason bowed his head. “I should’ve come and talked to you,” he agreed. “Your work…it looked – it’s amazing, Y/N. Congratulations.”

Apparently Y/N hadn’t expected such a sincere compliment from him, and she was stunned to silence.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper once she’d recovered.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her edge. “And really…thank you for being my own little security detail.”

If Jason was healthy about expressing is thoughts and feelings, he would’ve told her that it was the highlight of his weeks. That he looked forward to her calls or texts, telling him that she was going to photograph another shady area. “Be there or don’t. I’m going no matter what,” she’d text him with her usual snark.

But Jason didn’t express his thoughts and feelings.

He kept them bottled up – with the same energy he used to keep Y/N at a distance.

So instead, Jason said, “If it wasn’t me, one of the others would’ve done it.”

Y/N winced slightly at that.

‘You’re such a fucking asshole,’ Jason told himself.

“You know…we can see each other even you’re not my bodyguard.”

Jason was impressed by her boldness. But she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t understand that he wasn’t good. He couldn’t play the loving boyfriend role. She belonged with someone like Dick or Clark – or literally anyone but him. And Jason was willing to be an asshole to make sure she understood that.

Y/N took a step closer to him, invading his personal space.

Without breaking eye contact, she threw back her second glass of champagne and then placed it on the nearest counter space.

She stepped even closer.

This was simultaneously Jason’s worst nightmare and most desired dream.

Her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips.

But before she could make her final push, Jason took a step back and cleared his throat.

He looked down at the ground as he said, “You should go.”

When he looked up, he expected to find Y/N heartbroken or embarrassed.

But she was neither.

No. She looked irritated.

Not because she wasn’t getting what she wanted, but because she was sick of his games.

Y/N sighed and stepped back. “Fine.”

Jason rubbed his face in frustration as she grabbed her purse and started for the door she had walked through only minutes ago.

She opened it and paused.

“You know what? No. Fuck that,” Y/N snapped before slamming the door closed.

She whipped around and strutted back to him with purpose.

Jason was suspended with both fervor and awe.

Y/N grabbed his face and pulled him down to her lips.

All self control went out the window. Jason couldn’t continue his game. It was all over for him.

He kissed her back almost immediately. How could he not?

Y/N bit his lip slightly, making him hiss in surprise. It was his punishment for making her wait all this time.

Eventually they needed a moment to breathe.

But Y/N didn’t let go of his face when their lips finally parted.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she breathed.

He swallowed nervously. “You’re kind of fucking terrifying. You know that?”

Her smile was pure evil.

Apparently this was the right response.

“Are you done being an idiot?” She asked.

He nodded quickly.

Her hands moved down and then lingered on his neck, tracing the bottom lines of his jaw.

She smiled again and then looked him up and down.

“What?” He questioned.

“Nothing,” she laughed. “I’m just…I’m not used to being shorter than men.”

“Is that the only reason you like me? Huh? My height?” Jason goaded.

“Of course not,” Y/N scoffed. “It was the whole ‘I look like I could murder everyone and I can, but deep down I’m a big softie’ that did it for me.”

Jason’s grip tightened on her waist. “Oh, yeah? You’re one to talk…”

“Me?!” She yelped. “I couldn’t kill anyone, even if my life depended on it.”

“Maybe. But your terrifying in basically every other way.”

Y/N laughed at that.

Jason couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound

“So…still want me to leave?” She asked.

And this time, she would if that’s really what he wanted.

“Fuck no,” Jason answered, almost threateningly.

Then, for good measure, he picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the couch, before he started to kiss her once again.

Y/N knew things weren’t always going to be this simple.

Jason had his demons. 

And honestly, so did she. They were nothing like his. And maybe they were silly in comparison. But she wouldn’t be the perfect partner. Just like he wouldn’t be. 

They’d drive each other crazy. But it would be the good kind of crazy.

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

+ Childhood

[cherienymphe]

Stranger Beside Me (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, forced pregnancy, mentions of abortion, toxic relationships, domestic abuse, I don’t know if I’ve ever written anything this angsty in my life

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

Here is the long awaited boyfriend!Steve fic.

summary: you and Steve have the perfect relationship, and you want to keep it that way. It’s why he can never discover your secrets, but your secrets wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for his own.

~

The first time you got pregnant, you had never been more disappointed with yourself in your life. Not even failing a major class during college had made you feel as bad as you did when you were staring at that little plastic stick, trying and desperately failing to convince yourself that you were just seeing double. How could you be so careless? How crazy it was to think that a small insignificant piece of plastic could change your mood and life so drastically.

You had sat down on the toilet and remained there for hours. So many thoughts were swirling in your head, possibilities that you didn’t even want to entertain but you found yourself doing so anyway. Eventually, you came to a conclusion that was easy to say: you weren’t ready for a baby. Admitting and accepting that wasn’t hard at all. The hard part was the question that followed. 

What were you going to do about it?

You had struggled with that particular part for days, and you were grateful more than ever that Steve was on a mission. You knew what he would do if he found out, what he would say, and it was an argument you were unprepared to have. You weren’t ready to break his heart like that and face the possibility that this could be the end for you.

Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. You were Pepper’s stylist, hired for special events, and having been in town for a company party thrown by Tony Stark himself, that was where you met Steve. The attraction was mutual, but you were a woman of the world, constantly jetting off to whatever celebrity needed you at the moment. A stationary girl trying to have a relationship with a superhero would be hard enough, let alone one whose feet never remained on the ground.

And that was what you told the blond avenger after the second time he slept over at your place. The first time, a week after the party, was only meant to be a one time thing. At least, that was your impression, but Steve liked you, and no matter how much you pretended you didn’t, you liked him too. Before you knew it, you were leading him into your apartment for a second time, mouth starved and hands searching. 

He was the most attentive lover you’d ever been with, touching you like you were nothing less than fine china, desperate for the taste of you on his lips. He held you like he was afraid to break you, and considering that the man was a super soldier, you understood that, but still. His touch, combined with the way he looked at you, made you feel like you were literally the only woman in the whole world. It was intense.

“I know,” he had sighed, staring up at the ceiling as you looked at him. “You just...make me feel so comfortable.”

You had frowned, never considering that. After all, this was only the second time you’d slept together. 

“I do?”

He turned to look at you, a small smile on his pink lips, blue eyes sparkling.

“Of course.”

You rolled over onto your stomach, resting on your forearms as he continued, watching as he reached out to brush a finger over the skin of your back.

“You don’t look at me like a superhero, but instead just some guy who is really great in bed.”

You let out a sheepish chuckle, dropping your head, and he joined you.

“Don’t feel bad. It’s surprisingly refreshing. It makes me feel like I have room to...be less than perfect,” he murmured.

Your eyes met his then, and despite the words never escaping his lips, they were front and center in his eyes, and you sighed.

“We would never work, Steve,” you whispered, surprised at how disappointed you sounded. “You’re always off saving the world, and I’m always off dressing it.”

He didn’t respond right away, mulling over what you said.

“Maybe that’s exactly why it would work,” he said, surprising you.

You frowned a bit before raising an eyebrow at him, curious as to how he came to that conclusion.

“I’ve tried to date. God knows I’ve tried to find a girl who wants Steve Rogers and not just the face of America…”

Steve sounded sad, maybe even a bit bitter.

“...but nevermind the fact that they only see the suit and shield, they’re always left to their cozy lifestyle while I'm off saving the world. They’re always waiting around for me, eating dinners alone, sleeping alone. Having a superhero boyfriend is never what they think it will be, never worth it, and while the breakup is expected, I still feel bad.”

Your heart clenched, and you found yourself scooting closer to him. He wrapped his big arm around you, pulling you into his chest, and his whole face shifted. He smiled at you, eyes hopeful.

“...but you? You’re running around the world almost as much as I am. By the time you even have time to miss me, I’ll already be there, and if not…”

He trailed off, but he didn’t need to say it. Your lifestyle wasn’t exactly compatible with a relationship. At least, not a conventional one anyway. Spending nights alone was normal for you, and having a boyfriend that wasn’t there half the time would hardly impact your lifestyle. 

You slowly returned his smile.

“Okay, Rogers. Maybe this could work.”

And work it did. 2 years and 7 months later, and the two of you were happier than ever. Tony was surprised that Steve found a girl who stuck around, and Pepper was surprised that you’d found someone who convinced you to settle down. You simply told her that Steve had made a convincing argument, but the truth was that Steve was genuinely the perfect boyfriend. You two talked whenever you could, and he had been right. By the time you even had time to miss him, he was somehow always there, knocking on the door of your apartment, doing so until he upgraded to waltzing through the door of your shared apartment. 

Steve treated you like a queen, constantly making you question how you got so lucky. He always kissed you like it was going to be the last time, and he made love to you like he was personally trying to drive you crazy with pleasure. You loved him, you loved him, you loved him. You had even told him first, and he had been sad because he had wanted to tell you first for a long time, and that made you sad. So you let him tell you, and then you said it back, and he’d made love to you like he never had before, and it was there, coming undone in his arms, that you told him you loved him again and again and again.

That was why he couldn’t find out you were pregnant. It would start an argument that would ruin you, ruin everything. Steve was hardly home, and you were no different, and while it was never a problem before, it was no environment to raise a baby in. This was the truth. This made sense. Your doctor agreed, and while Steve was off saving the world on an early weekday morning, you were doing what you felt was right.

The 2nd time you got pregnant, you weren’t just disappointed at your carelessness again, but you were also angry. It was no secret that Steve wanted a baby, probably since the first moment he saw you. You always noticed the way he looked at families, the way he smiled and waved at awestruck children. The man had probably come out of the womb ready to be a father, and you loved that about him. And it wasn’t like you didn’t want children too, you certainly did, but just not anytime soon.

You still had a thriving career, and so did he, and neither one of you seemed ready to give that up in the near future. A baby required sacrifice, and you weren’t ready for that yet, and if the way Steve readily took on missions was anything to by, neither was he. You knew that if he found out, he would fight to convince you to keep it, and you would fight to convince him that neither one of you were ready. Like before, you thought to yourself that it would start an argument that could very well be the end for you.

That was where the anger came in.

Why did you keep doing this? How did you keep doing this? Both of you had always been safe, never going without a condom, but after the first pregnancy, you had even gone on birth control too, paranoid and determined to be more responsible. Yet, here you were, pregnant again. You knew what this would do to your relationship, so how could you be so negligent again? It was as if you were subconsciously trying to ruin everything and you hated yourself for it.

Steve had not been away on a mission this time, and you immediately took all of the garbage out under the guise of cleaning the house. He seemed far more attentive that night than usual, but it could have just as easily been your own paranoia. His mouth covered yours in a heated kiss as he pressed his hips to yours, pulling a moan from you.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured into your mouth, pulling back before sliding into you again. 

Your legs were tight around his waist, and his hands were tight on yours. The only thing that filled the room was the sound of heavy moans and harsh breathing, occasionally interrupted by whatever Steve chose to say. It never not surprised you how much Steve enjoyed talking to you in bed. Praising you, degrading you, teasing you. He enjoyed making you squirm from more than just his cock.

“You know what would make you even more beautiful? Radiant?”

“What?” you breathed, hands running through his hair.

“A baby,” he mumbled, lips ghosting over your chin, making you freeze.

At first you thought that maybe he knew. Although there was no logical explanation for thinking that, you’d been very careful, you couldn’t help it. Your heart picked up the pace, but then you realized that Steve was just being Steve. He had mentioned children in passing, but it was done in the way that you mentioned children. Always in a future tense. It had never been like this, so straightforward and with a sense of urgency. 

He wanted a baby now.

“Come on,” you chuckled, trying to brush him off, attempting to press your lips against his.

He moved out of your reach, and you tried not to let it show how much you were bothered by this conversation. His blue eyes searched yours, a faint smile on his face as he hovered over you.

“I’m serious. Think about how beautiful you’d be, round and glowing with my child,” he continued, finally kissing you.

His hips snapped into yours, more force behind his thrusts, like the idea of you swollen with his child was the biggest turn on. You never even got a chance to truly voice your displeasure, a moaning and quivering mess until you finally came around him. Once your heart finally settled, you laid there, thinking about the fact that Steve wanted a baby now despite the fact that neither of your lifestyles could accommodate one. 

When he came back to bed after disposing of the condom, he pulled you into his arms, and you settled against him. He pressed his face into your hair, breathing you in, and you closed your eyes, feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world.

“I can’t wait til we never have to buy those again,” he whispered.

Your heart clenched, and you forced yourself to go to sleep by listing every reason you could think of as to why you were doing the right thing. A week later, Steve kissed you goodbye in the early hours of the morning before he had to leave on another mission. 2 hours later, you were in a doctor’s office doing what you felt was best.

The 3rd time you got pregnant, you were no longer disappointed. Not even angry, but just confused. You were leaning against the closed door of your bathroom, once again staring at that little piece of plastic with nothing but confusion. You were as careful as you could possibly be. After the 2nd pregnancy, you always triple checked to make sure that you never forgot your birth control. You made sure that the house was always stocked with condoms.

You didn’t understand it.

You had been startled by a knock on the door, and you hurriedly rushed to get rid of the test. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been in the bathroom, and Steve had started to get worried. At least, that was what he told you through the door.

“Are you okay?”

What a loaded question. Were you okay? Here you were, pregnant for the third time within a year and you couldn’t figure out how. Of course, it was obvious as to how, but it should have been very unlikely. You knew that condoms, even when paired with birth control, weren’t going to be 100% effective. You were an adult with common sense. That you understood. One unplanned pregnancy wasn’t the most ridiculous thing in the world. Shit happens.

Two within the same year still wasn’t absolutely crazy, but it was a little mind bending when you were more than careful.

But three? Three was concerning.

You opened the bathroom door with a soft smile, nodding at Steve as you stepped out.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He looked like he didn’t quite believe you, but being the great boyfriend that he was, he didn’t press you further.

“Okay. Breakfast is on the table. Come eat?” he offered, holding out his hand.

You took it and allowed him to lead you to the dining room. Breakfast was as it always was. Steve told you about the last mission he’d just gotten back from only days ago, and you told him about the latest celebrity going through a meltdown over a dress. You enjoyed these talks with Steve, these moments with just the two of you, and you weren’t ready to alter that in any way. Not yet. 

Sometimes you felt like the worst girlfriend in the world, wondering if you were being selfish for wanting it to remain just the two of you for a little while longer. You adored children, but having them wasn’t just some hobby. You would no longer be able to put yourself first, and with so much of your life still ahead of you, you weren’t ready to stop being selfish.

And that was okay.

What wasn’t okay was the lies. No matter how you tried to spin it, no matter how many justifications you made, you were lying to Steve. Perhaps in one of the worst ways possible. Sometimes you felt like you should tell him, but what purpose would it serve? Nothing could be done about the past, and he’d only end up hating you. That was what you were really afraid of. Having Steve stare at you like he didn’t even know who you were.

But you knew how Steve could be. How clouded his mind could get when it came to children and starting a family. The man enjoyed a simple life. He was nostalgic for what he felt he missed out on, and while there was nothing wrong with that, you knew that he wasn’t going to hang up the shield for it. Just like you weren’t going to put your career on pause for it, and you had no intentions of just letting some stranger raise your child. 

You knew that neither one of you were willing to sacrifice in order to raise a baby in the proper environment. That was why during breakfast, as you held Steve’s hand while you two talked and ate, you decided to go through with it for a third time.

The first time had been hard. You kept second guessing everything. You knew that it was the right thing to do, but was it the right thing to do without telling Steve? Without getting his input? Without even giving him the chance to love this baby before you snatched it away? Your body, your choice right? But was it really that black and white? Was any of this fair to him? 

The second time had been easier. You still hadn’t felt any better about it, but at least you weren’t going through an internal crisis. At least you knew what to expect, because that had been the most nerve wracking part, fear of the unknown. Afterwards, your mood wasn’t as sullen for as long as it was after the first time. You had moved past it fairly quickly, but after all, you had been sure it would be the final time. 

The third time wasn’t anything like that. The guilt still ate away at you, but it seemed more like a standard doctor’s visit. A routine checkup. That was what you told Steve it was. He had offered to take you, but you had declined, and he had sent you off with a lingering kiss. You went to get some coffee from Starbucks afterwards.

The months that followed were filled with the usual bliss that surrounded your relationship. You two went to Tony’s parties, occasionally hung out at the compound with the rest of the team, and Steve took you out whenever he was home. Despite your relationship ruining secrets, everything was perfect.

Almost.

“Everytime you come to one of my little soirees, I keep expecting to see you 4 months pregnant,” Tony said, making you bark a laugh.

Steve only chuckled, and you squeezed his hand, sending him a soft smile. The baby talk had increased as of late, but truthfully, it had been gradually increasing for pretty much a year. If it hadn’t been obvious before, it was now. Steve was ready to have children, and while it had been a topic that was only thrown into conversation here and there, you found yourself skimming over the subject at least once a week these days.

Surely you would get to a point where a serious discussion about it would be unavoidable. Steve loved you, and you were sure that you could talk him into waiting. After all, it wasn’t like you would be saying you never wanted kids. Just not now.

“I’m serious. All ‘Capsicle’ here talks about is kids. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the two of you had been trying for months,” the dark-haired man continued, taking a sip of his drink.

He was throwing his annual holiday party tonight, always placed in between Christmas and New Year’s, despite the fact that he threw parties on those days too. You just thought that Tony liked any excuse to party and drink.

“Sadly no,” Steve said, his tone surprising you. “We’re still just enjoying each other as much as we can. Right?”

He looked at you, and your smile faltered a bit, but you nodded. That was what you always told him whenever the topic came up. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Steve sounded bitter, upset even. You turned away from him, taking a sip of your champagne with a frown. You suddenly wondered if he knew, but that was easily dismissed. If Steve knew that you had secretly aborted 3 of his children, you’d be on the receiving end of more than just a strained smile and a passive aggressive tone. 

You worried that tonight would be the night where you’d have the big talk, where you’d have to come out and tell Steve to give you more time. It was wild to think that even though there was nothing wrong with waiting to have kids, you felt horrible about asking Steve to do so. Maybe it was because he’s so sweet? Or because he’s literally never asked you for anything else? Or maybe it was because you had deprived him of what he wanted three times over and the guilt was getting to you.

However, you weren’t able to do that. You hadn’t even realized that you had started to sway until the glass in your hand hit the floor, shattering upon impact. Steve had only a second to turn towards you before you were collapsing in his waiting arms. Against your will, you succumbed to darkness.

When you woke up, you were in the compound. You had been in the infirmary a handful of times so it was recognizable almost immediately. Nat was there when you woke up, and she sent you a small nervous smile.

“Well, hello sleepyhead. You gave us all quite the scare,” she murmured.

You hummed, briefly shutting your eyes as you pressed your hand to your head.

“Sorry. What...what happened?”

“You fainted,” she said, handing you the glass of water that was beside the bed.

You gratefully took it, gulping it down, surprised at how thirsty you were. You thanked her when you handed it back to her and was just about to ask her where Steve was when he strode through the door. His lips were pressed together, and you worried that he’d worried about you, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him, and you frowned.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Nat said before making to leave. “Take care of her, Steve.”

He was at your side just as the door shut behind her, and your frown deepened when a blinding smile spread over his lips. You were confused as he took your hand, keeping his lips there as he kissed it.

“Steve…?”

He shook his head.

“Sorry,” he said, sitting down next to you on the bed, facing you as he held your hand. 

The other reached out to brush over your cheek and across your jaw. Despite your confusion, you placed your hand on his, blinking at him, a bit unnerved by the look in his eye. 

You hadn’t seen that look since before you two officially became a couple.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Everything is more than okay.”

He leaned in to press his lips against yours, soft and loving, and you kissed him back. When he pulled away, he looked at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen, like you’d break with one touch.

“You’re pregnant,” he told you.

Your lips parted as his words washed over you, and you struggled to find something to say.

“...what?”

He repeated it with a smile, kissing you again before pulling you into a hug, one you did not return. Everything after that was a blur. Tony came in to make sure everything was fine. Dr. Cho said you were 4 weeks along is what he told you. He’d offered his congratulations, Steve took you home and wasted no time before wrapping his arms around you.

His touch was gentle throughout the night, but it lingered as if he never wanted to stop touching you. You don’t know how many times he made you come around him, but Steve didn’t seem to care about your exhaustion. With his lips constantly attached to your skin, he only cared about getting drunk off the taste of you. You let him have you as much as he wanted. You let him rejoice in this, because it was the least you could do before you broke his heart. 

He was awake in the morning before you, and the smell of breakfast cooking made your stomach growl. Gratefully, you didn’t seem to have any morning sickness, but your stomach still twisted from something entirely different as you made your way to the kitchen. Steve looked like anyone’s dream as he stood there in a fitted t-shirt and pajamas, pushing food onto a plate for you.

“Morning,” you mumbled.

He looked up and approached you with a smile, pressing a kiss to your lips as he returned your greeting.

“Go sit down. I’ll bring you your food,” he told you.

Reluctantly, you did so. You were quiet as he joined you, and you started nibbling on your food.

“Sweetheart,” he scolded at the action. “You’re eating for two now. You need to eat all of it.”

He was right, and under different circumstances you would do as he encouraged, but there was no point in putting this off.

“Steve, I don’t want to have this baby.”

You hadn’t mean to say it so bluntly, but there was no easy way to say it. There was no sense in hesitating. Steve froze almost immediately, and you reluctantly met his eyes as he stared at you. He rested his forearms on the table, a small frown on his face. He looked equal parts floored and confused and hurt, and you sighed.

“...what?”

“We’re not ready,” you whispered.

Steve scoffed, shaking his head at you.

“Of course, we are,” he argued.

“So you’re ready to give up being Captain America?” you asked him.

He hesitated, and you nodded.

“...exactly. You’re not, and that’s okay, and I would never ask you to, but that’s what's going to be required if we’re going to start a family now. You like doing what you do, and I like doing what I do. Neither one of us are ready to put a stop to any of it, at least not for the time being.”

“To be fair, I save lives. There will always be some Hollywood starlet who needs a dress or the latest shoes,” he replied.

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, looking at him like he’d slapped you.

He suddenly huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he eventually said. “I’m just saying that putting that on hold for a few years will hardly impact you. You can always pick it up again like you never left.”

“And why am I the one who has to sacrifice, Steve? You aren’t the only superhero-!”

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” he cut you off as your voice started to rise, reaching for your hand.

He brushed his thumb along the back in what was meant to be a soothing getsure, but you were still a bit heated at the way he’d diminished your career. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I just… I know that it’s going to be difficult-.”

“It’s going to be more than difficult. We’re talking about a baby! Both of us need to be here,” you told him.

He heaved a sigh, staring at you.

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I don’t want to have a baby right now. Maybe in a few years, sure, but neither one of us are willing to sacrifice.”

You watched as his jaw ticked, eyes narrowing just a bit as he considered your words.

“So what does that mean?”

You crossed your arms over your chest as you leaned back, avoiding his eye.

“Y/N?”

“Steve-.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

You flinched, not used to Steve cursing, and you knew that he was angry. This very conversation was what you had tried so hard to prevent, and once again, you were cursing yourself for your negligence. How on earth did you manage to get pregnant again?

You stood from the table, trying to put off this fight for five more minutes, the same fight you’d been trying to prevent for a year. You and Steve hardly ever fought, but when you did, it was for the silliest of things. Things you’d both look back on and laugh at.

Not this.

You heard Steve follow you, and his grip on your wrist was hard as he pulled you to a halt. You spun around to face him like he’d lost his mind. You tried to get out of his hold, but he wasn’t budging. He knew what you were implying, what you planned to do, and he was angrier than you’d ever seen him.

“This is my decision,” you quietly told him, making his eyes darken. “You don’t have to agree with it, you don’t even have to like it, but you can’t make me go through with this pregnancy. Neither one of us are ready.”

“So I get no say?”

He tilted his head at you, and you blinked away tears.

“I don’t want this right now, Steve. I don’t, and I’m not going to change my mind, so what do you suggest we do?”

His face softened a bit, and he stepped closer.

“Let’s give it a try. Don’t put your career on hold, okay? We’ll try to make it work-.”

He cut himself off as you started to shake your head.

“No. I’m not going to take a gamble with our child’s livelihood. There should be no ‘trying to make it work’. When you bring a baby into this world, everyone involved should be 100% on board. Things need to start moving into place to accommodate that child. This is not how it should be.”

Steve swallowed, nostrils flaring as you argued, and you sighed again. The silence that followed was heavy, thick with tension and anger and an impending sense of doom. You loved Steve, but not enough to force yourself into having a baby for him. Your chest ached, and you wanted to cry.

“If...if this means that you don’t want to be with me anymore, then I understand, but… I’m not having this baby.”

He let you go, crossing his arms over his chest, and you stood there, waiting for the verdict. His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek, jaw moving as he grinded his teeth.

“We’re not breaking up.”

He continued before you could feel an ounce of relief.

“...and you’re not getting rid of my child.”

You rolled your eyes, swallowing another sigh as you rubbed your forehead.

“Steve-.”

“Do you hear me? You are not getting rid of my child,” he spat.

He stepped closer, and you found yourself narrowing your eyes at him.

“I went through a great deal of trouble to make sure you got pregnant in the first place, and you think I’m just going to let you get rid of it? Let all of it be in vain?”

His words sucked the air out of you, and your eyes widened as the gravity of them fully hit you. Your mouth parted, but no words came out because what could you say? You couldn’t even describe the shock and horror and disgust that tore through you in that moment, and you slowly took a step back from him.

You raised your hands in front of you as your mind whirled, eyes focused on the floor as you blinked. His confession finally put things into perspective. His words put the pieces together, and your breathing grew shallow as you processed the truth.

“I knew it.”

Your words were barely a whisper, but Steve heard you nonetheless, and you took another step back when he walked towards you.

“I knew it. I knew it. I knew it,” you quietly chanted to yourself.

That was the only thing running through your mind. Had your love for Steve allowed you to ignore what was right in front of you? You were diligent with your contraceptive, so so many pregnancies in such a short time had never made sense. You kept blaming yourself despite what was so obvious. Sure, Steve was family obsessed, but you had never considered the possibility. Or did you simply never want to?

You looked up at him like he was a stranger, vision blurry from your tears, and you shook your head.

“I knew it,” you cried. “I fucking knew it.”

Steve’s eyes were narrowed, and his head was cocked to the side, something in his eyes that scared you. 

“I kept wondering and wondering how it kept happening. How did I keep getting pregnant? It made no sense,” you said, more to yourself than him. “...and everytime...I felt bad. I felt like such a horrible girlfriend, and the whole time…”

You yelped when Steve’s hand made its way to your neck, pushing your back into the wall. His blue eyes were dark and venomous, a thunderous look on his beautiful face.

“You killed them?”

You didn’t respond, opting instead for fighting against him, but he wouldn’t move.

“I knew you should’ve been pregnant a long time ago. I made sure of it! And here I was thinking I did something wrong, that I messed up-.”

“Get off of me!”

You didn’t want to hear anything else about his fucked up plan, about how long he’d been doing this. You wanted him off of you and away from you. He pulled you away from the wall before slamming you back against it, making you gasp. You reached up to his chest and neck, desperately trying to get him off, but he only pressed himself more firmly against you.

“Steve,” you begged.

“You don’t know how badly I want to hurt you right now for what you did,” he sneered.

Your heart sank, and you thought to yourself that his lack of self awareness was astounding. How long had Steve been this way? Had he always been like this? How was it possible that you didn’t know your boyfriend at all?

“...but I’m sure that I can look past your betrayal when you are swollen and glowing with my child. That will make it all worth it.”

He kissed you, hard, and you screamed into his mouth. His hands pushed at the t-shirt you were wearing, his shirt, and your hands pushed at him. He lifted you until your thighs were on either side of his hips, and the sound of your hands hitting his skin filled the room. The food was barely thought about as he pressed your back to the table, pinning you down.

You were more terrified than you were five minutes ago, knowing what was about to happen no matter how much you wished you were wrong. Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, your boyfriend, was about to rape you and force you to keep his baby. It was a sentence you had the hardest time accepting, and all of your overwhelming emotions spilled over, turning you into a sobbing mess.

Did you really miss this, or was he just so good at hiding who he truly was? 

Your hits were doing nothing as he reached between you, struggling to release himself with all of your movement. His free hand grabbed both of yours, holding them to your stomach just as he pushed into you. You threw your head back and cried, wondering how you got here. To think, you had thought that you were so lucky. You had thought that you were a terrible girlfriend for what you had been doing. Life was funny that way.

Your body had grown to crave Steve’s. He’d learned how to condition you so well that your core immediately started to clench around him with every thrust. You hated it, and you turned your head away, not wanting to witness him taint something that had never been anything but loving for you. His lips were on your jaw, searching for yours, and you tried to push against his hand.

With his other hand now free, he used them both to pin yours down beside you, lips finally finding yours despite your evident protest. You kept turning your head away, and he kept following. He tasted the inside of your mouth, hips pressing into yours over and over. The table beneath you shook from the force, and your stomach clenched with the pleasure that he was forcing onto you.

How did he do it? Clearly he’d poked a hole in every condom, but you knew it required more than that. Had he replaced your birth control with placebos? Had he acted alone? Tony had just about everything known to man at his disposal. Had he been in on it too?

“You’re going to look so beautiful,” he whispered into your mouth.

Another sob hit you, and you shook.

“You’re going to be absolutely radiant, and you’ll be just as beautiful when you walk down the aisle.”

You gasped at this, increasing your struggle, but he simply pulled your wrists away from the table before slamming them down. You winced in pain, and he hummed.

“...and I’ll fill you up again and again and again.”

You kicked your legs around him, body trembling as hysterical sobs left you, shuddering with every thrust into your dripping core. A particularly hard thrust pushed you over the edge, and the way you fluttered around him triggered his own climax. He came inside of you with a groan, wrapping his arms around you, preventing you from fighting back at all as he pinned your arms to your side.

His cock was still hard and still inside of you, his lips pressing kisses to your face. You felt like you were in a bad dream, and you wanted to wake up so badly. His lips traveled to your ear, brushing along the skin, and a shudder passed through you.

“Everyone will know that I tamed you, that I broke you until you were mine in every way.”

~

tags:  @darkficreposter​​​​ @xoxabs88xox​​​​ @harryspet​​​​ @readermia​​​​ @opheliadawnwalker3​​​ @nickyl316h​​​​ @captainchrisstan​​​​ @sebabestianstan101​​​​ @villanellevi​​​​ @lokislastlove​​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​​ @coconutqueen21​​​​ @hurricanerin​​​ @trinittyy​​​ @hyoyeoniie​​​ @kellyn1604​​​ @sherrybaby14​​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​​ @mandiiblanche​​ @gotnofucks​​ @oneoftheprettynerds​​ @doozywoozy​​ @sapphirescrolls​​ @threeminutesoflife​​ @searchforanotherway​​ @mcudarklibrary​ @ksjksjkv​

[janumun]

A [Cat] Parent's Memoirs of Pregnancy ft. Spouse (Pregnancy Headcanons)

Game: Shall We Date: Obey Me! Rating: General Audience/SFW Tags: pregnancy sweetness (and shenanigans)

Summary: Satan's approach and reaction to having a baby with his S/O.

Author's Notes: YESSSS YOU CAN @niphredil-14. 💚💛 This is cute and very, very warm. I tossed in between giving him either fur babies or demon babies (he deserves both!), and chose this! I hope you enjoy your read. 💚

Requests for this event are now (long) closed, dear readers. Thank you to all those who participated!

Perhaps three or twelve feline babies later, the two of you might plan on making a hybrid child — with two hands and two legs, five fingers on each and absolutely no fur in sight.

Satan would prefer waiting until your youngest adopted foundling — a tiny, dark slip of a cat — is well into its second year in this world before he decides to try for a baby, of your own flesh and blood. A decision he hardly takes in frivolity. Every vulnerable life, be it cat or person, is important and requires adequate care; Satan is very well aware of the fact.

When the two of you discover you are with child, happiness trumps within alongside multiple plans he’s already running through his head for the arrival of your child. Unfortunately, his immediate task on the agenda is informing Lucifer about the upcoming arrival — fighting for board for his adopted cats’ was Hell enough, war waged with you by his side — lest Lucifer demand he find elsewhere for the two of you to care for your baby. He’s going to stomp out of the House of Lamentation if Lucifer so much as suggests displeasure at your child.

Begrudgingly — and as frightening as it is to witness this conversation in between the two brothers, you fear you might almost collapse at how tensed you are watching the two glare at each other — though your demon breaks the news, and perhaps almost surprising for Satan, Lucifer greets the news with good cheer.

Claret gaze warming in affection as it slides towards you before he congratulates the two of you on your pregnancy.

Suffice to say, once his other brothers are informed of the news, they’re gathering over to express surprise (you suspect it’s more about them wanting to fawn and coo over a human pregnant) and extend their well-wishes to the two of you. Gifts from every single brother — in good will, but largely injurious to your health and the baby’s — Satan has lined against your side of the bed. Lucifer’s he burns with his unearthly verdant fire the moment you’re presented with it and the elder brother’s out of sight.

Manuals are brought out, books are being purchased. Shipments from all four corners of Devildom, pricey tomes on human pregnancy from the Earth.

Satan’s here to provide you with all information necessary to nurturing a baby within your womb, random facts and tid-bits even you’re hearing for the first time. He stresses on keeping yourself healthy. He isn’t an over-bearing future father but does definitely encourage you to stick to the health schedule he draws up for you every week, making a point of, time and again, how important it is for you to follow a good lifestyle in order to see through a safe pregnancy and delivery.

Everyday walks, Kegels, healthy amounts of fruit and meat in your diet (let him know if anything — anything at all — upsets your appetite and he’s quick to swipe that item out of your plate, and your lives). None of which you’re doing alone because he’s more than happy to accompany you throughout your regime.

Don’t let him choose too many of the baby’s clothes however, he’s pulling the oddest combinations of clothes off the rack and it leaves you half-amused half-terrified for your future baby’s sense of fashion. [That is way too many cat onesies in bizarre shades, Satan!]

He would never force you to adhere to something he wasn’t capable of seeing through himself. And, first and foremost he wants to be there for and with you. If you’d let him, he’d be very hands-on in helping deliver your baby as well.

Every single time the two of you make progress through your health list, Satan’s got a pat on the head ready, stroking your hair, affectionate, praising you on how well you’d done that day and what good progression you’d been making lately. Parting stray locks to press a kiss against your forehead. One to your lips in a smile more than happy to, if you ask for more. He’s that perfect balance between strict and adoring.

Future Father™️ (not so) secretly loves to be wrapped up in surprise cuddles any day of the week. There is nothing more joyous than the thought of being needed by you.

Perhaps one of the more enjoyable parts of your pregnancy has been how much more physically affectionate your child has made you and he can hardly complain when you crawl across the covers to join him in bed as he reads. You settling soft against him, needy arms coming around. Swollen stomach, round and wonderfully full, pressed into his side, he almost thinks he feels the baby within, kick a foot in welcome against his side — Hello Dad, as if that’s what Baby’s saying, if they could speak. The rather ridiculously sweet thought’s enough to pull a soft bout of laughter from him and an arm he fits carefully against your shoulder to drag you in.

“Are you cold again, kitten? Come sit next to me. We don’t want you and the little one to get sick now, do we? Is that better? Do you need me to go fetch a blanket? Alright then, sweet dreams.”

He’s here to answer to your every need, so long as it’s within the bounds of reasonability and not injurious to you or the baby.

As much as Satan might seem in control of the entire situation; calm rationale persevering through your hurdles of new pregnancy and future parenthood. Despite how he is the one you seek comfort in and take pride in as the father of your child… Satan is not entirely without his own chips in a seemingly flawless armor.

His knowledge, no matter how vast and thorough, doesn’t replace the practicality of witnessing you nurture a child — your child — within your belly for nine long months. Less than even a speck within a demon’s eternity but so very long and at times… challenging, more than he’s ever encountered throughout his lifetime. Having been born of Lucifer’s rage and anguish, Satan has never known of a parent’s love, nor does he pretend to understand what it might entail. He’s never really felt the need to, past that hollow ache that surfaces at times, to know he was born of loathing and negativity, not nurtured from love.

Lucifer’s hatred of his Father, Levi’s brief mentions of his Mother… a bedtime story narrated of times within the Heavens past with their family, among the brothers, in Lucifer’s absence, is all he knows of the entities called ‘parents’. He does not know what he ‘feels’, if his emotions and reactions are appropriate for a life the two of you are responsible for, together. If his version of love would ever be adequate enough for your baby — the thought that they too might grow missing half the love of their parents, to have no outlet for restless agitation and hurt towards a father who’s never had one of his own… it terrifies him beyond belief.

Times like these are when you need to read him like the very books he’s so fond of picking apart. Seat him by your side and engage him in conversation of your future as a family of many, many children (demon/human and feline alike). Let Satan voice his thoughts, unformed or firm, however they might come across. Pity or sermons are not what he needs; rather quiet understanding and thinking space. To let him realize how he has no need for anxiety; his version of love is just as much valid and your absolute faith in Satan’s ability to love your child as much as he does you. Something you’re willing to learn, a new experience of loving your child, together, with him by your side.

And if the hand that reaches out to caress your distended abdomen, as if towards one very precious, the soft affection in that verdant gaze is indication enough, he’s already begun to learn.

Bonus: Baby Wrath™️ is studious and very interested in learning of the world around, from a tender age. Drinks milk regularly and lick-finishes their cup clean, like they are supposed to under the watchful eye of Dad Wrath™️.

Satan is strict only in terms of good manners and good education; he’s nurturing and encourages the child to enjoy whatever hobbies they develop over their years. (Reading is one and no one’s more proud than Satan that Baby’s often found burrowed within their father’s mountain of books). You do allow the child more leeway, in terms of candy consumption and staying up past bedtime, although that influence can be traced back to Uncles Mammon and Levi who are terrible role-models and have more than once caused Dad Wrath to explode on their sorry souls. Baby Wrath is — much to the chagrin and woe of his father — very fond of Uncle Lucifer and he is their (second) favorite in terms of gifting new and fascinating books to study, and teaching to write simple words, on occasion.

End Notes: Thank you for reading!

♧° Link to Master List °♡

[aquafaith]

My lengthy, angry ACOSF rant review.

Spoilers, TW for mental, emotional, physical, and sexual abuse.

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I loved ACOTAR. I still love ACOTAR. I always will love ACOTAR. But every book afterwards made me give up more and more. ACOMAF romanticized an abusive relationship and assassinated characters for the author's convenience. ACOWAR was a bunch of boring and inconsequential death scares. ACOFAS was all-round dreadful. And each book kept shitting on and pushing away Lucien for no reason.

I'd like to preface this by saying I hated Nesta too. I hated the way she treated Feyre in ACOTAR especially, and I wasn't even too excited for this book because I wasn't that keen on Nesta as a character.

Nesta's POV and her backstory changed my perspective. It does not excuse her actions. All Nesta stans can hold these characters accountable for what they do - trauma is a reason, not an excuse. I, and many others, sided with Nesta because of the way she's treated by everyone else in this book. Also, if you're going to hate Nesta for not teaching Feyre how to read and letting her hunt at fourteen, (which I did, and are very valid things to hate), AT LEAST hold Elain accountable too.

This book. This fucking book.

Shall we start with the intervention? Feyre on her little power trip thinks that her boyfriend that hates Nesta and Nesta hates back, Nesta's ex-best friend, and her possible mate who she never talks to should be at this stupid fucking intervention??? Excuse me???

Remember in ACOMAF when Feyre wouldn't shut up about how rich Rhysand is? Feyre literally has four or five houses and is always talking about how much jewelry and lingerie she can afford because Rhysand is so rich??? Well, Nesta has a few shots. So you know what Feyre does? Humiliates Nesta at this "intervention", TEARS DOWN HER HOME, and forces her to go to the Illyrian training camp.

That was the god awful premise for this book.

Did you think Elain wasn't there because she was against the "intervention"? Nope! She was packing Nesta's belongings without permission.

Remember in ACOMAF when it's made a big fucking deal that locking up a traumatised woman is extremely damaging? Well, when Nesta decides she doesn't want to be in Illyria, Feyre locks her in the House of Wind. Nesta can't fly, so her only way of leaving is down the TEN THOUSAND STEPS, that Feyre KNOWS Nesta isn't capable of climbing.

Feyre's pregnant. In ACOFAS she randomly decided that she wanted a baby to remember Rhysand by if he dies. Which doesn't make any sense because they made that stupid fucking death pact in ACOWAR. It's just SJM superimposing her pregnancy onto her early 20's protagonist. Ignoring the fact that Feyre isn't ready for a baby and Rhysand CERTAINLY isn't, and with a war just ended and another looming and so much trauma and a DEATH PACT are all such horrible circumstances to bring a child into, Feyre is already pregnant. Remember when SJM made a big deal about Fae babies being so hard to conceive, and Feyre said in ACOFAS they wouldn't have to worry for a long time because it can take years to conceive your first Fae child? Well it's been no more than 3 or 4 months and Feyre's already pregnant. Yep.

Also the birth will kill her. Because of course it will. Rhysand KNEW this, and still agreed to try for a baby.

There's no solution. Abortions don't exist for some stupid reason, and a C section would apparently kill Feyre?

(Wasn't this book supposed to be about Nessian?)

In ACOWAR, Cassian was on the battlefield with his entrails around his knees. Someone had to literally hold his guts in for him, and he's fine, but you're telling me a C section would kill Feyre?

Don't worry, this is just setting up the AWFUL ending to this book.

ACOSF amounts to Nesta being gaslit into believing her abusers are right. Her friends and family slut shame her and shame her for her lifestyle constantly. Cassian says it took him decades to work through some of his trauma, and he tried to drink and fuck it away too, but suddenly when Nesta does so it's heinous? Nesta's barely twenty five and she's expected to cope better than these ancient immortals.

Hell, didn't SJM write ACOMAF? Nobody expected Feyre to pick herself up so quickly. The IC (excluding Rhysand) respected her boundaries for the most part and understood when it was grief, trauma, and turmoil that made her angry, sad, want to be left alone, etc. But that's all forgotten here.

Amren also compares Nesta to the people in, and says she belongs in, The Court of Nightmares. You know, the murderers, abusers and rapists? This innocent woman who had a few shots and a bit of sex is on par with them, apparently!

The sex scenes.

SJM is scared to say vagina so she says sex.

She says seed to mean semen.

Apparently the word cunt turns SJM on. I just found Cassian saying that kinda cringe because I'm Bri'ish so the word cunt really isn't a big deal.

Back to the baby killing Feyre, because this is definitely what we all wanted from this book as indicated by the change in covers and format and title... Rhysand decides not to tell Feyre. He tells her friends and family, and tells them not to tell her.

SJM loves sweeping Rhysand's abuse from the first book under the rug and claiming it's always about Feyre's choice... where is that here, MAAS? WHERE IS IT?

Anyway, when Nesta rightfully decides to tell Feyre (although it is kind of out of spite), Rhysand threatens to kill Nesta.

And I believed him. With the way he treats his """mAtE tHaT hE lOvEs sO mUcH""" and all the people he's mindlessly killed before, do you really think he wouldn't kill the person who gave Feyre an inch of autonomy?

So what does Cassian do? His lover who he cares deeply about and suspects is his mate has received a death threat from tHe mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lORd iN hIsToRy.

Cassian simply gets Nesta out of the court.

EXCUSE ME?

He doesn't breathe ONE word to Rhysand about this. This Illyrian WARRIOR who fought with his GUTS HANGING OUT didn't dare step up to the hIGh lOrD who he considers his brother and sparrs and fights with all the time?

Cassian literally does nothing.

Was it not Rhysand himself who said Mated males are dangerous? Can kill anyone who looks at their mate? Can be dangerous simply leaving the house? Rhys and Feyre both pull the Mate card to justify their bad actions on the other's behalf... and Cassian just tried to get Nesta out of the court?

Also, this High King bullshit.

I swear to fucking god, if SJM DARES to make this abusive, power-tripping, mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lOrD eVEr, husband-insert of hers hIgH kInG, I will fight her in the street.

My beloved Lucien is in this book. Only for him to be used and shat on.

I really liked it when he calmed Cassian down with just a look though. Yes please fox man.

Helion is also in this book. Nothing to do with Lucien.

Eris is also in this book. ERIS. Lucien's eldest brother. The same one who abused him for years, but according to SJM he's slightly better, because at least he didn't agree to kill Lucien's lover. He betrayed his daddy that one time, therefore Eris is good. Y'know, the same Eris who abused Mor? Left her laying on the Autumn Court border with a nail in her womb? Well SJM is going back on her own canon to redeem yet ANOTHER abusive male, while continuing to demonize Tamlin for things he only happened to do when SJM decided the villain from the first book was sexy.

Nesta and Cassian are Mates.

Remember when Mates were supposed to be a rare and sacred thing? Now SJM dishes them out like Oprah.

I don't want these characters to be mates. I want to see them slowly fall in love. But SJM is incapable of writing that so she forces them together with the mAtInG bOnD. That's literally the only basis for most of these relationships, Feysand especially.

The only relationship where the bond would make sense is between Helion and The Lady of Autumn. Who still isn't named. But I will die on the hill that they're mates, I can feel it between them.

I wanted someone to die in this book. I predicted that it would either be Helion or Tarquin, but Tarquin isn't even in this one.

And the ending.

SJM can't write a decent climax, so she kills both Feyre and Rhysand for the second time. Yep.

The baby is being born which stupidly kills Feyre, and thankfully takes Rhysand with them.

Nesta decides to save them. Bad choice. But she decides to save them! Because she's so powerful and she ATE THE CONTENTS OF THE CAULDRON and she's CONNECTED TO THE MOTHER.

Do you know what happens.

Nesta loses her powers.

NESTA.

LOSES.

HER.

POWERS.

The powers we've hardly seen, the powers that were briefly mentioned and used ONCE in ACOWAR, then we saw like two flashes of in this book? They're GONE now. GONE SO NESTA CAN SAVE HER ABUSIVE SISTER AND ABUSIVE HUSBAND WHO ABUSES THEM BOTH.

Nesta is just an Amren now. They both fought for their powers, and had to give them up to save people who didn't deserve it. Now they're anticlimactically trapped in powerless bodies.

Also, and I can't BELIEVE I didn't originally include this - do you know what else Nesta TRADED HER POWERS FOR?

Illyrian anatomy so she can carry Cassian's baby one day.

EXCUSE ME?

I am so fucking SICK TO DEATH of the narrative that every woman needs a man and children to be happy. SJM clearly loves this because she's literally only keeping Amren and Nesta alive now to be sex objects to their partners and nothing else seeing as their POWERS WERE RIPPED AWAY FROM THEM, and now NESTA TRADED THOSE POWERS TO HAVE A BABY SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW SHE WANTS? Nesta does NOT strike me as a motherly type. She's the wine aunt, she and Cassian are the couple that go on holiday a lot and and babysit their nieces and nephews, but nope. Nesta HAS to have children.

The Feysand baby is called Nyx. That's just so underwhelming, you go from these huge, multiple syllable names like Amarantha and Morrigan and Lucien to Nyx? I get it's supposed to be unique but it's not even meaningful. It's just more shit-flavoured icing on the hAHa nIgHt uWu cake. I prefer Renesmée.

Nesta is wrong somehow. She says she's sorry as she's saving them. FOR WHAT? For being a little rude to Feyre as all sisters are? And rightfully hating your sister's abuser?

Oh yeah, remember in ACOWAR when Nesta took care of a comatose, starving Elain for months? Elain is randomly okay now because she takes care of her mental health the stereotypical way of baking cakes, and not drinking and fucking, which she shames Netsa for.

Remember the slut shaming, demeaning comments that the whole iNnEr cIrClE made about Nesta? They all expect apologies from her. For some reason.

Nesta has done nothing wrong. She coped with her trauma and minded her business in her own ways, and she's expected to apologise to the people who control and emotionally abuse her.

Nothing that any of these characters did to Nesta is right. Nesta wasn't okay at the end, this wasn't Nesta's healing story. This is Nesta being shamed and degraded until she submits.

Oh I can't believe I forgot to write this in my first draft of this review, do you know how Nesta "overcomes" her grief about her Father's death and her conflicting feelings about him and his life and her guilt? When she visits his grave for the first time, she takes Nyx.

NYX.

She holds NYX up to the grave and talks about how it's his grandson.

GO AWAY YOU STUPID DEMON BABY THIS IS NOT YOUR BOOK.

Speaking of, it's revealed that Nesta was abused by her mother and grandmother in this book? Something we were all looking forward to is seeing more of the Archeron's mother seeing as Feyre was so young when she died, but... nope. She gets a few vague mentions, and this newly revealed abuse is entirely glossed over. Nesta was also actively groomed by an older man at 14. But SJM glosses over this because of course she does.

Finally, the bonus chapters.

My edition came with a bonus chapter from Feyre's POV. It was pointless and I hated it.

There's another bonus chapter from Azriel's POV. Once I'd finished this book, he was one of the few characters I still harboured a shred of respect for.

Then I read his bonus chapter.

This exists to purely objectify Elain.

Whether you ship Elain with Azriel, or Lucien, or neither, this chapter is disgusting. He thinks about her coming on his tounge, and other things simply just to please him.

He then dares to suggest that "the Cauldron picked wrong" in choosing Lucien as Elain's mate?

No Azriel, SJM picked RIGHT in not giving each Archeron sister a bAt bOy.

Rhysand does the only right thing he's ever done by telling Azriel to stay away from Elain, but then he has to ruin it by clarifying that it's only so they can manipulate and use Lucien more.

Oh, and Azriel wants to kill Lucien.

Need I remind you that Lucien respects Azriel? Lucien is another victim of the Night Court's needless, baseless torment, and Azriel is no exception.

Lucien stays well out of Elain's way because she makes it clear that she's not interested in a mate, but Azriel wants to kill him simply for being her mate.

Lucien has done nothing. And I mean literally NOTHING to warrant any of this treatment. From the bAt bOyS, from Feyre, from his family, from SJM, from the deluded part of this fandom that think he's done wrong. NOTHING.

All I liked about this book was the Lucien scenes (which is a given), ((although I hated the way everyone talks about him behind his back)), Nesta's relationship with the house, Emerie and Gwyn, the evidence that Gwynriel is endgame and subsequently Elucien, and the book love. Everything else was horrible. Oh, and Nesta hates Rhysand. I love that for her, because everyone else bows at his feet.

Oh yeah, when Nesta DARES suggest that Rhysand is an "arrogant, preening asshole" which I think is a compliment, Cassian can't take Rhys' cock out of his mouth for one second, and has to get mad at her for having an opinion. Don't even get me started on Azriel in that scene.

If each book after ACOTAR made me slowly give up, this book made me give up altogether. I cannot go on to support this victim-blaming, abuse-forgiving, misogynistic series. I've given up on SJM, and the only characters I care about anyone are Lucien, Nesta, Helion, and Tarquin. I'll continue to read this series to see if SJM redeems herself, but I'll be downloading them for free. I'm not giving this piece of shit any more of my money.

I hope we don't get the Lucien book. I don't want her to slaughter my fox in the way she slaughtered LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE.

Thanks for listening.

Edit: I put the review on Goodreads!

[helliontherapscallion]

Shenanigans and Love (Adrenaline Junkie Part 13)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: the Warden, mentions of death, phantom pain syndrome, extreme fluff

Word count: 3,226

The light glow of the redstone lamp illuminated your work space. Currently, it was about two hours before everybody was due to wake up and you were hovering over your journal containing your notes on the Warden. Not much was known about the cave-dwelling creature, but you found a couple of books about it at the library. So far, you found out that it indeed didn’t have eyes; it navigated via a mixture of hearing and a vibration network found in the blocks that had the glowing tentacles on them (you now knew that they were called ‘sculk blocks’). The sculk blocks would pick up on movement or touch, it would send vibration waves through the air, where it would reach the Warden’s own sculk stalks. Without the sculk stalks on the Warden’s head, the Warden was defenseless.

You also read about the anatomy of the creature. Known juvenile specimens ranged from seven to eleven feet tall while adults spanned from twelve to a whopping twenty feet tall. While their average lifespan is unknown due to the parasitic nature of the beast, it is known that they are out of their juvenile stage once they are approximately twenty years old. Thinking back on the one in the cave, it was about twice as tall as you were. That was a juvenile mob and it’s probably grown rapidly since then. The thing that killed you so viciously was a juvenile. You shuddered thinking about what an adult could do.

Juveniles are charted to be more erratic in their decisions while adults were known to be calculating and alert. Known weaknesses were known to be the sculk stalks and the heart. It was going to be incredibly difficult to take it down by yourself, but if worse comes to worse, you’d gladly take the beast down with you. Just in case, you left behind a small will with things you were planning on giving to your family. You were going to leave your workshop and your blueprints to Arthur, your collection of diamonds to Tommy and Wilbur, your stock of netherite and gold to Technoblade, and your wealth and life savings to Philza. You requested that Philza take care of Arthur, you couldn’t ask for a better father figure to have than Philza. Only the best for Arthur. In addition, you had a letter prepared for every member of your family. They were still in their first drafts, but they were coming along fast. In them, you detailed how grateful you were for every single one of them and reminisced on your favorite memory you shared with them. You still had about a week and a half left before you planned on attacking the cave, but you always liked to have extra time to complete things.

Your alarm clock sounded with harsh, lazer like beeps before you quickly silenced it. You didn’t need Arthur or Philza waking up so early. Sighing, you hid your journal and letters under a false bottom drawer and gently closed it. You trudged up the stairs quietly and made your way to the bathroom to shower for the day. When you took off your prosthetic, you could feel the phantom pains shoot up your nonexistent wing. In addition to that, the feathered stump and the areas around it felt stiff. The warmth of the shower did nothing to alleviate the pain.

After your shower, you started to make breakfast. Soon after, the other members of the household filed into the kitchen with differing energies. Arthur, the hyper, knowledge craving kid he was, walked into the kitchen with a bounce in his step and his head held high while Philza followed him with disheveled hair and tired blue eyes. With breakfast situated at the table, everyone started eating. You continuously shifting uncomfortably in your seat didn’t go unnoticed by the two as they eyed you after they woke up a little more.

Finally having enough of your constant movement, Philza finally spoke up, “(y/n)?” You hummed, turning to look at him, “yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”

You suddenly become hyper aware of your movements as you force your body to sit still. “Everything’s fine, why you ask?”

“You look a little uncomfortable. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

You sighed, “I’ll tell you later. Arthur did you have anything specific you wanted to learn today?”

His eyes shone with the brightness of all of the stars in the universe as he made quick work to swallow his mouthful of toast, jumping in his seat slightly as he chewed. “Yes! I was wondering if you could teach me how to work with comparators!”

“That takes a lot of time and patience to learn, we probably won’t get it all done by the end of the day today. Is that alright?” He enthusiastically nodded, shoving the last bit of toast in his mouth and running off with a mouthful of unchewed bread.

You could feel a slight worry stab your gut, “Arthur, swallow your food before you run! You could choke!”

You watched as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, vigorously chewed, swallowed, and resumed his sprint upstairs. You dragged a tired hand through your hair and sipped at your coffee.

“Ender, now I know how you felt with us when we were kids. Kid’s gonna be the death of me.”

Your dad chuckled, sipping at his own coffee. “He’s a lot more tame than you four were. Techno and Wilbur weren’t that bad, you were just a tad bit more chaotic, and well, you remember how Tommy was. You’re just way too worried about him. Kids will be kids, they do crazy things and sometimes you can’t stop them. After the couple months of adopting Tommy, I just let him learn from his mistakes. You gotta let them learn from their mistakes or else they’re never gonna learn. It’s just something all parents have to do if they want their kid to grow as a person.”

“That’s tr- wait, parent? Arthur’s my protégé, not my kid.”

He smirked over his mug and raised an eyebrow at you, “really? Cuz you seem awfully worried about him.”

“Dad. I’m just worried that he’s gonna accidentally kill himself. What, can I not be worried about my protégé?”

“No need to get defensive, just trying to point out the obvious-”

“The obvious? Dad, I'm only twenty. I’m not adopting anyone anytime soon.”

“I adopted Techno when I was twenty three,” he pointed out with raised eyebrows, “besides, I think you’d be a great parent. You’re already a parental figure for Arthur anyways, so nothing would change too much.”

You were silent for a moment as you stared at him blankly. You never viewed yourself as a parental figure type before. Your current lifestyle of never leaving your workshop would never be able to accommodate having someone that depended on you. You could hardly take care of a goldfish (you still had Bubbles’ grave in the backyard at your house in L’manberg), let alone an entire human child. Sure, you babysat Fundy when Niki was too busy to, but that was your nephew and it was only for a day at a time. You planned on taking Arthur with you back to L’manberg (only if he wanted to of course), but you didn’t think that far ahead. He was probably going to have to stay at your house. You weren’t cut out to be a parent, you wouldn’t be good enough for Arthur.

Philza, noticing your slightly panicked zoned out state, quickly reassured you, “you don’t have to make a definitive decision right now, you have time. Just- just consider it. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to come to me. I think I’ve raised enough kids to know what I’m doing,” he chuckled to himself.

Your feathered wing dropped in relief as you gave him your best smile over your coffee mug. “Thanks Dad, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re a lifesaver.” Right after that, a particularly large burst of pain shot along the length of your nonexistent right wing and loitered in the area around the base of your wing. You bit your tongue at the sudden pain as you felt the muscles twitch.

“It’s no problem, I’ll always be here to help ya.” He smiled at you before his eyes snapped to something behind you. His smile dropped as he eyed you concerningly, pointing behind you. “Is- is it supposed to do that?”

You followed his eyes behind you to your prosthetic wing. The metal was twitching in sporadic bursts with varying intensity. You could hear the slight scratching of the metal clashing lightly against the wooden chair. Though it was very inconvenient, you supposed you should be glad that it was moving with the muscle impulses of the muscles you used in flight. Suddenly, you could feel a muscle directly on the base of your wing twitch as the metal moved in tandem with the impulse. The entire wing extended to it’s full length and knocked over the chair next to you. It stood erect for a bit before another twitch caused another spasm that worked its way throughout the length of your metal wing. This time, the wing reared back to your body and almost smacked you in the face. If you didn’t move, your eye would’ve probably been plucked out by one of the metal feathers.

Your flesh wing puffed up slightly in embarrassment as you turned to look back at the blond man in front of you, “technically? I mean, it’s just the sensors picking up on the twitching. I-I’ll get the chair.”

As you stood up, you grunted in pain as another spasm hit you. This time, your wing extended fully perpendicularly to your back causing the muscles in the base of your nubby wing to be pulled unexpectedly. Hissing, your hand shot to rub at the base of your wing. “Fuck that was a bad one.”

You heard the screech of wood on wood as Philza stood up and hurried over to you, dodging a couple of swings from your wing. His hands were hovering indecisively in front of him. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Take it off. Just- hhh, just take the sensors off. There should be seven of them, all on my back and shoulders.” You bent over with your hands gripping the table with each spasm of your muscles. You could feel the fabric of your shirt being pulled slightly from your body and the warmth of your dad’s hand brushing against your twitching skin as he hurriedly ripped the sensors off your skin.

Once they were all off, the metal wing drooped limply downwards, occasionally being moved slightly when what’s left of the flesh stiffened. “Good, can you unfasten the belts? There’s three of them, they’re a little- ah, a little tricky. After that, carefully pull the metal out through the slit in my shirt. Make sur- sure the sensors don’t rip.”

You sighed when you felt the wing being taken off from you and pulled through the slit in your shirt. Slumping back down into your chair, you reached a hand around to nead the skin on your back. You could feel the twitching slowly decrease in intensity, leaving a sore feeling in its wake. Your wing was placed gently onto the table in front of you, some parts hanging off the side. “Goddamn, I haven’t had an episode that bad since I grinded out making weapons for the War.”

You could hear water running before a glass was placed in front of you and Philza picked up the chair you knocked over and pulled it up next to you. He started to rub circles around the muscles around your wing. You sighed in content, feeling the knots in your back being relieved, “thanks. That feels good.”

“(y/n)?” A small voice said from the doorway of the kitchen. You shot up and bit back a groan when your sore muscles were moved. The young boy was leaning into the doorway with his hands on the sides and his mop of brilliant copper hair hung downwards. He looked worried and slightly scared.

“Hey Arthur, we can start your lesson soon, I just need a sec.”

“Are you okay?” His wavering tone and small voice combined with the tears slowly filling his eyes broke your heart. Eyes softening, you stood up and walked over to him, pulling him into a soft hug. “Of course I’m okay, you don’t need to worry buddy,” you deepened your voice and spoke dramatically, ‘(Y/n) Minecraft the Great, Conqueror of the Unknown’ will never be taken down!”

He gave a watery chuckle against your shirt and burrowed his head deeper into your shoulder, gripping you tighter. You reached up to stroke his hair and wrapped your left wing around him loosely, shielding him from the world with a protective feathery barrier. You could hear Philza picking up dishes from the table and quietly start to do the dishes. Despite the occasional twitch in your back and the phantom pain shooting down your wing, you directed all of your attention to Arthur. Eventually, he pulled away and wiped at his blotchy face. “Are you still up for the lesson?”

Just as Arthur opened his mouth, Philza interrupted him from behind you, “you’re not doing anything until you feel better (y/n).”

“Dad, honestly it isn’t that-”

“Don’t say it honestly isn’t that bad, we both know that’s not true. You’re on bedrest for today.”

You grumbled to yourself as you stood up and handed your glass of water to Arthur, who sipped at the contents giving you a small “thank you.” Nodding, you were escorted out of the kitchen by Philza and ushered to the couch. Once you were laying down on your stomach, he handed you a book and placed a hot water bottle on your back. Before you could stop it, a pleased hum left your lips as your body relaxed on the couch. “You’re staying here. I better not find you anywhere else when Arthur and I come home.”

You lifted your head up and stared at him with an eyebrow raised, “where’re you taking him?”

The corners of his mouth twitched and his eyes lit up slightly before he put on his stern facade once more. “Just to the village. I need to pick up a few things.”

“And you need him why…?”

“Well, I can’t go without someone helping me! I’m an old man after all.” He started to nudge Arthur towards the door and slipped his shoes on.

“You’re only thirty six, but whatever. Arthur, be good for my dad.”

“Alright (y/n), feel better soon!” He gave you a bright smile before he was pulled out of the house by Philza.

You tried to read, but the nagging worry for Arthur in the back of your mind never allowed for you to be immersed in your book. You knew Philza would never let anything happen to him, but you couldn’t help but worry whenever Arthur wasn’t in your line of sight. You supposed that it was a part of being an avian hybrid; you needed to constantly know if the child was alright. You tried to force yourself to go to sleep, but the pain prevented you from doing so, so you ended up mindlessly watching the seconds tick by on the clock. Before you knew it, your eyes closed and you were put in a light slumber.

You were awoken by the front door opening and laughter filling the house. You cracked open your crusty eyes and groaned as you sat up. You looked at the two with bleary eyes. Arthur was laughing at something Philza said as the blond looked over at you. “Hey hun, you feelin better?”

“Yeah a bit. What’d you get at the village?”

“Just some things for dinner. Arthur, wanna help me cook?”

Arthur, being the walking ball of sunshine that he was, nodded vigorously and started to drag the older man to the kitchen. Furrowing your brow, you called out to them, “do you want me to help?”

“No, stay there. Don’t come in!” Arthur’s excited voice shouted back to you, making you raise a brow at his words. You couldn’t lie, you felt nervous at his words. Just what did he have in store for you? Occasionally, you could hear yelps and bangs, which made you want to go into the kitchen even more. But you held off, trusting Philza.

About an hour and a half passed before you were summoned to the kitchen by an overly excited Arthur. Once in the kitchen, you were in slight awe. Spread out on the table was your favorite meal with the addition of fresh cookies left to cool on the stovetop. “All this for me?”

They smiled at you as Arthur ushered you to your spot at the table. “I… don’t know what to say. I- thank you guys.”

“Don’t thank me, it was all Arthur’s idea. I just helped.” Philza looked over at the blushing boy with a smile.

You reached over to ruffle his hair, “well, thank you Arthur. You know me too well, these are all my favorites!”

The boy bashfully smiled at you, “there’s something else too, but that’s for after dinner.”

You put a hand against your heart, touched, “Two surprises in one day? Ender, you’re spoiling me!” Arthur laughed at you.

Dinner went by fast with light-hearted laughter bouncing throughout the kitchen. The dinner and cookies tasted amazing, your taste buds felt like they were in heaven. After dinner, Arthur drug you to your room with an excited Philza following you two. On your bed sat your wing, but it had colorful things attached to the surface. Furrowing your brow, you looked closer to find various magnets sticking to the iron surface.

They ranged from the nonbinary flag to small mobs to little puns (your favorite ones were ‘olive you’ and ‘bird puns fly right over my head’). You could feel your smile widening at every magnet you saw, your wing fluttering in happiness. One of the magnets made you stop completely though as you stared at it with wide eyes. It was simple, but oh did it make your heart sing in joy and your eyes fill with tears. On the magnet, in big, bold letters were the words ‘world’s best parent’.

“Arthur…” You looked at him through blurred vision. He looked nervous, looking anywhere but at you and shifting on the balls of his feet. You lunged forward and pulled him into a tight hug and wrapped your wing around him, making sure he was as close to you as possible.

Philza watched the exchange with a soft smile before he decided to let you two have some privacy. His heart was full of happiness as he walked downstairs to clean up the kitchen with a bounce in his step and his wings fluttering uncontrollably. He was ecstatic to officially welcome Arthur to his family. Sure, he had a small hand in leading Arthur over to the ‘world’s best parent’ magnet, but it was Arthur that picked out the magnet for you. He knew you were going to make a fantastic parent.

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

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[butwhyduh]

Since you wrote Christmas with tha Bois are you planning on writing a New Years Eve fics too 🎇🎉?

*insert surprised pikachu meme*

now I am (!!!)

They are all required to go to a Wayne gala that Bruce has thrown since before he took Dick in as a ward. It’s important. So of course, I wanna show what kind of suits they would wear too. (Indulge me lmao) [none of these images are sensitive. Tumblr is an idiot]

Tim

Okay I get that you wouldn’t think high strung proper Tim Drake Wayne , Mr CEO, would were a pretty casual suit. But he wears a suit everyday and by golly, he isn’t wearing a tie for New Years freakin Eve. It’s something different and he can relax. And he’s so tired of black. Plus the blue brings brings out the color in his eyes.

—————

He adjusted the collar of his suit. He always wore a nice suit to work. But this was for a gala. The tie just wouldn’t lay flat. You walked up behind him and pulled the offensive fabric off and tossed it on the bed. He moved to protest but you started unbuttoning his collar.

“Okay,” he said with a slow smirk. “But it’ll have to be quick.”

“I’m just fixing your shirt,” you said rolling your eyes. “I’m not messing my makeup up before a gala. That looks nicer. I never see you relaxed,” you said leaving your hands on his chest longer than necessary.

“I relax sometimes. I’m relaxing tonight. With you,” he said turning to give you a quick kiss. You smiled and he took a look at your outfit. “I’ll have to keep my eye peeled though. You’re going to attract a lot of attention in that.”

“Too bad I’m already dating a man they couldn’t possibly compete with. Come on, lover boy,” you said and he took your hand before going downstairs.

It was always stressful to first go to a gala. Tim was moderately famous as Bruce Wayne’s heir, heir to the Drake family fortune, and the acting CEO of Wayne Enterprise. Luckily this was very boring to most young people and his pictures were in a small section of the business page of the papers rather than like Dick Grayson being splashed all over the lifestyle section like a celebrity. But cameras flashing as you walked down stairs in heels was terrifying. Tim was the only one to notice as you gripped his arm like a vice each time.

You could usually smile and drink champagne as Tim talked shop with the old men he worked with or young men who were trying to climb the business ladder. Tim’s fingers made idle circles in your hand or on your back as he talked. He was also taking glances at you in you outfit all evening.

Only when he was desperate for a break would he ask you to dance. Tim was a good dancer. He had been taught at an early age. But he was not a natural and he didn’t want you bothered with more photos. You insisted after a full hour of talking about some sort of quarterly investment opportunity that he take you to the dance floor.

“Dance with me, Timmy,” you asked quietly in a lull in the conversation. It was almost midnight anyways. He smiled at you before looking back at the men.

“Excuse us,” Tim said before letting you lead him to the floor. He gently held your waist and you wrapped your arms around his neck. The song was fairly slow so you barely danced more than a sway. That was fine. You were more interested in staring in to his ocean eyes than cutting a rug.

“Sorry if it’s been incredibly boring,” Tim said. “You’d probably rather be doing anything else.”

“Dancing is nice. Seeing you more than 5 minutes is nice,” you said.

“Speaking of 5 minutes, it’s 5 minutes until midnight.”

“No more work talk tonight. Just be with me,” you pleaded softly. Tim frowned for a second before pulling you closer.

“I can do that. All yours tonight. I’ll just punch anyone who tries to talk business to me,” he said.

“Good enthusiasm. Terrible plan. Sweet though,” you said kissing his cheek. He smiled.

“Or we could just leave right after New Years,” Tim said with a wiggle of his brows. You giggled.

“Better plan.”

Bruce had gotten on the stage and the music stopped. You didn’t let Tim go. As they counted down to midnight, you and Tim gazed at each other.

3-2-1

🎆🎇

You leaned your face up and kissed him. Tim held your waist tighter and your wrapped your fingers up in his soft black hair. After just a few seconds you pulled back and smiled at him.

“Happy New Years, sunshine,” he said.

“Happy New Years, Duckie.”

“Let’s get out of here before they see us leave,” he suggested. The rest of the night was spent in his room and you were so glad for the loud fireworks to cover any noise you might have made.

Dick

Dick has been to 714 galas. He’s an expert. He’s expected to play the handsome charming eldest son. Wearing a beautiful suit is half the battle. Not to mention, he kinda likes showing off a little. It’s New Years. And the blue and grey bring out the color in his eyes so well.

———————————

Dick barely got in the door before flopping on the bed with his detective uniform still on. You sat on the edge of your bed, already in hair, dress, and makeup, and reached over to rub his shoulders. He groaned softly.

Barely off of work and already having to change into a suit for a family event. Dick needed a day off. Badly. He had the next 3 days off of work and he just had to deal with this night. No, he needed to be positive. You hadn’t done anything and he didn’t want to ruin New Years Eve.

You pushed your palm into a knot on his shoulder. He all but moaned. “Thank you, baby,” he said. “It’s these stupid cases. They have been driving me- baby,” Dick said turning to look and taking you in. “You look good.”

You smiled and giggled. “You think?”

“Always, but this? Wowza,” he said laughing. “Im going be showing off the prettiest girl at the ball,” Dick said sing song. You rolled your eyes with a grin. His compliments were usually over the top.

“Yeah, yeah. Not likely. You need to get dressed or I’m going to be very fancy for no reason,” you said and he hopped up. Dick was overworked but he always was. In record time he was dressed.

“Do you want to drive,” he asked hopefully. A quick 30 minute nap would be awesome.

“I can’t drive the Porsche since it’s stick,” you admitted.

“Well in that case, I’m teaching you soon. But not tonight. You gotta learn how to drive my car,” Dick said and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You added that to the list of skills he thought completely necessary that hardly anyone could do anymore. Could you even buy a new standard transmission car?

“Sure, hun. Let’s get going before we’re late,” you said kissing his cheek. You straightened his pocket square and you were both out the door.

“-and then you push the clutch. Right here,” he pointed at the floorboard as he drove.

“Not tonight. We can do this some other time. And if we don’t get there, it’s fine,” you said evasively.

“Ever? It’s important to be able to drive any kind of car and if it’s just you and the Porsche,” Dick said with a frown. You could see a contingency plan forming in his head.

“I very much doubt there will be a situation where I have to drive your car,” you said with a shrug.

“I’d rather plan for it,” Dick said and you dropped it. It was like a security blanket for him to plan for anything.

Walking into a gala was exciting and nerve racking. Dick was extremely popular back in Gotham and it was honestly weird as he was normal back in Bludhaven. Dick was the perfect gentleman and made sure you felt comfortable and safe when the cameras flashed. You smiled and ignored whatever anyone said about you. It could be mean with jealousy. You were with him for his money, you were just arm candy, and you weren’t that pretty. The first time had hurt pretty badly. Now you had a new ring on your hand and you felt almost as nervous as your first gala. One through the door to the ballroom, you relaxed.

“Are you okay? You looked really nervous,” Dick said and you grimaced. That sounds like nice pictures.

“Just a little,” you said subconsciously playing with your ring. Dick, of course, noticed right away.

“What’s wrong? Do you not want the ring? Or the engagement,” he asked quietly and it broke your heart that he was even worried about it. His big blue eyes were wide with worry.

“Not at all,” you said grabbing his shoulder. “I just don’t like how they talk. I’m very happy. And I love the ring. It’s beautiful.”

Dick’s frown turned to a pleased smile. “Good. Because that was my mom’s ring.”

“Dick! You gave me a family heirloom without mentioning it? That makes it twice as special,” you said shocked. “Thats so sweet of you.”

You leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “I love it. But if you give me something that important again without telling me, I’ll beat you,” you whispered in his ear and he laughed.

“Let’s dance,” Dick said. He pulled you to the dance floor. He was the best dancer out of all of the Wayne children and possibly better than Bruce. He had been dancing since he could walk. His parents were performers and taught him many dance styles. Bruce also insisted that all the children knowing all the common dances they would need to know at a gala.

Keeping up with Dick was the biggest issues with dancing. He could dance quick dances for hours and you had to remind him that not everyone spent hours a day training and fighting. At the moment you had insisted on stopping to get a drink. You practically pounded a water bottle while he sipped on some punch.

“Kinda floral. Not bad. Little sweet,” he said.

“It’s not alcoholic, is it?”

“I don’t think so. It’s just one glass,” Dick said. “I’ll be fine to drive later.”

“No. It’s just that Damian and his girlfriend have a cup each,” you said motioning over to them.

“It’s fine. They wouldn’t give them alcohol,” Dick said and you relaxed. Of course not. That would be crazy to give kids alcohol.

“Let’s sit down. My feet are getting a little tired,” you said with a wince. He nodded and you sat at a table by the dance floor. As if Dick had put out a sign, a bunch of people flocked over to talk to him.

Somehow a plate of small snacks ended up in front of you, probably Alfred. You ate a little while he played the philanthropist son of Bruce Wayne. It was actually really nice to be ignored.

Until it wasn’t.

An older Wayne investor brought a woman over as his ‘date.’ She instantly latched on to Dick and started flirting with him. Her hand kept touching his arms and shoulders. You were getting mad but this wasn’t a surprise. People acted like he was someone they could grope and touch without consequences.

Finally it was too much and you cleared your throat. She looked at you in disgust before going back to flirting with Dick.

“Can you give my fiancé some space,” you asked politely as you could. Her eyes raked over your body.

“He could do so much better than some poor trash like you in a second rate dress. Not even that ugly little ring could change that,” she said nastily. You gasped.

“Okay we’re leaving,” Dick said standing up. The woman had to back away from him. His jaw was clenched in controlled anger. He had a temper and this wasn’t the time to lose it.

You stood up and hissed as your shoes cut into your feet worse than when you had been wearing them all night. Great, you couldn’t even wear heels in front of her. She laughed. Dick simply picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the ballroom and upstairs to his old bedroom. He sat you on the bed gently.

You knew that she was just a vapid socialite but it did hurt. She had pretty accurately attacked your insecurities and you blinked to prevent yourself from crying.

“Baby,” Dick said bending to a crouch in front of you. “Don’t think anything about what she said. She’s just jealous. Not worth your time.”

“She’s not wrong though. I’m just a poor kid trying to fit in in Wayne freaking Manor,” you said wiping your face. Stupid tears.

“And I’m just a circus kid. Don’t forget that,” Dick said sitting beside you. He pulled you into a hug. “Not a single damn bit of that matters. It’s almost midnight in a minute. Do you want to go back downstairs?”

“Not a chance,” you said with a dry smile.

“I figure. We have a better view anyways,” he said opening the curtains. You could vaguely hear the noise downstairs.

3-2-1

🎆🎇

“Happy New Years, baby,” Dick said giving you a kiss. He wiped the tears from your cheek.

“Happy New Years. Sorry I’m all teary,” you said.

“Nope. Don’t be sorry. My new New Years resolution is to make you smile,” he said with a devious look. His fingers suddenly attacked your sides and pulled laughter from you. He pushed you to the bed in his attack.

“Dick! Okay! Quit!” You shrieked with laughter. He stopped his hands and leaned over you.

“Alright. I quit. But since we’re alone. Wanna ring in the New Years the right way,” he asked with a smirk. You grinned back.

“Got any ideas on how to do that?” You asked back.

“So many. Baby, so many,” before kissing you. Fireworks sounded in the background.

Damian

(Older 16 yr old) Damian is literally the son of Batman. He’s going to dress like it. Nice and formal and expensive. It was like a form of armor. Homeboy looks like a million bucks. His watch might be. And if a burgundy turtleneck A accents his well defined pecs, B shows the gold in his tan skin, and C the gorgeous green in his eyes, he ain’t complaining.

“Beloved,” Damian said pulling on his jacket. “Come out,” he said in a sing song voice that would have been completely foreign to hear to anyone else but you.

You flushed as you came out. His jaw dropped before he quickly straightened his face. He’d taken the risk of buying you a dress for the party. He’d seen Bruce do it for women all the time. It was practically his calling card. Even Dick had done it a few times. But this was a first for Damian.

“You look very nice. Beautiful,” he said quietly looking away at his cuff links. “Are you ready to go downstairs?”

“Just my shoes,” you said, trying to slip them on and almost falling over. Damian quickly grabbed your waist.

“I got you. I can put them on,” he said kneeling to the ground. He hadn’t meant anything besides efficiency with his offer. But as he slid your foot into a heel and strapped it across your ankle, it felt far more intimate. His hand held your calf a little longer than necessary before switching to the other foot. This side had a slit up to your thigh and he could see your bare leg up close. Damian gulped before attaching the shoe. He quickly stood up and cleared his throat.

“Are you ready now?”

You nodded. He offered his arm and you went downstairs. Cameras flashed for just a few minutes before Damian skillfully steered you away from them. His father would kill any pictures of you before they got to the papers but Damian knew how much you hated them.

“Dance with me?” You asked and he happily complied. He had been trained in several dance styles and was good at it. He also enjoyed the way you would smile when he would spin you. If it made his beloved happy, he was happy. It attracted a little attention. Bruce Wayne’s teenage son and his date could dance with skill. This too was only viewable in person.

“Let’s get a drink,” Damian said pulling you to the refreshments. You were out of breath but happy and followed him. There was suppose to be people handling the drinks but there were so many people. Damian pushed through and grabbed two drinks and handed one to you.

“Let’s find a table,” you said. As always, Damian pulled you along to a secluded corner close to the door to the garden. Cold air and little whiffs of cigarette smoke swirled around but at least you weren’t in the overheated body filled floor anymore.

You sat and drank at your punch. It was heavily sweetened and floral. It was refreshing and... warm. You waved at yourself.

“Is it hot in here to you?” You asked Damian.

“Want to go for a walk outside? It’s cooler out there,” he suggested. Damian took your arm again and you walked out the door into the garden. A stone path lined little beds of delicate plants. Topiaries lined the path. Small solar lights and the full moon lit the garden. There were a few people walking but not many.

Damian looked so handsome. Long dark lashes frames his bright green eyes. His skin almost glistened with silver light of the moon. He bent and plucked a flower from a bush. Damian tucked it behind you ear with a little smile.

“The prettiest rose in all the garden,” he said and you smiled shyly.

“I don’t think that’s actually a rose though,” you said and he laughed. A rare occurrence.

“It’s not. But I was talking about you. May I kiss you,” he said lightly touching the side of your neck with his hand. You nodded and he leaned down. You closed your eyes and his lips brushed against yours. You pressed a hand against his chest.

Damian’s hand slid to the back of your neck to hold you as he pressed harder against your mouth. His tongue slipped in your mouth and you made the softest whimpering sound. Damian’s eyes flew open and he almost froze. That was new and he could get used to the pretty sound.

You kissed like this for a little while. Damian’s hand slid down to hold your waist when he noticed you shivered. He pulled back.

“Beloved, are you cold,” he asked, cursing himself. Of course, you were cold wearing a thin dress while he was in a full suit. He quickly pulled off his jacket and put it around your shoulders.

“Just a little. It’s fine,” you protested. He insisted on sliding your arms in the sleeves and button the jacket.

“Let’s go in. It’s close to midnight anyways,” Damian said giving you one last kiss.

3-2-1

🎇🎆

“Happy New Years beloved,” he said with a kiss. Damian had grabbed another two glasses of punch and you two touched them in cheers.

“No sir,” Alfred said sternly, taking the glasses from your hands. “No alcohol for either of you. There is juice on the other side of the table.”

You waited until Alfred walked away before laughing. “They should have labeled that better.”

“That explains why it felt overly warm in here earlier,” Damian said thoughtfully.

The music had changed to overly sappy and people were kissing and dancing far too close. They were feeling the effects of the alcohol they had been drinking all night. Damian looked at them in disgust.

“Want to go upstairs,” he asked. You quickly looked at him. “Not like that. We can watch a movie or something, anything away from this.”

“Sounds great,” you said and you both left.

Jason

I’m fairly certain I’ve seen him in a suit like this in the comics. I considered him saying FU to Bruce and showing up in boots and black leather jacket. But Jason knows he looks good in red. And he’d probably get a kick out of wearing one of his suits he wore as Red Hood to a fucking gala. Bruce would know.

—————————

“Princess, if you make me wait any longer I’ll kick down the door and physically carry you to the damn party,” Jason said with no malice in his voice. You opened the bathroom door.

“Not all of us look good without a little work,” you said playfully tapping his chest. You yanked his tie straight with a little more force than needed.

“I’d have to disagree, doll. I’d honestly prefer you in nothing,” he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes.

“How does it look?” You said with a twirl.

“Like a million bucks. That ass. Let’s skip the party and-“

“No no no. Let’s get going. You can be handsy later,” you said grabbing your purse.

“Promise,” he asked as you both left. The roads weren’t too bad with ice and in fact, it was going to be a rare dry night in Gotham.

Jason didn’t do pictures. He hated them and so you both parked in the servant entrance and walked in a side door. It didn’t matter. The Manor was beautiful no matter how you looked at it. And being a poor kid from Gotham, you couldn’t believe you were actually at a party in Wayne freaking Manor.

“Don’t be nervous. It’s just a bunch of shitty rich people in pretty walls. They aren’t any better than us. Hell, worth half of you, sweetheart. Let’s get a drink,” he said pulling you to the drink table. It was pretty packed but he muscled through to the front. He got your preferred drink. “And a whiskey on the rocks.”

“Don’t get drunk,” you whispered to him. “I won’t sleep with you drunk.”

“With a finger of water,” Jason added to the bartender who nodded.

“Good save,” you said turning to look at the floor. You sipped your drink and people watched.

Dick and his date were dancing some quick steps in the middle of the floor. No surprise there. Tim was talking to boring business men and his poor date looked absolutely bored on her feet. Alfred was watching Damian and his date from the corner of his eyes whereas Damian seemed completely oblivious with his eyes on her all night. And Bruce was currently heavily flirting with a woman who literally meowed at him. You resisted the urge to gag and turned back to Jason.

“Wanna dance,” Jason asked casually watching the floor. But you knew he wanted to dance because he asked.

“Yeah,” you said grabbing his hand. He pulled to to the floor. Jason was also trained to dance as all the Wayne boys had been. But he was probably the worst dancer out of all of them. His parents had never taught him anything as nice as dancing and he’d only lived with Bruce for a few years before the whole Joker thing. But Jason was a natural athlete and his dancing was still pretty darn good.

The dance was a bit slower than the one Dick and his date had been dancing to earlier. Jason held one hand on your waist and the other stayed in your hand. His dancing was visibly polite and innocent. The words he whispered in your ear were far from.

“Is it hard being the hottest woman here? This dress on your ass is fucking delicious,” he whispered and you flushed at his words. “I can’t wait to fuck you in it later.”

He really enjoyed saying things that were completely naughty in public where you could do nothing about it. But you knew that if he kept it up, you’d be finding a spare room before New Years even came. And you didn’t want to miss the fireworks again this year.

As the song ended, and you thoroughly turned on and scandalized, you asked him to walk in the garden with you. Lover boy needed something to cool him down.

“Sure, Princess,” he said snagging 2 glasses of punch on the way out. You both walked between the flower beds and he told you stories of things that had happened there. “And that’s when Dick accidentally cut the top foot off of this bush. Alfred had him scrubbing floors for a month,” Jason said with a laugh. “It was so bad that there is still a rule of no swords in the garden. Damian hates it.”

“I bet he does. But he could probably destroy the entire garden with a pocket knife,” you said with a laugh. Jason suddenly pulled you to the side with a hush. He motioned over a ways.

“Speaking of the kid, look over there,” Jason whispered. You looked over to see Damian making out with a girl his age. It was so weird to see him being so sweet. “I didn’t know he felt human emotion, much less find someone his age to makeout with.”

“They could have said that about you a few years ago,” you said slyly.

“Yeah, point taken. Want the best view of the fireworks?” Jason said.

“Where?”

“Top of the roof.”

You blanched at the idea. “No thanks. I choose life.”

“It’s safe. There’s a ladder and everything,” Jason said hugging you from behind. “Best view in the house. And if not, dinners on me.”

“Jay, you get the check every time,” you reminded him. He chuckled.

“Maybe I’m just trying to get a pretty girl alone to give her a kiss,” Jason said pulling you to the roof. You flushed. “Unlike demon boy making out in the garden. I have class.”

“You’re a classy lady. Show me the way before I change my mind,” you said. He took you to a ladder over the library. You pulled off your heels and started climbing.

“Don’t worry I’ll catch you you if you fall Princess. I’m right behind you. Did I mention your ass in this dress? I kinda have the perfect view,” he said. You rolled your eyes before throwing your leg over the side of the roof. Jason quickly followed you.

“Here, wear my jacket,” Jason said throwing the red blazer over your shoulder.

“Oo my knife now,” you said feeling in his pocket and pulling out a sizable switchblade.

“I forgot to take it out of there. I wouldn’t touch it too much,” Jason said taking it out of your hands with a grimace. You gave him a look.

“That’s incredibly gross. Seriously. Do I even want to know?”

“Not really. Look at the stars. You can see them through the shitty Gotham sky,” Jason said sitting on a box. He pulled you into his lap and you were grateful as it was really quite cold. You could see some stars and you leaned your back against his chest and looked up at the heavens for a few minutes.

The music stopped downstairs. It must be almost midnight. You couldn’t understand but you heard Bruce talk over a mic. Then everyone started counting.

3–2-1

🎇🎆

“Happy New Years, Jaybird,” you said turning your head and holding Jason’s jaw. You leaned your head up and gave him a kiss. He held you close and you made out until the sound of a firework had you jumping. You laughed before turning to look. The roof really did have the best view.

After a few minutes of watching the fireworks you heard some lewd noises. Jason looked over at a window near your spot.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said with a disgusted look. “That’s fucking Tim’s room and the sound of him getting laid is literally the last thing I want. What I do want is to take a bite out of that ass I’ve been looking at all night.”

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

The Dog Days Are Done - fic

Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Haley the dog, a quick bit of Barbara Gordon Summary: Dick is a good guy. He is. He knows that. Just like he knows that bribing your wayward, animal-loving, emotionally-traumatized brother to come see you with a puppy is exactly what all good guys do. That was a fact. A/N: How their post-Ric/everything reunion should go, but we all know it won’t. If Dick doesn’t bribe Damian at least once with that dog in canon then everything is a waste.

~~

Dick nervously stared at the phone on the counter. Bit his tongue and looked away. Sheepishly glanced back.

“I know you want to.” Barbara hummed in his ear. Softly, though. Gently. Knowingly. “I’m not going to do it for you.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to.” Dick mumbled, sighing as he pulled his mask from his face. He’d just gotten back from patrol, and it’d been a rough night. Been a rough night after a rough few months.

And Babs knew him way too well.

Because it’s not like he’d said anything. Not overly, anyway. Hints, here and there. Probably. Nothing more. But she knew. Of course she knew.

“I know.” She chuckled. “He’d probably hang up on me if I called anyway.”

Dick smiled. Yeah. Probably.

“…You’re the only one he’s wanted to talk to anyway.” Barbara whispered. A moment to let that sink in, then a lighthearted snort. “You picked a shitty time to be an amnesiac.”

Dick gave a little laugh too. “Yeah, yeah.”

“…I’ll give you an hour.” Barbara decided.

“Or what?”

“Or a certain wayward young hero will be getting a call about a neglected puppy in an abandoned Bludhaven apartment building.” She said cheerfully. Without any other warning, she cut the line to the communicator.

Dick could only roll his eyes.

But…she was also right. He needed to do this. He did.

So he got a water bottle, chugged it, changed his clothes, fed Haley, took her for a walk, gave her a little more food, gave her some treats, took her out for one more potty time, then found himself back at that counter. Staring at that phone.

He hit the button to light up the screen. It’d been fifty minutes since Barbara had hung up. He had ten minutes before she forced his hand. Because he knew she absolutely would – especially after she went through all that work to actually find the number.

He inhaled to steel himself, but before he could exhale, he heard Haley suddenly puke in the corner.

He looked over to the poor puppy, who looked at him sadly, and smirked.

Well, that’s as good a reason as any.

Dick turned back to the phone, picking it up without thinking about it, and finding the speed dial option that he still had programmed. That he never deleted. That Barbara had already put the new, recently-unknown number underneath.

He bit his lip as the line rang, anxieties running rampant through his brain. What if he didn’t answer? What if he didn’t want to? What if he couldn’t? What if he was dead?

The line rang three times. Four. Five. Six.

It was ring seven that the line finally clicked.

“…This is Damian.”

Dick’s shoulders dropped, his heart loosened.

“Kiddo?” Dick asked, but found his voice was hardly a whisper. He cleared his throat, tried to gather himself back up. “Hey, kiddo.”

Damian said nothing.

“This is Dick.” He said dumbly. “This, uh…did…did your dad tell you?”

“That you regained your memory? Yes.” Damian murmured. Dick felt himself wincing. Because…for once in his life, he couldn’t read him. He couldn’t read Damian. “I just…am…coming to terms with it.”

“…Oh.” Dick responded. “Do you…do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Damian said. Instantly, flatly. So like the little boy Dick had met so many years ago. There was a beat of silence, then. “Did you need something?”

“Uh…yes!” Hope bloomed in Dick’s chest. “Yes, actually, I, uh…you talk to Babs recently?”

“No. Why would Gordon and I be in correspondence?”

“Just wondering. I, um…” Dick smiled, tried to throw it into his voice. “I got a dog.”

There was a moment. “You what.”

“Well, I didn’t get her, I found her. Saved her from street assholes. And she’s not a dog, she’s a puppy. Special needs, too. Has three legs.”

“Congenital or traumatic amputation?”

“Uh…what?”

Damian sighed in frustration. “Was she born like that or is it due to injury?”

“Oh.” Dick turned. Haley was still staring sadly at her pile of vomit. “Born like that, it looks like.”

“I see.”

“Do you want to? See her, I mean. I can send you pictures of her. She’s super cute.” Dick rambled quickly. “But I mean, that’s why I called. I…I don’t know if I’m taking care of her right.”

“If she was born without the limb, she’s probably fine. But if you’re concerned, I’m sure there’s a vet in Bludhaven.”

“Well, yeah, sure. But like.” Dick laughed nervously. “You’re great with dogs. Look at Titus! Even Ace flourished with your attention. How do I get Haley to act like Titus and Ace?”

Damian hummed in thought.

“Also…” Dick scratched at his head. “She just puked, so I…I think I overfed her? I don’t know.” Another pause, and he looked back to the puppy. His puppy. “Damian, I don’t think I know how to take care of a dog.”

And I miss you. He didn’t say. I miss you and I’m hoping you don’t see right through me right now.

There was another few seconds of silence. Then Haley let out a happy bark, and Damian sighed in resignation. “What’s your address?”

~~

It was three days later that there was a quiet knock on the door. Haley growled from her bed, jumping up and stumbling slightly to the floor. Dick smiled at her as he all but raced across the floor. He grabbed the knob and took a deep inhale. He closed his eyes, held the breath, then pushed all the air out of his lungs with a harsh exhale. Then pulled the door open.

Damian stood there.

Dick looked him over, catalogued the changes since he’d last seen his kid brother. He was taller now, and way skinnier. But not in an unhealthy way, in a lanky, awkward, puberty-just-hit way. The baby fat was all but gone from his face, and he was looking more and more like Bruce by the second.

There were also bags under his eyes, ones that Dick didn’t remember being there before, even given their lifestyle. There was a bag in one of Damian’s hands, but the other was free, and his fingers were curled around each other, picking and tapping at the nails nervously.

Damian had never done anything nervously in his life.

Damian wasn’t looking when Dick opened the door, had his head turned back to the hallway, like he was looking for an escape route, or regretted coming and was already thinking about running.

Dick swallowed away that last thought with the lump in his throat. Because he wanted to hug Damian. Squeeze him so tight he couldn’t breathe. But Damian’s body language said not to, that he wasn’t comfortable, not here with Dick. And Dick had to admit, after all they’d been through – that stung a little.

“Hey.” He said instead, letting his smile widen when Damian looked up at him. “Thanks for coming.”

Damian nodded stiffly. “I had some time.”

Dick chuckled, pushing the door open wider. “Glad you could fit me into your schedule.”

“Hardly you.” Damian scoffed walking past him, making a beeline towards the puppy. “I’m here to make sure you aren’t torturing this animal you appear to have kidnapped.”

“I prefer the term rescued, thanks.” Dick closed the door behind them. “What do you think, Haley?”

Haley barked loudly, but happily, barely containing herself as Damian approached. Damian reciprocated her joy as he smiled and crouched in front of her, placing the bag off to the side. It was funny, seeing him with a puppy, with a dog actually his size. Titus always towered over him, even as a baby, and Ace had knocked the preteen over plenty of times, accidentally.

“…Have you actually taken her to a vet yet?” Damian hummed. “Like, just for a check-up?”

“Yeah, after I found her.” Dick sighed, coming up around Damian’s left side. He glanced into the bag as he pushed it out of the way with his foot. It was full of new dog toys, and various bags of puppy food and treats. This kid. “She was getting kicked around by some losers. So I found a place to get her checked out. Just to be sure.”

“And you arrested those thugs, I assume?”

Dick shrugged. “No…but I did beat the crap out of them.” Dick looked down at his fingers. The scars of Haley’s teeth were mere shadows already. “And she bit me for my trouble.”

“Good girl.” Damian whispered, leaning down and kissing her forehead. Haley became putty in his hands, closing her eyes as he scratched at her ears. “I’m very proud of you.”

Dick felt himself smiling, despite the dig at himself. He watched as Damian moved, noting more changes from last time he’d seen him. While Damian always had the ability to be gentle, especially around animals, he seemed even extra so here, with this puppy. Let his pets be feather soft, held up his hands as the puppy decided that his lap was where she wanted to be. Floated his fingers around her torso as she stumbled up the small incline. Cocooned her protectively with his arms when she settled and closed her eyes.

Dick let his smile falter. Because, while the motions were sweet, and on par with Damian’s normal characteristics, Dick knew him better than that. And Damian’s movements weren’t necessarily out of care, he could see that.

They were out of fear.

Damian was afraid to touch her.

What?

“…How you been, kiddo?” Dick whispered after a moment. Damian merely shrugged. “I missed you.”

“You can’t miss what you don’t remember.” Damian sniffed. “It’s scientifically impossible.”

“Come on, Damian. Don’t be like that.” Dick chastised, quietly. “I missed you when I got back. When the whole family got together to kick ass, and you weren’t there. When you never came home.”

“That’s not my home anymore.” Damian replied quickly. “You’ve talked with Father, I’m sure. He’d tell you as such.”

“He told me what happened. What you said before you ran off.” Dick swallowed the lump in his throat. His own fear. Because he knew Damian. And if he said the wrong thing, Damian would run. Damian would bolt, and disappear off the radar.

Potentially take Dick’s new puppy with him.

“Damian.” Dick sat up a little bit now, watched as Damian flinched at the seriousness of his tone. Put his hand on Haley’s back to ground him. To emotionally support him. And Haley was already good at this, she just nuzzled closer to his stomach. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

Damian bowed his head. “Yes it was.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Dick pushed. “What happened to Alfred wasn’t your fault. What happened to me, I – you weren’t even there.”

“I should have been.” Damian whispered. “I would have seen the gunman. I would have pushed you out of the way.”

“Yeah, sure. Then the bullet would have hit you and you would have died.” Dick tried not to sound angry, but he wasn’t sure how good of a job he did. “Would that have really been the better option?”

It was a rhetorical question, but stubbornly, Damian answered it anyway. “Yes. It should always be me over you. Always.” Damian looked up, but not at Dick. Kept his gaze forward, out the nearby window. “The world needs Dick Grayson. It does not need me.”

“Don’t-” Dick was lashing out before he realized it, grabbing Damian’s elbow and squeezing. He felt Damian tense under his grip. “Don’t you dare say that again. Not ever.”

Damian looked over, eyes half-lidded and dull. “Why?” He countered, the royalness in his voice not mimicked by his tired features. “It’s the truth.”

“It’s not-”

“I killed Alfred, I do nothing but hurt and torture and agonize everyone around me so yes, it’s exactly as I would deserve.” Damian spit. “If saving you or anyone else happens in the process, than at least you simpletons can convince yourselves that I did not die in vain.”

“It’s not…you can’t…I can’t…”

I can’t lose you again.

Dick didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to think.

So he didn’t.

Instead, he did what he always did. He didn’t think – he acted.

He used the grip he had on Damian’s elbow to pull him into his chest, engulf him in his arms. Haley grumbled at the movement, but Dick ignored her, holding Damian’s head against his throat, burying his nose in Damian’s hair.

“Oh, Damian…” He lamented. Then quieter, to himself, to the universe, to the very air around them. “What happened while I was gone?”

“…Everything fell apart.” Damian breathed softly. Painfully. He didn’t return the embrace, kept his hands firmly on Haley’s flank, but he did slump into the hold, lean his head exhaustedly on Dick’s shoulder. “Everything…I…I don’t know who I am anymore. What I’m supposed to do. Who I’m supposed to be.”

“You’re supposed to be Damian. You’re supposed to be my little brother.” Dick whispered. “That’s it. That’s it.”

Damian shook his head. “It was through Father’s methods I got Alfred killed. He never acts, always reacts and that’s…that’s not working. That gets innocent people in the line of fire.” A small gasp. “But I can’t…I don’t want to…”

A whimper. A whimper from the great Damian Wayne.

“I don’t want to hurt people. I don’t want to kill anyone. Not…not anymore.” A watery exhale. “I don’t want to be what my mother wants me to be.”

“Neither do I.” Dick answered honestly. “But I don’t want you to be Bruce either. I don’t want you to be anyone but you.”

“But who is that?” Damian shifted to look up at him, so Dick reluctantly leaned back. He didn’t release his child, though. “What good am I if I can’t make at least one of my parents proud? If I can’t help anyone who needs it?” He shook his head, closed his eyes. “Grayson, I’m useless.”

“You’re not. You’re not useless, you’re not what your parents dream.” He leaned forward, pressed his forehead to Damian’s. Damian opened his eyes and stared cautiously up at him. “You’re you, and I love that. I love you, just because you exist.”

Haley whined a little between them, and Dick felt her nosing at the arm he had tight around Damian’s back.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry no one helped you when you needed it. I’m sorry you felt so alone.” He whispered. “But I’m here now. I’m back, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you, no matter what.”

“I don’t think you get to decide when you get amnesia again.” Damian drawled bitterly.

Dick snorted a laugh. “Well then I’ll tell you right here and now, okay? If I’m ever unable to say it, for whatever reason. Know that I love you. I have always loved you and I will always love you. No matter what. Don’t ever forget it. Even if for some reason outside of my control I do.”

Damian didn’t respond, but he silently nodded. Leaned a little more weight into Dick.

“…You know, you avoided my question.” Dick sniffed his own tears back, gently running his fingers along Damian’s spine. The boy melted into his touch. “How have you been?”

“…Tired.” Damian admitted softly. “I’m so tired, Grayson.”

“Then it’s a good thing I have extra blankets, and a really big mattress.” Dick laughed. “Humour me, and stay a few days?”

“I…have places to go…” Damian tried. He even tried to pull back, out of Dick’s arms. Dick refused to let him. “A case I’m working…”

“A case more important than Haley’s health?” Dick asked. Damian sighed.

“I knew from the moment you called that it was a ruse to get me to show up here.” Damian hummed thoughtfully. Remorsefully. “Until I heard her bark, I assumed there wasn’t actually a dog here at all.”

“I mean, it was, but also not really. I want to give her the best life I can, and you’re the greatest expert on dog care I know.” Dick shrugged. “And…I’ve never had a special needs dog.”

Damian seemed to consider, then exhaled again. “The longer I’m here the more likely Father will find me. And I…” A hesitation. “I don’t…want to see him. Right now.”

“If you don’t want Bruce to find you, I won’t let him find you. Simple as that.” Dick promised. “Want to make a bet on it? Stay a week, and if he doesn’t find out you’re here, you have to stay another two months at least. If he does, I’ll go with you wherever you want to go, even if it’s back to where you mom is, and only marginally complain about it.”

Damian stared up at him. His eyes were still dull, still tired, but there was a spark there. Just a little one. Just a tiny bit of hope.

“…You’re ridiculous.” Damian chuckled. “And I’m starting to think this was more than just a plot to get me to show up.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Damian nodded, looking down at Haley. She didn’t open her eyes, but she did let her tail happily wag. “It’s feeling more and more like a kidnapping of me, and not necessarily of this sweet girl like I said earlier.”

“Well, what can I say?” Dick asked weakly, extending his legs until they surrounded Damian’s, and locking his ankles together. Now he had dog and child right where he wanted them – in his arms and under his protection. “I wasn’t lying. I really did miss you, kiddo. So damn much.”

Haley yawned, stretching her front leg out until it touched Dick’s knee. “…I missed you too, Grayson.”

Dick smiled, and leaned forward to plant a long kiss on Damian’s temple. “I love you, Damian.”

Damian smiled down at Haley, ran his hand over her head. “…I love you as well, Richard.”

“…Enough to stay for a few days?” Dick tried, leaning his chin on Damian’s shoulder. “Or, like, forever?”

Damian laughed – genuine, loud laugh – and flopped back against Dick’s chest. In exhaustion. In relief. Dick didn’t care. Just held his boy as tight as he could.

“I suppose I can consider it.”

[the-monkeies-girl]

*chanting* ms em give us your first kiss interpretation with the 10th doctor

You know what this would have been fine if i wanted to write fics when i first watched doctor who but no now i gotta do it like 15 years LATER. Reblogs and likes are totally appreciated, as is feedback! Thanks guys. 

Title: Diamonds in the Sky. Pairing: Reader x 10th Doctor. Fandom: Doctor Who. Words: ~ 2.5 K.  Summary: What does a first experience feel like for a man who’s lived so many lives and has seen so many firsts? Rating: K. ( Super fluffy, some angst lol so be ready. )

Tagging: @ok-anon

You could see him through the semi-transparent middle of the TARDIS. Through the churning of the engine, through the time that was bent around you, through the space that was almost smothering. Though the box was bigger on the inside, at times for you, it felt as if you were crammed chest to chest with him, unable to breathe, excitement running through your veins at the idea of what your next adventure with the Doctor would be. Admittedly, you had gotten quite accustomed to the lifestyle. To the sounds coming out of his mouth as he swirled around the console, mumbling incoherence in a fashion that was purely Time Lord. From the way that his trench coat fluttered behind him as he pulled a lever, feeling in his bones the very movements of the TARDIS, the way that his fingers lingered for a second too long out of instinct before he tapped away to do something on the other side of the console, now right before your eyes with his back towards you. The Doctor’s face was easy to imagine. Eyebrows pressed together in complete focus, lips split apart, tongue occasionally coming out in some sort of brilliance as he said something directed in your direction.

“Where do you feel like? Bitter freezing world, mounds of snow and giant snow castles or perhaps a bit more sunny--- A bit more like an actual holiday with the family-- Like---”

“Florida?” You suggested with a laugh, finally tugging yourself out of a strange linear space that you were placed into more and more often whenever you found yourself admiring him. You stood up and glanced upwards at him. The Doctor found himself stopping in his tracks looking at you though the pause in his actions was hardly noticeable to anyone but himself. The way you looked at him at times, like right now, with innocence swirling rampant between the two of you, uncovered emotions not willing to be said, he felt like melting on the spot. He popped his mouth and turned away from you for a second, swallowing what he wanted like he so often did and collected focus.

You saw his shoulders slump forward almost comically, his lips pursing together as your joke sunk into his mind before he twirled around quickly, nearly enough to send you flying back into your seat once again like the TARDIS did when first shifting into flight. The smile was still plastered on your face as he pointed at you, flipping one more shift on the console. She almost purred at being touched by him, not that you could blame the machine. From the way he finessed the TARDIS, it wasn’t an unexpected reaction. You were sure if you were in its place, you’d give an even more exaggerated reaction.

“What’s so wrong with Florida? Y’know, for a human place, it is quite nice. That got that family oriented spot, with the mouse and the duck... What’s it called?”

“Disney World?” You offered, holding one of your hands out metaphorically.

Snapping his fingers, he almost danced towards you, the Converse on his feet clanking against the metallic flooring. Excitedly, he grabbed your shoulder with one hand, the other gripping around your open hand and for a split moment, you thought he was going to pick you up and twirl you. But the simple grazing against your shirt clad arms was enough for you as you tossed your head back in laughter at his happiness. Had your eyes been open as you laughed, you’d have been face to face with the look he gave you. Melting again… Soft brown eyes melting as he stared at the subtle lines on your face as you grinned, grabbing hold of his hands on your body, leaning towards him to keep him near.

“Yes! That’s the place. Disney!” The two of you were so near one another, it was a natural reaction to smile at the feeling of his rapid breath against your face. A smile different than the one plastered on your face before. This one was soft and sweet, reserved specifically for the moments you knew the Doctor wasn’t paying attention to your expression but you longed for him to just so he could know how you were feeling towards him. But alas, it wasn’t meant to be as he let go of you to walk around the TARDIS, opting to lean against the wall, “You do know that man froze himself years ago, his body is kept under lock in key, some weird base on Earth. Weird, humans and wanting to live for years beyond needed.” He paused, looking down at his own hand in thought. “Trust me, living more than what was intended is a bitter sign indeed. No one's meant to live forever, if they were, imagine the turmoil you’d lot’o’humans would put yourselves in. Pokin’ your heads into all sorts of cans. ”

The Doctor clicked his tongue and you were nearly mesmerized watching that action as he slid the appendage across his sharp teeth before turning towards the main console of the TARDIS. That was the end of that side of the conversation, but the longing in his voice put it on hold for now. Another pin in a topic that was skimmed upon every once and a while that left you longing to touch him in reassurance. Just to touch him, not physically but maybe emotionally to calm down the raging storm that seemed to be brewing beneath his skin. There was a reason why the Daleks called him what they did. The Oncoming storm. But what if the storm had been there for years? Just simmering? Lonely, afraid, growing into something uncontainable? There was something there that you feared but it was often forgotten when he’d hold your hand running down a street, when he’d press his pointer finger to your lips to hush you in the excitement of a moment… Your fingers twitched. There it was! The feeling of shifting with him, never quite knowing where you were going to land, and even if you did have a slight idea of where you were going to vacation next, it was short lived as history liked to follow where you tread. The TARDIS made her whirl of sounds, but not the clunk that came along with landing.

“Where are we going?” The question hung in the air for a few seconds longer than the Doctor intended just to see if the familiar sound of landing was just delayed or---

“We haven’t landed,” He murmured, whether to himself or to you as he reached for the screen to look out. “Still sort of just driftin’.” His brows furrowed once again as he plucked his glasses out of the chest pocket of his pin-stripe suit with some sort of strange elegance that you found almost entrancing. “In space.”

“Well, we are in a spaceship-”

Your comment was put on pause as the doors of the TARDIS swung open, the Doctor freely popping his head out to see where. The screen was helpful but right now, his eyes needed to see what was going on. He was quick- you hadn’t even noticed him running towards the door until you felt the brush of air against your bare arms which yearned you towards the Universe that was just a step outside the door. He plopped himself down, sitting on the edge of his ship with his long legs dangling carelessly out into space. You could see the pout on his face without even looking straight at his face, the tilt of his head sparking curiosity within your own mind as you waltzed towards him and sat down behind him, gazing over his shoulder as your head rested in the crook of his neck. “Tell me Doctor, where’ve we ended up this time?”

That was merely a whisper in his ear as he took his glasses off, pressing part of the frames against his lips. “Seems to be a dead star,” you hummed in response to that, “But at this stage in its life, this type of star…. Becomes so compressed that it essentially becomes a diamond.” He turned towards you, faces centimetres apart now. “No idea why we’ve stopped here.”

“No complaints from me,” You admitted, glancing at the colors. There was mainly blues and purples, swirling in a dust of clouds around a dense object that you had deduced was the diamond the doctor had mentioned. Or at one time in its life, it was a star. You found it easy to imagine, having spent so much time with the man you were travelling with. Your imagination wandered farther than it ever had before. “It’s beautiful.”

“To think that something so miraculous becomes even more amazing after death---” He started speaking and turned his attention to what was happening outside. “Fantastic. Even after all this time, the Universe still finds a way of surprising me in unexpected ways.”

Settling down next to him, you crossed your legs and lightly leaned against him. “Imagine how I feel.”

The Doctor smiled softly at that and chuckled. He liked to do that on his own time- imagining how you must have felt, how your train of thought trailed… But now, unexpectedly, he was thinking about it and he answered truthfully, “I don’t think I can--- it’s been much too long for me to remember how first moments felt, they’re dim in my mind now, many things are forgotten over the hundreds of years and I often don’t feel it until the moment happen again. What I imagine it feeling like for you is…” His hand rested upon yours in your lap as if he were empathetically reaching out to you, something common that you had seen him do a handful of times. “Pure happiness- maybe fear and nerves at times, like now---” He swallowed and smacked his lips dismissively, trying to ignore the fluttering he so viciously felt within his own hearts syncing with yours, “It’s fleeting for me now, I’ve been alive for so long, (Name). Now imagine how I feel.”

You knew how he felt--- you could almost absorb what he was experiencing, his hand now grasping yours a bit tighter than before, like his emotions were sinking so deeply into your fingertips. He was laying bare to you--- a strange sensation. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath in. What you felt was--- Was… “I know.” You whispered to him, “You needn’t worry about being alone anymore, Doctor.”

“It’s inevitable,” He replied back to you, a bitter tone behind his usually chipper voice. “There will come a time, (Name), when you’ll get old and I won’t… Even having you now, I feel so alone because I know what is happening. What will happen. There’s so many things I can stop, but this...” There was a vague gesture between the two of you that he made with his free hand.

Things got quiet between the two of you quickly. The only sound that was apparent was coming from the TARDIS and yet it seemed to deafen you. The sleepless space that was staring at you, the warmth of his hand still clinging to yours desperately. Hold me, it said, forever. It was wishful thinking on the Doctor’s side, this was something he was also consciously aware of. Forever would always happen for him but it was never meant to be between the two of you. Drawing your attention from the scenes of the galaxy in front of you, you let your eyes fall on him beside you. Shadows played on his sunken cheeks, against his face giving the illusion that he was in some sort of strange blue firelight. He was handsome and with his hand still on yours, you knew that what you were feeling was evident in his own mind. That your ambitions in the moment were coinciding with his.

“There is---”

“A first you’d like to have?” He murmured quietly, squeezing your hand before letting it go.

“With you.” To say that the voice you used was reassuring would be an understatement. You were soft spoken in the moment, reaching with the hand he had been holding so tightly to cup the side of his face. Instantaneously, a rush of emotion ran into you. Not all were yours, not all were his. Some were entwined in some strange dance that could only assimilate upon being your thoughts, together, as one.

“With you.” He repeated your statement, letting his hand come up to grasp the side of your face to mimic your own actions. With hooded eyes, the Doctor gazed down at you, letting it flutter between your eyes and your lips. He’d been close to you like this before, in fact, being this near felt good to him, it felt close to ecstasy to know that after what he had done with his own hands, with his own thoughts, that someone would still want him the way that you did right now. “Right now, seems like a good time---”

You were the one to hush him this time around as you closed that small gap between the two of you. It was a barely there sort of touch at first, lips holding in an awkward dance before the Doctor pulled away with hard pressed together lips and an even harder swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing with that action. That’s all it was, just a peck but he was left feeling this sort of churning in his stomach. He wanted to do it again, and looking at you through a flush of eyelashes, he could tell that you wanted the same thing. And so, the gap disappeared once again as he took initiative and allowed his mouth to form against yours properly, your hand reaching to tangle in the hair and the back of his head while he held the side of your face, still swallowing in large sumps the emotions that were tangled in your mind. Everything you were feeling, have felt about him were strewn on the table like a deck of cards at a Poker table. And in return, you received the same thing. It felt like a burning in your throat as if you had just guzzled down an entire shot of whiskey.

“Right then.” The brown haired Time Lord muttered against your lips and continued to caress your face with a gentle graze. “Florida it is…”

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

Okay, what are your thoughts on Ian's relationships? With his family, his boyfriends, and Mandy (since I think that's the only friend he's had)

Oh, no. Ohhhhhhhh, no. Now you’ve done it. You’ve asked about my dear, darling favorite character on the show. My love for one Ian Gallagher runs deep, which means this answer is going to run super long. The good, the bad, and everything in between—Ian Gallagher lives rent free in my brain and always will. I derive so much satisfaction from seeing Ian interact with other people, in whatever capacity that might be. I admire and aspire to the compassion he has shown for others over the years, even and perhaps most especially those who arguably haven’t earned it. He tries so hard to be good to people, and seeing their love for him manifest when he’s reached such lows where he can’t even fathom why the love of his life would want to be with him forever? That’s powerful.

So, yeah. I said I could write essays on these characters, and that’s exactly what you’re about to get: five hours and 6k words’ worth of my thoughts. (I am so sorry. There will be text walls.)

Let’s dive into Ian’s many and multifaceted relationships—his family, his friends, and his romantic pursuits.

Ian and Family

Ian told us where he stood on this in the very first season, and it set the standard for his character for eleven years to come. Faced with a prospect that others in his position could only dream of—not being Frank’s son and having a wealthy father with a functional, prosperous lifestyle mere miles away—Ian refused to buy into it. He refused to do what might have been objectively better for his future by seeking a relationship with Clayton. In that household, he would have had access to a better public school, more financial resources, a tutor to help him where he was struggling, and less urgency for him to work so that he could enjoy being a kid. When he got sick, he would have had access to better healthcare, too. Perhaps he would have had a better shot at West Point from that background than he did at home. But that’s just it: home was with his family, and he was very clear that they didn’t live in that nice house. All he wanted—all he wanted—was to be with his brothers and sisters. He has never referred to them as only half-siblings or half-cousins; he has never even used the words, “you’re not my dad,” on Frank. That’s his family, the people he loves most in the world, and he’s always been at his best when he’s with them and at his worst when he’s not. Let’s look at each of them:

1.      Frank: It is so striking to me that Ian doesn’t appear to hold the outright contempt for Frank that Fiona, Lip, and Debbie have exhibited at different points over the years. Aside from the handful of instances where they’ve gotten into physical altercations (which Frank always initiated) and kicking him out of the house on occasion, Ian is simply indifferent to him. But there are these moments, these brief glimmers of mutual attachment and loyalty, if those are the right words. In the scene where Ian famously doesn’t count to three before using the pepper spray on him, Frank starts saying how his New Gallaghers weren’t his real kids—that Ian is his real son, and Frank is his real father. It’s a passing thought uttered while trying to manipulate his way into the house that neither of them think much of, nor does the audience…until you remember that biologically, Frank isn’t his father, and he certainly hasn’t behaved like one either. Ian has more right than anyone to comment on that, but he doesn’t because Frank is his father. He’s the father that Ian idly hoped wouldn’t come to his wedding yet sat joking about with Debbie rather than getting pissed off that he was making out with some lady in front of everyone. He’s the father who sat at the table with them eating breakfast in 11x03 and claimed Mickey was the man in their relationship without Ian saying a word to him about it, and who Ian saw no issue with taking Franny to school when no one else could. In s4, as far removed from his family as he’d been for a while, Ian still went straight to the hospital when he heard that Frank was at death’s door. We focus so much on his attitude towards Monica because of how obvious it was that we frequently miss these tiny moments and their implications. It would take an awful lot of patience, compassion, and love not to write Frank off completely after all he’s done. Not necessarily our standard definition of love between a son and his father, perhaps, but a loving soul.

2.      Monica: I have actually written a pretty lengthy post about his relationship with her because while their shared mental illness definitely plays a role in his feelings toward her, that grew complicated far earlier than his diagnosis. The first time we meet her, we see that he has a visceral reaction to news of her presence. He runs. When Ian can’t process strong emotions, that’s what he’s done in the past. I happened upon an interview Cameron did just after the end of s1 where he mentioned something I had already been thinking: Ian’s age when Monica left is extremely important. He was a kid in s1, but one who could roll with the punches, sometimes literally. She left them two years before that. Ian would have been in middle school, roughly as old as Debbie was when she still called Frank “daddy” and forgave him for everything he did. It’s an awkward age that once again set Ian in something of a danger zone—too old to accept an excuse or no explanation at all, but not old enough to process the situation in a healthy way. And then she’s back all of a sudden with no warning. Ian doesn’t cry like Debbie, and he doesn’t typically get explosively angry like Fiona. He can’t deal, so he runs. He hangs back. He only speaks when he has to and compartmentalizes: Monica wants to take Liam, and they need to stop her. It doesn’t have to be about her leaving. They have a goal—he can focus on that. And then she’s back a year later, saying she’s here to stay while Fiona seems to take her at her word and Lip isn’t there to ground everyone. Ian tries so hard to behave like Lip would with his biting sarcasm and attempts to stay emotionally distant in a way that seemed pretty exaggerated for Ian, but he’s also dealing with a fresh wave of guilt over Mickey going to juvie—and Monica gets it. She’s the only person to acknowledge that he’s in pain and actively try to make it better. She’s the only one who really knows at the time, but that hardly matters. This poor kid, whose mother left him when he still needed her, has her standing in front of him and saying she’s sorry and listening when he speaks and taking him dancing—just the two of them. Embarrassing as it was and harmful as it could have been, she tried to facilitate his dreams when no one else wanted him to go into the military. She was there for him when he went AWOL. She came for him when he was arrested and even wanted to make a place for him in her new life, unrealistic as it was. This goes so much deeper than them both being bipolar. Ian’s comment about her parachuting into their lives in s7 wasn’t about Mickey or her role in them breaking up. He trusted her. He wanted her. He needed her. And she’d convinced him that she would be there—until she left. Over and over again. She was there for him and unintentionally took advantage of how desperately he still needed his mother. She made him keep loving her, and that’s both a blessing that has him crying into a voluminous man’s arms when she passes and a curse that wrecked him more than once.

3.      Fiona: The trust these two have for each other cannot be understated. Fiona has discussed things with Ian that she never brought up around any of the other kids throughout the entire series. In the pilot episode, she tells him about feeling needed and takes his opinion on the matter to heart. At the end of the season, he’s the one she talks to about the car because she can trust him to give her an answer even without speaking. In s2, she tells Lip that the two of them are her rocks, and we see that time and time again. That’s part of what makes their falling out over the church hit that much harder: it’s Ian and Fiona. The only time they’d been on the outs in any serious manner up to that point was when Ian was adjusting to his new reality and they were trying to find a balance between sister and caretaker. Otherwise, that bond of trust had never been severed—not until Ian literally sold himself only for it to amount to nothing in the end because she had no idea the lengths to which he’d gone to get that building. That damage gets mended, thankfully, but what a powerful period of time when those two were the only ones who’d never really been at each other’s throats. There is a downside to that trust, though. As I mentioned before, Ian was so responsible and put together when he was younger that Fiona didn’t think twice about his situation with Ned or that he ran away. Not even seventeen yet, and she was telling Debbie that she didn’t like his decision to leave but trusted him. That is one of the things I love about this show—even something like trust that we always prop up as an important factor in our relationships can betray us in the most unexpected ways.

4.      Lip: I won’t go into it here, but the relationship they share is something that means a lot to me on a personal level. It’s part of how I knew that Ian would become my favorite character pretty early on. The way he simultaneously admires and envies Lip, loves and is annoyed by him, relies on him and is desperate to pave his own path in the world—what a beautiful and accurate depiction of what it means to be a younger sibling. Lip is the first person to discover that he’s gay and openly accept him for it. (I think what he tried with Karen came from a well-meaning place even if it was horribly, horribly misguided.) Lip is the one who tries to get him into West Point, hate it as he does. He helps Ian when Terry is after him, takes care of him in the aftermath of the wedding when he realizes just how deeply Ian feels for Mickey, searches the whole damn city for him when he finds out that Ian is in trouble, gets him a job, leans on him in his own time of need… He’s not perfect. He slips up, just like Ian does. Some things break my heart, like Lip insisting that he’s earned his own space when his little brother is asking him for safe harbor or Ian thanking him for being his brother outside the prison. But they love each other so much, and I just… I can’t possibly put into words how much I love their dynamic.

5.      Debbie, Carl, and Liam: I’m grouping these three together because they’re further separated from Ian in age, so we see a lot of the same trends with them as a whole. Ian loves taking care of people. We know this. We also know that Fiona and Lip don’t typically want him taking care of them—they’re the ones who take care of him when he needs it, specifically Lip. With the younger three, however, Ian can be the Big Brother. He can shake his head in utter bafflement at Debbie’s obsession with holding her breath for two minutes, walk Carl through what he needs to go camping, and promise his baby brother postcards when he leaves. The difference here is that his relationship with them is so much less fraught with conflict. We don’t see him fight with Debbie, Carl, or Liam the way he has with Fiona or Lip. While Ian tends to be the voice of reason during conflicts overall, I think it’s also because he relies on his older siblings in a way that he doesn’t with his younger siblings, and the latter don’t tend to rely on him as much as Fiona or Lip as well. There’s a lack of tension in most of their interactions growing up because that pressure isn’t there. Perhaps this is where Ian’s age and standing in the family is a bit more beneficial: young enough to have people he can rely on while too young for anyone to really rely on him for more than his share of the squirrel fund.

Ian and Friends

I’ve seen it mentioned that Ian (and Mickey) not having more friends is bad or lazy writing. I tend to believe that that fails to take something into account that, admittedly, most of us don’t really have to think about: having friends is a luxury. It requires time and effort to cultivate friendships, especially lasting ones. As a kid, Ian spent a lot of his free time working or helping to manage one family crisis after another. Going AWOL, losing his health, struggling to acclimate to his illness, trying to find a new career path, spiraling into the Gay Jesus movement, going to prison, adjusting once again to normal life, getting married, a pandemic… I’m sure he’s had plenty of acquaintances over the years, but having a family to support and constant upheavals would have made it extremely difficult to really forge strong relationships with them. I think that’s part of what makes his relationship with Mandy so special and valuable to him: she’s sort of the same way.

When we met Mandy in s1, she had other friends. We saw her meet up with them and go shopping; she told Ian a story about how one was mad at her for not sharing her make-up. As the trauma in the Milkovich household reached its zenith for her in s2 and she started thinking seriously about getting out of there, we saw those friends fall by the wayside—all except Ian. He saw her and let her see him early on. That’s a level of trust and respect that nobody else in their neighborhood would have displayed, certainly not to her. But then there’s this guy who defended her against their creepy, perverted teacher and treated her like a human being, not an object. It’s no wonder she developed an obvious, unrequited crush and sought physical comfort from him occasionally. It’s no wonder she tried to repay the favor by giving Mickey a hard time in s3 and s4, misguided and rather uninformed as we know it was at the time. (It’s also no wonder that she went for the closest Gallagher to Ian, either, but that’s for another meta.)

And Ian… Ian is loyal to a fault. We have watched Ian cut out his own heart and let the blood drip down his arm to pool on the floor at his feet if it would make a damn bit of difference for the people he loves. Like Fiona and Lip, Mandy immediately accepted him for who he is and suggested an arrangement that would protect him as well as benefit her. That is enormous where they came from. To him, that had to feel like the ultimate sign of friendship: he could trust her with a part of him that he hadn’t even entrusted to most of his family yet. From that point on, she was on the List of People Ian Gallagher Would Do Anything For. Finding out about Terry and what had happened? He held a bake sale, of all things, to fundraise for her. Seeing that his brother—his best friend—was treating her like garbage? He put him in his place. Her boyfriend was beating her? He brought her home and made it his goal to find a safe place for her to stay, even if it ultimately didn’t work. She was going to move away from all of her meager support with that boyfriend? He didn’t just rally his own arguments—he brought in outside help with Lip, who he thought might tip the scales. It’s usually just a saying that true friends will help each other hide a body, but Ian literally tried to do that. Lucky for him, he has a good head on his shoulders and used it.

No, Ian doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends. We’ve seen that he has spheres of influence, if you will, and acquaintances that he can call upon when he needs them. (For example, the guys that helped with the preacher.) However, Ian has always struck me as a “quality over quantity” type of person. Being a soldier or an EMT isn’t lucrative, but they’re meaningful for someone who sees them as vehicles for helping people. Seeing more parts of the world than just Chicago has appealed to him in the past, but he seems perfectly content to carve out a spot for himself right here at home. Having only three best friends—Lip, Mandy, and Mickey—doesn’t seem like much of a hardship for him.

Ian and Romantic Pursuits

I hate to say that there were five, but from Ian’s perspective, there were. So, let’s talk about all five. Even though…there weren’t five. There was only one. We’ll save the best for last.

1.      Kash: The first of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. I hope it goes without saying that I hate this man with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I hate him so much. However, their interactions taught me a whole lot about how kind and compassionate Ian really is—and how naïve. Of course, he would believe that Kash loved him. The man was buying him all sorts of expensive gifts, and that’s what we see on all the commercials and in so many movies, isn’t it? Grand gestures of affection through expensive gifts. Poor as they were, Ian still scraped together the money to buy him baseball tickets and CDs, convinced as he was that that was all part of what you did in a relationship. That desire to do things like a “normal” married couple in s11? Yeah, that starts here. Ian has always been a planner, and he’s always bought into certain stereotypes. We can see that here. What we can also see is Ian’s compassionate, kind, loving soul. He cares so deeply for other people, even ones that he doesn’t know very well, especially if they are living in circumstances that mean something to him. (For example, the mentally ill woman they tried to help at work and the shelter kids whose situations were so similar to Mickey’s.) Kash being a closeted gay man living in misery with a wife he didn’t love and two children he never meant to have clearly tugged at Ian’s heartstrings. Even after everything that happens, even though Ian behaves as though they’re awkward exes who just happen to work together, he still covers for Kash. He gives him that head start and takes it upon himself to break the news to Linda that he’s gone. He defends Kash to Lip when the latter finally says exactly what we all know: he was a pedophile who deserved to rot in prison for what he did. As with Fiona’s trust, Ian’s loving soul, compassionate heart, and desire for love outside his siblings are virtues that have done him harm in the past. This is one such instance.

2.      Ned: The second of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. To be honest, I don’t believe that Ian would even characterize it that way. He seemed very aware that Ned was a distraction from his problems—from Mickey being in juvie, Monica falling into a depressive episode, the money in the squirrel fund being gone, Lip moving out, losing his shot at West Point, and getting denied for service due to his age. Again, though, Ian has always wanted to feel valued, and this rich dude was letting him stay in a fancy hotel room with anything he wanted readily available. This (disgusting predator) guy was giving him attention and a distraction with no strings attached. Then the complications roll in, and he’s once again faced with being the mistress to a closeted, married man. The difference here is that he’s not comfortable with it. He tries to tell Fiona twice, which is enormous for Ian when he has never been very good at communicating if it means burdening others with or even merely facing his own problems. But he tries to tell her. He rejects the GPS unit and tells Ned that he has a boyfriend, boxing him into a strictly sexual arrangement. (This, unfortunately, makes sense. It aligns with how Fiona viewed things: where Jimmy was concerned about it, she told him that it was “just sex.”) He is also visibly embarrassed to admit to Lip and Fiona what has been going on with Ned. By that point, Ian is a year and a half older and, while still scarred and warped in his views because of Kash, perhaps a bit wiser. Emotionally, he kept Ned at arm’s length most of the time. He used Ned not just as a distraction, but as a way to galvanize Mickey into taking their relationship a step forward. But Ian is still Ian, and Ian is compassionate to a fault. Ned played that card by asking if he could have a little understanding for a man whose life was falling apart. Sure, he can. He’s Ian, the Gallagher too empathetic for his own good at times. We know how that spirals out of control. It just goes to show that even when Ian was trying to maintain some emotional distance, his heart is simply too big and his perceptions too heavily impacted by the grooming he’d experienced with two different people by then, and so he [SPOILER ALERT] still feels enough of a connection to Ned after all these years to be mildly bothered that he passed away.

3.      Caleb: The third of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Ian’s relationship with Caleb strikes me as being similar to what he had with Ned. While more age-appropriate, Ian was very much using Caleb, just as Caleb was using him. That’s why it was so easy for both of them to walk away. Ian was in a difficult spot when they met. He was grateful to the firefighters who saved his life, but he had also just saved someone else at a moment when he was perhaps at his absolute lowest. That’s what he’s always wanted, isn’t it—to be a bit of a hero and help people? So, he’s understandably drawn there, first out of gratitude and then to be surrounded by very attractive gay firemen who helped people, saved his life, and invited him to be part of a function they were holding. But he made himself pretty clear from the start: he was interested in sex with Caleb. That was the draw. He still hasn’t come to terms with being bipolar and losing Mickey, but Ian has never not been with anyone for any extended length of time. That’s just who he is: he’s always sought some level of outward validation—from the army, Kash, Monica, Mickey, and so many others. We’re seeing him struggle with that now as he deals with the opportunities available to him as a mentally ill ex-con felon. So, he pursues Caleb as a distraction just like he did with Ned, only Caleb is a predator in his own right and can smell that his interest is coming from a place of weakness. He immediately (and initially unintentionally) preys on Ian’s desperate need for structure and order by insisting on a traditional date where Ian is very much out of his element and even goes so far as to instruct Ian on how to be intimate. It’s no wonder he mentions Mickey in these moments, as Mickey never wanted him to change, and Ian leans heavily (even slightly hyperbolically) into the fact that Mickey wasn’t a paragon of order and stability like Caleb outwardly appears. 

And I think why Ian puts up with it so long—being taught like a child, being used to upset Caleb’s parents, being paraded in front of his friends to make them jealous—is because he was getting something out of it too, just like with Ned. A stable place to live when their home ownership was in flux, a place away from his family when they weren’t providing the support he needed as he adjusted to his disorder, someone who validated his desires to help people regardless of their ulterior motives, and a physical distraction from his own problems. All of these parallel his relationship with Ned very closely. It was never going to last, of course. Ian is a strong person who temporarily forgot how strong he was because he forgot who he was, and Caleb didn’t want to be cared for—he wanted a project, like all of his sculptures. Being a project, being something that others see as needing to be fixed? That’s a hard no for Ian. It always has been. There’s a moment I love later in their relationship where Caleb tells him to turn off the lights when he goes out and lightly reprimands him for leaving one on the day prior. Ian is in a better place at that point, having regained a lot of his sense of self, and stares after him with indignation at being treated like a kid. He’s then lied to and cheated on, but I think that to mention those things to Caleb when they break up is to admit weakness on his own part—that he stuck with Caleb knowing that he was being mistreated, and Ian is not one to be called a victim. So, while we know from his discussions with Lip and Sue that the cheating and distrust bothered him most, he merely focused on Caleb lying about his sexuality, which removed a lot of the emotion from the situation—just like he did with Ned. It ultimately turned out to be a bad move since Caleb, being a skilled predator, made him question even his own sexuality in return, but we’re starting to see that Ian isn’t here to be someone’s toy anymore. Not an older, married man like Ned, but definitely not anyone his age either. I’m glad this pseudo-relationship happened because it showed Ian how strong he really was and that he could be in control of his own life. Sure, it destabilized him a little in the aftermath, but he worked through it. He leaned on his family, specifically Lip, who has always been his rock without the blurred lines that Fiona represented between sister/mother-figure/caretaker. Caleb is a garbage person, but Ian was the one who pulled the treasure from the trash, not him.

4.      Trevor: The fourth of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Trevor is perhaps the first relationship where we don’t see Ian dive in. Whether that’s because of his confusion over Trevor’s gender identity or the fact that he was really beginning to fully mature as an adult by that point (ostensibly finishing his education, getting a career, being fully self-sufficient, etc.), he tried to take his time and not jump right in. They hung out, talked around the neighborhood, and yes, engaged in some casual intimacy at the club. Again, Ian might not be in a full relationship, but he’s never without someone for long. At that point in the series, all he was missing was a relationship when it comes to traditional, “normal” goals for people to have. But Trevor posed a situation he’s never been in before since, while gay himself, Ian has never been very interested in activism or engaging in the LGBT community. It’s just not in his culture or environment, so to be faced with someone he’s interested in that challenges a lot of his views of gender and sexuality is something he takes his time with. Unfortunately, Trevor is younger than him and not quite as mature, not quite as experienced. He tells Ian he has plenty of friends and doesn’t need another, which is an ultimatum that has never really sat very well with me personally because I’m generally of the mind that if a person needs time and you really care for them, you’ll let them have that time. I’m not unsympathetic to Trevor: he’s been burned before and has his own trauma stemming from responses to his identity, so it makes complete sense for him not to be patient in this regard. He shouldn’t have to be—but then, Ian shouldn’t have to rush into anything he’s not 100% certain he wants either. That’s exactly what he does, though, because Ian does for others without thinking of the implications for himself a lot of the time. They make great friends, but they don’t make great partners. Trevor treats Ian similarly to Caleb in that he’s a bit of a project. Trevor educates him on the LGBT community and incorporates him into his ventures for the shelter without ever really showing much interest in Ian’s life or family, which suits Ian just fine because for as interested as he is in helping with the shelter and as attracted to Trevor as he is, he seems to know they’re not compatible. Ian, who has been having sex since he was far too young, takes a step back from it when they run into compatibility issues. (And pushes back on the pressure to bottom with some of his own—neither of them were in the right on that.) He doesn’t ask much about Trevor’s family or try to be part of his personal life. They sort of embody the “friends with benefits” stereotype: they hang out, they have sex, and that’s really all there is to their relationship. 

The reason Ian doubles down on trying to make it work isn’t because there was a future for them before Mickey broke out. It’s because he thinks he’s lost Mickey forever, he knows he’s lost Monica forever, and he’s not going to get the support he needs from his family when they couldn’t stand Monica and Fiona told him what he already knew to be true, namely that Mickey being an escaped convict would destroy everything Ian worked so hard for if he got involved. So, he does what Ian does. He needs that distraction—he needs to run from these strong emotions he can’t process, so he bottles them up and unfairly hopes that Trevor will provide some of that comfort after cheating on him with Mickey. (Had Mickey been released, I think they would have broken up. Instead, that was the first match Ian lit, but certainly not the last.) Now, the thing is, Trevor said at the start that he didn’t want to be Ian’s friend. He’s also younger and less mature in a relationship, which means he threw the concept of love out there prematurely, just like Ian thought what he had with Kash was love. The death throes of their relationship were a back and forth where Ian was spiraling and seeking comfort, and Trevor was providing some while keeping their relationship pretty amorphous. (Were they exes? Were they friends? Were they people who shared interests and danced around each other? Were they going to get back together? They never officially broke up—it fizzled and resurged, then fizzled for good.) Ultimately, whatever it was that they had couldn’t survive Mickey, Monica, or Gay Jesus. Trevor wasn’t prepared to deal with a full-blown manic episode, and based on his hands-off approach with involving himself in Ian’s life even before the Mickey-shaped bomb got dropped on them, it doesn’t seem like he really wanted to anyway. He did what he’s always done: prioritized his shelter, which I’m not deriding in the slightest. By that point, Ian was too far gone to care that he disappeared anyway. Had the situation been different and he was getting the support from his family that he needed, it doesn’t seem like he would have cared much there either.

5.      Mickey: Finally. Only took over five thousand words to get here. I’ll preface this with something that anyone who knows me from other fandoms is already well aware of, namely that I don’t do romance. Ever. Never been interested. The relationships I’ve always been most passionately interested in are platonic ones, especially “found families” and siblings, which is probably obvious from the other five thousand words here. Ian and Mickey are the first relationship I’ve actively shipped or written for in a fandom. They’re the first I’ve been invested in to this extent. As such, one of the biggest pet peeves I had when I first joined this fandom was the saying, “Ian fell first, Mickey fell harder.” These two wonderful dumbasses face planted on the concrete in front of the Kash and Grab in s1 and never recovered. I could go on forever about these two, but that particular wall of text would probably be too daunting for even the most avid Gallavich stan to traverse, so I’ll keep it fairly brief. As we can see above, Ian has a very strict sense of what he “should” want in a partner. Someone who is moderately successful in their chosen field, makes enough money to at least live comfortably, and typically does something that helps other people (a doctor, a fireman, a youth counselor). These aren’t passionate people. They’re not men who operate on instinct the way most of the people in his life have always had to by virtue of their social standing. They have life goals and opportunities that he envies, and Ian has a great deal of compassion for them when they hit a roadblock or things don’t work out. The amazing dichotomy of Ian Gallagher is that he straddles a line most people can’t between the rough neighborhood that has instilled in him all of his values/behaviors and the middle-class mentality of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and aspiring to more. Ian has always aimed for what Lip said wasn’t possible for poor people: being successful without having to scam or steal. But as I said way back at the beginning of this manifesto, the South Side is his home. His family is his family. And none of the people he’s been with personify the South Side quite like Mickey—they don’t personify home like Mickey. 

And I think that’s where the initial draw for Ian is. (I’m going to focus on Ian’s side since he’s who your question focused on.) The other guys look great on paper, and Ian’s brain says that that’s what he should aim for. We know better, though. We know that Ian has an enormous heart that belongs first and foremost to his family and their home. His heart says that this person—this dirty, rude, mean, violent person—is home. His heart says this person is everything about himself that he denies having, just like Ian was everything about Mickey that the latter declined to openly acknowledge for so long. I don’t like relationships built on “making each other better.” I really don’t. The wonderful thing about this is that it’s never been that way. Ian didn’t change Mickey. He’s exactly who he’s always been, but he’s grown past the fear of his own emotions and Terry’s response to them. He’s still a thief, a con artist, violent, and rude. Mickey didn’t change Ian either. He’s still rigidly conforming to certain stereotypes of what he thinks he should want, seeking structure (to his own detriment at times), and not a great communicator. The point for them is that they complement each other, not that they make the other a better person—not even that they bring something out of each other that wasn’t already there. That’s what Ian’s other relationships did. They made him shave off his edges so that he could fit a square peg into a round hole, and that’s not happiness. It’s simply what he thought he was supposed to do—what “normal” people did. 

With Mickey, he doesn’t have to worry so much about what is normal or acceptable. He doesn’t have to worry about whether or not his life is objectively “on track,” not until fairly recently. Mickey is the only person he’s ever been with who has accepted him for who he is, faults and strengths alike, without the underlying insinuation that he should be aiming for something else or pretending to be whatever the other person needs him to be in order to care for them. Kash needed an escape—Ian provided it. Ned needed a very specific brand of toy—Ian played that role. Caleb needed a project to feel fulfilled—Ian went along with it for a bit. Trevor needed someone who accepted him as he was but did things his way—Ian did that. To care for Mickey has only ever meant being himself because all Mickey ever really needed was him. Mickey didn’t need an escape from his home—his relationship with his family is more complicated than that. Mickey didn’t need to be saved from his upbringing—it’s what made him the person Ian fell in love with and who he is happy to be. Mickey didn’t need someone to change who he is on a fundamental level because unless it is going to get him into trouble and separate them, Ian never wanted him to. (Even then, it’s about what he does, not who he is.) And yes, I’m sure that there’s a level of excitement that Ian finds exhilarating where Mickey is concerned, but I tend to believe it goes a lot deeper than that. What he finds exciting about Mickey is what Mickey embodies about the South Side—about home. About his own upbringing, but also Ian’s. About Frank and Monica, his siblings, school, work, ROTC—existing and surviving in an environment where it’s not guaranteed that you’ll have money to keep the heat on this winter or feed your family. They spent the early seasons living in a constant state of fight or flight. They couldn’t afford not to. And there’s excitement in that. Look at how many people say that the first seasons are their favorite! There hasn’t been a huge shift in the quality or direction of the writing, just the trajectory of the characters. They’ve gotten older, and their problems have been different. It’s not about survival so much of the time anymore, but those are the storylines that excite us. For Ian, that exhilaration in the constant battle of survival in their neighborhood is sewn into the fiber of his being just like it is Mickey’s. He saw his home in Mickey before they truly fell in love, and when that followed, Mickey became home.

In Conclusion

Ian has spent his entire life looking for the “right” path only to realize that it was laid before him: his family, his small circle of friends, and Mickey. I love that that is coming full circle this season, where [SPOILER ALERT] marriage has almost made him regress a bit to that place where there must be a right way of doing things going forward, and slowly but surely, we’re seeing him loosen up.

Good morning. It’s Ian Gallagher loving hours.

[poptod]

Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 7, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Protection.

Notes: idk when i started writing smut so willy nilly but here it is, another fuckening. Pretty big warning though: dubious consent. It’s clearly consensual later on but at first there is no given consent. WC: 6.8k

+

He had yet to leave your side, taking you with him in every which direction as he, in his own words, marketed himself. It was a process that consisted of being charming and making witty jokes; simple things that had people trusting him. You stood mostly silent beside him, wringing your hands, stuck in distant thoughts. If anyone referred to you, you didn't notice.

They did, though––but if anyone asked about you, Ahk would make up a quick explanation, one he knew you wouldn't mind.

Your silence was originally your constant state, traipsing about the palace with a chain keeping you at Ahk's side. Over the short course of time between Amun first awakening and coming to stay with the Persian nomads, he had already grown used to your laughing, the snide comments always on your razor-sharp tongue, and that lively spark that filled your eyes whenever your heart thumped in your chest.

"You're quiet," he murmured as the two of you walked. You gripped reins in your hand, keeping your camel with all your bags beside you.

"I don't... like travelling with people," you said through gritted teeth, side-eyeing a group of whispering friends to your left.

"It's safer, isn't it?"

"For you," you mumbled bitterly.

"Oh, you're above joining in a caravan?" He said with a teasing lilt.

"I am simply experienced in this," you said, sure to speak under your breath, "and I know how to take care of myself."

Due to the size and needs of a caravan such as Mahud's, you would need to stop thrice a day, each time setting up a little bit of a home at the riverside. Inbetween those breaks, your legs ached with a familiar burn. Long walks had been your staple for a long while. Though your long break from the lifestyle had left you a little out of shape, your previous experience allowed you to navigate your way back in without too much trouble.

Ahk was taking the physical exertion overall well, despite his aching hunger. The stops would allow him to eat, a fact he was very happy to learn, going by the massive grin on his face when you pointed it out. At a few points he was partial to complaining, but always ceased if you glared at him.

The next stop for the slow-moving caravan was by an outcropping stream flowing from the Nile and out into the desert, allowing a small oasis to grow further from the river itself. Although there appeared to be no fruits growing on the tall trees, a few men and women took up nets and spears, wading out into the water to look for fish.

Numbness filled up your legs as you collapsed on the ground, leant against your camel who had also drawn to its' knees. Heat had already pooled in your face and in your feet, burning from the long day, and ready for anything to drink.

"Here," Ahk said as he rounded a bush, kneeling beside you in your shady, isolated spot.

He handed a cup to you, filled with hot tea. Not the most satisfying drink, but it was safest, and you dutifully sipped away. As you watched the other travellers Ahk shifted his position, scooting nearer to you and pressing himself to your side. Instantly his heat began to overcrowd your senses.

"Ahk, it's too hot for me to be touching anyone," you said, shifting away with your back to him.

You probably should've expected him to pull you into him and keep you there, which made you feel all the more foolish when he did it anyway and you didn't expect it at all.

"Ahk..." you whined, half suffocated by his arms wrapping tight round your chest, his face buried in the back of your neck.

"Mmm," he hummed as he took all of you in, nuzzling you with his nose. "I am... tired."

"I'd be astounded if you weren't, but you can't sleep. It's still day and we won't stay here long," you said matter-of-factly, pushing his face away from you.

"I'll just keep you here," he decided, his voice muffled through the fabric of your shirt. "Sleep forever."

"Right," you said, rolling your eyes.

You wormed out the moment he loosened his grip, much to his disappointment.

By nightfall the distant murmurs of a city sounded from ahead, blurred with singing crickets and the steady flow of the Nile beside you. Ahk had spent the rest of the day trying to cheer you up, mostly with bad jokes, but the sentiment was nonetheless there. Still, being surrounded by people for the past fourty-six hours had already taken its' toll. You hardly spoke, your chest felt caved in on itself, and your eyes were trained on the ground below you.

The city ahead, while heralding certainly crowded streets and filled taverns, would suffice as a hospice away from people who had come to learn your name. Whispering in your ear, Ahk informed you this was the city Piye had wanted the two of you to stay at for a little while. If things got worse, you'd move further south, and if they got better, you would return north down the nile.

While at first you tried to sneak away without Mahud noticing, Ahk insisted on giving the man a proper good-bye, and backed this up with the fact that you had been lent a camel. You wouldn't be able to take it with, but it was still a nice consideration for the trip to Aswan.

"We'll be stopping here," Ahk said once Mahud's attention was on the two of you. "We're to meet a friend soon."

"Ah, then I wish you safe travels," said Mahud, patting Ahk on the shoulder with a firm hand.

"Thank you. To you and your family as well. Will you be staying here tonight?" Ahk asked as he gestured to the outer markets of the city, filled with traders who came from far away to make their living, and couldn't afford a roof over their heads.

"I believe so. Tomorrow we make our money and head off again."

"Good luck to you then," Ahk said, silently urging you to say your own farewell.

"Good-bye," you said quietly, bowing your head respectfully.

As you entered the outer rim of the city, the first thing you noticed was the quiet. It wasn't all that late––the sun had set only a little while ago, and it always did that much earlier in the day during the colder months. So you kept your footsteps quiet, instructing Ahk to do the same when he didn't pick up on the eerie silence.

With no one around to direct you every which way, you had to rely off what memory you had of Aswan, as little as it was. You had visited several times, but never for very long. Most of the city was still unexplored to you.

The long light of burning torches cast itself upon the street in front of you, approaching from around the house to your right. Instantly you were darting for cover, hiding the whole of your body behind a large barrel, while you watched Ahk look around the corner.

"Ahk, you fucking idiot, get over here," you hissed, the pounding in your heart begging him to listen to you.

He looked over his shoulder, finding you mostly-hidden, and quickly made to do the same. His spot was on the opposite side of the street, guarded by a practical wall of broken-down stalls. Once Ahk was fully secured you slipped back behind the barrel, calming your quickened breath as footsteps passed you by, numbering somewhere in the tens.

Only when you were fully assured that whoever passed you was not coming back, you joined Ahk in the middle of the road and continued onwards.

"Did you get a look at them?" You asked immediately.

"Yes, but... I'm not sure if I actually saw what I saw," he said, his brow furrowed intensely.

"What does that mean?"

"They had these.. heads on them, feathered and beaked, with massive eyes. Fucking jacked, too," he muttered, pausing to check both ways before crossing the next street.

"Like your Gods?" You asked.

"Like Horus," he said with a nod. "What on Earth are they here for?"

"Just guessing right now, but they might have something to do with you."

He took your hand, and after a long while of searching the streets, you found yourself at the step of a tavern whose lights had long gone out. Again, strange; neither of you remarked upon it, but you did turn to each other with dubious eyes. The smell of mead still came from it, not yet soured or rotten.

Ahk took a cautious step forward, reaching for the door and easily pushing it open. Inside there was the expected darkness, surrounding the knocked-down chairs, broken tables, and spilt beer. Both of you stopped, your shadows stretching before you on the wooden floor as you scanned the whole of the abandoned room. The bar, where you were sure there was once an attendant, was left unmanned and covered in shattered cups, sticky with sweetened alcohol.

The door behind you swung shut, making you whip around. Fortunately it was only Ahk letting go of the door, leaving it to join you nearer to the center of the room, where you could try and peer over the counter.

"Um..." you said.

"Good evening," said a voice, accompanied soon by a man popping out from behind the bar. "How may I help you?"

"Uhhh.. what... what, uh, happened here?" Ahk asked, his expression contorted as he glanced around the room.

"Nasty Egyptian soldiers. They've wrecked up the place, and every time I fix it they come back in and ruin it, so I stopped fixing it. The party's upstairs, if that's what you're after," he said with a too-bright grin on his face.

"Really? And they don't notice that you're up there?"

"Well, they are bird brains," the man said as he leant in, though spoke in a much quieter voice.

"Wait, are they the soldiers with the bird heads on them?" Ahk asked as a revelation came to him.

"Yes, sir. Where've you been?"

"Travelling for the last couple days. How long have they been here?"

"About a week or so now," said the man, looking away as he recalled. "Heard they're crawling all over the other cities, too. So you folks want a room?"

"... sure," you said in a quiet, low voice when Ahk failed to answer.

He handed you a wooden coin with a symbol engraved with fire, informing you that the door with the same symbol was yours. There were no locks and he made sure to tell you that, as well. After offering to carry your bags and earning a 'no,' from you, he pointed you up the stairs, and returned to his spot hidden beneath the bar.

"Odd man," Ahk whispered to you as you climbed the steps.

"Ahk!" You scolded, hitting his shoulder. "We're still in earshot."

How the Horus soldiers hadn't managed to find this place was beyond either of you, as the moment you entered the upper floor you were bombarded with the tunes of dancing music, twirling and playing with the veins of each listener. The thick scent of searing meat filled the whole of the room, rivalled only by the scent of sloshed beer. Most of the food and drink came from a single corner, where a large cask of beer had been set up alongside a furnace, where the one manning the food also managed the distribution of drink.

All around you, people sat and stood, dancing in the middle or resting on the sidelines. Every crate and usable chair was taken up, most people taking seats on the floor instead in great groups of public conversation. You instinctively grew closer to Ahk, trying to keep as far away from others as you could, even as he began to wade through the crowd.

"Hey, don't you think it's a little loud in here? Won't the soldiers find us?" Ahk asked a random stranger, who had happened to stand as the two of you passed her by.

"Egyptian soldiers are hardly valued for their intelligence, young man," she said with a knowing chuckle, before continuing on to the bar.

"Told you," you murmured in his ear as you watched her disappear in the crowd.

"Oh, shut up."

After setting away your bags and manually jamming the door, you rejoined the party on the second floor, partaking in what food and drink you could afford. Piye had given you a good deal of money, but you had no way of knowing how many days or months you would have to stretch that amount across. It was better to keep a good eye on your finances, something Ahk didn't know much about, and left in your capable hands. Though, that hardly stopped him from complaining.

"We got more food when we were staying with Mahud," he whined, his cheek squished against your shoulder.

"That's because it didn't cost any money," you said.

"You are a cruel lover."

"I am, but this has nothing to do with that since we are not lovers."

"We're not?"

"No," you stated, leaning your head back against the wall with closed eyes. "We are, at best, accomplices."

There was no ignoring the sudden change in his energy. He grew quiet, as he so rarely did, and hardly moved to breathe.

As he sulked, you took care to remind yourself of what he was capable of––the strange things he'd said to you, even if they weren't entirely harmful, that had set you in a month-long mood of unease.

"You will stay here. Any attempt on your behalf to leave and I will have to punish you. Understand?"

"Then I am a prisoner," you said, your voice hoarse and broken.

"You are what you make yourself," he said in a much more stern tone, looking down at you with knowing, wary eyes. "If it is a prisoner, then so be it. But you will be, throughout all actions and situations, mine."

"I..."

"You belong to me."

He had not relented in his usage of that claim. In times of peace, in political unrest, he had kept you with him. In times of great bounty, of danger and uncertainty, you had not left him once, and you wondered how sick you would've gotten if you were to go back in time and tell your freshly-met self that you would spend the longer half of a year with him.

You supposed that, in the end, you had joined his collection. The only catch was that it cost him everything else in his ownership, including his kingdom. And yet he seemed perfectly content to lean on your side, even if harsh words came before the silence, and to wait till you returned his affections.

As he touched your shoulder, his muscles went lax, letting him fall limp against you. The moment he intook your scent he was gone, hypnotized by his own adoration for you.

Though your mind fell into a quiet stupor, dancers still circled the room in beat with music. For a moment you wondered how they'd react if they found out the Pharaoh was in their midst.

Aswan was a very Egyptian-type city considering it was still within the borders of Nubia. That meant less worker camps, less fear of Egyptian soldiers, and less knowledge on the impact the Pharaoh stressed upon higher up Nubian cities. Keeping that in mind, you assumed they would try to cozy up to him––spend some of his riches, flirt a little––however it was also possible they worshipped Amun and had already heard of Ahk's treason.

Music began to fade from your mind as the faint sound of footsteps sounded from below you, seeping through the cracks in the mud and wood. They appeared more succinctly the closer you listened, and soon you could identify the number, all marching in unison.

"Ahk," you shook him awake, eyes trained intensely on the floor, "we need to get out of here."

"What?" His sleepy face gave way for concern. "What? What's happening?"

"There's soldiers coming," you said, your grip on his arm tightening.

"Well – the man at the front said they come by every now and then. They haven't found the upstairs yet, they probably won't now," he said.

Muffled voices muttered from below the floor. Ahk opened his mouth to speak again, but you quickly silenced him with your hand, carefully tuning back into the conversation beneath you. A loud crash was followed by silence, and that combination had you jumping to your feet.

"What is it?" Ahk asked, much more panicked now that he noticed your own fear.

"They're coming upstairs," you said as you backed up through the crowd, disturbing those you bumped into.

"They're – oh fuck." Ahk's expression dropped. "The soldiers are coming!"

Ahk yelled his warning over the music, certainly loud enough to assure the soldiers that there were, in fact, people up here. Lutes and harps stuttered to a halt, the pounding of footsteps now clear through the walls.

Panic seized the partygoers. People trampled over one another reaching for their belongings casted aside, hurriedly adjusting them back onto their bodies and making for the windows. Like rats they climbed out, writhing over each other into a mass of fabric and limbs, followed eagerly by you and Ahk. Massive backpacks made it so you were the last out and the only two to see the soldiers yourselves.

The pounding door had you stuck in a trance, only able to back up towards the window. As it slammed open, you finally caught sight of the falcon-headed soldiers, their sharpened spears and sharper eyes, staring empty-minded at you as Ahk pulled you out the window.

"This way!" Came a voice from above you.

You and Ahk quickly looked up, finding a young woman offering you a hand from the rooftop. Ahk took no hesitation in grabbing it, allowing her to hoist him upwards. When he reached down to find your hand, he felt nothing, and panic struck his heart like a searing knife. He ducked his head down, watching the room upside down.

Muscled arms wrapped around your chest and face, blocking your mouth from making practically any sounds at all. The only sound you could make was from kicking your legs frantically.

He jumped back to his feet on the roof, spinning round to the woman who had helped him.

"I need a sword," he said in a rush, desperate eyes already begging.

"Um – ask Imar, I believe he has one," she said, pointing to the man who worked at the bar downstairs. Ahk thanked her in a rush and left.

"Imar!" He called as he jumped from one building's roof to another, approaching where most of the party-goers had gathered. "I need a sword, or a weapon of any sort. Crossbow even."

"I've got a sword, but I need it. There's a stock of axes over there. Don't know who they belong to, though, so take at your own discretion," he said. Ahk once more gave his thanks before running off.

The kink in your neck had only gotten worse the more you struggled, spiking pain down your spine and into your skull each time the soldier's golden bands pressed into the side of your neck. Your already travel-worn shoes were now nearly in shreds, pulling and pushing on the rough gravel roads, occasionally cutting the soles of your feet open. Thus far you had not been allowed to speak, one massive arm nearly cutting off your oxygen supply.

Although you couldn't tell for sure where they were dragging you, you assumed it was towards a temple, as the buildings around you slowly grew more complex and well-kept. A temple seemed a proper place where you could be thrown into whatever underworld Amun lived in.

Being a commodity fought over should've scared you more. There was a panic seizing your nerves, but you were numb to the surprise, instead saving your energy till you could outsmart the soldiers.

Squawking interrupted your harsh breathing, crying out from behind the falcon soldier. You opened your eyes to the dark of night, spying through the shadow-filled alleyway a running figure, followed by the heads of soldiers falling from the city's silhouette. It was then you recalled a very important fact––Amun and his soldiers might've been strong, but Ahk held within him a hunger unlike that of the starved. The hunger of the rich––of pigs and cannibals. A hunger that terrified you to your core.

The first soldier in your sight that emerged from the shadow of buildings soon stopped in its' tracks, tumbling down past its' own knees as the falcon head slipped off human shoulders. Your shocked eyes watched intently, darting upwards to see Ahk with a broad axe.

His blade came down on the last remaining soldier walking behind your captor, blood splurting from the veins and splattering on his face. Much of it landed on your foot, leaving a trail of red as you were dragged, legs still shakily kicking.

He held a finger up to his lips, hushing any muffled screams that might've come from you. Whatever he had planned, you let him do what he deemed necessary, and kept quiet to avoid the suspicion of the soldier restraining you. He raised his axe high above his head, as though he were to strike you down. Terror filled your eyes when the blade came screaming down, splitting the soldier's head in two before it could ever reach you, leaving no mark on you but the pouring blood of the falcon head. The grip on you loosened, and as you pushed yourself away the corpse fell to the ground.

Blood and nerves squelched as Ahk tore the weapon out of the skull, a horrible crack resonating in the empty street when the base of the skull finally split. He panted, droplets of blood falling into his open mouth as he turned to you, eyes frozen and wide.

"You alright?" He asked softly, in a tone so out of character from his current state.

"... yeah," you breathed out.

The axe clattered onto the ground, followed shortly by Ahk falling to his knees. From there he crawled the short distance to you, gently wrapping his arms around your middle, and pulling you into his lap. He buried himself in your neck, hid away in your warmth. The blood covering his midsection soaked through your shirt.

"Ahk, we need to leave, you know there's more of them," you said, though you did not cease in stroking his hair.

"I know," he mumbled, pressing himself tighter to you for a moment before releasing. "They didn't hurt you?"

"Nothing but bruises," you huffed. "Let's go."

You kept near the entrance to the tavern as Ahk wandered back inside, checking behind the counters and in the attic for any trace of the fleeing people. From the roof you could hear muttering, though you couldn't see anyone, and you could vaguely make out the words they were saying.

"Are you the one they're looking for?" A woman asked.

"I did anger an Egyptian god, yes," Ahk said with a curt nod.

"Imar!"

The man from the downstairs bar appeared from over the horizon of another tall rooftop. He was drenched in sweat, practically glowing in the dim moonlight.

"Yes?"

"These are the ones they want," she said, gesturing to Ahk.

"Really?" He said as he dusted his hands off. "The hell did you do?"

"I, um, attacked a God in order to save my.. um... Amoke," he answered rather sheepishly.

"You cannot stay here," Imar said firmly.

"I'm sorry, but we have many other people looking for protection. We will not risk them for two people who have private business with whatever kind of God you worship," the woman said.

"I understand. Keep safe. Do you have any ideas on where we could go for the night?"

"Try the old graves up on the hill. They hate desecrating the dead," she said before sending Ahk back off down the stairs.

Footsteps drummed for a moment before the door swung open, revealing the Pharaoh still covered in blood. By now it had dried, leaving much of it to flake off his clothes and skin, now a muddy brown instead of the vibrant red of before.

"Have you ever slept in a grave before?"

"What?"

You had expected him to ask, considering what you heard of the conversation, but you weren't wholly convinced he would actually allow himself to sleep in a tomb.

"A long while ago, I died for a little while. Well, I guess not that long ago. Two or three years. My brother killed me," he began as he started off down the steps, taking you with him as he directed you through the streets, "and I was buried. Piye returned from their banishment shortly after and dug me out of my grave... used their gift to give me life once more."

"... you're really expecting me to believe that?" You asked, almost ready to burst out laughing.

"You saw Amun come to life. There are flowers growing out of your arms. What part of my story is unbelievable to you?"

"Right," you mumbled. "Good point. So... did you sleep in that grave or something?"

"It's complicated, but I was conscious for some time, locked underground. Not Piye's magic. Khonsu's, I believe. Either way, it's not horrid if you have someone with you," he said, patting you on the back with a smile.

"Did you have someone with you?"

His expression fell, the hand on your shoulder going with it.

"I did," he said softly, offering no more than a bittersweet twitch of his smile.

Ahk caught it before you did––the trampling of numbered footsteps, growing steadily louder the closer you came to the upcoming street. You remained within your own thoughts, plagued by questions, and mostly ignorant to the slowing of his pace. Eventually he had to grab your hand, forcing you to hide behind the shadow of a tall building. You opened your mouth to say something, but he set his hand over your mouth, staring at you with an intensity that had terrified you only a little while earlier.

"They're coming," he mouthed in your ear, breath barely passing his lips as he spoke.

Steps grew louder and he pressed himself against you, squishing you to the wall with his chin on your shoulder. Pressure tightened around your chest, constricted your breathing, hastened the beat of your heart as you relied solely on your hearing.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The clattering of armor, weapons, and shields rang through the marching steps, sending the imagery of shining, sharpened stone and arrows glinting in the moonlight.

"We need to go," he said beneath his breath.

Before you could ask what he meant, his hand encircled your wrist once more, pulling and forcing you down the other side of the alley. Chirps and squawks came from behind, making your pulse rush and swell beneath your skin. They would find you––bird brains though they were, they were still soldiers of a God, with eyes adapted for darkness. They would pull you into their hell and murder your... your Ahk.

Your Ahk.

You arrived back in your body when Ahk turned into an open, empty street, running uphill as he trained his sights on the tomb-filled mountains.

"We're not actually going to stay in a grave, are we?!" You asked as you ran, trying desperately to keep up with the long strides of the former Pharaoh.

"It is our safest bet," he said, tightening his grip on you. You still attempted to squirm out, however fruitless your struggle, and the proceeding panic had you soaked entirely in fear.

He kept you running till your legs burned, till he was fumbling over his own steps, too full of adrenaline to fully control his feet. Pebbles, rocks, and dust filled your sandals, scratching at your skin as it clung to your sweat. Your throat was still too tight to take in enough breath, leaving you part-way wheezing. Soon your own legs began to give way, scraping your knees and palms across rough dirt.

"Come, up," Ahk muttered as he helped you back to your feet, casting wary glances towards the city still ringing with the cries of falcons.

A few more minutes of scrambling up unused paths and you came to the foot of the hill, where the first graves had been set up. The long tunnels led into darkness, to a place you had never been before, where death would paint every wall. Few things in life truly terrified you––death was not among them, but the cruel afterlife of the Egyptians did. The tales you'd heard of the spells necessary to memorize, the weapons, the escorts, the protective magic one needed to have to brave what they called Duat had done that to you.

He didn't take to the first grave you saw, whose door was sealed shut from the outside with rope and wood. In fact he took you past halfway up the hills till he finally found a hole in which to hide, shoving you into the overwhelming darkness, and shutting the door partway.

All that you could hear was the trembling of your own breath, echoing in the empty, dank chamber. Despite the chilling cold the ground beneath you seemed wet, as though it had rained within the earth.

Clicking came from somewhere in front of you. Instinctively you pressed yourself against the wall, surprised to find not a cave wall but a carved granite wall. A flame burst before you as you realized this, revealing the whole of the cave, each wall covered in paintings of life and magic. Hieroglyphs lined every scene, rivalled only by the collection of yellow and white stars painted onto the lapis ceiling.

Your eyes scanned the walls around you and the ceiling, wandering down the pillars and towards the dirt floor. Across from you, Ahk leant his back against the wall, a flicker of light dancing on cloth ripped from his skirt. Now the material covered only the upper half of his thighs, leaving little to your imagination as he drew nearer to you.

"I'm afraid Nubian graves don't quite compare to the luxury of Egyptian graves," he said, setting his hand on your knee and running it up your thigh.

"When will we leave?"

"When our hunger becomes too great."

Ahk might've had good impulse control and lots of self control, but you did not.

"That'll be in days!"

"You're not very patient, are you?"

"Not when I'm stuck in a fucking tomb!"

"Screaming won't do you any favors, Amoke," he reminded you with a quirk of his brow.

Though you hardly had the consciousness of mind to recognize what he was doing, his hands had set to separating your legs, wedging himself inbetween them instead.

"I don't think the volume of my voice has anything to do with our predicament," you said scathingly, crossing your arms and turning away.

"Well, no, but you will hurt your voice. And my ears. This is a small room."

He had a point, but you were adamant in your decision to avoid his gaze. So instead you looked to the floor, your arms still crossed, and a small pout on your lip. Your eyes widened as you felt warmth on your neck, soft and somewhat wet. Ahk was kissing at your neck, one hand dangerously high on the inside of your thigh and the other squeezing your waist, in the middle of a tomb.

"What the hell are you doing?" You asked, beginning to worm in his grasp. The curt movements soon turned to struggle, your heart racing as he simply held you tighter, biting harsher at your neck.

"I could've lost you so easily today," he said softly between the ministrations of his lips.

"Amun almost kidnapped me, too, and you didn't act l –" he bit down and you gasped, "like this."

He simply chuckled and continued.

"I wanted to," he admitted after a moment. "He had no right to do anything to you. I've already lay claim."

"What?"

"You're mine. I found you first." Motions began to grow rougher, hands tightening on you as kisses became hurried and desperate. "My beautiful little toy... I won't let you go, never."

"Ahk, we're in a grave," you said, attempting to pull his hands off you.

In one swoop his hands caught yours, pinning them above your head. The weight of his body still rested between your legs, keeping them apart, and allowing him access to push and grinded himself against you. His strained breathing kept your shuffling feet company, a distraction from the heat welling in your stomach.

"Ahk..."

"You are a most beautiful sight," he murmured against your flushed skin. "Truly fit to be a god yourself."

The fear rushing through your blood was one unfortunately familiar––that same fear when you first met him. When he tied you to his bed for hours. When he stood above you with angered eyes, scanning the whole of your over-exposed body.

"This isn –"

"You told me you didn't love me... do you remember that?"

"... yes," you said, still unable to meet his eyes even as he pulled away to look you in the face.

"Then I suppose I have nothing to lose," he murmured, leaning into gift the softest of kisses, barely gracing the bow of your lip, "as all I want in this realm is your love."

"And what of your kingdom?"

"My kingdom is my duty. I do not enjoy ruling, but it is something I must do for the safety of families who now rely on a government to protect them. You, however..." he trailed off for a moment, biting into his bottom lip with a grin, "... you I enjoy very much."

A quick kiss to your lips and he resumed what he started, letting your entwined hands fall in favor of feeling you. His touch slipped up your shirt, feeling the heat of your skin until it grew too much to bear, and he began untying the knots of your clothes. Once he pulled the fabric off your shoulders, he leant back to pull his own coat off. The space gave you ample time to wriggle out of his weakened grasp, though you barely raised to your feet before he grabbed your ankle, pulling you back down and scuffing you in the process.

You turned onto your back, watching with heavy, quickened breaths as he pulled you to him till your hips met, hands and piercing eyes pinning you into place. For a split second an image flashed before your eyes––rope in his hand, silk beneath you, and a servant watching it happen. You shook your head to clear it away, opening your eyes in time to see him lay you flat on the earth.

"I love you," he murmured with a reverence so deep you could swear there were tears welling in his eyes. The hands on your hips slowly ran up your waist and over your chest, squeezing and teasing your senses. "Beautiful..."

He dipped down, like a hand of God descending from heaven to grasp the unholy that sits beneath. Kisses landed on your sternum, trailing up towards your neck, where his nipping teeth had already left dark marks. Unsure what to do with yourself, you let your hands sit above your head and allowed him to do as he pleased.

"I have waited forever to indulge in you," he said, the heat of his words beneath your jaw.

Your eyes flew open.

Haji warned you about this––or maybe it was Naguib, but he didn't seem to like you all that much. Either way, you recalled a spare bit of information given to you concerning the Pharaoh; he might've originally locked you in the castle to have his heirs. Was this what he was doing? Giving into what he'd first taken you for?

"Will you give me this?" He asked, inches away from your face, your leg kinked up upon his hip.

"What?"

"The easiest form of love," he said through a crack in his voice. From here you could clearly see what you'd spied earlier––tears. "I cannot seem to win your personal love. But I will take anything you give me, and I want this."

"... what?"

He ground his hips into yours, till you could clearly and distinctly feel something hard pressing against you. A soft groan fell from him. Part of you already knew what he meant, but another part was still stunned into stupidity, your wide eyes nothing but empty.

"I need you," he murmured.

Even with all the thoughts in your head, you couldn't manage a single word. Your mouth hung open, gasping when stimulated, but mostly silent with your own confusion. There was an appeal to Ahkmenrah––his beauty, his intelligence, his humor. Quite the array of good traits even without the fact that he held massive amounts of power, or did at one point. Yet you still couldn't let go of what you'd seen him do. It loomed over you like an eclipse, blocking your thoughts and stilling your mind in its' presence.

He didn't have the strength within him to stop himself. He would need your ardent refusal, even though he knew silence was a quiet no, to regain his control. It was a funny thing, seeing him so desperate––a man as composed as him, as aware of himself as him would be remiss to be such a shameful sight.

And it was you.

You driving a Pharaoh to his knees. You taking a man whose very essence was his control over his identity and tearing his image apart. Making him a devil in his people's eyes. You weren't even asking him to ruin himself, to take himself apart just to appeal to you even in the slightest––he was doing that himself. Willingly.

Your chest felt concave upon itself as he continued, numb to the realizations in your head. He pulled off your skirt, the ties in your clothes, till both of you were nude, him still locking your body to the ground. From this angle he could thrust against you, almost fucking your thighs as your wetness grew. Gasps and moans built in your mouth despite your efforts to keep an even expression. He delighted in your own embarrassment, laughing when you squirmed with your eyes shut tight and a hot blush on your face.

"Gods, you are... perfect," he said, devolving into a long, soft moan as the head of his cock began to prod at your entrance.

A rush of excitement––or perhaps just the simpler anticipation––ran through you, and you couldn't stop the sounds that left you as he pushed in. He stretched you, filled you perfectly, and for a moment you wondered if you had been denying yourself a taste of bliss. 

As he kissed you, bitter iron filled your mouth and painted your tongue. At first you wondered if he had bitten too hard (or if you had), but in a short time you realized it was the dried blood, still caked onto his face and body.

Blood passing between your lips. Mingling with your breaths and moans. It became hard to distract yourself with the forceful thrusts of the Pharaoh above you, your mind instead set fierce upon your sense of taste, and the watchful, hooded eyes Ahk looked down on you with.

He soon noticed your sudden daze, and his thrusts slowed down, going deep instead of fast.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, though he didn't stop his movements entirely.

Your wetness squelched slightly, making you shut your eyes tight with embarrassment, your arms coming to hide your face from sight. Of course, Ahk was having none of that––he took your arms, carefully pinning them to either side of your head.

"A little shy, are you?"

"... this is my first time," you finally mumbled, turning away so you wouldn't have to see his reaction.

"Oh."

He stopped grinding into you. But you couldn't help yourself––you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him back into you and moaning when he was fully sheathed.

"Fuck," he groaned, eyes rolling up into his head. "Perfect little pet."

He pinned you to the floor as he finished, keeping you from scrambling away. There he kept you, warm on his cock, filling you with his seed as you whined helplessly.

Although he made an effort to take care of you, gently stroking your skin and kissing away what marks he made, the whole of the day left you both exhausted, and the bout of 'exercise' certainly hadn't helped. In the end you asked him to stop worrying and simply sleep at your side; he acquiesced, using his arm as a pillow as he faced you.

"Still hate me?" He asked, and though they would've been teasing words out of anyone else's mouth, you found sincerity in his expectant eyes.

"No."

[angelkurenai]

Twisting the knife - Chris Evans x Reader

Title: Twisting the knife 

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Reader (/Reader’s Character)

Warnings: None

Summary During an interview you are asked various questions about your role in the new “Knives Out” movie, alongside that of your husband’s. Although you had been originally cast as his character’s sister, you reveal that due to your chemistry, the role changed to an adopted sister who has a complicated relationship with his character. In between admiting all of that, however, it is impossible to hide your small crush on your other costar which inevitably makes your husband jealous. (Requested)

“Hey, little sis, going somewhere?” your way was blocked even before you could comprehend it, leaving you little choice as to where you should go. As expected, you couldn't spend more than ten minutes of peace and silence – well, almost silence when it concerned a party – in this house before it all came crushing down. And it always seemed to be by the same person every single time, how not surprising.

“For the sake of my poor sanity? As far away as possible from you, Ransom.” you didn't even look in his direction, making sure to fill your glass with just a bit more wine before moving to rest your weight against the doorframe and take a rather large sip of it. You felt like, if you could and if didn't draw too much attention from the family and even more so the man next to you, then you'd have downed the whole glass in one go. All the while, said man made sure to leave barely a couple inches of space between the two of you, just for the sake of making it worse and make you realize just how trapped you were.

“And yet, here you are, closer to me than ever before. How about that?” the smirk was as evident on his voice as it was on his face when you turned to give him the hardest glare you could master. Not that it had the effect you wanted it to because neither could you keep it up for long – your mind instantly being occupied with the thought of how you wanted to wipe that smug smile with a kiss more than a punch – nor did his smile fade in the least bit.

“I could answer that but trust me, you wouldn't like me to do so in front of the whole family. So for one, if it wasn't for grandpa's birthday I wouldn't even be here to see your face. But what can I do, we all must suffer a bit for those we love. And for another-” with a sudden move of your arm you actually managed to elbow him right in the stomach, making him let out a loud groan and almost double “Oops, sorry for that. Did I hurt you maybe?” you asked as innocently as you possibly could, loud enough for the family who was now looking at you to hear.

“Hey, what's going on there? Ransom, stop bothering your sister!” Linda was instantly speaking up in your defence, having a soft spot on you from the day she met you at the orphanage on one hand and on the other knowing her biological son all too well to know that whenever there was a fight between the two of you it was always his fault. Well, she wasn't entirely wrong.

“It's fine, ma. It's actually my fault, Ransom was a bit too close-” you looked at him from the corner of your eyes, trying to put as much meaning behind the words as possible for only him to understand “And I accidentally elbowed him. That's all.”

You heard a small scoff and laugh coming from Meg “If you could accidentally repeat it, don't think the rest of humanity would hold it against you.”

You could hardly hold back a laugh at the girl who felt more like your family than anybody else besides Linda and Harlan. While the woman would more often than not come off as stern and emotionless, she had shown you more love and compassion as a mother than your biological one ever had, let alone when she had abandoned you at a very young age. Richard too was a good father albeit absent most of the time he was caring, in his own way. You thought they were all caring in their own way, and as much as they could be, especially given when you had joined the family you were already 16. They had grown to accept you and you them. Well, almost all of them.

It was no secret to every member of the family that you and the older son didn't get along. While there had not been any major fights, not with any yelling for sure – Ransom surely didn't need to raise a voice to get under your skin and you, well, you didn't have the strength or patience to raise yours when it came to him – it was obvious that you could barely stand to be in the same room as him. Despite any efforts you had made at first to get along, all those years ago, it was obvious he wouldn't change so you too had stopped trying altogether.

As far as the rest of the family was concerned you didn't care whether he shut up because he died or... any other reason really, so long as he was no longer around you. As far as you were concerned, however, you cared because if he kept talking and kept getting closer to you, you might just shut him up with your lips and that would be a game you didn't want to play. Not again.

“Exactly.” the smile was back on his lips but certainly vanished from yours when you felt his arm around your shoulders “There's absolutely no harm done here, certainly no fight. If anything, (Y/n) and I are the closest we've been, we've grown past our differences and are ready to call truce once and for all. Make love not war, that's what they say. Isn't that right, little sister?” he squeezed your shoulder and you nearly broke the glass in your hand “Two very loving siblings!”

“You better.” Linda gave him a look before turning to the rest of the family, the other family members doing the same before slowly but certainly the conversation grew louder and you were quickly forgotten.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” you hissed, grabbing his hand only to push it off your shoulder – although he did resist for a couple seconds.

“What?” he asked so innocently it got even more frustrating “I'm merely reassuring mother dearest that her son is on his best behavior and a loving big brother to his-”

“Alright, that's enough. Stop, just- stop it.” you all-but-growled at him, which really did nothing to lessen the smile that had turned into a smirk but you barely cared “I don't know what your problem is but I don't care to find out either. I'm living the best life I ever have, ever since I met you now that I am so many miles away from you. And if it wasn't for meetings like this I'd be perfectly content the whole year round. But I'm not about to shy away or not say a word like the little teen girl you first met, Ransom, and I can sure as fucking hell fight-”

“Whoa whoa easy little sis, I di-”

“I'm not your bloody sister!” you nearly yelled at him, oh how you wanted to scream it right in his face “I'm not and I will never be. And you're not my brother. Stop calling me that, just stop it. We both know very well that it is not how you see me, you never did and never will. And it sure is for the best because you and I-”

“Oh no, no please go ahead. You and I?” he smirked, taking another step closer to you again “I'd love to hear you finish that sentence with your own words. I sure have an idea or two in mind.”

You took in a deep breath, trying to gain some sort of courage but you realised very soon what a mistake that was. Standing so close to him you couldn't help but inhale his cologne, mixing with that significant aftershave and on top of the characteristic warmth of his body you were already feeling your knees go weak. It came in shaky and he noticed because his smirk got wider. It was as if he had won something and possibly he had.

That was the crazy or maybe even scary part of it all: You realized it too and instead of hating him more for it, you felt even more drawn to the man.

“You're right.” he straightened a bit, glancing at the family that were totally oblivious to the two of you “We're not siblings, and it's a really good thing we're not, because- well, we both know why. Just like we both know why... I'm going to keep calling you that, over and over and over again, even more so in front of our loving family. I'm going to keep saying it until you give in... again.”

“Listen here you bastard-” you hissed “I don't know what your game is and I don't care to anymore. Do your thing, as always, I don't give a damn. I'm actually bloody thankful I'm not related to you or your lifestyle in any sort of way and I plan to keep it that way, whatever you do. I'm not getting pulled into your game.”

“Oh really?” he grinned, getting so much closer there really was no room for you to back away and yet plenty enough for it to seem totally natural “And what are you going to do exactly? What do you think I am going to do?”

“None of your business. Look-” you let a short huff of air “I don't know if that's what you get off to, Ransom, I don't know if-”

“What? Oh (Y/n).” he actually laughed and you didn't know if you hated him more or found the sound too endearing for your poor heart “That's cute but calm down, will you? What I get off to? Oh no, no of course not. That's so far from the things I like.” he rolled his eyes playfully, before taking another dangerous step closer to you “Besides-” he smirked, leaning closer to your ear after a glance at the family “You do know better than anyone else what I get off to, don't you (Y/n/n)?”

If it wasn't the damn nickname he had come up with, if it wasn't the proximity, if it wasn't his breath fanning over cheek, if it wasn't his lips brushing over your ear as he whispered into it then it was certainly the combination which had you shaking. And you couldn't have been more thankful to Marta in your life for informing the man that his grandfather wanted to see him in his office, making him leave you alone for the rest of the party.

Not that he left you without his trademark wink that is.

And with that the screen faded to black and it didn't take longer than a second's silence before the crowd was erupting in cheers. You along with the rest of the cast clapped as well.

“Now I feel like-” you glanced at your husband with a wide smile “I have to say this, honey, I have to.” you told him before turning to the crowd “And in those last few seconds, I realized, he was no longer acting. But they kept it in the movie you see.”

“Wh-what?” your costars and husband were already laughing much like the host himself.

“I think- I think given that you've been married for a year you should know but uh-” Jimmy's words didn't really make it any easier but as the host he tried to keep a serious face and tone the laughter down “It is a great scene nonetheless, so we'll just-”

“Oh it is my favorite scene!” Ana spoke up though in between her laughter there was only so much she could do.

“Let's all agree it was a good scene and move on from it cause knowing (Y/n) she will have plenty of comments to make on it and therefore me in that scene. Please?” Chris spoke up too and you smiled even more widely.

“Come on you guys, it's not like I said 'Get you a man like Chris Evans: Steve Rogers by day and Ransom Drysdale by night.' or anything that might imply how he's in bed! Did I?” you asked so innocently that anyone - or at least anyone that was not your husband - would have easily believed it was nothing more than just a slip and certainly very true - part which you were not going to deny. But if it wasn't for your laughter, which you could hardly contain when the rest of the cast burst into laughter of their own and which in the end gave you away, you would have kept your act up and made them believe that you did none of it on purpose. Something which of course, again, you did.

“Alright this taking a turn for the-” Jimmy chuckled “For something we didn't expect, not that the fans will complain of course. I see- I see a few people there cheering!” he pointed at the audience.

“What? Want more details? With pleasure, I could go on for hours!” you said eagerly, making Chris look at you with horror on his face.

“Oh no. No no no! Absolutely not! Let's- Let's change the topic, yeah?” he tried to look serious but the wide smile on his lips was not helping, he was having fun even though he was already feeling embarrassed. The entire cast already knew it, probably the entire world too after so many years of working with Chris and so many years in relationship, but if there was one person that truly knew you and how far you could really go was Chris himself. So when he said that it was best if you changed the subject then he was absolutely right.

“Yes, I think it's best if we do change the subject. I think-” Jimmy chuckled as Chris tried to get everyone to calm down and not ask any more questions - despite Ana whining a bit and saying she wanted more details, just like the rest of the crowd you were sure “Calm down everyone, I'm sure she will share more details later.”

“Oh you bet!” you grinned, only for all of it to turn into laughter when you saw your husband hiding his face behind his hands mumbling “Oh no.” on repeat.

“Alright-” Jimmy cleared his throat, trying to get back on track as everyone else calmed down again “I think I had a few questions for you, (Y/n), concerning this scene. It was incredible by the way, so many things going on at the same time and you two manage to make it flow seamlessly. Can you- can you tell us a couple things about it?”

“Uhm yes of course.” you nodded your head “It was actually the first scene we had to shoot as our characters for the movie and I remember being so nervous about it, it's something I can't help every time, it gets really bad sometimes to the point I can't eat anything for the whole day until, you know, I calm down and the filming starts and I get told I'm doing ok-”

“Says the three-times-Oscar-winner.” your best friend gave you a look and you laughed, shrugging before Ana went on to add “But who cares about that when you've got Chris Evans to comfort you every five minutes, am I right?” she smirked as everyone laughed.

You couldn't help but grin as well, giving her a small punch on the shoulder “I mean, yes that did help a bit... lot.” you laughed “But I think it did just as much as having the scene itself with Chris. After so many years of working with him, friendship or relationship o-or marriage aside, we know the tricks and moves each other has. We know how the other one acts, in every detail it sometimes is scary for some-” you chuckled “And so to fall into synce is a piece of cake anymore. I mean, we could change the whole order of the lines but still find a way to include them all in the dialogue in a perfect flow without a single hesitation. So yes, on that aspect it was really helpful to be with Chris on that very first scene, I'm-I'm actually glad that the chemistry and all this uhm closeness came through in such a good way.”

“Why, yes, I think the fans were incredibly excited about that part! You two- you have quiet a few scenes together and- Let me ask, was that the original plan?”

“The original plan was uhm a bit more... simple and yet ten times more complicated. I auditioned for the role of his sister, his biological sister because that was the script at first. However, later there were many many changes made to the script so that my character was more of the adopted sister with little relations to the family and a questionable relation to Ransom because it felt like it fit more. See they really wanted me for the part, there was no questioning that, but uhm I think I could say it was discovered that uhm Chris and I couldn't get over the- what's the word. Uh well, I don't know how I could descri-”

“Sexual tension, just say it already!” Ana once more piped in, making you laugh just like everybody else “We all know it, it's always there! Just admit it, (Y/n).”

“Already, it might have been that. Maybe. I don't know.” you shrugged innocently “Who can blame me anyway? Look at this man!” you took hold of his face and kissed his cheek as he chuckled “But yes, yes Jimmy, I think that the chemistry came out as a little more uhm personal so they switched it up.”

“I- I don't think it was a problem, though.” Chris spoke up, a second afterwards “I think- because it seemed like they were all along planing to take it there. It was still the very first couple of days, no official filming had started out yet, and so (Y/n) and I were more comfortable so we didn't care if it came out our characters talking or us going through the lines of our characters. We were doing more of the second, you see, and they took notice of that and I suppose liked it enough to change it all.”

“Wow that's amazing then! Not just for you guys but for the fans as well.”

“Yeah, everyone went kind of nuts, and this one didn't help the case by posting photos all the time.” Chris chuckled, pointing at you.

“Were you excited about it (Y/n)?” Jimmy asked what was most likely a rhetorical question but you were already nodding anyway, seeing no harm in the simple question.

And leave it to Ana to make it worse “The real question should be why were you excited (Y/n)?”

“I hate you so much right now.” you told your friend and she giggled “I knew it was going to be a good movie and real fun to film. Just a look at all the cast and crew and script, which is is a masterpiece I had no doubt. I mean with my husband, my best friend and so many great actors why not-”

“So many, yes, of course. Cause she cared about all members of the cast equally. It's because of all of us she wanted to bein so much hmh.” she nodded her head, the smirk not leaving her lips and you hid your face behind your hands “Why, this is an oscar-worthy performance now.”

“You're the worst, literally the worst. Alright, fine-” you huffed “I will admit that I may or may have not accepted the role before even knowing half the thing I should about it. I received the first script and Chris had already gotten his role and we were talking a lot about the movie and he told me about the cast that I was totally sold just at hearing about them, you see. I kinda did it for all of them yes.”

“All of them, indeed.” Ana muttered not-so-silently.

“Wait, I don't get it. I, as well as I'm pretty sure every other fan out there, thought you auditioned for the movie because you'd get to be with Chris. Careful of your answer, don't break too many hearts!”

“I-” you laughed “Well, Chris knows it so I won't be breaking his, but no I didn't go for the role because of Chris himself. I just loved the idea of it all. Honestly, I was actually hoping I'd get to be Ana's character's wifey, but instead I got stuck with this guy yet again so I guess I had to play my part. I mean, they had that chance and it had so much potential-”

“So much!” your friend agreed passionately “We have been robbed! First time I got to be in a movie with my bestie and we've been robbed! I wanted that to happen too. Why should Chris be the only to brag he's married to Wonder Woman, I wanted that too! I was so sad we didn't get that. So sad.”

“Exactly.” you agreed “But no, I guess they were like: Chris Evans. Take it or leave it.” you shrugged “So yeah, I kind of rolled with that. Again.”

“You-” your husband couldn't contain his laughter “You say that like it's a bad thing! Wow, married life. Isn't it great? Maybe I should have really paid more attention to RDJ's speech. My own wife!”

“Come on, don't be a sore loser. Second place is just fine!” Ana said only half serious “You're on the top three of the people she loves most in the cast, that's what counts. I'm fine with third place!”

“Wait, did you just say third?” Jimmy asked the question many surely wanted, except for you.

“Oh you think she came to the movie for her best friend or husband? Oh no, no.” she grinned and your breath got caught in your throat, you knew that smile real well and you had been lucky to avoid it so far but apparently no more “Let's all be honest: great cast, amazing script, awesome director- Tha means shit,it fades into the background when-”

“No, Ana please don't-” you pleaded but you knew there was no use.

“It all means shit when Daniel Craig is going to be there!” she exclaimed and you squeaked, hiding your face behind your hands “She doesn't give a singe f for the rest of us. Nothing and nobody else exists! Daniel Craig, it's all about that man and I have facts when I tell you that she wanted to be in the movie for him!”

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. She said it. I can't believe she said it. I'm so glad he's not here to-”

“Do you think he's going to come on set today? Chris told me he's going to show up one of these days this week! What if he shows up today and the first scene they film it's the one we have together?! How will I do that? I'm not ready!” she mimicked you a little over the top and you literally yelped.

“But I don't sound like that!” your voice came out a bit high-pitched “And that's not what I said... entirely.”

“Not on a normal basis, but when it comes to Daniel Craig? Yes, yes you do!” she laughed as some of your co-stars chuckled. In fact all of them except for one: your husband.

“How come I didn't know any of that?” he did try to seem relaxed, but his smile wasn't his usual warm.

“It's no big deal-” you started, elbowing Ana who scoffed a laugh “I've kinda only told this traitor here, and it's not like I plan to talk about it again. I didn't...” but you trailed off, looking at your husband who had a raised eyebrow which made you bite your lip to keep yourself from grinning.

“And that, everyone-” you turned back to the audience “Is how his Ransome starts showing!”

[majormaxam]

won’t you bring me an angel? part II

Part I

Pairing: Jasper Whitlock (Hale)  x Reader

Summary: You find yourself to be a victim of Maria’s growing newborn army in Southern Texas. Maria finds your ability more than special, but a weapon. What she doesn’t expect is for you to be as defiant as others and to Maria’s dismay, you just happen to grow close with Major Jasper Whitlock.

Warnings: Mentions of death

Word Count: 5K

Author’s Note: Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for the next update.

Tags: @okbillyhargrove @whitlockswhore @savingprivatecass @trashysara @actuallyedythecullen @xplrreylo @liviasaugusta @basically-hayley @woodhousesemma @missmaskedwriter @nekee-lilac02 @carmalcandylover @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @mental-breaker-74 @vviptop @sfs143 @themihala@bsnsasusval @thecaptainsgingersnap 

The first week of being a newborn was spent in silence as (Y/N) refused to say a word to another newborn, while refraining to share a glance at the Major. He tried everyday to work his emotions over her in hopes of easing her into this lifestyle, but she fought him. Every time. It didn’t seem to bother Maria, she fed off gaining attention from the newborns and Jasper. She didn’t take issue with it… until (Y/N)’s third week. She was not only refusing to join the combat teachings of Jasper’s, but she also began to starve herself for three weeks without a drop of blood. 

It was difficult to withstand that pain withering inside her body, especially when the other newborn arrived back with blood stained garments. Fresh blood causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up as the raging burn in her throat heightened. She would clench the sides of her hips as the pain was difficult to withstand… and it was clear by the way she carried herself. 

Jasper took note of her starvation on the third night of arriving to her new home, but he believed she would eventually give in. He could hardly believe three weeks of starvation lasted further, her black eyes were burning a hole into Maria with one swift glance. He could feel Maria’s temper being tested as (Y/N) refused to feed and fight… she would’ve killed her off by now, but her power was valuable. However, he had a strong connection with the newborn, even if it was through silent stares and forced smiles. 

He liked her. 

Maria was beginning to lose her patience with her and Jasper felt it intensifying. The third week began to test the extent of Maria’s patience, which was slim to none. 

(Y/N) stood in the empty field behind the barn with your eyes focusing on the sky as the moon began to rise above. It delivered a message to the newborns cravings blood and the excitement of the darkened sky only festered their hunger. It was difficult to ignore the feverish craving as well, but she restrained herself by biting down on her lip and counting the stars. 

“She needs to feed.” Maria spat as she looked on at the challenging newborn, who stood yards away with a defiant chin holding her up. “She can’t fight at her finest if she’s starving herself.” She was speaking to Jasper as he followed her gaze across the land. “… what has she told you about herself?” 

Jasper raised an eyebrow at hearing Maria begging for questions regarding the new-born and he immediately answered. “She’s quiet… hardly speaks to anyone and if she does, it’s to the youngest here.” He could feel Maria yearning for more by the emotions racing through her body and he longed to deliver. “If you wish for me to grow closer-“

“Please do…” Maria eased into Jasper’s side with her hand placed on his waist drawing him in. “make her trust you before we are forced to deal with it.” She then rested a gentle kiss on his lips before making her way towards Lottie to discuss a matter at hand. Her whispers were faint as she demanded the blonde vampire to head into town, but if successful, she would have the newborn melting in the palm of her hand. 

She eventually found herself plucking the spring wildflowers growing underneath the sweet grass, slowly creating a bouquet. It seemed Indian paintbrushes were even prettier under the silver moon as babies breath scattered into the orange. She hated nights like these most as they reminded her of what she used to have… a family. 

“Will you be joining them for a feeding?” His question was answered by her silence and she didn’t bother to even steal a glance, but his presence followed her as the bouquet of flowers grew in her hands. “I don’t want you to get hurt (Y/N)… which is where it’s leading to.” 

“Is that from Maria’s mouth or yours?” She felt his eyes shifting from her to the newborns gathering to leave. “Will she be the one hurting me… because if so, I will feed to gain strength.” She seemed to draw out a small laughter, but also witnessed the protective streak as his eyes turned cold. “She certainly has charmed you, hasn’t she?” 

Jasper was taken aback by the comments (Y/N) continued to make as he followed her path in the open clearing, but paused as her threat struck him as humorous but wilful. He knew she was right, he’d been under Maria’s spell for quite some time and he found it difficult to force himself out. He didn’t answer, nor did he break his gaze from hers. 

She felt the bitter laughter hesitate in the back of her throat as watched the newborns disappear into the dark night. It began to strong wave of heat to run up her throat as she imagined hunting herself and immediately, she directed her thoughts elsewhere. 

He watched as her eyes loonily stared into the night as the vampires continued on, but she fought hard to ignore the powerful cravings desiring more. In the years time of being a vampire, Jasper had never experienced hunger this intense. He himself struggled with his own, but he took on the other surrounding newborns… but hers were three weeks overdue. Jasper’s body stiffened as wind whistled through the trees and allowed human scent to travel along, causing her throat to tighten and the flowers to crumble under her grasp. 

“You’re in pain.” Jasper’s comments were forced out as he felt the ability of his attempt to calm her down. He watched as her head turned the other way, avoiding the truth of his words. “too much pain to withstand one more night, (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) clenched her tightened jaw as he attempted to sympathise with her under the painful hunger, but his empathy ways were causing him to experience it as well. He was right, but she wasn’t going to follow along if it meant Maria controlled her. “Just leave me be… you don’t need to feel this either.” 

“I am not leaving.” Jasper knew he was supposed to manipulate the young newborn, but in this moment he couldn’t find it in his heart to do that. “I have used my gift on many newborns… but not a single one has endured this type of pain.” He felt her eyes brush over her shoulder as he refused to leave her side and instead, shifted the topic of conversation. “When you were human what was your worst injury?” 

She noticed him attempting to distract her from the pain coursing throughout her body and for a moment, she appreciated him. “I used to climb the big oak tree beside our home. My mother, she… she would get so angry with me because ‘young maidens aren’t to do that in a dress.’” Her voice mocked her mother’s tone and found herself laughing with sweet tears in her eyes. “My brother and I used to race to see who could get the highest. He always beat me,” She smiled as the memory of her older brother calmed the pain. “when I was nine, one of the tree branches gave out once I got too high,” She paused as she bent down and drew up the skirt she wore. “I tried holding onto the tree, but the bark wasn’t too kind.” 

Jasper listened intently as she began to open up to him about her childhood, tears gracing her eyes as she wiped them away with a forced smile. He expected her to say something as simple as skinning her knee, but the moment she hiked up her skirt he caught the scar on his mid thigh. It seemed her skin had caught the bark as she was sliding down the tree, causing the skin to open up. He was quite surprised as well because women were scorned to show even their collarbones. 

“My mother was so mad.” She glanced up to catch his eyes running up and along the scars gracing the inner thigh. “I landed on my back and the wind was knocked out of me, but I lived to tell the tale.” Her fingers released the skirt dropping it back down to her ankles. “Care to share a tale of your own, Major?”  

Jasper found himself snapping back to the sound of her voice and shared a smile of his own before sighing. “I have many scars.” Without hesitating he rolled up his sleeves to reveal the countless bite marks gracing his skin, while his emotions steadied he felt the impact of hers. She felt sorrow at the sight of bite marks and immediately frowned. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me.” 

She felt her throat tighten as his comment left her shaking her head. “Is this from teaching newborns?” She watched as his eyes attempted to brush off the pain, but she could feel almost every bite covering his skin. “You don’t deserve this, Jasper.” 

“Jasper?” He couldn’t hide his smirk as he unrolled the sleeves to hide the bite marks once more. “I believe you only knew me by Major.” Jasper felt her saddened eyes burning into him as he attempted to cover up his emotions as he did the scarring. “You don’t have to worry (Y/N).” 

“… and yet, you worry for me?” She questioned him as he began to cover up the battle wounds and glanced the other way. (Y/N) two stood alone as most of the newborns had gone to feast and Maria had left with them. It might’ve been the only time to speak to him without anyone interfering. “I have seen you teaching them, they seem to be rash.” 

Jasper raised an eyebrow as she spoke of fighting the newborns. “You have been watching then?” He tilted his head to the side before shrugging his shoulders. “You must learn as well, if we find ourselves having to fight others you will lose your life.” He wasn’t surprised to find her not resounding to his comment, but even more surprised for her to long for that. “… what is the reason behind not feeding, (Y/N)?” 

“… You can feel my emotions, can you not?” She watched as Jasper’s eyes narrowed on her before his chin raised to give a stiff nod in response. “I know the only reason Maria has allowed me to stay is because of my gift, am I correct?” His silence again answered her question and so she continued. “I am sure she would’ve ended my life by now if I was without it.” 

She seemed to silence Jasper with the rather striking comment, his eyes running over her own before breaking the gaze. He seemed dazed by the shocking accusation but she didn’t hesitate when the truth seemed to rattle her core. (Y/N) struck a nerve as tension rose between both of them at the mention of Maria ending her life. However, it didn’t seem she were wrong either. 

“I can help you get stronger with your gift, (Y/N).” Jasper wasn’t surprised to watch her gaze break away from his at the mention of his helpful hand. “And I’m speaking without Maria’s input.” Her eyes carried up into the stars as he mentioned Maria once more. “It’s difficult to gain control of your powers when you don’t understand them.” 

She didn’t want to gain control of her powers, not when it strengthened Maria’s chances of having a stronger army. It wasn’t just her murderous streak and slashing her family apart, but witnessing her controlling and manipulating ways over Jasper sickened her. (Y/N) carried guilt for Jasper as he seemed charmed by the stunning vampire… and she wished to end her life for it. 

“I don’t believe you.” You whispered as Jasper’s eyes then widened at your response and as you stepped back away from him, his speed beat you from going any further. He now stood beside you with crimson eyes burning into you while a snarl left his lips. “Move out of my way.” You demanded as the anger inside you was attempting to be shoved away by Jasper’s strength, but you weren’t having it. “Quit it before I do something I regret.” 

Jasper didn’t want to harm the innocent newborn, not when he found himself fond of her, but the moment she began to speak as if she knew him. He’d lost it. He kept his stance right before her, not daring to move an inch but her anger radiating off him with his attempts to calm her. “You need to calm down or else-“ 

(Y/N) had enough. She effortlessly shoved Jasper a few yards back as her strength overtook his, but he regained himself faster than her as she attempted to run. He followed her into the wooded area, only for her to make it a couple hundred yards before he had her pinned against a large oak tree. She wanted to fight him, but the moment her met his eyes… she couldn’t find it in herself to strike him. 

He felt her submission as his hands held her by the collarbone and pressed her into the tree, his eyes filled with rage as she attempted to fight him. However, Jasper noticed her unwillingness to fight the moment she raised her eyes to him. He understood… the moment he tried to lay a hand on her, he ended up regretting it moments later. 

“I don’t want this Jasper.” She felt the heavy wave of emotions of her own doing hit her stomach as if she’d been punched, but stood strong as his hands fell from her collarbone. “I can’t control this anger she brings me, I cannot withstand that woman since I found my mother…“ 

Jasper had been forced to endure the flood of emotions from countless newborns in the past, but her suffering was more than he could withstand. He kept his hands along her collarbone with his touch turning soft while her trembling chest made it difficult for her to stand, her cries continuing as she held her head down ashamed of her actions. She wasn’t ashamed to fight him, but the weakness of her tears being seen under his watch. 

“I don’t wish for you to fight this, (Y/N).” He watched her eyes dart up to meet his as he then sent restful waves throughout her body. Jasper was more pleased to see she wasn’t fighting him, nor using her powers to stop him or fight him off. She relaxed under his touch and soon her last tear fell. “I am not asking you to forget what Maria has done… that is not possible.” He meant what he said when regarding Maria’s malicious actions, but knew he had to tread carefully. “I am asking you to feed because you will only hurt yourself in this.” 

(Y/N) felt the weakened body of hers slump against the large oak as the overwhelming scent of dirt hit her nostrils, but left her wrinkling her nose instead. He was right… she was craving blood more than anything and her body was betraying her for it. His own hunger was intense, but her added taste for blood was drawing him near the edge of unbearable. “… and you.” She lifted her gaze to his and watched as he understood the meaning behind what she said. 

Jasper was taken aback by her caring streak but slowly nodded as his head as he struggled to withstand her concern. He felt it… she craved for him to take the edge off of his own hunger, but even more so for herself so he wouldn’t carry it as well. He felt her genuine tone strike him as odd, but stood blind to it because Maria’s was manipulative and he didn’t want to admit that. “I’m sorry?” 

“You’re baring more pain because of my hunger….” She watched his head hang in shame as he finally had another vampire understanding his struggle. “I can only imagine what it’s like with the rest of them around you.” She referenced to the other newborns missing at the moment. “Maria knows you’re in pain, yet she doesn’t care.” 

Jasper lifted his head to speak and defend Maria, but he had no words. You were right and he couldn’t fight you on a singlet hing regarding her self-serving ways. It made you sick to know that such a selfish creature stood stronger than most. 

“She does.” His words fell flat at her feet while the forced laughter fell from her lips, causing his dark eyes to meet her own. He was surprised to see her poking the dangerous game of fighting Maria. 

“Look at you…” She grabbed him by the arms at his side and pulled the sleeves up to his forearm, revealing the bitten marks along his skin. His eyes following the abrupt behaviour. “you’re branded by her demands, are you not?” He didn’t flinch under her touch, nor did he break away from her heavy gaze. “I have not once seen Maria attempt to heal your wounds or stop them. She calls you hers, yet she sends you to fight her battles whether or not it means death.” He forced his wrists out of her hands before she mindlessly shook her head. 

Jasper told himself not to listen, not when Maria had whispered to him many times of newborns attempting to feed him with lies. He had to believe her… she changed him for a reason. “Maria is my mate.” He was falling himself with that statement and when he forced her to drop his wrists, she watched her eyes glisten with disbelief. “You’re right. She changed you for the sheer pleasure of gaining another newborn, but if only she knew how moronic you were before.” 

The insult her hurled hit her directly in the stomach as if a sharp punch had been delivered by his hand. She stiffened as the idea of his statement made her force a bitter chuckle. “… I’d gladly be moronic over delusional.” She pushed past him with ease and made her way back towards the barn. 

He felt her anger as she dared to spit those words at him and while he wanted to lash out with a strike, he refrained. Jasper wasn’t provoked by her last statement, nor the statements before that but the gut-wrenching truth he wished to deny. His despair wasn’t matched by the anger as he found himself slamming his fist into the oak tree before him, causing it to snap in half and tumble into the soil below. 

He told himself he would never be able to admit the truth… until (Y/N) slapped him directly across the face with it. Jasper hated himself for even believing Maria used him as an upper hand, he felt as if he was betraying her by entertaining that thought. However, he recalled that night three weeks ago when out hunting for a human and ever since his gut feeling changed with time. 

Through all of this anger, Jasper took off running into the darkened woods with his mind racing back to the three nights. He could recall every moment from beginning to end. He’d found himself battered with bites and deepened hunger and his emotions peaking as hunger took over pain. For once, he’d found himself furious with his sire. 

Maria didn’t bother to teach the newborns after Jasper’s fresh wounds were healing and his hunger raging, so he withstood each painful infliction. He’d found himself at the end of his rope and went out to feast off humans, but by his third killing, he craved something else. 

Jasper came to a stop over a peak mountain and let out a harsh breath, his eyes running over the small town below and catching the fresh scent of blood being spilled. He was fully aware of Maria’s army running wild below and glanced away in shame, while his own head raced with memories. 

When the third human dropped at his feet Jasper cleaned his lips clean of blood, not daring to take another glance at the human. Instead, his eyes caught the stars up above and made his way out towards the woods to rejoin his clan. He knew he needed to return before Maria came searching, but he stopped short at the idea of returning to hell. Jasper was tired of the bites, the fighting, and the manipulative whispers of Maria in his ear. 

He craved more than what she forced him to be… he wanted to leave, yet he knew he couldn’t. 

Jasper stood near the Texas woods with his eyes closed at the idea of returning to screams and torture. He desperately craved inner peace and serenity to surround him through this mayhem swarming his mental health. 

He found himself begging for someone to grace his life and calm the madness… he prayed for an angel. 

It was the exact moment the scent of fresh lavender fills his nostrils and human blood mixed to cause his eyes to see red. He’d never been so drawn to blood before but he craved it even when his hunger had calmed itself with the death of three humans. Jasper sped through the woods with intent as he followed that scent, not daring to break away from it. He couldn’t when it matched the marks on his skin and been embedded in. 

He didn’t travel any further when he found himself standing by a small cottage on the edge of a family farm. Horses filled the land with fresh flowers trailing along the edge, but he searched for the scent he traveled for. It was then she appeared under a large oak tree with her eyes wide on the stars and hair braided with flowers in between the waves. He watched from afar as she sung sweet lullabies and plucked the lavender with bare feet brushing into the greens underneath her toes. 

It was in that moment Jasper felt as if his prayers had been answered. It was (Y/N)… and it frightened him more than Maria’s alluring power over him. 

An hour had passed since Jasper returned back to the barn and when hiking back towards the trail, he found himself returning to (Y/N) ’s screams. He felt the coursing pain of hunger return as he stood at the barn doors and once looking inside, he caught onto why. It seemed Maria was more desperate than he believed. 

A human sat before (Y/N)’s feet as Maria forced her closer with the scent of blood heavy in the air. Bite marks scattered along the body as the weakened pulse left all of the vampires thirsting for more, but not nearly as much as (Y/N). Her legs were buckling underneath her as Maria’s hand tugged her closer towards the human. 

“Unhand me you vile, egotist-“ 

Maria’s laughter cut her off as she attempted to pull herself away, but her weakened state wouldn’t allow her to fight to her ability of a newborn. “You think you can undermine me?” Her anger was clear under the strengthened grip on her arm. “I am one step ahead of you.” She nodded her head towards Lottie, who stepped closer to the human and dared to open a flesh-wound. 

Jasper felt the exhausting pain (Y/N) was withstanding and once catching onto Maria’s doing, he stepped in. He immediately grabbed Lottie’s arm and jerked her back, displeasing Maria who looked on in horror to see her lover betray her. 

“Jasper… love, please do step aside.” Her lavish voice was enough for Jasper to weaken, but in this instance he felt his blood boiling as she attempted to outsmart him as well. 

He forced the dagger in Lottie’s hand to drop as he then tossed it aside and shook his head. “I agree she needs to feed, but on her own time.” Jasper watched Maria’s eyes switch to complete shock and anger as he dared to speak out. “forcing her will only-“

“Will only what?” Maria snapped as her nails began to dig into the skin of (Y/N) who didn’t dare flinch at the pain when her body nearly felt numb. “I know what it will do, it will cause her hunger to binge, but what choice do I have? I need her for a future battle and I will NOT let her-“ 

“Die?” Jasper questioned her once again with a raised eyebrow and shook his head. “You don’t want her dead because of a disadvantage to your upperhand. She’s more than that Maria.” He spat with meaning as Maria’s reddened eyes narrowed onto him with complete anger and bafflement. 

The barn fell silent as Jasper’s comment angered their sire, but most of all surprised most of the clan as they gathered around to watch the scene playout. Maria’s threatened eyes watched as Jasper glared into hers with complete terror and festering mess, but out of retaliation she sunk her fangs into (Y/N)’s scarless collarbone and let her fall to the ground. Her pain settling into the withering pain coursing through as she kicked her aside and stepped towards Jasper. 

“… she’s nothing to you, do you understand me?” Maria spoke with her hands at Jasper’s throat and her nails now piercing his skin without a care. “I made you, you’re mine and she’s nothing but a power. Is that clear?” Her silent tone causing Jasper to truly see her anger that was for once directed at him. 

Jasper felt her anger as her hand graced his neck as he stood without flinching under her touch, but he didn’t dare let her know he could feel her power over the others slipping away. Maria was growing weaker and the others sensed it. It was because of (Y/N). He simply nodded his head and felt Maria’s hand release his neck, then placing a softened kiss on his cheek. He shuttered under her lips and stepped away. His eyes meeting (Y/N) as she laid on the ground, her soft cries breaking him as he knelt beside her to help her stand. 

Maria glanced over her shoulder to catch Jasper’s helping hand and immediately, she wished to act on it but instead she stepped further away gesturing for Lottie to follow. She was boiling inside as her anger was festering with time and now exploding. Once outside the barn she turned to Lottie with her eyes burning with rage. “… we can’t afford to lose that power of hers… but we need to break her.” She received a nod from the blonde haired vampire and continued. “You mentioned reading over a journal in her home, correct? What was written?” 

“… She’s quite dull.” Lottie realised her answer wasn’t pleasing and continued. “she mostly wrote about her adventures with her father, but aside from that she mentioned her brother returning from war soon and-“

“Brother?” Maria’s eyes gleamed with venom as a smirk curled into her upper lip. “When is this brother due to return?” Her plan for demise fell into her lap as she listened intently to Lottie’s descriptions of (Y/N)’s older brother returning home to death. 

Inside the barn, (Y/N) was struggling to stand on her own two feet as the venom struck her nerves once again. However, Jasper’s strong arm helped her walk over to rest on a haystack. She slumped against the prickly hay and struggled to wither under the pain, but Jasper’s touch helped relieve it. “Please… you can barely take this.” She whispered under her breath. 

“I’m stronger than you believe me.” His charm worked as she chuckled under the cold grip of his hand. “… you need to feed (Y/N). Even if it is just a bit.” Jasper spoke with care as he glanced away from her and attempted to brush off the eyes following his every move. He watched your eyes glance towards the nearly dead human as the scent of his blood carried thick in the air. “please (Y/N).” 

She was hesitant to give into the hunger, but she felt his emotions of empathy working over her as the powers opened her eyes to him. It happened faster than she expected as her body craved the humans blood; she found yourself digging her teeth into the humans skin and feasting off the littlest blood touching her tongue. 

Jasper released the newborn as she began to feed with her hunger no longer depriving her of further hunger. However, he hesitated to draw himself further away as her red eyes came to normal and glanced out the barn doors… she was debating for more blood lust. 

“I will follow you if you wish.” His words sent shivers down her spine as he seemed to care for her well being. She shook your head and with the strengthened body, she stood on her feet and wiped her lips of any excess blood. 

“I’m fine.” 

The Major felt her lies imprint into his skin as she glanced away to deny the hunger, but he was quick to react by drawing a smile and leaning closer. “Follow me.” He moved towards the sliding barn doors, ignoring the stares and glares from the others as she trailed close behind. She were shocked to find no sight of Maria close, but she didn’t allow that to stop her. 

(Y/N) attempted to ask him where they were headed, but she didn’t bother as she trailed further and further from the barn. She felt enlightened by the newfound energy coursing through her deaden veins, but she also hesitated to go further as she was frightened by her own self. It wasn’t until Jasper stopped dead short in the middle of the woods that she found her voice. 

“What are we doing here?” 

Her question left Jasper giving a smile as he carried his eyes back to her with an eager curl of his lip. “You mentioned you used to climb trees with your brother…” He removed his army jacket and placed it by his feet. “I imagine you’d be pretty damn good at it now.” He watched her eyes widened with excitement as he began to roll up her sleeves. “… that is if you can beat me.” 

She felt joy rush to your heart as she glanced up at the large oak trees surrounding the land of forrest. “First one to break a branch loses.” His eyebrow raised at the rule she delivered and immediately, she tilted her head to the side. “I truly hope you don’t mind losing… Major.” 

“I think I can handle that.” Jasper expected her to give a little more with her new-found energy, but her tongue lashing was enough to make him laugh as she dashed up the tree before him. He hesitated in the flash of a moment as the happiness in her eyes was enough to make him fall back down to reality. He began to understand why Maria despised (Y/N)… it wasn’t because of her natural beauty or her ability to manipulate powers without trying. 

She threatened Maria’s power over the entire army, but most importantly her Major. 

[inkwell1013]

Hungering for Friendship - Merlin

Pairing: Merlin & Arthur (platonic), Merlin & various knights (also platonic).

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: This fic includes a character struggling with food related trauma and includes mentions of death (specifically death by starvation), though it is not graphic and more passingly mentioned.

Summary: Merlin is used to having his food stolen from him. When Arthur takes some food from him, in a misguided attempt at kinship, he accidentally brings back some bad memories for his servant.

- - - - - 

There were seven bad harvests in a row when Merlin was young, one after the other. Food was scarce and Merlin’s parents could barely scrape together enough to feed themselves, let alone their son.

Merlin was one of the lucky ones. Even when people were dropping dead from hunger on the streets outside, he lived a relatively cushy lifestyle and was accustomed to eating somewhat regularly. It was hardly ever a complete meal, but who ate a complete meal in such trying times? Certainly not him. Certainly not his family.

It was enough. Not much, but enough.

He had it better that the children who were dying of hunger, his stepfather would remind him. Better than the homeless and the orphans and the runaways.

Merlin’s stepfather was a shrewd man, the kind inclined to speak his mind without thought of the consequences of his words, nor indeed any feeling it might bring another person; if he had strong feelings about something, you’d be sure to know about it. He wasn’t one for sugar-coated words and euphemisms, so when he told Merlin he was lucky because he wasn’t starving to death, Merlin believed him.

Sometimes, when he misbehaved, his stepfather would take away his plate and scold him, saying “You can have this back when you learn to your lesson.”

Invariably, the food would disappear, leaving Merlin with nothing but a growling feeling in his stomach.

He learnt quickly – he always was a perceptive boy – that doing something wrong meant you would lose the privilege of food. It meant that you would go hungry. Even when he left Ealdor for Camelot, that fearful belief lingered in his mind and refused to be shaken.

This fear reminded him that he had to be careful what he said or did around Gaius and Arthur because – at the end of the day – they were the ones who decided if he ate. As his masters, they had the power over him that his stepfather had.

Still, they never exercised that power, as Merlin never gave them the opportunity. He stayed on his best behaviour (or as close to that as he could) and in return, he had never lost those precious privileges.

There were times when he thought he would, times when he pissed off Gaius with his reckless behaviour or irritated Arthur with his snarky attitude, but neither of them had ever done anything about it, which was strange. Even so, he remained hypervigilant. He couldn’t let those things happen to him again.

He had just settled down for lunch with Gaius when Arthur barged into the room. “Come with me Merlin. You will be eating with me and my knights today,” he announced.

“But I don’t want to,” said Merlin.

“You don’t get a choice,” countered Arthur, beckoning Merlin towards the door. “You are my servant, and I’m ordering you to eat with us today. Now come with me.”

Merlin cast a desperate look to Gaius, who shrugged. There was nothing he could do about it. Sighing, Merlin rose to his feet and followed Arthur down the corridor.

This whole ordeal had unsettled Merlin. He was meant to eat with Gaius today. He always ate with Gaius.

Meals with his mentor were quiet, somewhat formal events. Gaius wasn’t much for conversation, especially not a meal times, so Merlin refrained from talking too much, not wanting to bother him. Despite all that, Merlin liked eating dinner with Gaius, because he was predictable.

Gaius was as regular as the sun’s rising and setting - he went through the exact same motions every day, at precisely the same time. Having such a routine comforted Merlin, and having it disrupted by Arthur pissed him off beyond measure. Who was Arthur to barge into their chambers and demand that Merlin ate with him and his knights?

‘He’s the heir to the throne, that’s who. Of course he gets to boss you around, the privileged asshole.’

Arthur guided Merlin into the mess hall. In the centre of the room was a rickety old table, which currently housed five rowdy knights. Arthur grabbed Merlin by the shoulders and deposited him on the bench, right between Gwaine and Percival.

Hot food was slammed down in front of him – some bread and meat of some kind – along with a pitcher of ale.

“You’re giving me ale?” said Merlin. Back in Ealdor, this stuff was a luxury; it was not the kind of thing people like him drank.

“Why not?” shrugged Leon. “Heaven knows we drink enough of the stuff. You might as well get in on the action.”

“We don’t drink that much booze,” grumbled Gwaine, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

“Says the man who gets black out drunk at the tavern every chance he gets,” smirked Merlin. “You don’t exactly hide it well, the way you stumble home every night.” The group erupted into a chorus of rowdy laughter, and Percival clapped Merlin on the shoulder, making Merlin jump a little.

“That was a good one Merlin,” laughed Arthur. There was something hidden underneath his cheery expression, though Merlin didn’t know what it was.

The conversation shifted to another topic - some play the knights were thinking of seeing - when Arthur, still nodding along with the conversation, reached over and swiped a piece of bread from Merlin’s plate. Arthur didn’t even look at him as he did it.

Merlin’s anxiety spiked. He glanced around the table, looking to see if any of the other knights had noticed, but none of them seemed to care.

Had he done something wrong? Was it something he said? Why was Arthur doing this to him?

Swallowing his worry, he did his best to pay attention to the conversation that was going on around him. Even so, he found himself getting distracted. Arthur kept eyeing him out the corner of his eye, and even though he probably thought he was being subtle, he really wasn’t. It all made Merlin feel even more anxious. He hoped it was all just a fluke and Arthur wouldn’t do it again.

“What do you think Merlin?” asked Lancelot.

“Huh?”

“Head in the clouds again?” jested Percival. “You’re such a daydreamer.”

“Oh, piss off,” said Merlin, taking a sip of his ale. It tasted bitter and he resisted the urge to scrunch up his face in disgust. How did people stomach this vile crap? “What were you saying?” he asked.

“Are you free later this week,” repeated Lancelot. “We could all go to see that play together. Make a day out of it.”

“I don’t know,” replied Merlin. “I’m pretty busy. I have my job and everything.”

“Eh, I’m sure Arthur will give you the day off.”

The group expectantly looked at Arthur, who shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” he said, taking a swig of his beer, and chewing on chicken bone, rather like a dog. The conversation drifted again, and much to Merlin’s dismay, a hand reached over once more, swiping a piece of meat from his plate.

It was Arthur. At least now Merlin knew the first time wasn’t a fluke. This was deliberate. Arthur was trying to punish him, but for what? All he had done was talk.

Talk.

Was that it? Did Arthur want him to be quiet?

But he had invited Merlin here to eat with his friends. He had practically dragged him here, kicking and screaming, and now he was trying to force him into silence? Why? What purpose could that serve?

He could feel Arthur’s eyes on him, staring. Merlin opened his mouth to respond to something Gwaine said, and saw that same hand reaching into his peripheral vision, this time taking another roll of bread.

Fine.

Arthur wanted him to be silent.

He’d be silent.

He’d behave and this would all stop.

Right?

Thankfully, after that, Arthur didn’t make any move to steal from him again, and Merlin was able to scoff down the meagre remains of his meal in peace.

The rest of the meal had a sour tone to it, and both Merlin and Arthur were in dour moods. The other knights, noticing the tension between the two, excused themselves and left the room. Soon, only Merlin and Arthur were left.

There was a silence. A long, empty, depressing silence.

“What did I do wrong,” blurted Merlin, at the exact moment the same words left Arthur’s lips.

Both stared at each other in bewilderment. “What are you talking about Merlin?” asked Arthur.

“You kept taking my food from me, and I don’t know why. What am I doing wrong? Do you not want me to speak at all? I will if that’s what you want. I just want all this to stop.”

“I wasn’t… I don’t understand. I was just trying to make you feel welcome,” said Arthur.

“By stealing from me?” snapped Merlin, anger finally bursting out of him.

“By sharing a meal with you!” exclaimed Arthur. “Do you not share meals in Ealdor?”

“Not like this.”

“Look, Merlin, I don’t know what it’s like in your hometown, but in Camelot sharing a meal is normal. The other knights and me always eat off each other’s plates. It’s just a kinship thing. What’s mine is yours, you know?”

“Then why were you staring at me the whole time like I’d done something wrong?”

“I was looking to see if you would do the same thing in return. I’m sorry Merlin. I truly didn’t know that this was a trigger for you.”

“It’s not a trigger,” barked Merlin. “It just brings back bad memories.”

“That’s the definition of a trigger dumbass.”

“Shut up.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, collecting up the plates from the table. Then, he disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared moments later, having exchanged them for a plate of food. There was enough on there to make up for what Arthur taken, and then some. Grabbing Merlin by the shoulders, he sat him down at the table and set the dish in front of him.

“Here,” he said. “This is all yours. I promise I won’t take any of it.”

Merlin stared at Arthur, still worried that he might take it all away. Noticing his apprehension, Arthur pushed the plate closer to him. “It’s yours Merlin. I’m not having my servant go hungry.”

Merlin barely stopped to breathe as he wolfed it all down.

The next time Arthur demanded Merlin come to dinner (or invited him, as Arthur would so eloquently put it), Merlin couldn’t help but notice that Arthur and the knights kept their hands to themselves. He was secretly pleased, but said nothing, not wanting to give Arthur the satisfaction of knowing he had done something right for once in his life.

Across the table, Arthur smirked.

[twisted-tales-of-all]

Persistence and Resilience

Lee Junho (2PM) x Reader

Anon Request: Hii! I know this might seem a little old, but can I request a scenario for 2PM’s Junho? Can I request an arranged marriage angst-fluff scenario where he already had an evil girlfriend and he’s cold to you somehow when you are so kind to him, then when you can’t take it any longer, you left and he started to miss you and realize that his girlfriend is cheating on him,,, fluff ending hehehe! I’m sorry if this is too hard though 😅

Summary: You accepted your life as the second child to a father with a big corporation a long time ago. You knew the arranged marriage would happen one day, but you expected a partner who also accepted their fate. However, the suitor your parents choose for you acts immature and unreasonable. Can this even work?

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Arranged Marriage AU. Contains angst, slight (implied but not described) smut, and a fluff ending. Strong language once or twice, slight violence

A/N: It isn’t exactly what was requested, but I started going based on the request and let my creative mind lead me where it did. I hope you still like it!

You knew the day would come, but you never expected it to be this chaotic. As soon as you reached a certain age, your parents started introducing you to sons of other big industry owners as your possible suitors. They only needed you as a pawn in the grand company scheme. Ultimately, neither you nor your brother could avoid it. Eventually, he'd inherit and run the company despite his dream of managing a small coffee shop, and you'd soon be forced to marry someone that could help business.

You met him twice before the marriage was announced, and he never paid you any mind. He never expected anything to happen. Plus, he has a secret model girlfriend, so why worry about his parents forcing him on dates? However, the announcement sends him into a rampage, especially since he hears the news from media outlets rather than from his parents.

You and your parents meet with his parents to discuss the wedding date and other important details when Lee Junho bursts in, fuming about the arrangement while dragging his clearly-bothered girlfriend behind him. Calmly, his father stands up, turns to Junho, and slaps him hard across the face.

"You will marry her. I don't care about your wants. The company comes first, and, as the oldest, it's about time you recognize that. You don't have to love each other; you only need to tolerate one another for the sake of our companies." Sitting back down, he turns to you, "I apologize for my son's attitude. Please, forgive him. He'll come around, but he's far too used to getting everything he wants."

"No worries, Mr. Lee. I understand his feelings and can look past them for the sake of this arrangement." You smile back, watching as your fiance shoots his father a disgusted look before storming out with his girlfriend.

"Thank you, Y/N." Mrs. Lee adds, "Your daughter is very well-mannered. She will be a welcome change to my son's wild lifestyle. Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N."

The dinner continues as boring as you expect. The next few months don't improve much either. You rarely see the man chosen as your husband, and his attitude never really improves. You try your best to be friendly and kind to him whenever you two interact, but he always blows you off.

The wedding day approaches, and, for once, Junho acts nice to you. Of course, you recognize that it's an act for the families and media, but it's the first time he hasn't treated you like dirt, so you enjoy the day as best you can. There isn't a honeymoon. Instead, your parents bring you and Junho together to explain that you'll be moving into his house by the end of the week to show the media that the relationship works well. They want people to believe the motivation for marriage is more than a simple merger.

Without a doubt, this infuriates your now-husband. He rarely meets his girlfriend to eliminate any potential gossip, and now he has to share his home with the one person he blames his suffering on. You, on the other hand, try to be optimistic and see this as an opportunity to become friends, regardless of how difficult the task may be. Slowly, you move your belongings into his house. He gives you a personal wing of the house, hoping to limit interactions between the two of you.

Over the course of the month, you learn Junho's typical schedule. Exercise in the early morning, followed by breakfast and a shower. Then, he stays in his office room most days until dinner, unless there's a company meeting he's forced to attend. After dinner on Thursdays and Saturdays, he leaves for hours, and you can only assume by the state of his clothes and hair upon return that he meets with his girlfriend on those nights. When you understand his schedule enough, you begin eating or cooking at the times he usually does, in hopes to grow closer. He accepts your presence but hardly talks to you. Any conversations you start with him fall flat quickly. Tonight, you decide to make Junho dinner.

He thanks you and sits down to eat. As you sit down across from him, you ask him about his girlfriend. This time, he finally decides to talk with you.

"She wants to go on a vacation soon, but I don't know how to go with her when I still have to think of my father's stupid company."

"Do you want help? We can pretend to go together. I'll bring my friend so it looks like a double date situation. Only if you want, though. I don't want to force you if it'll be a pain dragging me along."

He stares at you for a moment, wondering why you still try being nice when he's been nothing but mean to you, "Are you sure you'd want to do that? You won't feel weird about the situation?"

"Why would I? We don't have feelings for each other. This marriage is for our parents, but that shouldn't stop us from living how we want. If we help each other, it shouldn't be too hard to fake a healthy marriage."

Suddenly, Junho smiles brightly. You've never seen him smile so genuinely, so it shocks you enough to get your heart racing. As he thanks you and explains his plans, your mind wanders, thinking about how handsome he is when he's happy. When he asks whether you'd be okay with his plans, you snap back to reality and blindly accept his proposal.

As it turns out, the plan included a trip to an island your parents own. They agree without issue, hoping you and your husband can bond. The only setback to the trip is that the two rooms are separated by gender, meaning you'd be sleeping in the same room as his girlfriend while Junho rooms with your friend. Junho's strange optimism insists that this will give him an easy excuse to sneak into his girlfriend's room, as he can claim he wants to see you.

At first, you didn't see the issue with his plan. However, the asshole returns as he decides to make out with and even have sex with his girlfriend despite you being stuck there with them as a cover for him. After a few days, you give up. Your kindness can only extend so far, so you storm out as the lovebirds undress each other without a care in the world.

You stroll along the beach, meeting up with Changmin, the friend you brought along for company. You sit on the beach and talk. He tells you all about his fiancee and asks how you feel about your forced marriage. Changmin has been your close friend for over a decade, so he could see your frustration. He tells you to talk to Junho about his behavior. With a sigh, you admit that he's right, and you head back to your room, fully expecting him to still be there.

When you arrive, you hear moans through the door and decide not to enter until they're finished. Turning around to head back to the beach, you accidentally bump into someone directly behind you. Trying to make eye contact to apologize, you see Junho, who looks past you and at the door. Your eyes grow wide as he passes you, yanking the key from your hand and storming into the room. You rush after him in case you need to stop a fight, even though you're scared of that possibility.

You both see Junho's girlfriend and some random younger boy pushing away from each other. She hides her naked body under the covers while he quickly stumbles into his clothes on the way out. You expect Junho to scream at his girlfriend or punch the boy, but he just points to the door and tells her to leave and never talk to him again. She tries to apologize and beg for forgiveness, but Junho doesn't let it happen.

Raising his volume and strengthening his glare, he demands, "Get the FUCK out of my life!"

She wraps herself in the complimentary robe, grabs her bags, and rushes out the open door. Silence falls over the room. The scent of sex lingers and haunts him. He drops his arm and falls to his knees as he stares at the floor and tries to comprehend what happened.

You help him up from the floor and onto the bed. At that point, the man who appeared to lack a heart breaks down crying. You pat his back, so he leans his head on your shoulder. Ever since you've met him, you've never seen him drop his guard and be vulnerable. You stay with him until he cries out all his tears. When he composes himself, he apologizes, but you insist that it's perfectly fine.

After a short silence, he looks at you and asks, "Can I sleep next to you tonight? I think I need the comfort of another person."

"How about we sleep in your room then? The smell in here doesn't seem to be going away any time soon."

He agrees with a nod, so you both head to the next room, and you explain the situation to Changmin. He apologizes to Junho and asks if either of you need anything. When you both insist that you're fine, he retreats to his bed and puts his attention to his laptop. You and your husband get in the other bed together. He lays under the blankets and moves close to you for comfort. Not quite ready to sleep, you sit in the bed with his head in your lap as you scroll through your phone.

When your body finally relaxes, you put your phone on the bedside table and lay down. As you shift your body, you disturb Junho's sleeping form. He manages to find a new comfortable position with his head close to yours. In his sleep, his arm moves across your body, moving you closer to each other. You try to focus your mind on anything other than his closeness, and you eventually join him in sleep.

You wake up to movement and let out a groan as you stretch and open your eyes. Sitting on the bed, fully naked, is your husband. You quickly avert your eyes, making Changmin laugh at your shyness.

"Haven't seen your husband naked yet? Jeez, what will you do when your parents start bugging about having kids?"

You throw a pillow at him for even suggesting the idea, even though you understand that it will happen one day. Junho, however, decides to further provoke you by joining forces with your friend. He moves to you and hovers above you with a smirk.

"Should we make this fair? I haven't seen you naked either."

"I didn't look, so it's still fair right now." You speak quickly, hoping to escape the situation as soon as possible.

The boys just laugh at your reaction as Junho rolls off you and pulls on his underwear. When he tells you that it's safe to look, you finally begin to relax. You still avoid looking in his direction, but you're glad to know that he can still joke around despite the scene he witnessed the day before.

For the last day in your vacation, the three of you decide to roam around and have a good day despite the previous issues with the trip. At the end of the night, you head back to your room and begin to pack for the 3 AM flight back home. When Junho finishes packing, he heads over and asks whether you need any help. Since you're nearly finished, you thank him but decline his offer.

He sits down on the empty bed and looks at the wall before opening up, "Y/N, I'm sorry for how I treated you because of my girlfriend. I never expected her to be that person, but seeing her cheating on me made everything click into place. But, also, thank you so much for being so kind to me despite my terrible attitude. If you'll forgive me, I guarantee you that I'll be a lot less rude and a lot more open with you."

"Hey. Calm down with that heartfelt stuff. You're forgiven, Junho. I'd still like to have a working marriage with you for the sake of our families, so this is a good step forward." You place a hand on his shoulder and send him a smile as he turns to face you.

When he sends a warm smile back, you believe that good things will finally come after your persistent kindness and resilience with your husband.