#if they’re in separate bodies they can perform together

[skelebagels]

I bet Sunny (and maybe moony) would just be over the moon if you asked to see them perform. Set him up with a little stage n jazz.

[kaciidubs]

i’ve come back a lot sooner than i expected 🤭 hear me out.. 9th maknae member reader (skz) x Mingi (ateez) 🤯 Reader and mingi have been in a secret relationship for at least a year and both Companies are preparing on announcing their relationship to the public/fans. (it gets better 😼)

Both groups: (ateez + stray kids) don’t know that they’re dating 😱 The boys arranged a massive sleepover for both groups to hangout and reader gets really hot and bothered by mingi teasing her the whole night. They end up excusing themselves (sneakily) and they have the most mind blowing sex ever. All of the other boys over hear and were shocked 🤯 They act like nothing happened as they didn’t want to assume they were dating but later on at an award show it was finally announced that Mingi and Reader were dating. Skz boys went crazy and was practically babying their precious maknae 🫶🏻

kaci my favourite writer 🥰

(p.s sorry for how long this is 💀)

This one's been sitting for a while, mainly because it's already a wonderful thought as is! So, here's just a few thoughts to expand on it~ ❣ Warnings: 9th Member! Reader + Song Mingi [Ateez], smut, fluff, slight humor ❣ ❣ Additional tags: essentially a crossover for Staytiny all around the world~

While the rest of the members were in the living room, you would be bent over the bathroom sink with Mingi giving his all in rearranging your guts in the most quick yet efficient way possible - though, that way didn't include him being the quietest while doing so.

"Mm, jesus, fuck-"

"Mingi, be quiet."

You'd think he was the one currently getting his guts rearranged from the way he struggled to contain his moans, leading you to shoot him a warning glare through the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

"We might as well go and fuck in front of them if you're going to be this loud!" You seethed with a hushed scold, gripping the edge of the counter to keep your balance with his unwavering thrusts.

You could only hope that your combined groups were too occupied with the movie they were watching to notice you and Mingi missing.

Sharp eyes locked onto your own through the mirror, a sideways smirk stretching his lips, "You'd like that, wouldn't you? It's not like they don't suspect it anyways." Snapping his hips forward, he continued, "We can just give them a nudge in the right direction."

Biting back a moan, you dropped your head between your shoulders to focus on the orgasm he'd been teasing you toward since he arrived at your shared dorm; subtle grazes and risque touches keeping you wound up and ready for anything.

A hand found its way around your throat, pulling your body up at an angle so that your gaze met his once more; captivating and hypnotizing, yet still filled with a love that had you falling for him all over again.

"I love you," the words fell from his lips with ease, honest and true, "and I don't want to keep hiding it."

You were, too - he knew that better than anyone, and having to hide it not only from the world, but your band members, the closest people you have, had been eating you both up since day one.

Gripping his forearm, you nodded softly, "I love you too, baby - just a little l-longer to go."

His lips curled into a smirk before driving into you with a newfound fervor.

Neither of you would catch the knowing side eyes or smug smirks of your members when you each returned separately to the living room to catch whatever remained of the movie.

The 'little longer' would eventually come during an award show, with the thoroughly discussed plan between your managers and PR team of revealing the relationship to everyone during a collaborative performance.

Part of it was Mingi's plan to do a performance together, but with the way your schedules aligned, you figured doing it live as opposed to uploading it on youtube was the easier choice.

With the stage - quite literally - set, you and Mingi performed your arduously practiced routine in front of your fellow artists and hundreds of screaming fans, and as the song came to an end the moment you've been waiting for was upon you.

Getting ready for the ending pose, Mingi pulled you into his side and pressed a loving kiss to your temple, while you hugged him with a dazzling smile to the camera focused on you both - and to say the reactions were worth it would've been an understatement.

The wild screams of your colleagues and fans was enough to pierce through your earpiece, and shooting a glance into the idol space you could see all eight of your members going absolutely insane - sneaking a glance to the Ateez table to see almost a mirrored reaction.

Leaving the stage to take off your earpieces and mic packs, the return to the Stray Kids table was nothing short of a spectacle as Changbin swiftly wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"You think you can just go off and get a boyfriend without telling us?! You're too young!"

"Innie and I are literally just a few months apart," you laughed, trying to pull away from his partial choke hold.

"Yeah, a few months too many! You're our baby!" Jisung all but wailed, squeezing your cheeks much to your dismay.

Seungmin scoffed, "The fact that we knew and you're still acting like this? Hyunjin's dramatics is rubbing off on you."

"Wait- You knew?!"

"It's not like the two of you were the sneakiest..." Minho's nonplussed tone made a wave of embarrassment wash over you, the memory of the movie night quickly dawning. "Plus, trying to hide anything from Wooyoung is like trying to limit yourself to one of Felix's brownies - it's impossible. Changbin hasn't stopped talking about their theories since they first started scheming."

Managing to untangle yourself from Changbin's hold, you found Chris standing in front of you now, a firm expression on his face.

"Are you happy?"

You could hear the lingering, unspoken words behind his question and you offered him a gentle smile, nodding, "I am, I really am."

Face brightening with his signature smile, he pulled you into a quick hug, squeezing tightly, "Good, because you're definitely telling us how everything started between you two, later."

Separating to go back to your unassigned assigned seats - with a few words of congratulations from Felix and Hyunjin - you looked across the aisle to catch Mingi already staring at you, his lips pulled into a proud smile while the rest of his members gave you teasing, yet supportive, cheers.

[unedited]

[superblysubpar]

oh you sweet lovely angel, happy birthday week @palmtreesx3 - you've had your cake, now it's time for steve to eat too💛

warnings: minor mentions of body image concerns/letting them go, "public" smut (aka, you're outside by the pool, and maybe a neighbor *could* hear or see, but they won't), mentions of alcohol, steve telling you what to do you and both of you liking it, a praise kink sort of, and oral - steve performing | my blog is 18+

1495 words

Maybe it’s something only people in love can do, or perhaps only that sweet bubble of lust and love joining together to create this totally new feeling that allows it. 

Maybe it was just something you and Steve could do. 

Because, without opening your eyes, you can feel his eyes on you. 

And they’re making your body warmer than the rapidly fading sun has all day. 

They’re on your ankle now, traveling up the curve of your calf, the bend of your knees and your lips twitch. You know if you turned your head and blinked open your eyes, you’d find him with just his eyes out of the clear water that mirrors the pink and tangerine in the sky above him. 

You decide you’ll let him have his moment. 

Steve’s currently deciding he hates the color red. 

He hates it on your toes, because it’s reminding him of you painting them earlier. A moment where your sunglasses were pushed onto the top of your head and your body was curled over itself, letting curves and rolls and things happen you’d normally try to cover just to reach them, your mouth forming the words of top forty after top forty song.

Happy. Content. Totally in love with the day. With him. 

Which is what you told him from where you laid in a floating tube a few hours later as he handed you a can. Sweating droplets over red aluminum as your head fell backwards and your smile was more dazzling than the sun in the middle of the clear blue sky.  

He had watched you a little greedily, swallowing when you did, wishing he was the red can you were drinking out of. 

You’d laughed, flicked water at him and said he needed the beer more than you. That he needed to cool off, reading him better than the actual book in your hand. 

But how could he cool off when you were still wearing that? 

Red little bows against your hips. 

Red triangle of fabric rudely separating him from you.

Red that traveled up your shoulders and disappeared behind your neck resting on the towel beneath you. 

Red that teasingly let the curve of each breast taunt him all fucking day. 

Your hands twitched from where they laid flat against the pavement as the sound of water falling off of his body near the stairs alerted you Steve was finally getting out of the pool. 

Steve’s watching your eyelids flutter, the way your knees tap together tighter as he slowly approaches you. 

The air pulses with each step he gets closer, the cicadas buzz louder and despite the sunset taking away the heat, your body is on fire when Steve finally speaks with a tap to the top of your knees. 

“Open these up for me, honey.”

The words are a command, despite how softly they’re spoken. 

Your stomach fizzles and warms as you do as you’re told and a cold drop of chlorine scented water drips onto your stomach accompanied by praise. 

“That’s my girl,” his hands aid you, palming over the inside of your thighs as they drop open for him, “There you go.” 

Steve clicks his tongue when you flinch at the second drop, a soft and teasing remorse in his tone as a large hand roams low again, circling your knee and back up. 

“You cold?”

A breath huffs out of your nose when your back arches as his fingers play with the bow at your hip. 

Your eyes finally open, a dazzling sunset above the man grinning smugly at you as you shake your head and let out an even shakier, “No.”

Water clings to his tan skin, a particular drop convincing you to never look away from his cupid’s bow ever again. Darker, chestnut hair falls over his forehead as he cocks his head to the side in a silent ‘That so?’ while one singular fingertip travels across the band of your suit. 

His lips twitch as goosebumps rise to the surface of your skin. 

He brushes over a fresh wave of them, just above the tie of the suit, with his thumb, and leans down, eyes remaining on yours as he blows a warm breath against the pebbled skin. 

“Steve,” your hands lift with the plea, only for Steve’s much larger ones to wrap around your wrists.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he shakes his head, the honey turning amber in his eyes as you freeze and blink up at him with a pout on your lips. Until he reminds you, warmly, softly, “Just painted your nails baby. Wouldn’t wanna ruin ‘em, yeah?”

Your chest fucking aches as he gingerly lays them back down and reassures, “How about you just lay there and look pretty?”

It’s hard to breathe from the eye contact, from the way he takes the end of the red bow between his teeth and tugs. 

Steve’s nose nudges your hip, it skates across the looser band of the suit, till he’s at the other side. 

He doesn’t undo that bow though, he just follows the suit’s seam lower, dropping with the crease where it meets your thigh. 

You jolt, torso lifting and hands doing the same as his tongue licks you once and boldly through the red fabric. 

Steve lifts too, quicker than you, reading you just as well, hands circling your forearms and giving you a look beneath raised eyebrows. 

A silent question of if you’re going to behave lingers in the honey that’s turned amber that’s turned molten. You give a single nod, Steve drops your arms and his adams apple bobs as you slowly and patiently, let your hands drop back down to the towel. 

Your clit fucking throbs, pulsing faster than your heart as you blink away spots that compete with the lazy clouds above you. 

Steve’s lips press a kiss to your thigh and you squirm beneath him. The kiss lingers and his lips drag up to the wiggling and needy hips moving. 

“So,” he grumbles against the red fabric, nosing at the second tie, “Impatient.”

You whimper as the suit falls open, and Steve licks the path of it as he removes it, like he’s following the outline he’s been memorizing all day and determined to not actually ever put his mouth where you want it. 

His thumbs spread you open though, and finally, his tongue lazily licks through you once. 

Your fingers flex against the towel as your stomach burns, desperate to just grab his hair and pull him closer, but you know if you move one more time, he might never stop teasing you. 

Except you’re so wrong, because while Steve does love teasing you, he’s about 2.7 seconds from coming in his swim trunks and it’s all the color red’s fault. 

Which is what he sees as he looks up your stomach as his mouth makes contact with you again. Red fabric tightening over pebbling nipples as you arch higher and gasp out his name a little too filthy and a little too loud for a neighborhood, even if there are fences hiding the two of you. 

But it only spurs him on more, fingers bruising into your waist as he picks up the pace, tongue traveling up you once, twice, three - fucking keep going Harrington you need her to cum -, his nose tapping at your clit each time and getting rewarded with a, “Ye-yes. Steveohmygod.”

Your eyes blink rapidly, fingers scrunching into the towel and your thighs press against his ears as you gasp through his steady and brutal rhythm. A fluid and practiced drag of his tongue over and over and over again, until his lips are molded around your clit and you swear there’s fireworks going off in the sky right now. 

Steve squeezes his own eyes shut, because if he looks at the way your back arches higher or the way your lips look saying his name like that or the way your chest heaves with a new layer of glistening of sweat, he really will come and he can’t, because he’s absolutely not done with you. 

He blinks, mouth sucking slower, tongue lingering until he knows you can’t take anymore. He pulls away and smiles as your bright red fingers cup your cheeks as you breathe deeply, in and out, through your nose. 

Steve pretends he’s not just as worked up, carefully and slowly tying your suit closed again. 

He kisses your stomach as you sit up and before your parting mouth can say anything, he nods towards the house. 

“Go lay down on the bed.”

Steve bites his lower lip as the retreating view of your ass bouncing under the high cut of red disappears into the sliding door faster than he’s ever seen a person move. 

He waits a solid ten seconds to calm down, grabs the bottle of polish you left behind and makes note of the name. 

He’s buying every bottle the store has tomorrow. 

[sunstone-smiles]

The Legendary Vox Machina Tickle Fight

Original request (from 🦋 Anon): "LE GASP!!!! UR A FAN OF VOX MACHINA TOO 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱 Omggggg can you PLEEEEEASE do day 18 tickle fight with the Vox Machina group? They're all so cute together and I'd love to see that!"

Author’s note: Omg, this turned into a huge fic, but I have no regrets, Lol. Here’s Day 18 of Tickletober: “Tickle fight” from August’s Prompt List! I hope you enjoy!

Series: The Legend of Vox Machina

Characters: Pike, Grog, Scanlan, Keyleth, Vex, Vax, Percy, and Trinket

Word count: 4,585

Summary: The Vox Machina crew is having a boring day, so Scanlan attempts to lighten the mood, but Grog’s misunderstanding of one of Scanlan’s words soon turns into a playful fight between the party.  Enjoy!

---

It’s just that kind of day, where the Vox Machina crew gets to relax with one another, but they’re teetering on the edge of drab boredom. They don’t want to go out. Too much effort. So whatever is available in their current cozy sitting room is what keeps them occupied.

Pike, standing on a chair so she can see better over a wooden table, cups a pair of dice in her hands; the sound of the dice clicking can be heard as she shakes them. Grog sits across from her with the table height at his stomach due to his large size. The muffled collision of dice can be heard in his hands as well.

“Ready, Grog?” Pike asks her friend.

“Ready!”

At the same time, they throw their dice onto the table. Pike counts the two numbers on her dice quickly. “I got a six!”

“A three! I win!” Grog celebrates.

“I hate to break it to you, buddy, but six is higher than three,” Pike says sweetly, understanding that her friend has difficulty with numbers.

“Aww…” Grog deflates a little. 

“It’s okay, buddy! We can try a different game.”

Grog leans back in his chair like all the muscles in his body have gone limp. “But we’ve already tried so many. I’m bored.” 

“Heh,” Pike leans her elbow on the table, “Can’t blame you there, buddy.”

“Don’t worry, everyone! Your savior is here!” Scanlan walks into the room, making a performance out of his entrance. He runs up to the same wooden table Pike and Grog are at, hops up onto a chair and onto the table like it was a stage and he was a vendor. “I saw that it was a little dreary in here today, so I know just how to lighten the mood,” Scanlan moves his eyebrows up and down when he says “mood.”

“Oh goody, more mind numbing dirty jokes,” Vex says from her seat across the room. Trinket’s head is in her lap as she passes the time by brushing his fur. Vax sits in a separate chair next to her, polishing his daggers. Meanwhile, Percy draws in his sketchbook as he sits in a chair up against the front wall near the doorframe, while Keyleth sits next to him in another chair and touches up the leaves of a potted plant.

“No no, nothing dirty,” Scanlan replies. “I have tailored this joke to be pristine and appropriate. Ahem!” Scanlan clears his throat loudly. 

“What do you call a cow that’s good at playing an instrument?” Scanlan asks his crowd of friends. He waits and looks around at each of them to keep them in suspense. Then, he answers. “A Moo-sician! Eh? Eh?” he winks and elbows the air.

All of his friends slowly look at each other before looking back up at Scanlan, unamused and in total silence. If crickets were in the room, they would be chirping.

Scanlan puts his hands on his hips. “What? Nothing? Tough crowd.”

“It sounds like you need to get better material, my friend,” Vax shows a brief smile.

“Yes, I would think you of all people would come up with better material than simple puns, Scanlan,” Percy teases.

“I don’t know. I thought it was a little funny,” Keyleth admits.

Scanlan gestures an appreciative hand to the Ashari. “Thank you, Keyleth! But as for the rest of you! How did you not find it funny?! That was one of my best rib-ticklers!”

Grog places a finger to his chin. “Oooh, wait! No wonder no one laughed, Scanlan!” Grog exclaims. The goliath stands from his seat and walks around the table to be behind Scanlan. “That wasn’t a rib-tickler! You got to use your hands. Like this!” Grog finishes his sentence by swiftly moving his hands under Scanlan’s arms and tickling his ribs. The smaller man jumps with a yelp in surprise and throws his elbows down to his sides. 

“Grohohohog!” Scanlan already begins giggling, “I didn’t mehehehean it literally-hehehe! It’s a figure ohohohof speech!”

Grog tilts his head, genuinely confused, “You’ve lost me.”

Pike perks up, a grin brightening her features like the glow of her divine magic. “Oh, yeah! Now this is something exciting!” She stands up straight like she was preparing to charge into a battle. 

“Tickle fight!!!” Pike calls out with the same ecstatic tone as if she was announcing a tavern brawl for everyone to see. She leaps onto the table and rushes over to Scanlan. 

“Grog, hold him for me!” she exclaims.

“You’ve got it, buddy!” Grog keeps his hands under Scanlan’s arms, easily holding the bard in place as his fingers wiggle against his ribs.

“Nohoho, no, no! Pihihihikehehehe!” Scanlan’s laughter increases when Pike joins in and scribbles at his sides. Scanlan curls himself to the side and tucks his face in his shoulder as Pike and Grog successfully team attack him. Scanlan’s joke may have not lightened the dull mood of the room, but his own laughter certainly does.

“Heh,” Vax chuckles as he watches from the sidelines. “Too bad for you, Scanlan. Looks like you’ve waged a war with Pike and Grog.”

“Remember our scuffles that usually turned into tickle fights?” Vex smiles at her brother.

“Ah, yes. You mean the ones I always won?” Vax returns a smug grin.

“Excuse me?” Vex says, playfully offended. “If I recall, you are more ticklish than I. I’d have you begging for mercy in seconds.” Vex places Trinket’s brush on her seat, keeping her eyes trained on Vax.

Vax places his dagger on the table and leans forward, keeping his grin and his eyes on Vex. “I beg to differ, Stubby.”

“Well, I’ll show you, Scrawny!” Vex exclaims and lunges her hands at Vax, immediately getting a solid scribble to his ribs. Vax yelps as the pulse of ticklishness hits his form, momentarily paralyzing him before he clamps his arms down to his sides, then shifts tactics to try and shove his sister away.

“Vehehehehex!” the male twin leans himself off his chair, then crashes to the floor. Vex pounces down after him and tickles his ribs from behind, causing Vax to release a secondary burst of giggles before he curls up and rolls onto his back to attempt to grapple his sister’s wrists. He leans his head back and kicks his legs behind her.

“See, now what did I tell you, dear brother? You’re still the more ticklish one,” Vex teases and easily slips her hands from Vax’s grasp to continue tickling him. There’s no follow up response from Vax except a continuous stream of giggles and a loud snort. Knowing the sound he just made, he curls himself onto his side and tries to hide his face in his arm.

“Aww, and you still snort too. How adorable,” Vex lays the teases on thick.

“Shuhuhuhut up!” Vax finally responds.

“Hey, that’s not very nice. It seems I just have to tickle you more to change your attitude,” Vex smiles and scribbles a hand towards her brother’s belly, causing him to curl himself up tighter. As the twins scuffle, Trinket happily growls at them before trotting off towards the doorway to lie down.

“Hehe, looks like the twins have already roped themselves into the fight,” Keyleth chuckles from her seat.

“It’s inevitable that siblings will get themselves into little squabbles from time to time,” Percy says beside her, not even taking his eyes off his sketchbook.

Keyleth turns to him with a smile. “Did you usually get into tickle fights with your siblings, Percy?”

He glances up at her. “Me? Oh no, no. I don’t do tickle fights.” He returns to sketching.

Keyleth tilts her head. “Huh? But, it definitely sounded like you were speaking from experience…”

Before Keyleth can ask another question, there’s a Scanlan sized giggly scream from the other side of the room. Grog has grabbed Scanlan’s arms and pulled them to the side to allow Pike to scribble into his underarms.

“A lihihihittle hehehehelp here wohohohould be–hehehe nice!” Scanlan shouts out to whichever one of his party members is willing to listen.

“Hold on, Scanlan! I’m coming!” Keyleth answers the call. She places the plant on her chair, then runs over in the direction of Pike. The Ashari makes it to the edge of the table and tries to swipe at Pike, like she was attempting to catch a rabbit, but Pike jumps back.

“Whoa!” Pike says. “Oh no, Keyleth!” Pike already giggles as she turns to run. She hops off the table and Keyleth chases behind her.

“Oh no you don’t, Keyleth!” Grog immediately puts Scanlan down and rushes to Pike's aid. Before the chase has even begun, Grog snatches Keyleth off the ground in a hug as she passes by the corner of the table. He places Keyleth’s feet back to the floor and scribbles into her sides, earling a squeak from the Ashari.

“Eehehehek! Grohohohog!” Keyleth giggles and squeezes her arms down. “Thihihihis height difference mahahahakes it sohohoho unfair!” she says as she realizes the ticklish predicament Scanlan must have been in.

“Sorry, Keyleth! But if you mess with my best buddy, you mess with me!” Grog grins as he carefully wiggles his fingers to Keyleth’s ribs, keeping her in place as she sways like a leaf in the breeze.

Pike twists on her heels once she hears Keyleth’s laughter. She smiles at her buddy Grog as a thank you. Past Grog’s form, however, Pike sees the wooden table they were just at. The once giggling form of Scanlan is now missing. 

“Huh?” Pike wonders. “Where did he–”

“Sneak attack!” Scanlan loudly announces his presence behind her as he digs his fingers into Pike’s sides.

“AHA!” Pike yelps from being taken off guard. “Hahaha! Scanlahahahan!” Pike darts her hands down in an attempt to pry the bard’s hands latched onto her sides.

“You thought you could just tickle me and get away with it? Oh no, no, no, Pike. You see, now it’s my turn to even the playing field,” Scanlan grins. “Who would have guessed that under all that armor that the mighty Pike is so ticklish?”

“Ohoho, yohohohou’re going to rehehehegret saying thahahahat!” Pike giggles.

“I regret saying a lot of things, but this is not one of them,” Scanlan replies.

Seeing six out of the seven party members get thrown into a tickle fight, Percy places his sketchbook on the side table next to his chair, then stands. “Well, if you all are going to continue fooling around with each other, then I think I should take my leave.”

Percy turns towards the doorway to exit. However, as the big brown bear sees Percy walking in that direction, Trinket trots in front of the doorway and blocks the exit. The bear growls at the white-haired man.

Percy takes a step back. “Wha– Trinket?”

“Good thinking, Trinket!” Vex says, seeing the exchange between her bear and the noble occur. “You’re not going anywhere without first joining the fight, Percy.” Vex glances to her bear, “Trinket, be a dear and get Percy, will you?”

Trinket happily growls at Percy. The noble takes another step back.

“Wait, Trinket!” Percy puts his hands up.

The bear growls again and charges at Percival. Trinket headbutts Percy square in the stomach, with enough force to push him, but not to hurt him. Percy hits the back wall as Trinket charges at him and, being the large bear that he is, Trinket easily traps Percy to the wall by having his head right up against his stomach. With another happy huff from the bear, Trinket begins nuzzling his snout into Percy’s stomach, finding a way under his dress shirt and vest for his snout to be most effective.

Percy flinches and his mouth twitches upwards; he tries to restrain his snickers while he attempts to shove Trinket’s big, playful head out of his shirt. “Trinket! Stand down, boy! I am not a toy for you to cuddle!”

“Good boy, Trinket!” Vex exclaims. She leaves her brother in a crumpled pile of giggles and runs over to help her bear. 

“Let me lend you a hand, Trinket,” she says, now standing beside her furry companion. “Or perhaps, two hands?” she wiggles all of her fingers at Percy.

“V-Vex! Don’t you da–AHare!” Percy closes his mouth shut once Vex lunges her hands at his ribs. A few restrained snickers start to trickle from the man as he turns his face away into his shoulder.

“Percival, you’re holding out on me,” Vex teases. “You do know that it’s a tickle fight, right? So, laugh a little,” she moves her hands up his ribs and into his underarms. Rather quickly, his snickers sputter and turn into full blown giggles.

“Vehehehex!” Percy completely breaks into an outpouring of bubby joy. He bends his arms down for protection, but that doesn’t stop the loveable bear from nuzzling into his belly. He tries to wiggle his way out of his predicament.

“There we go! We got him, Trinket!” Vex glances at the bear before looking back at Percy. “See, Percy? You would have missed out on all this fun had you walked out.”

“I will nohohohot be subjugated to-hohoho thihihihis childish gahahame!” He wiggles to the side and successfully dislodges himself from Trinket and the wall, then wastes no time in sprinting across the room.

“This isn’t over yet, Percy!” Vex exclaims. Right before she takes off for the chase, a woosh of black cloth passes by her.

“I’ll deal with you later!” Vax glances over his shoulder to his sister as he runs by.

“Yeah, right. We’ll see about that,” Vex smiles before following suit and running back into the frey.

Percy, knowing he’s a target, skids behind Grog and Keyleth and takes cover.

“Grog! Let me use your body as a shield!” Percy peeks out from the side of the goliath.

Grog’s view turns towards Percy. “Uh, okay.”

“I’ve gotcha, Keyleth!” Vax says from Grog’s other side and leaps onto the table, then he jumps off towards Grog. He lands on Grog and wraps his arms around the goliath’s neck, piggy-back style.

“Hey!” Grog tries to snatch Vax from over his back, releasing Keyleth from his hold. “Get over here, pipsqueak!” Grog spins from side to side to toss Vax off of him, but Vax keeps his grip. Grog sidesteps one way and nearly crashes into Percy, sending the noble stumbling backwards and onto the floor; when Grog sidesteps to his other side, Vex also stumbles backwards and onto the floor when she tries to dodge.  

Grog halts his movement to try and get a better grip on Vax, but the dagger wielder shows him a smirk and uses one hand to scribble at the goliath’s ribs while Vax’s other arm holds himself up by staying wrapped around Grog’s neck.

Grog jolts and a bigger smile grows on his already large features. “Hehehey! Vahahahax!” he tries to reach up at the half-elf again. “Nohoho fair!”

“No fair? We’re playing a tickle fight with a guy twice our size. Creative strategies have to be used, my friend,” Vax smiles at him. 

“And don’t forget about a little bit of magic!” Keyleth recovers and faces her palm towards Grog. Her hand glows and vines sprout from the floor, wrapping themselves loosely around Grog and brushing up against the rest of his torso.

Grog stops going for Vax and pulls his arm down as deep laughter booms from his chest. “Ohohohokay! Mahahahaybe I earned thihihihis!” Grog says through his giggles.

Vex stands up and leans an arm on Trinket. She sees Percy still on the floor, but she’s quite amused with the sight of their tallest ally being overpowered by tickling. She’ll call off her chase, for now.

“Ohohoho no! Grohohog!” Pike says through her own laughter as she hears Grog being felled by giggles from across from her.

“Oooh. What a shame,” Scanlan says over Pike’s shoulder. “It seems like you and Grog have fallen to the same tragic fate of revenge—WHOA!”

Pike uses a burst of strength to yank one of Scanlan’s arms and fling him to the floor in front of them onto his back. As he lifts his head up to regain his bearings, Pike pounces at him like a wolf and knocks him back to the floor. She dives her hands towards his sides, earning a shriek of laughter from Scanlan.

“Pihihihihike! Yohohou already had yohohour turn tickling mehehehe! Hahahave mercy!”

“I’ll consider it, if you help me help Grog,” Pike negotiates with a smile.

“Nohoho way! Hehehe started it!”

Pike shrugs, “Suit yourself then.” She crawls her fingers back up to his underarms, causing Scanlan to kick his legs out behind her and his giggles to increase.

Pike glances beside her to Percy, who’s still leaning back on the floor as he watches Grog’s current fate. “Percy! Come help me with Scanlan!” she says to him.

The noble shakes his head. “No, thank you. I’ve had my fair share of this fight for one day.”

“Come on, Percy. You’re got to have some fun once in a while.” She puts on a smirk. “Or are you too much of a stick-in-the-mud noble to do so?”

Percy’s stunned. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Pike’s tone is one that’s begging to be challenged. Percy narrows her eyes at her, but Pike has already turned her attention back to the giggling bard.

“Now Scanlan, are you willing to help me assist Grog?”

“Yehehes! Yes!” Scanlan raises one arm above his head and purple magic begins to swirl around his hand. Pike pulls her hands away from him, allowing Scanlan—breathless and full of residual giggles—to summon his magical purple hand and glide it towards Grog. Scanlan rolls onto his stomach to see the world upright and controls the magic of “Scanlan’s hand” to tap Keyleth on the shoulder.

Falling for one of the oldest tricks in the book, Keyleth turns to look at the hand. “Huh? Hey!” She exclaims when the hand drifts down to tickle her side. When she twists to avoid it, the hand follows her and tickles the rest of her torso. Scanlan and Pike snicker from the sidelines.

As Keyleth giggles, her concentration on the magic vines falter and the vines retract back into the floor.

Now free, Grog swings his hand behind his back and grabs a hold of Vax’s ankle. He yanks the half-elf from his back and holds him upside down in front of him. A mischievous grin across the goliath’s features is what Vax is met with as he dangles from the ankle. 

Vax releases a nervous chuckle. “Any chance that you’ll put me down, big guy?”

Grog shakes his head like a child who’s gotten their way. “Nope. None,” Grog says and plunges a hand into Vax’s belly. The half-elf barks out a surprised laugh and clasps both of his hands to Grog’s singular large one in any attempt to pry it from his giggling belly.

“Well it wahahas wohohorth a shohohohot!” Vax says.

“All right, Grog!” Pike cheers. Scanlan dissipates his magic hand, releasing Keyleth, then plops onto the floor to take a well deserved break. 

“I’m coming to help!” Pike gets up to dash over to Grog.

“Hold on a minute, Pike!” Percy swoops in behind her and scoops her up into his arms, causing Pike to shriek as he lifts her in a hug off her feet. He has his arms wrapped under hers like he was holding a cat.

“Allow me to show you that a noble can indeed have fun,” Percy smirks. He tightens one arm around her while his other hand starts to scribble into her side. Pike jolts with another burst of giggles and attempts pushing on Percy’s arm to squeeze herself free.

“Pehehehercy, wahahait! I was just kihihihidding!” she kicks her feet in the air.

“Of course. I know that, Pike. But I have to protect the reputation of my good name. You understand,” he smiles. Pike’s squirming becomes strong enough to where Percy nearly drops her, but he catches himself and places Pike safely to the ground, though still with one arm wrapped around her and one tickling her to keep her in place. Percy chuckles as he kneels down, takes a seat on the floor, then pulls Pike into his lap to now have the ability to tickle her with both of his hands, sending her giggles even louder. 

Keyleth eventually recovers, arms still wrapped around herself. She processes her surroundings, noticing Vax’s situation.

“Oh no, Vax. Not again,” Keyleth straightens herself out and prepares her hand to summon more vines.

“I’m going to stop you right there, Keyleth!” Vex rams into the Ashari with a giant hug.

“W-What?! Vex, what are you–dohohohoing?!” Keyleth squeaks at the end of her sentence when Vex takes her turn at tickling the Ashari. 

“Well, you were about to help my brother out of his predicament, and I’m quite entertained by his situation. You wouldn’t want to cut that entertainment short, now would you?”

“Buhuhuhut Vax is in trohohohouble!” she giggles in response.

“Nooo, he’s fine. Look at him. He’s smiling, laughing. He doesn’t need our help,” Vex grins. Trinket happily huffs to himself. Seeing that his allies are enjoying themselves, Trinket trots away over to a spot behind a still resting Scanlan to lie down and watch the rest unfold, until his assistance is requested again.

Just then, a giggly scream from Pike catches Grog’s ears. The goliath turns his head to see that Percy is scribbling a hand at Pike’s belly while the gnome kicks and curls her arms around herself.

“Pike! Buddy!” Grog shouts. He drops Vax to the floor like a bag of gold and dashes over to Pike. Percy looks up just in time to see the massive goliath barreling towards him. His eyes go wide and immediately lets go of Pike. He crawls backwards on his arms and lifts himself to his feet as Grog approaches.

“Grog, wait! We can talk about this!” Percy turns to run, but Grog instantly snatches him off the floor and into his arms, holding him very similarly as Percy did to Pike. Grog spins to face his buddy, then wastes no time in digging a set of his fingers into Percy’s side. Percy lets out a startled chortle before his giggles find their way out again. 

“Pick on someone, your own size!” Grog grins behind him.

“Thahahat’s rich cohohoming from yohohohou!” Percy responds. He wiggles and slips his nimble self from Grog’s arms, ducking under them before running. 

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Grog says before he and Pike take off after him.

Vex witnesses Percy is involved in another chase. She chuckles. “See, Percy! Told you it wasn’t over!”

As she finishes her sentence, Vax suddenly lunges at her and tackles her to the floor. 

“And I told you that I would come back for you later,” Vax smirks above her as he darts his hands towards his sister’s sides. A minor shriek releases from Vex before she slaps a hand to cover her mouth, though Vax can see her smile twitching from under her fingers. Her other hand attempts to shove at Vax while the heels of her boots dig at the floor.

“Ah, ah, ah, sister. We will be having none of that. You saw me giggling my head off, it’s only fair that I see yours,” Vax crawls a hand up to her underarm connected to the hand blocking her smile. Vex yanks her hand down with a shriek that results in the joyful sound of laughter.

“Vahahahahax you a–ahahahaha!” The rest of Vex’s sentence is erased by her giggles. 

“Language, sister,” he playfully scolds her, knowing exactly what she was about to say. He turns to the Ashari. “Keyleth, want to provide some assistance?”

Keyleth nods with a smile, “Okay!” The Ashari makes her way over. She sits on her knees on the floor next to Vex’s other side and joins in, scribbling at Vex’s stomach. The giggles of the female twin grow higher in pitch as she attempts to protect and slap away the two pairs of hands scribbling across her torso.

“Twohoho against ohohone? Well I cahahahan play thahahat gahahame too!” Vex exclaims. “Trinket! Hehehelp me!” she shouts across the room.

The bear growls and lifts himself to his feet. Trinket begins charging forward. Scanlan hears the loud pounding of paws behind him and turns his head to see Trinket running in his direction. Scanlan leaps to his feet and runs straight, keeping his eyes on the bear. Meanwhile, Percy turns the corner on the other side of the room and runs right towards Vex, Vax, and Keyleth, though his eyes are also on his pursuers.

Almost at the same time, Scanlan and Percy look forward, seeing not only are they going to crash into each other, but into Vex, Vax, and Keyleth as well. They try to slow their movement, but Pike and Grog crash into Percy, while Trinket crashes into Scanlan, sending everyone crashing into the twins and Keyleth—which creates a party-sized dogpile with all the Vox Machina members.

As the “dust” settles, Trinket, who was on the edge of the pile, lifts himself up and finds Scanlan lying on the edge next to Grog. The bear nuzzles Scanlan’s neck as an apology, which slowly pulls Scanlan out of his dazed state. 

“Trinket,” Scanlan giggles as the bear gets in one final tickle at his neck. He shoves at the bear’s snout. “Come on, cut it out.” 

The bear growls with glee. As Trinket steps back, everyone else begins to slowly emerge from the pile. Eventually, they untangle themselves and stand to stretch their previously squished bodies.

“Well, that was a fight that I bet none of us were expecting,” Vax says as he stretches out his back.

“To think we were taking a day off and ended up fighting each other instead,” Vex mentions. “But that does seem like something we would do, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know about you all,” Keyleth chimes in, “but I thought it was fun. I know I said something earlier with Scanlan’s joke and no one agreed, but I can’t be the only one who thought this was fun, right? I mean, it was enjoyable enough for Percy to join in.” She gestures a hand towards the white-haried man.

Percy crosses his arms. “My hand was forced into the fight, thank you. Under no other circumstances would I have joined.”

Pike shrugs. “Eh, all it takes is a few teases and poking fun at his royal title to get him to hop in,” she teases and smiles at Percy. Percy rolls his eyes, though he returns a warm smile to her as well.

“It was unexpected, but at least it brightened the mood,” Scanlan says. He turns to look up at the goliath. “You did good, Grog,” Scanlan compliments.

“Hehe, thank you,” Grog takes the compliment. He blinks a few times and puts a finger to his chin. “Um…what exactly did I do good again?”

Vax pats him on the arm. “You were just being yourself, big guy.” 

“And we love ya for it,” Pike hugs his ankle. 

“Aww, come here, you!” Grog picks her up in a gentle, but firm hug, then places her on his shoulder with a grin.

Some would say that they’re one odd bunch of adventures, but to them, they’re just one big happy family.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi Raven! Besterd fox maen is comin' XD

Onto the event! Since I know it'll happen, gonna beat everyone to it: Headcanons about Tsum!Fellow and possibly a Tsum!Giddle~?

Curiouser and Curiouser.

Fellow Honest

What’s this? A marketable (and sentient) plushie made in his own likeness? Of course Fellow’s going to nab his tsum self and try to auction it off for a quick buck! … But somehow, it always comes back to him and an angry customer comes with it, accusing him of scamming them.

Other scams Fellow and his tsum pull together include him distracting a target while the tsum fishes in their pockets for valuables, running a roadside show (come watch the tsum bounce and twirl its cane), and selling a spell that brings inanimate objects to life (pretending to demonstrate with the tsum). They walk away with a decent amount of cash for their efforts.

Tsum!Fellow has the smallest pair of glasses you ever did see. It doesn’t always wear them, but whenever it does you notice it is trying to read a teeny tiny book upside down and lecture.

Tsum!Fellow stares at its larger counterpart when he has food on him. Fellow will insist it’s HIS grub and that the tsum should get its own, but soon enough he caves and breaks off a small piece for his little buddy to enjoy with him.

Like Fellow, the tsum loves apples! If you give it a fresh fruit, it’ll zoom around it in circles, shaving away at the flesh until there’s nothing left but the core. (Epel has deemed it an apple-eatin’ termite.)

Normally the tsum is docile but it puffs up at anger when it’s looked down on (particularly by rich or influential people). When that happens, tsum!Fellow swells really big and proceeds to crush foes with its great size.

Tsum!Fellow knows how to make a quick getaway. When there’s someone chasing after it, it throws sand or dirt (or even confetti or glitter from under its hat) in their face before skedaddling. It’s not above using cheap tactics if it nets results!

Tsum!Fellow gets all sparkly-eyed when it sees a stage, whether it’s on TV or it’s a real one. It gets excited and tries to hop on to put on a performance of its own!

There’s something a little childish and carefree about tsum! Fellow. It loves hitching rides in pockets or on heads, treating them like their own amusement park rides. It also loves seating itself on toy traits, boats, and cares, imagining itself traveling the world and having grand adventures!

Tsum!Fellow is quick to cozy up to anyone it thinks will benefit it. For this reason, you’ll see it snuggling up to dorm leaders, the staff, the headmaster, even you! It nuzzles against your hand and makes puppy-dog eyes until you melt in its flimsy hands.

While Fellow mends his suit and pants, tsum!Fellow likes to dive in the fabric and swim around in it. It gets in the way of his work, so Fellow fishes the tsum out and appoints it the role of being his pincushion. (The tsum is very grumpy about this and they get into a whole squabble about it.)

Gidel

It’s rare to see tsum!Gidel by itself. It’s normally tagging along with tsum!Fellow as a minion or a helper in some of its tricks. If the two are ever separated, they’ll both appear slightly distressed and will try to seek the other out.

It’s curious about so many things. Tsum!Gidel bounces around in a hyperactive manner, making it quite difficult to contain. It displays a special interest in school, hopping among stacks of books and forgotten pencils, scaling them to see how high up it vanishes climb.

Gidel and his tsum self can communicate effectively, despite neither of them being able to speak. They’re great about reading body language and anticipating what’s to come next from the other. It’s almost like they’re finishing each other’s sandwiches sentences.

Tsum!Gidel is very clumsy. It’s a normal occurrence for it to fall onto its face or to roll and roll until it makes contact with something sturdy. It doesn’t quite have its footing down yet…

Of course, it comes with its own little hammer! The hammer seems light and makes a little squeaky sound when tsum!Gidel bonks the back of your hand with it.

When the tsum gets scared, it scurries into Gidel’s oversized sleeves. It won’t come back out again until it’s completely sure the danger has passed. (Occasionally you’ll see it poking its round little head out and checking the area.)

It attempts to tie Gidel’s laces for him since they’re tend to be loose. Unfortunately, the tsum ends up getting knotted in the laces and Gidel has to spend 20 minutes untangling the poor thing!

Gidel didn’t realize the tsum was sentient at first. He popped it into his mouth thinking it was a bread roll or a fancy marshmallow. The tsum had to squirm and fight for its life to escape the jaws of death!

They’re study buddies! Gidel and his tsum copy down letters of the alphabet together, then exchange notebooks and check each others’s work. It’s harder for Gidel to understand tie tsum (maybe on account of the notebook being so small), so he takes the mantle and tutors his new buddy.

Sometimes the tsum takes on a size closer to that of a stuffed plushie. In those instances, Gidel fiercely hugs them close. There’s a comforting sensation in owning an item for just pleasure, not solely for one’s survival—the life that Gidel is so used to.

Tsum!Gidel assumes a bigger form and allows Gidel to use it as a pillow at night. The boy had never been able to sleep on something this squishy and soft—is it really okay for him to fall asleep like this?

[puckpocketed]

i just hate when players do this and people call them “warriors” i know you wanna play in the playoffs to help your team but YOUR FINGERS ARE LITERALLY BROKEN MY GUY THEY COULD NEVER GROW BACK TOGETHER THE RIGHT WAY im crying

my poor cringefail wifes i love them all so much i hope they all take the rest they need

GOD I hope they get rest too :((

breaking soooo much character right now to give my fullest take, and it’s that we can hold multiple ideas in our minds and i don’t think they conflict

playing through injuries is terrible.

They are whole adult human beings and professional athletes who have resources to keep them informed about long term consequences, and they still get to make those choices even if we hate the choices they make. Even if those choices drastically reduce the length of their career. Even if those choices end with long term heath complications.

i might lose some people on this one but i don’t care!! it’s what I believe: being disabled or chronically ill/injured/in pain is not a death sentence. it is not the worst thing in the world. people live full and happy lives whilst also being disabled. can it suck for the person living through it? yes. absolutely. but to me, people are not and never will be defined by how able-bodied they are!!!

All of this is true (to me) and also we can still condemn the circumstances that cause them to make these choices. (culture of not wanting to be seen as soft, the normalisation/valorisation of playing through injury, all the other [gestures wildly] forces at play that set athletes up to make these decisions) Like i’m sorry to get political but choices do not exist in vacuums. sports does not exist separated from hegemonic models of masculinity or capitalism. there are so so so many reasons a player might choose to harm themselves by playing through injury and not all of them are noble or valid, some of them are stupid and informed by bullshit!!! and we should be mad at that bullshit!! because it’s awful!!!!

these are their jobs, and i’m talking in the sense that they are performing labour and i think labour laws and workplace health and safety must apply here too. I think we have to start talking about these things in terms of workers rights, in amongst all of the compassion we have for them as players. there’s the pressure to perform due to contract status and salary bonus milestones; there’s team doctors having direct conflicts of interest, a monetary and cultural incentive to look the other way when clearing people to play; there’s the plain fact of the best possible safety equipment (cages/bowls, neck guards, cut resistant protective gear) not being mandatory; the blatant denial of CTE coming from the league itself. there’s a lot. and it’s a workers rights issue, not just a moral one. someone will play through xyz because of the culture, because of the pressure, and they will die from it.

EVEN STILL. there is beauty and narrative resonance and something compelling about it all, and I don’t want to deny that. as someone looking from the outside in, sports captures people’s hearts because of these narratives. sacrifice and teamwork and triumph — we have an appetite for these things. I am never going to sit here and deny that I feel compelled by it (which is simultaneous to the anger, the fear, the deep deep well of “i’m sorry you have feel you have to do this”) This appetite I/we as a society have for pain — unpacking it and addressing it is a whole other conversation and I am not qualified to have it. I’m just going to acknowledge it exists because I think pretending it doesn’t would be dishonest of me.

we are allowed to feel fucked up about all of this. call it parasocial, call it entitled, call it inappropriate, i don’t know!! we are people and knowing other people are in pain tends to fuck us up — and as much as I try to keep a healthy distance from these celebrities, as much as I remind myself they’re strangers, I care when they’re hurt because I’m human.

anyway. YES OUR POOR CRINGEFAIL WIVES 😭🤲

[wrathofrats]

idk why but I thought you may like the idea of Aurora, when she's new to performing publicly, fears that the fans may see her as "the innocent one" or something similar due to her being Very Obviously Smol in comparison to the other ghouls, ghoulettes, and of course, Papa. Being, y'know, a demon, she instead decides she wants to be the raunchiest one on stage...

So she decides to try and sneak a flash of some kind to the crowd during a ritual and it may go a bit further than she intends :]

I hope this is ok!! I modified the request a bit bc I was having thoughts and ideas. It’s maybe a bit misogynistic, dew and Swiss really teasing Aurora over the whole innocent thing. But I am a gay woman so I’m allowed to perpetuate sexist stereotypes and if you disagree you’re also sexist. (THIS IS A JOKE) but know the banter is in good fun, they’re obv all some kind of poly bonded pack thing so auroras gucci.

Or aurora decides to throw her panties into the crowd, and things don’t exactly go her way (based on that panties on dews guitar gif you know the one)

“I’m not doing this with you right now dew” Aurora grumbles, batting his hands off of her.

Dew looks too smug. Like hes won some secret game that Aurora doesn’t know about. A mischievous glint in his eye that makes Aurora want to kick him in the balls to hopefully neuter his perpetual horniness.

It’s their own little tradition at this point in the tour. Swiss and dew and whoever else was bored would come hang out in the ghoulettes dressing room while they pinned their hair to fit neatly under their helmets and to apply the black face paint. Dew usually showed up to steal cumulus’ never ending supply of bobby pins, and swiss was there to help with smearing the paint onto everyone.

“Iighten up your highness” dew laughs, backing away from her with his hands up as if he didn’t just wrap them around her body to grab at her waist. “You’re not this prudish when you come knocking at my hotel door”

“I’m not a prude,” Aurora grumbles. Swiss and dew giggle to themselves as Aurora swipes her hands at them to make them back up from where she’s placed herself on the counter. She can feel cirrus’ glare through the mirror, directed at the two idiots that are currently still laughing among themselves.

“You’re telling me you’re not ms ‘don’t mention sex around the other ghouls! They can’t know I’ve fucked you!’” Swiss teases, his voice pitching to mock auroras. “Come on princess, I don’t know why you demand to be seen as so innocent.”

Aurora wants to scream at them to leave their dressing room already. Dew and Swiss can tend to be idiots while they’re separated, but together? Aurora isn’t sure how they manage to lose brain cells when they combine.

“I just didn’t want anyone knowing I’ve fucked you, I don’t care about anyone else”

She’s not innocent like Swiss says, is she? Sure she’s smaller, tends to be more reserved in that regard, but Aurora thinks it’s unfair to call her innocent of all terms. She could be worse sure, not tending to go as far as humping the stage or groping her bandmates like dumb and dumber, but she likes her little act. She likes her swishy cape and little dances with her tambourine, and how she twirls and -

God maybe she is a princess.

The boys continue to laugh, mostly shoving each other around at this point. Aurora can hear cirrus yell at Swiss to shut up and help her with her paint, even now lost in her own thoughts. Ideas come and go, staring at her lap and swinging her legs. She’s not innocent. She’s just as bad as the rest of them and they all know that. The fans know that too, right? She’s a demon, a fucking creature from hell.

She’s not innocent.

She hops off her perch to shove her way past dew and into the bathroom to pull her uniform bottoms off. Her idea is probably stupid, will probably get her reprimanded and placed on whatever terrible chore imperator comes up with when they get back. But the reactions from the other ghouls, especially Swiss and dew, will make it worth it.

Aurora quickly takes off her panties and pulls her uniform back up, cringing at the feeling of the rough fabric against her. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but the weird insecurity of not wearing underwear makes every sensation feel tenfold.

A 5 minute call sounds through the rooms. She grabs her underwear and hastily puts them in her pocket before running out to get in her position.

Her movements are meant to tease. Hands running over her body, jutting her hips behind her hoping Swiss will look back at her. She wants him to come on her platform, wants him to take her on the innocent act she’s been offering. She wants him to smell her through her uniform.

It’s just an extra personal part in her plan. She tries not to bounce giddily as he does notice and run behind the different set pieces to come walk up into her space. He can feel his breath on her neck as he approaches her, his all too wide smile trying to intimidate her, mock her after their conversation earlier.

Auroras lucky Swiss is good at improv, and an even better performer. Barely reacts as she shoves him to his knees. Even grabs her thighs and mock drags his tongue along her legs. Hes fucking obscene, she should’ve known the reaction she would get like this.

The real reward is the way she can see Swiss’ mouth twitch as he shoves his face right next to her cunt. He can smell her, would nose against the outline if they weren’t still performing in front of thousands of people, honestly she’s sure he’s forgotten considering the way his face turns into a snarl. Aurora is positive she will pay for this later, but for now? She couldn’t be happier.

The second phase of her plan comes once Swiss leaves. She eyes the audience carefully, eyes her bandmates to wait for the perfect opportunity. Dew turns to mess with rain, while phantom moves to mess with the audience on his side of the stage. All the ghouls are occupied, not paying attention.

Aurora pulls her panties out of her pocket, balling them in her fist so they can’t be seen through her hand. Hastily she throws them towards the crowd, praying they make it to their destination.

Whatever she prayed to however, is not listening.

They land directly next to dewdrop, right by his feet as he steps back onto them. He pulls his foot up, eyeing the black fabric in confusion. She watches in horror as he swings them around his finger, looking back at her as if he knows they’re hers,

Before hanging them on the head of his guitar. Displaying them for the whole crowd.

[pommpuriinn]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ W KOREA LOVE YOUR W EVENT

❀*ੈsynopsis✩‧₊˚ the three eldest members go to W Korea event meeting lots of people and seeing some familiar faces

❀*ੈ outfit✩‧₊˚

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ photographers went crazy when the trio hit the carpet to the point where Joohyung had to cover her eyes for two second and continued on posing like nothing happened. They took solo shots then trio shoots which the photographers went crazy for the trio shoots causing them to demand more together. “Wow their visuals go crazy together!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ entering the event they did more posing and walking for W Korea social media. Staff were wowed by their looks and height, saying that ‘they’re truly models’ and ‘they look so good together’

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ it was a dinner/party type of vibe and the three stayed close to each other since the three are pretty introverted when it comes to these events

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ sitting down at the table kinda helped, but of course they were kinda separated from each other but Joohyung didn’t mind it much because she was sitting next to Jennie Kim

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ “I always wanted to talk to you.” Joohyung turned to her left hearing the voice. Jennie was talking to her, “me?” Joohyung pointed to herself kinda shocked. “Yes, I always found you so pretty and I never gotten to see you in person, I would always see your pictures online.” Jennie complimented. “I feel the same towards you.” Joohyung smiled at her. “You know I also would listen to your solo album because it’s so good.” Jennie chuckled, a little bit embarrassed with herself. “Ah thank you so much~” Joohyung placed her hand over her heart

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ the two continued talking hitting it off with each other to the point where both women gave each other their phone numbers so they could hang out. “Also just in case anything happens you can always come to my company.” Jennie explained that she was leaving YG and opening up her own company. Joohyung was shocked at the offered, “thank you, but I don’t think I can leave my boys.” Jennie completely understood, but the offer will always be there

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ as everyone got up and started doing their own thing the three went to the person they truly knew; Namjoon. “Your hair.” Joohyung patted Namjoon’s head feeling his buzz cut. “Yeah, I shaved it just cause I wanted to not really for the military yet.” Namjoon explained. “I can’t stand the military talk because then this one,” Joohyung nodded towards Soobin. “Starts talking about their time I can’t deal with it.” Joohyung doesn’t want to think about it. The guys laughed as Joohyung covers her ears. “Don’t worry I won’t talk about it.” Namjoon takes Joohyung’s hands away from her ears and hugs her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ many people came up to Joohyung telling her how beautiful she looks and if they can take a photo with her which she gladly took with them, many also expressed how much they like txt’s music including hers

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ the members social battery was draining and so they decided to go into the restroom hallway and just chill there and taking some mirror selfies since there was a full body mirror in the hallway. “I can’t believe we’re hiding from everyone.” Soobin laughed at the situation. “It was getting to much.” Joohyung sighed. “You know if I could I would be smoking right now.” The three of them bursted out laughing at what Joohyung was saying. “Ya! Then hybe would be freaking out on you.” Yeonjun playfully pushed her. “It’s not like they don’t do it too.” Joohyung defended herself. It didn’t tell long before they started gossiping with each other with all the info they got from talking to everyone

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ after chilling in the restroom hallway they came out to watch the performances the event was having. Which was some groups/soloists performing there hits

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Joohyung was just vibing with a drink in her hand enjoy the light buzz she had going on, it wasn’t long after the event ended and it was finally time to go home

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ but before heading out many female idols and actresses took the opportunity to quickly talk to Joohyung and gave her their numbers. “Wow Joohyung you’re very popular~” Yeonjun teased her, as he saw all the new numbers on her phone. “Shut up because you know if there wasn’t any cameras they would go for you and Soobin too.” Joohyung chuckled at Yeonjun teasing her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ “it feels weird dropping you off first.” Soobin hugged Joohyung ‘bye’ as the car stopped in front of Joohyung’s apartment building. “I know, but I told you guys could come whenever or stay the night.” Joohyung said, as she moved to give Yeonjun his hug. “We will. Maybe when we have a day off so we can eat and drink together without worrying about work the next day.” Yeonjun said, squeezing Joohyung tight before letting her go. “That’s perfect.” Joohyung waved ‘bye’ before making her way in with her staff member who was going to help her take everything off. The members made sure the driver didn’t drive off before Joohyung and the female staff member got into the apartment building safely.



[bg3-npc]

Wyllstarion concept I can’t stop thinking about so I’m making you all suffer with me.

Post-game get together, the scenario involves Astarion not ascending and Wyll keeping his pact with Mizora. Wyll can chose any endgame path, I personally imagine his Duke ending. The party went their separate ways after defeating The Absolute, and at least a year has passed. There’s the setup, here’s the concept causing me brain damage:

Wyll and Astarion reconnect in some way. Despite the dire circumstances, they enjoyed each other's company during their adventure. Astarion is recovering, enjoying his freedom while trying to figure out what ‘being good’ means to him. He’s experienced many things since the party's victory and seems to be steadily improving on all fronts. Wyll has been doing whatever duties come with his chosen title and doesn’t seem different. He almost seems entirely unchanged, but the more Astarion is around him he feels like something is off.

Astarion pays closer attention and notices small differences he hadn’t before. Wyll looks haggard, he fidgets and blinks constantly like he’s trying to keep himself awake all the time. He’ll lose focus and zone out so badly he won’t respond when Astarion calls his name. When Wyll doesn’t have a day full of tasks, he’s restless and almost seems to panic. He will return from missions more hurt than someone his skill level should. He struggles to concentrate during conversation, especially when it’s not centered around his responsibilities. Wyll also never drops his persona, even when the two are alone. He performs his part, but it seems more exaggerated and forced than when they first met. Whenever they’re together, Astarion never actually feels like “Wyll” is there.

A normal, everyday interaction provides an explanation for Wyll’s strange new presence. Someone starts calling Wyll’s name to get his attention. Astarion notices the person immediately, but Wyll doesn’t. After a few failed attempts, they call Wyll by his title. That method finally gets Wyll’s attention, and he’s seemingly oblivious to the previous attempts. Seeing this recurring phenomenon from a third-party perspective gives Astarion the insight he’d been missing.

Wyll reflexively, and almost exclusively, talks in the third person now. Only ever talking and presenting as his title. He will give his input on a matter, but only what’s necessary and doesn’t reveal anything about himself. He hasn’t formed any new connections or relationships since they departed, and any he has are friendly but essentially professional. Wyll is never off duty and ensures he always has some quest to complete. He’s never idle or relaxed, keeping his mind and body occupied at all times.

The issues that plagued Wyll before and during their party's journey never got resolved. He wasn’t managing well before, and by the end of everything his suffering had only increased. His situation has not improved since and the toll of everything that’s happened is becoming intolerable. Wyll refuses to acknowledge his pain but it’s overwhelming him nonetheless. He sees no end to his misery and feels helpless to stop it. In a desperate attempt to regain some feeling of control over his life, Wyll’s removed himself from it entirely. He doesn’t have to address what’s affecting his life if he’s not living it. Wyll’s abandoned his name and latched onto the identity of his title. The reason Astarion never feels like “Wyll” is with him is because he no longer sees himself as “Wyll”.

Astarion avoided asking Wyll about his pact with Mizora, but this breakthrough compels him to broach the subject. Wyll tells him he feels it’s best for everyone if he doesn’t break it, and he has resigned himself to a fate in the Hells. He truly believes it’s the right thing to do and disregards his feelings about it. He will do his duty to the people, and he will convince everyone he’s okay. He wants to convince himself he’s okay.

Wyll is doing all he can to avoid and deny any of his trauma, but his coping strategies aren't working. He's still doing heroics for the right reasons, but now they've also become a distraction. He’s even begun to use them as a form of self-harm, his reckless selflessness verging on suicidal. Ignoring the issue doesn’t resolve it, and Wyll is completely unaware he’s nearing a breaking point. Astarion has no idea what reaching it will do, but he refuses to let that happen. He cares for Wyll and dedicates himself to pulling his friend back from the edge. Astarion will help him regain his sense of self by any means necessary. Wyll is going to fight him the entire time, but Astarion has had 200 plus years to perfect stubbornness. Wyll has the capability to save his soul, save himself, but he needs someone to show him he’s worth saving.

Aaaaand from there the plot varies and mostly depends on how much suffering I want to put these two through. The amount of psychic damage I cause myself with this setup also varies day to day.

[natrogersfics]

Blinding Lights - A Romanogers Oneshot

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3 Set in the So It Goes... 'verse

Torment.

If Natasha had to choose a word to describe the first few days following her glorious night with Steve, it would be just that – complete and absolute torment.

In her attempt to return to some semblance of normalcy, she jumps at the chance to be consumed by a never-ending barrage of emails and back-to-back meetings, but it is all in vain. The memories are all too novel. She could be neck deep in work, and all it takes is one glance at Steve before she’s immediately inundated with images of him pinning her down onto her desk, the scenes of how he had owned her body in the most delicious of ways flashing in her mind like a filthy highlight reel.

Then there’s the way he shows up at her door every morning. It wasn’t in any way different to how he’s shown up for the last year, but now she’s grown attuned to it. The sound of his voice is something she finds herself looking forward to hearing as she sits at her kitchen island, sipping her cup of coffee. She can’t always make out the words, but she can tell from the light-hearted tone that regardless of which member of his team was keeping vigil at her door that night, that they are always happy to see him. It’s then as the voices fade that she waits with anticipation, listening to the pad of his footsteps until there’s a light rap against the arch of her kitchen. His grin is boyish and lopsided when he sees her, giving her an unspoken confirmation that she’s under his watch now, and that’s enough to put a little spring in her step as she gets ready for the day.

Day. Night. It didn’t matter. Thoughts of Steve lingered with her, sticking to her like the most exquisite of perfumes. It’s why she makes it a point to never think too far ahead. To stay in the moment with whomever she’s meeting with. This week she’s been organizing a fundraiser for the orphanage, and with everything from invitations to menus to review and approve, she couldn’t be more thankful for the distraction.

Come the end of the week, she pats herself on the back for only letting her mind drift to Steve twice during her last meeting. As she exits the conference room with Wanda, Red Guardian’s Head of Marketing, she’s greeted with a nod by Sam, her daytime bodyguard for the day. Steve had informed her yesterday of his impending absence, citing a contract negotiation with a new client. And while there was a part of her that was disappointed that she wouldn’t be seeing him until later on, she also found herself relieved for the brief separation. Steve’s errand was a reminder that not only did he have his own business to run, but also that he, too, had something at stake if she didn’t get this misplaced longing of hers in order.

Sam follows behind her and Wanda as they make it down the hall, and as they’re about to head in separate directions, she places a hand on Wanda’s arm. “Send me videos of Billy and Tommy’s performance this weekend, okay? I can’t wait to see them in their costumes!”

Wanda beams at the mention of her boys. “I’m so excited,” she says, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “I got extra storage for my phone and everything.”

“They’ll do great, I’m sure of it.”

With a final smile, she waves goodbye to Wanda before heading into the awaiting elevator. As the car heads up to her office, she catches the way Sam’s hand reaches up, tapping on his earpiece. With how quiet Sam’s voice is, she can’t quite make out what he says, but a part of her wonders if he’s reporting back to Steve at their HQ. Stop. With a shake of her head, she flushes the thoughts of Steve from her mind just as the elevator comes to a halt and the doors slide open. Get it together, Romanoff.

Sam opens the door for her as they reach her office. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Anytime, Miss-” Sam pauses when she arches a brow at him, a sheepish smile breaking out on his face. “Natasha.”

“That’s more like it.”

As she enters her office, she’s immediately greeted by the sight of Loki waiting for her. She and Loki had met when they were just teenagers in boarding school, the two of them bonding over their mutual hate of the cliques that were quick to form on campus and the occasional pack of cigarettes. His company, Mischief Inc., is notorious for organizing the most extravagant bashes in the nation, and the second she had selected her first initiative as CEO, there was only one person in her mind to call.

Loki waves from his seat on the couch. “Hello, darling.”

“So nice of you to wake before the sun goes down,” she says, smiling at the nonchalant shrug he gives in response as he rises to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“You call, I come running,” Loki says as they both settle on the couch. “I’m easy like that.” She rolls her eyes playfully, prompting him to chuckle. “But I have to admit, ever since your assistant sent over your proposal, I’ve been intrigued.”

“So you’ve read it, I take,” she says, ever grateful for Daisy’s efficiency.

“Read it?” Loki says, scoffing. “Darling, the team’s already working on the interiors as we speak.”

Excitement rushes through her. When she had submitted her proposal to the board, she had highlighted the need to bring in fresh clientele to their properties. While her parents had built an empire on selling the luxury experience at their flagship hotels, they hadn’t done the best of jobs at making sure that evolved with the times. Now that she’s at the helm, she’s made it her mission to change that – starting with revamping the rooftop lounge at the Red Guardian Las Vegas, the company’s hotel overlooking the Strip that hasn’t been putting up the numbers it used to. The plan is to install an invitation-only nightclub, to have prospective patrons clamor to partake in the most coveted, if not borderline hedonistic, experience in the City of Sin. Admittedly, it’s a ballsy first initiative to take on, but she believes in her vision, and if there’s one person she knows that can help her bring it to life, it’s Loki.

“This is going to be epic,” she says, unable to keep a smile from breaking out on her lips.

“It’s going to be the talk of the town,” Loki concurs, scooting forward to reach for his tablet. “Though I hope you don’t have any other large commitments coming up. We have our work cut out for us if we’re going to make the grand opening in five weeks.”

Loki’s threat of long hours and endless days is one she welcomes with open arms. In her view, this nightclub opening is an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone – providing her both with a means to further prove herself to the board and a distraction from all her thoughts of Steve. From the thoughts of his hands on her body, roaming all over. Of all the dirty promises he’d whisper in her ear as he took her hard and deep, clearing her mind and relieving her of every burden, making her feel as though her desires weren’t so… ignoble.

And there, she realizes, is another issue she’s been avoiding. While her night with Steve had shown her what she truly craved, the fact of the matter is she’s always been curious. Vanilla had never really done it for her, and while she’s always wanted to venture out, there’s a part of her that’s always been ashamed of it. As if there’s something wrong or inappropriate about positioning herself as the capable and driven face of an esteemed Fortune 500 company during the day, but wanting to be taken, all consumingly, in the bedroom at night. It’s a dichotomy she cannot quite reconcile, nor find a partner she trusts enough to help her do so.

Until last week, that is.

“Earth to Natasha.” Loki waves a hand in front of her, chuckling when she shakes her head to focus. “Did you wander off to a different universe?”

If only. “Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night,” she says. “You were saying?”

There’s a touch of suspicion in Loki’s expression as he regards her. “As I was saying,” Loki says, “if we’re expecting our guests to be high-profile individuals, the security here needs to be airtight.”

“Steve’s team can do it,” she says before she can even think twice about it. “At least, I can talk to him about it. See if they have the bandwidth.”

“Ah, yes,” Loki says, craning his neck as he looks around her office. “And where, may I ask, is your broody shadow lingering today?”

“He’s not here,” she says, taking in the way Loki’s brows lift in surprise. “Work errand.”

“A work errand? That’s oddly vague,” Loki says, smirking. “If I had to guess, the man probably had a long night with a-”

“Steve runs a business just like you and me, Loki,” she interrupts before her friend can go any further. “He has a duty to his team to secure the best deals that he can. But even if that’s not what he’s doing right now” – she shakes her head, swallowing down the unsettling feeling that’s suddenly washed over her at the thought – “what he does in his private life is no one’s business but his.”

It's strange, if not a touch troubling to her, how protective she suddenly feels of him. While she already knew that he laid claim to the most mischievous parts of her, she’s only now realizing that he’s wormed his way into the softest, most delicate aspects, too. How or when that happened, she isn’t really sure.

Across from her, Loki just shrugs. “Even so, you have to admit, the man is easy on the eyes.”

With that, she couldn’t argue.

It’s as she’s walking Loki to her door later on after they’ve settled on next steps that her friend turns to her, catching her by the elbow. “Is everything okay, Nat? I make light of it, but don’t think I haven’t noticed how dialed-in you’ve been in the last few days.”

“I’m fine, Loki,” she says, sighing when he stares knowingly at her. “It’s the new job, is all. You know how it is.”

While her explanation is only a half-truth, it didn’t make it any less of a fact. Loki and his sister, Sylvie, had jumped through hoops to prove to their own father that they were worthy of running their own company. If there’s someone who understands the burden of a new seat at the top, it’s him.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” Loki laments, his expression softening. “Just don’t work yourself to the ground, all right? Unwind every now and then.” A smirk crosses his lips as he adds, “However you would like to.”

“Get out of here,” she says, the two of them sharing a laugh as she gives his shoulder a playful shove.

Loki leaves with a wink, and as the door to her office clicks shut, she slumps back down on the couch. While she had many siblings, it’s only with Loki that she’s felt that familial bond with. Loki was her first true confidant, and while she wishes she could tell him her current predicament, there’s a part of her that just isn’t ready. And it's not because she feared his judgment. In her heart, she knows that if she ever told Loki how she would prefer to unwind, he would be the last person to shame her. What she needs to grapple with here is herself. Specifically, her lack of acceptance of the part of herself that wants another surreptitious escape with Steve. For him to put her on her hands and knees and pull on her hair as he brings her to her crest. And then after, to do what she wishes he had that night, which was to scoop her into his arms, take her to her bed, and kiss her until they both drifted off.

Her hands come up to her face as she groans, longing for all these things – all these things that just don’t seem to go together. And, more importantly, the very things she can’t have with him.

With a huff, she sits up. Maybe she couldn’t get a grasp on that version of her, but she could focus on the one she actually had a handle on. The version of her that was brought up to run this company, to take care of the people who kept this well-oiled machine running. She reaches for her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she finds the number of her favorite bakery.

By the time she hangs up, she’s scheduled two cakes to be delivered to Wanda’s as a congratulations for her boys. The task isn’t much, but on a day like today, she counts completing it as a win.

By the second week, her yearning begins to taper. She wishes she could say it was because glancing Steve’s way didn’t make warmth spread across her chest any longer, but in reality, she’s convinced it’s only because wanting him has just become part of her personality as much as craving success and liking the color red has. But she has a grip on it enough that she and Steve resume their Wednesday ritual at the gym, and though she has to put in extra effort to remember to breathe every time he touches her to correct her form or demonstrate a new maneuver, she’s glad that the physical exertion wears her down enough to let her drift off once she’s finally made it to bed.

Her imagination, on the other hand, has been a completely different story. It’s as vivid as ever, running amuck, and as Steve accompanies her to her various functions, she sometimes catches herself wondering what it would be like to not only have him be the man looking out for her, but also the man on her arm, supporting her.

Much like she’s doing right now, as he follows close behind her as she enters the double doors of the ballroom of The Empire, Red Guardian’s crown jewel in New York. The fundraiser for the orphanage has barely started, but the room is already brimming with guests, and she need not glance back to know that Steve’s eyes are already surveilling the room, looking for possible threats and taking stock of exit routes.

“Miss Romanoff,” a young albeit tall brunette greets with a smile. “Thank you for joining us. May I take your coat?”

“Please,” she says, shedding the candy red coat she’d thrown on for the evening. “Thank you, Kate.”

Kate smiles at the recognition, handing her a coat check tag before ushering both her and Steve further inside. The ballroom is abuzz with conversation and the voice of a blues singer crooning softly, the air laced with a mix of expensive cologne and the most decadent of hors d'oeuvres. At the center, couples pack the dance floor, covering every inch of it that, if not for the fact that she had done the final review of the details for this event, she would be none the wiser about its existence.

She takes in their swarmed surroundings, turning to Steve with a smile. “Everyone’s here.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, and she realizes it’s because he’s fixated on her dress – taking in every detail of the strapless number she had selected for the evening, the white material adorned with red, pink, and yellow petals as it cinches at her waist and falls just a few inches above her knees. When his eyes finally meet hers, she swears his gaze looks darker around the edges, and she has to look away briefly to calm the little flutter she feels in her stomach.

“Yeah,” Steve finally says, “turnout looks excellent.”

“Daisy sent me an update on the donation figures just before we got here. We’ve already topped last year’s haul for the orphanage and the night’s barely begun.”

Steve’s lips quirk up in a smile. “It’s really great what you’re doing for them. That place, those kids… they’re lucky to have you as their advocate.”

“I was lucky to have that place,” she says. “I always go back to the first moment I met Alexei and Melina. That… hopefulness that they’d choose me. And then to find out that they did?” She sighs. “I just hope all of those children get to experience that.”

“With the help of your work, they will,” he says, prompting her to smile. “And for what it’s worth, your parents were always going to choose you, Nat.”

She eyes him skeptically. “You seem oddly sure about that.”

“Believe me,” he says softly, “resisting you is the hardest thing in the world.” An effervescence spreads across her chest at his words, but before she can respond, a waiter stops by their side, offering them both a glass of champagne. She takes one flute off the tray while Steve politely declines, and it’s only when they’re alone once more that he leans forward, his hand finding the small of her back as he whispers in her ear, “Has anyone told you how sexy you look tonight?”

Want races through her veins, hot and heavy, as she takes a sip of her drink. He’s so close to her now that she can smell his aftershave, and she knows that if she turns to look at him, it’ll take nothing short of a miracle to not pull him in. It takes her a second to find her voice, but even when she does, it’s lower than usual. “First I’m hearing of it.”

“This dress…” His hand flexes behind her, his touch light as a cloud as he caresses the fabric. “It’s almost as beautiful as the woman wearing it.”

A shiver runs down her spine. Breathe, she reminds herself, looking out into the distance in an attempt to steady her thrumming pulse. As she does, she catches a glimpse of one of the couples on the dance floor, the woman’s eyes falling shut as the man pulls her even closer to him, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Do you ever wish that were us?” Steve turns slightly at the question, following her line of sight. “Because I do,” she confesses, looking at him now. “All the time.”

His growl is quiet as his eyes find hers, but she hears it just the same. “Natasha…”

“Natasha! There you are.”

She’s not sure whether to be frustrated or relieved by the interruption, but she does not get much time to ponder her answer because the second she turns, she finds Eleanor Bishop, one of Red Guardian’s long-standing board members, approaching.

Steve takes a step back from her, and quickly, she plasters on a smile. “Eleanor, hello.”

“Marvelous event,” Eleanor says, gesturing towards the room.

“Isn’t it?” she says. “We inked a new events partnership with Mischief Inc. recently. They’ve done a phenomenal job.”

“As have you,” Eleanor says, scoffing when she begins to wave off the praise. “I know a Natasha Romanoff event when I see one, so don’t you even. Many people would have gawked at the idea of waiving the rate for the ballroom tonight.”

“Short-term loss for long-term gain,” she says with a shrug. “Any smart business person would’ve done it.”

“Oh, honey,” Eleanor says, all but scoffing. “When everyone’s out to make quick money, that’s just not true.”

“Eleanor, I can assure you that under my watch, Red Guardian will be focused on the long game.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Eleanor says. “I can’t wait to see what you do out in Vegas.”

She’s in the middle of sharing more plans for the upcoming opening when Eleanor abruptly excuses herself, muttering something about keeping her fiancé in check. As they part ways, she continues to move through the room, Steve never more than a few steps behind her as she stops to mingle with the various guests in attendance, charming her way through the conversation until whoever has their checkbook out doesn’t even realize they’re adding another zero.

It’s as she’s just finished listening to yet another venture capitalist opine about their new super yacht that her eyes wander across the room, landing once again on the couples on the dance floor. She zeroes in on the pair whispering sweet nothings to one another as they sway. Taking in the woman’s heated gaze as the man pulls away from her, she can only wonder about their exchange. If he had suggested that they leave, promising to worship her the second they were out of sight. The thought makes her shudder.

“Natasha, are you okay?” She hadn’t realized just how closely Steve had been following her until his question prompts her to spin around and nearly collide with his chest. Concern paints his features, and she takes a step back. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m fine,” she says, shaking her head as if that will set her right. “Excuse me, I have to run to the ladies’ room.”

When she slips into the bathroom, she checks each stall, and content with the confirmation that she’s alone, she stops in front of the sink, staring at her reflection. “Fuck,” she mutters, flipping the tap on and running her wrists under the stream before letting out a frustrated sigh. One man shouldn’t be able to throw her off-kilter this way, especially not after a single night. She’s Natasha Romanoff. Against the odds, she has proven to a board full of vultures that she, and not her spiteful siblings, is the rightful successor to their father. That she can lead and take charge of the largest real estate portfolio known to man. When it comes to business, she is fearless. She knows what she wants and she isn’t afraid to do what she needs to do to get it. Certainly, she’s more unflappable than this.

Just not, apparently, when it comes to the man she wants – the very man she can’t have.

That fucking dress was going to be the death of him.

That’s the only thing Steve can think about as he follows Natasha out of the ballroom. Her coat is draped over her shoulders again, but it doesn’t matter. He had gotten a good enough look as he watched her chat her way through the room tonight, the damn thing clinging to her body in all the right places that if he hadn’t already studied the building’s blueprint last night, he’d be seriously concerned about his ability to execute his duties.

For the last two weeks, he’s succeeded at keeping a relative distance from her. That is, settling for being close enough to protect her, but not as close as he truly wanted to be. And he gave himself credit for that. When it took every ounce of restraint he had to keep himself from pulling her in every time she so much as glanced his way, that little smile playing on her lips, he counted remaining rooted in place as a win. When every time she sat in a meeting that went on a little too long, her mind drifting off slightly as she tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the glass of the conference table – reminding him of the way those same nails had dug into his scalp as he buried his face between her thighs, making her cry out – he took his ability to bat away the memory as a sign that maybe, just maybe, they could pull off going back to business as usual.

All those minuscule wins of his, erased by one intricately stitched piece of fabric.

As they approach the elevator bank, he’s reminded of the remark he’d made in the ballroom earlier, of how beautiful her dress was – of how beautiful she was. He had meant every word, and while he didn’t regret letting her know just how stunning she looks tonight, he still chastises himself internally for placing himself right on that slippery slope.

“What time does your shift end?” Natasha asks, stopping short of pressing on the elevator’s call button.

He glances briefly at his watch. “Your night guard should already be in the lobby.”

“Guess that means you’re off the clock, then?”

“Technically.”

Natasha chews on her bottom lip. “Have a drink with me?” she asks, and taking in the skeptical look he knows crosses his features, she adds, “We can talk about Vegas.”

Every bone in his body tells him to say no. He’s already faltered once tonight. Surely, adding alcohol to the mix isn’t going to make it any easier for him to prevent himself from doing so again. Instead, he should head home, dive right back into the stack of paperwork he has on his coffee table. Or better yet, head to the gym. Go a few rounds in the ring until he’s expelled every image of her in this dress from his mind and every drop of desire he has for her from his body.

But that would be futile. He knows this for a fact because ever since that night, that’s all he’s been trying to do. But Natasha Romanoff is under his skin, and he hasn’t a clue how to get her out.

He must have stood there silently for too long because before him, Natasha suddenly shakes her head. “You know what? Forget I said anything,” she says. “You must have plans-”

“I don’t,” he interrupts, surprising them both. “I’d love to get a drink with you.”

The smile that breaks out on her face is infectious as she turns to call up the elevator. A few seconds later, the doors ping open, and he follows her inside. “Rendezvous at the top floor, Northeast corner,” he says into his earpiece as the car begins to ascend.

He hears the response within a split second. “Copy that. Heading your way.”

Natasha arches a brow. “James?”

“Clint.”

“I didn’t realize Clint put in nights as well.”

“We do our best not to put him in rotation,” he says, “but with his wife and kids out of town, he said the quiet in his house was driving him crazy.”

They both chuckle at that, and in that moment, it occurs to him that maybe this is what he needs to focus on to ensure he is on his best behavior, to remind himself that there are people like Clint who have a family to support. That there are people whose livelihoods depended on him and on his ability to run this operation just like every other contract they have.

There’s a hum in the air when they arrive at the rooftop, and as the maitre d’ escorts them further into the back, his eyes scan the room. All around, patrons huddle in their own little alcoves, conversing and sipping on top shelf liquor under the dim lighting. They settle at a private table in the back, and as Natasha slides into the booth, he spots Clint stationed by one of the pillars. With a nod at his colleague, he follows behind her.

“Thank you for agreeing to cover Vegas, by the way,” Natasha says once their server sets their drinks down.

“Pretty sure I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he says, reaching for his Scotch. “You’re the one bringing the added business to us.”

“I know you don’t like to be away from your dad for long, is all,” she says, her finger circling the rim of her Vodka soda. “And like you said, Clint has a wife and kids. Sam has a sister and nephews. James…”

“Has a dog,” he fills in for her, nodding when her brows shoot up in surprise. “Roscoe.”

She giggles, the sound making his own lips curl in a smile. “For some reason, in my mind, I always thought he’d be a cat person.”

“Don’t be fooled,” he says. “He may act all aloof, but deep down, he enjoys that Roscoe needs him.”

“Noted,” she says, still grinning. “Regardless, thank you. I know you all give up a lot to protect me.”

There are many reasons why he craves this woman the way his lungs crave air, but it’s this, the kindness and compassion she has for everyone around her, that sits atop of the list. “You’re worth it,” he says softly, watching as she looks down in an attempt to hide the flush that colors her cheeks. “Besides, I’m sure the old man wouldn’t mind having a few days off from me nagging him to hit the gym.”

“You are a hardass at the gym,” she says, chuckling at the withering glare he shoots her way. “Have you ever been to Vegas?”

“Once,” he replies. “The scene over there isn’t really my thing.”

Her eyes light up with intrigue, and she shifts closer to him. “What is your thing, Steve?”

He stills when he feels the slight brush of her thigh against his, but the answer to her question comes to him almost instantly. You. But that’s not an answer you give your client. It’s not even one you give to a friend. So instead, he brings his drink to his lips, taking a sip as he contemplates his response.

“Consistency,” he finally says, “whether that’s with how I execute a job or how I go about my workout plan. Now, some people” – he smirks when she tips her chin up in challenge, her eyes narrowing at him – “find that stringent, but I think it helps me appreciate the outcomes more.”

Natasha’s gaze travels from his face, to his shoulders, and then down to his arms. “Trust me, you’re not the only one that appreciates those.”

“Natasha.” It’s the second time he’s said her name in warning in a matter of hours, but it’s a frivolous one at best, and they both know it.

Guilt races through her features. “I’m sorry,” she says, bringing her head to her hands. “I don’t mean to make your job any harder than it already is.” She sighs. “It’s just the last couple of weeks… They’ve been a struggle for me.”

“Hey,” he says, moving even closer to her, his hand falling to where the hem on her dress falls above her knee. He’s playing with fire now, but he’ll be damned if he lets her think that she’s alone in this affliction. “It’s been hell for me, too.”

“Doesn’t seem that way,” she whispers, and it kills him, how genuine the look in her eyes is as she stares up at him. As if keeping away from her could be anything but agony.

“Looks can be deceiving,” he says, running his thumb across her skin as he leans in. “How can I not be in hell when the mere thought of you…” He shakes his head. “Has me hard every goddamn time, Nat.”

Her glossy lips part at his words, her chest rising as she takes in a breath, and the only thing he can think about is how much he wants to lean down even further to trail kisses down the column of her throat, to nip at her pulse in the way that drives her crazy. His other hand tightens around his glass, so much so that he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his grasp.

Her eyes are brimming with desperation when he leans away, and he doesn’t need a mirror to tell him that his own are, too. “But nothing’s changed, has it?”

It would be so easy to tell her she’s wrong. To pull her in, and once and for all, end this mutual misery they’ve apparently been cohabitating in for the last two weeks. It’s all he wants, and yet, the truth remains. He sighs. “I’m never going to stop needing you to be safe.”

The way his words cause sadness to cloud her eyes is nothing short of devastating. Nevertheless, he finds that he means every word just as much, if not more, than when he first said it at her place that night. Only this time, doing what he has to do – the right thing – has become that much more difficult because he can feel his will dwindling, slowly but surely unraveling at the seams. It’s one thing to want to map every inch of her body, to lose himself in her in some vain attempt to satiate his need to know every bit of her sumptuous frame. That’s the easy part. What isn’t easy is the fact that he’s now certain he wants her mind and soul just as much, too.

The waitress brings them a fresh round of drinks, and that seems to be enough for them to leave the subject at that. They spend the next hour talking about anything else – Vegas, the latest documentary he’s been into, her sadness over her favorite bodega closing down. Somewhere along the way, they move onto scrutinizing their fellow patrons, creating stories about them and playfully placing bets on how their nights will end.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t actually bet any money,” he says later on when their drinks are just about done, nodding in the direction of a woman bidding a man goodbye two tables down. “They’re not going home together.”

“Yeah,” she says, looking their way. “Looks like you win.”

“I guess I do,” he says quietly, even when he knows that couldn’t be further from the truth. When he wants her as much he does, not being able to have her feels like the biggest loss there is.

If affirming his need to keep her safe that night at her fundraiser was supposed to do anything, making wanting her any less was apparently not on that list. In the week that follows, Natasha’s schedule grows brutal in a way it’s never been since he’s come to work for her. With the opening of the nightclub and their impending trip to Vegas nearing, she’s all business as she and her friend and business partner, Loki, comb through every detail as thoroughly as they can. Despite that, as he shadows her from one commitment to the next, he finds himself longing for her more than ever.

It frustrates him if only for the fact that it doesn’t make any sense. If she’s not in a meeting, she’s shuffling across town trying to get to the next one, all while taking calls and shooting out emails in between. She barely has time to scarf down the lunch Daisy adamantly insists she eats everyday, much less talk to him. He hasn’t a clue what it is about seeing her this way that makes his mind continue to wonder about things it shouldn’t, but it does just the same.

Every single time she’s gotten her way in a meeting, the second it’s over, he’s wanted nothing more than to push her up against the wall of her office. When she presented the final plans for the Red Room – the name for the nightclub that she and Loki had settled on – he felt his heart just about ready to burst with pride seeing her win over even the most skeptical of board members. Then, at the end of each day, as she sits in the back of the SUV, nearly drifting off in exhaustion as they head back home, it’s only by a feat of strength that he’s kept himself from reaching out to her, from pressing his hands into her tense shoulders and dusting a kiss to her neck.

Hindsight being what it is, he realizes how superbly idiotic it was of him to think that giving into her once was going to miraculously get her out of his system. While she had become the star of his fantasies only shortly after he met her, now that he knows what she tastes like and what it feels like to have her in his arms, those images have only grown more crazed in his mind, more specific. And no matter what he does, what he forces himself to remember is at stake, he cannot, for the life of him, get her out of his head. His entire existence has ostensibly become a practice in resisting her, and for the sake of his sanity, he opts to take it one day at a time instead of wondering about just how long he can continue to withstand it all.

Days before they’re set to leave for Vegas, he follows Natasha into the elevator of her building. It’s two hours later than when they had intended to get back, but given how the last week has gone, he’s hardly going to complain.

“Daisy, I don’t care if he offers to unearth the Strip and carry it to the lobby,” Natasha says into her phone just as he leans back against the rail and the doors slide closed. “We’re keeping the guest list tight, so please tell Mr. Hammer that if he insists on taking every person in his entourage, Tao at the Venetian is very much still open.” With a thank you to her assistant, she hangs up, and in seconds, she toes off her heels, moaning in relief as her feet sink into the plush carpet. “Oh, thank God.”

“Natasha Romanoff without heels on,” he says, a smirk crossing his lips. “Someone alert the press.”

Despite her exhaustion, she manages to chuckle. “Be glad I’m too tired to hit you right now,” she says. “Besides, nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Well,” he says, bending down to pick up her shoes. “If I remember correctly-”

The words die at the tip of his tongue the second he scoops her heels up by their straps, his throat growing dry as he takes in the shining black leather and the thin yet sky-high stilettos – the very same pair she had worn when he had let his desire for her topple his self-control. When he looks up at Natasha, the heat in her eyes is enough to tell him that she, too, is thinking back to that same night, all those weeks ago.

“Didn’t have to take them off then,” she whispers.

As she says that, he’s reminded of the way these heels had dug into the surface of her desk, screeching against the wood as he hiked her legs up and his fingers delved into the hot clutch of her body, making her keen. He swallows at the memory. “No,” he says, his voice sounding strained as he slowly, and almost hesitantly, hands her shoes back to her. “No, you didn’t.”

The elevator dings, signaling their arrival on her floor, and he nearly huffs out a breath of relief as they both exit. As he’s done every night, he walks her to the door of her suite, only this time, as they both linger outside, it’s as though the frame looms large.

Natasha leans against the door, her hand falling to the knob. “Steve…”

The way she says his name, like an invitation back into their lustful bubble, causes his hands to ball at his sides. “Natasha.”

His body aches with want as he stands before her, his hands desperate to curl around her hips and pull her flush to him. He wants nothing more than to kiss her breathless, carry her inside, and spread her out on her sheets, bound and begging – the way he knows she likes. The way he knows they both crave. And with one twist of the knob and a step inside, he could make all of that happen.

But then there would be the aftermath. Unlike that first night, he doesn’t think he has the wherewithal to walk away. Because he knows now that it’s not just sex with her. It never was. When all is said and done and they're both sated, he’ll still want the rest of her, too. And that’s something he knows he can’t have.

It’s with that thought that he lets out a wistful sigh. “You look great in those shoes,” he says, his eyes drifting to where they’re still dangling from her other hand before looking back at her. “And if it’s any consolation, you’ll be wearing them when I get home, too.”

The last thing he sees as he turns to leave is the way her lips part, her green eyes glimmering with unbridled desire. And as he makes his way back down the hall, he finds himself inwardly cursing. He’s not sure who it is that said time makes everything easier, but one thing he knows for certain is that whoever it is, is a bald-faced liar. All these weeks haven’t made resisting Natasha any easier, not one bit. It’s harder. So much harder.

The nerves hit her a few days before the opening. It’s subtle, so much so that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s spent all this time watching her, it probably would be imperceptible. But from his seat across the aisle from her on the Red Guardian jet, he sees it – the faraway look in her eyes as she stares out the window, her fingers mindlessly twirling the charm dangling from her bracelet.

“Thank you,” he says when the attendant comes up to him, setting down the drink he’d requested. As she leaves, he picks up the cup and rises from his seat to make his way across.

Natasha looks up as he approaches, arching a brow in question when he places the drink in front of her. She peers under the lid to check its contents. “It’s tea.”

He settles down on the seat across from her, doing his best to keep from smiling at the way her lower lip juts out in a pout. “It is.”

“If I wanted to drink wet potpourri, I would just take the pouches in the lavatory,” she says, pushing the cup away from her before crossing her arms over her chest. “I’d rather have-”

“Watermelon Sour Patch Kids,” he finishes for her, shaking his head when her face lights up. “I know, but sugar will only make the jitters worse.” A mix of surprise and what he thinks might be embarrassment colors her expression, prompting her to look away. “Hey,” he says softly, scooting forward in his seat. “Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing,” she says, watching the clouds float by the window. Eventually, she looks back at him, sighing when she finds him still waiting patiently. “I don’t know, I guess there’s just a lot riding on this opening, and now that it’s almost here…” She shrugs. “I just really need this to go well.”

"And it will.”

“You don’t know that. Not for certain.”

“Yeah, maybe I don’t have a crystal ball.” He sighs in concession. “But if the last few weeks are anything to go by, what I do know for certain is that you’ve dotted every I and crossed every T that you can,” he says. “Now it’s time to trust your process. Watch it all play out.”

“Logically, I know that…” she says, resting her hands on the table in front of her before smiling. “I suppose patience has just never been my strong suit.”

“Now, even I know better than to answer that when you have a cup of steaming hot liquid within reach.”

“That you gave me, no less.”

“Clearly, I could learn a thing or two from you about decision-making,” he says, causing them both to chuckle. “Seriously, though. Everything will work out, you’ll see.”

“Yeah,” she says, her tone growing wistful as she quietly adds, “I wish they were here, though.”

There are days where she’s so prolific at masking her grief that it’s difficult to remember that that tragic day wasn’t so long ago. But as he looks at her now, the pain in her eyes clear as day, he’s reminded of how fresh the wound still is, and, as his own experience with loss has shown him, how it will continue to be for quite some time.

“I know it could never be the same,” he says, reaching forward to catch the oval charm of her bracelet between his thumb and forefinger – the same one that her mother had handed down to her when she was younger, and the same one she now keeps a picture of her parents in. “But they’ll always be with you, Nat.”

She nods at that, smiling softly and taking the charm into her own hands as he leans back into his seat. “Hey, Steve?” he hears her call out a beat later. He looks at her, eyes questioning. “I’m glad you’re here,” she says. “I know you’re technically working, but-”

“Natasha,” he interrupts. “There’s no place I’d rather be than right here, watching your six.”

There’s a flutter in his chest as she looks down, her hair falling around her face concealing the smile that was already breaking out on her lips.

“Don’t you think this is a tad overkill?” Natasha says as they sit in the back of the SUV enroute to the hotel.

He looks to see her eyes panning from Sam, who’s behind the wheel, and then to Bucky in the passenger’s seat. His lip part to respond, but Bucky beats him to it. “It’s really more for Steve. Wouldn’t want him to get his ass kicked out there.”

“Hilarious,” he deadpans as everyone laughs, glaring at Bucky through the rearview mirror as the man smirks in response. He turns back to Natasha. “And since we’re going into new territory this week, the answer is no, it’s not overkill.”

“I guess you’re right,” she says as she looks forward, her brow suddenly arching in what he thinks might be amusement.

It’s as Bucky mutters a curse that he finally looks out the windshield to see the hotel come into view, a swarm of photographers forming a sea of flashing lights right in the roundabout leading to the front entrance of the hotel.

“Jesus,” Sam says, “I thought the opening wasn’t for another three days!”

“It isn’t,” Natasha says, completely unfazed by the scene as she lets out a little chuckle. “Fellas, may I introduce you to Loki Laufeyson’s penchant for everything grandiose and dramatic.”

He presses his lips into a line. “Sam, circle around back-”

“It’s fine,” Natasha says, placing a hand on his arm.

“Are you sure?” he asks, surprised. In the past, she hasn’t cared for the cameras, much less when she’s just trying to check into her own hotel. “We can get you through, but that’s a circus.”

“Normally, I’d say no,” she admits. “But this is all part of Loki’s media coverage plan for the opening. All press being good press and all that.” And then, cracking a smile, she adds, “Unless, of course, you think I’m too hideous to be photographed right now.”

He scoffs at the notion, turning to Sam. “Stay the course.” At his behest, Sam turns into the roundabout, the cacophony of clicks and rumbled voices growing louder as the car comes to a full stop by the entrance. “Vultures,” he says, more to himself than anyone else as he slips his aviators on. With his hand on the door handle, he looks back at Natasha. “Stay behind me, all right?”

“Lead the way,” she says, and despite the ruckus surrounding them, the smile she gives him is so confident and trusting that he can’t help but crack a smile too, momentarily forgetting his annoyance at the situation.

He exits the car first, nodding at the bellhop that motions towards the trunk and finding himself thankful when he sees that someone had at least thought to cordon off a path to the entrance. With the assurance that there’s a clear lane forward, he turns to reach his hand out to Natasha to help her down. The clicks and flashes intensify the second she steps out and into the view of the photographers, and it’s only when he sees Bucky slot in a few steps behind her that he begins to forge his way inside.

“See, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Natasha teases the second they clear the lobby.

“Still harder than slipping through the back door.”

She sneaks a glance at Bucky. “Is he always such a Debbie Downer?”

“Oh, he can do that all day,” Bucky says.

He narrows his eyes at them both. “If the two of you-”

“Look who finally decided to show up.”

He turns towards the sound of the interruption to see Loki making his way towards them, the man looking ever dapper in a perfectly tailored suit and slicked back hair. “Took you long enough,” Loki says, pulling Natasha into his arms.

“Well, I would have gotten here sooner, but someone unleashed a jungle on my front lawn,” Natasha says as they pull away, jokingly shooting Loki a withering look before pointing her thumbs at him and Bucky. “You may or may not owe these two an apology.”

“Gentlemen, my apologies for making your jobs harder this afternoon,” Loki says, sounding sincere in spite of his light tone. “All a necessary evil, I’m afraid.” He gives Loki a single nod in acknowledgement, and if the man is at all bothered by the curt response, he does not show it as he turns his attention back to Natasha and points towards the elevator bank. “Shall we? Sylvie received some last minute documents from the contractor. There are a few things I wanted to go over.”

Natasha nods, and as she and Loki huddle over a tablet, their discussion already beginning, he leads the way towards the elevators. He’s about to press on the call button when the doors slide open, revealing a single occupant standing at the center, and quickly, he catalogs the stranger’s appearance – taking in everything from his lanky physique to the ruby red lenses of his spectacles that gleam underneath the fluorescent lighting.

The man takes in the scene before him, a smile suddenly breaking out on his face. “Natasha?”

At the mention of her name, Natasha looks up from the screen. “Matt,” she says, her eyes lighting up in recognition. “What are you doing here?”

He watches as the man – Matt, he reminds himself – steps out of the elevator, and he has to move slightly to the side as Matt comes to stand in front of Natasha, leaning down to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

“I had a conference that got postponed at the last minute,” Matt says before looking at Loki. “I was about to dive into some new cases until I saw that Loki sent over an invitation for the Red Room’s opening this weekend.”

He watches as a tinge of surprise paints Natasha’s features, but in a flash, she blinks it away as she turns to smile a little too sweetly at Loki, who shrugs nonchalantly in response. “Far be it for me to gatekeep a good time.”

“Well, I’m glad you could make it,” Natasha says as she turns back to Matt. “It’s been a while.”

“So am I, and it really has. It’s so good to see you,” Matt says before eyeing the rest of them. “The added audience notwithstanding.”

His brows furrow at Matt’s comment, and it is only Natasha’s chuckle that prevents a dagger of a glare from completely forming in his eyes. “I like to keep good company,” she says. “Matt, this is Steve Rogers and James Barnes. Their team will be running security for the opening.”

“We also provide round-the-clock security for Ms. Romanoff,” he says, giving the hand Matt stretches out to him a firm shake.

“I see,” Matt says before placing a hand on Natasha’s arm, his voice growing quiet as he adds, “Is everything okay, now? I know for a while there…”

He’s not sure why Matt’s words only stoke his mounting annoyance – the man is showing concern for Natasha, after all. And yet, something about this person being privy to something so personal about her makes him feel as though there’s a steel ball lodged in his chest.

“So far, so good,” Natasha says, shifting to meet his gaze for the briefest of moments as she adds, “helps to know someone’s watching your six.”

His lips threaten to quirk upwards in a smile at her words, and he looks away in an attempt to hide it just as Matt hums in response. “I’m glad things are looking up then,” Matt says before glancing at his watch. “I was actually just headed out to meet a few friends, but is there any chance you two are free for dinner?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Natasha begins. “There’s just-”

“We’ll be there,” Loki pipes in, prompting Natasha’s head to whip to him suddenly.

“We can even have it here in the hotel restaurant,” Matt adds, as if sensing Natasha’s reluctance. “That way, you two can get back to work right after.”

Loki beams. “Then it’s settled, we’ll see you this evening.”

“Great,” Matt says before glancing at Natasha once more. “It was great seeing you, Tash.”

“You too, Matt.”

Quickly, he presses a knuckle down on the call button, prompting the elevator doors to slide open once again. He walks in, situating himself in the corner with his back to the wall. Tash?

Bucky mans the panel, and the second they all filter in and the doors close, Natasha turns to Loki, her green eyes glaring. “What the hell was that about?”

“What was what about?” Loki replies all too nonchalantly.

“You know what,” Natasha insists, crossing her arms over her chest. “We barely have enough time as it is, we certainly shouldn’t be wasting it on some dinner.”

“Oh, relax, will you,” Loki says. “I know we have an endless list of things to double and triple check before the opening, but surely even we have to eat.”

“That’s what room service is for.”

“We might be here for business, darling, but it wouldn’t kill you to live a little.”

The ensuing smirk that finds its way to Loki’s lips causes his shoulders to tense, and he watches as an exasperated look paints Natasha’s face. “Loki-”

“Matty Murdock has always had a thing for you, and you know it,” Loki says before she can finish her protestation, and from where he stands, he has to shift on his feet. “And from what I remember of you two in boarding school-”

“Matt is married, ” Natasha says, and he nearly breathes out a sigh of relief at her words.

“Not as of six months ago,” Loki volley back, and he catches the way Natasha takes a step back in surprise at the news. “Look, I’m not telling you to start anything back up with the man, but we are in the City of Sin.” There’s a glint in Loki’s eyes as he suggestively adds, “Have some fun with the handsome devil.”

If Natasha responds, he does not hear it through the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. He looks up at the glowing numbers above the doors, watching them increase with every floor they pass as he bites on the inside of his cheek. While tight spaces hadn’t been a worry for him before, it’s as though the walls are closing in on him now, his chest feeling as though there’s a weight bearing down on it.

The telltale ping of the elevator snaps him back, and the decision comes to him in a flash, his eyes immediately finding Bucky’s as everyone begins to exit. “You got it from here?”

Bucky blinks at him for a second. “Sure…”

“You’re leaving?”

He looks to find Natasha staring at him, a touch of worry in her expression. “Clint wants to go through the security plans a final time.”

“Oh, okay,” she says just as he hits the button for the lobby. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Might be awhile,” he says, “but Sam will be in for the night shift.”

He doesn’t wait for her response, nor does he see it as the doors close and he turns to lean his forehead against the wall, letting out a long and winded sigh.

“That Ossobuco was the best I’ve ever had,” Loki says as he sets his utensils down on his empty plate. “No wonder the Venetian hates you so much.”

Natasha smirks over her wine glass. It took a lot of convincing and a more than generous compensation package, but her first win in her quest to revamp this hotel was poaching the chef of the Venetian’s Michelin star restaurant away, and if Loki’s comment and the seemingly endless waitlist to get a reservation is any indication, the move’s already paying off in spades. “If they valued their assets enough, they would have paid them what they’re worth.”

“Ever the shark,” Matt says teasingly, smiling at her from across the table.

Next to her, Sharon scoffs. “Are you surprised?”

While she’s known Loki and Matt since her very first day at boarding school, Sharon had become part of their fold when she enrolled a few semesters later. Nevertheless, her spunky, devil-may-care attitude made them fast friends, and while they’ve endeavored to keep in touch, dinners between the four of them have been few and far in between with Sharon running her consulting firm out East. It’s only by a stroke of luck that Sharon’s visit to the country had coincided with the Red Room’s opening.

“I never said it was a bad thing,” Matt says, tipping his glass of bourbon towards her. “Eat or be eaten, right?”

“You know it,” she says, leaning back against her chair as they all share a laugh.

Despite her initial misgivings about this dinner, she’s glad that Loki had all but dragged her to attend. With the Red Room’s impending opening, her nerves have been frayed, and she’s glad for the temporary reprieve the last few hours have brought her as the four of them reminisced about what a handful their quartet had been back in their adolescence. All things considered, it’s nearly a perfect night.

Nearly.

Her eyes wander towards where Steve stands a few feet away, his hands behind his back as he keeps an eye on their surroundings. She didn’t quite know what to make of his abrupt departure this afternoon, or even if there’s anything to make of it. While she had grown accustomed to him accompanying her throughout the day, it’s not as though it’s been written in ink. He, too, had a company to run, and if Clint had something to discuss with him, then that’s something he should be able to attend to without her being overcome with some semblance of dread over his absence.

That’s the reality, and yet there’s a part of her that she can’t quite ignore – the part of her that senses that something’s not quite right. She was glad to see him eventually return, knocking at her door at six on the dot to escort her down to the restaurant. Even so, a silence lingered between them. It’s unusual given that if there’s anything that came easily to them since day one, it’s always been the conversation. And she knows it’s not due to Loki’s added presence, either. Steve’s never been reticent around her friend before, and she doesn’t believe there’s any reason for that to change now.

If nothing else, his sudden lack of words is jarring when just this morning, she thought they had shared a moment on the jet when he had helped alleviate her concerns about the Red Room’s opening and the absence of her parents. What’s shifted since then, she can only guess.

“What’s the deal with you and your bodyguard?”

Sharon’s question interrupts her thoughts, and when she blinks to focus, she sees that her friend has a brow arched at her in question. She steals a glance in front of her to see Matt and Loki engaged in conversation before turning back to Sharon. “Excuse me?”

“The gorgeous dreamboat that follows you around all day,” Sharon clarifies before nodding in Steve’s direction. “You’ve been looking his way ever since we got here.”

“I’ve been looking in that direction because we got intel that the woman seated in the table in front of him is a columnist from La Liste,” she says, reaching for her wine. “Her review could literally make or break this restaurant, so I’ve been trying to gauge her reaction.”

“Are you ever not working?” Sharon quips, to which she only shrugs unapologetically. “So, there’s nothing going on between you and…”

“Steve,” she finishes for her. “And, come on, Sharon, we work together. He’s the head of my security team.”

“And that’s a problem because…”

This time, she’s the one that quirks up a brow. “Do you fraternize with any of your consultants?”

“None of my consultants look like that,” Sharon counters, prompting her to roll her eyes in response. “Do you know anything about him then? Specifically, if he’s seeing anyone?”

“I don’t know,” she says, and she finds herself bothered by the fact that it’s the truth. Sure, they shared a night together a little over a month ago, and while they’ve been sneaking lingering gazes and errant touches in the weeks since, she realizes that she doesn’t actually know what goes on after he leaves. What she does know for certain though, is that the idea of him with someone else feels like a punch to the gut.

“It’s really just work between you two then,” Sharon muses before chuckling. “I have to hand it to you, Romanoff. You’re a better woman than I could ever be. Because if I had someone like that following me around all day?” She shakes her head. “I would get to know him very, very well.”

“Different strokes for different folks and all that,” she mutters, reaching for her drink.

“You wouldn’t mind me getting to know him then, would you?”

Her glass freezes midair at Sharon’s question, and, more saliently, at the suggestive smirk on her friend’s lips. Every cell in her body wants her to tell Sharon the truth – that yes, she does mind. She minds very much. Only, she knows she has absolutely no right to. Steve isn’t something to lay claim over, and even if that were the case, he still wouldn’t be hers. He couldn’t be. And that’s why, despite the unease that settles over her, she plasters on the best smile that she can muster. “Since when do you ask for permission anyway?”

“That’s true,” Sharon says, chuckling as she brings her glass to her lips, downing the rest of its contents in one go.

It’s as they’re saying their goodbyes at the end of their meal that she watches as Sharon makes a beeline for Steve, extending her hand out to him.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met,” Sharon says. “I’m Sharon Carter, Natasha’s friend.”

“Steve Rogers,” he says, smiling politely as he shakes her hand. “I’m-”

“The head of Natasha’s security team,” Sharon says, smiling. “She mentioned.”

If Steve is at all impressed by Sharon’s response, she doesn’t see it as Matt comes up to her, a little grin playing on his lips. “So, I was wondering…”

“I’m pretty sure those exact words got us into a lot of trouble way back when,” she quips, eliciting a laugh from Matt.

“Luckily, things have changed a bit since then.”

“Have they really?”

“Hey, I did say a bit,” Matt says before shaking his head. “Anyway, back to that thing I was wondering about… Any chance you’re still very much into ballet?”

She smiles. “Always.”

“Perfect,” Matt says, his face lighting up, “because there’s a show tomorrow at the Smith Center. Come with me?”

“Oh, Matt,” she says. “I would love to, but-”

“But nothing,” Loki interjects, draping an arm over her shoulders. “She’ll be there.”

She looks incredulously up at Loki. “The opening is literally the night after tomorrow.”

“So Sylvie and I will handle the final run-throughs,” Loki reasons. “If anything comes up, we’ll give you a ring. Hand to God.”

“I don’t know…”

“What if we play it by ear?” Matt suggests. “I know you’re busy, but if by the end of the day tomorrow, you happen to find yourself with some time to spare, the offer will still stand then.” He shrugs. “Give me a call, maybe?”

Even with Loki’s offer to cover the rest of the final arrangements, she doesn’t need to check her calendar to know that her schedule is brimming tomorrow. Nevertheless, the unadulterated sincerity in Matt’s tone makes it difficult for her to outright refuse. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll let you know.”

Matt beams. “Perfect.”

The silence is suffocating as she and Steve stand in the elevator as it ascends onto her floor, and as it bleeds into their walk to her suite, she finally turns to him. “Is everything okay?”

Steve shrugs. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Ever since you left in a hurry this afternoon, you’ve been off,” she notes, catching the way he steals a glance at something over her head. She looks back to see that Sam is already on the other end of the hall, the man dutifully staring forward, presumably to give them some semblance of privacy. With a sigh, she lowers her voice. “You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is.”

A litany of emotions paint his face, and for a moment, she’s hopeful that he’ll finally let her in on whatever it is that’s been bothering him. Instead, she’s disappointed to see him shake his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not,” she says, feeling a little like she’s just been slapped in the face. She turns to continue walking, but sensing his presence still behind her, she looks back at him. “Sam’s down the hall. You can go now.”

She doesn’t bother to check his reaction – if he even has any – as she begins to make her way to her suite. Once inside, she leans back against the door, tipping her head back and closing her eyes.

“Comms check. Confirm eyes on Red. Over.”

“Affirmative,” Steve says. “I have eyes on Red.”

As Clint acknowledges his response, he looks back towards the sea of flashing lights just a few feet away, watching as Natasha smiles for the cameras with one hand poised at her waist. Behind her, the logo of the Red Room glows crimson, providing a stark contrast to the jet-black two-piece number she had selected for the evening.

To say that his breath had gotten caught in his throat when he knocked on her door this evening to escort her to the rooftop would be an understatement. The second she pulled open the door of her suite and he laid eyes on her, for a beat there, it’s as though he had forgotten how to breathe altogether. From the deep V of her sleeveless blazer that showed off her perfect, alabaster skin to the satin dress pants that accentuated her shapely legs, there was no question that her suit was tailor made for her. She had kept her makeup light for the evening too, settling for darkened lashes that somehow made her green eyes look brighter and a light pink gloss on her already luscious lips. He isn’t certain how she managed to look both ethereal and still every bit the powerful CEO that she is, but just the sight of her was almost enough to make him forget the tension that’s built between them since arriving in Vegas.

Only, he can’t, and as he spots Matt making his way up the red carpet towards Natasha, pulling her in for a hug once he reaches her, he remembers why. As Matt and Natasha pose for pictures together, he shifts his weight on his feet, doing his best to prevent a scowl from forming on his face. Truth be told, if there’s tension between him and Natasha now, he knows he had precipitated it. To see her interact with Matt in the lobby when they arrived – that is, to witness the familiarity Matt had with Natasha and her life – was one thing. But once he caught wind of their history as Loki had all but encouraged Natasha to seek Matt out while they were in town, the very idea of Natasha with someone else had caused a hot streak of jealousy to singe its way down his entire being. Misplaced as the emotion was, he knew he needed to get out of there, which is why he had made up some lame excuse about having to meet with Clint.

A walk had done wonders to calm him down. With his emotions in order, he had found the courage to make it back to her floor in time to escort her down for dinner, fully intending to apologize to her for his behavior once he got the chance. But as luck would have it, as they were leaving the restaurant, he heard Matt ask her to the ballet. If she had accepted the invitation happily, he doesn’t know. Before he could hear her reaction, Sharon, her friend, had come up to him to introduce herself.

Not that it mattered. By the time he and Natasha had made it to the elevator, that unsettling feeling had returned to his gut, and though he felt terrible about the hurt look that crossed Natasha’s face at his curt response to her question about what was bothering him, all he could focus on was the idea of her potentially spending more time with Matt. But his premonition hadn’t been wrong, it seemed. By morning, when Daisy had emailed Natasha's agenda for the day, he saw that she had the entire evening blocked out for the ballet.

If there was any saving grace, it was that he wasn’t her night guard. And while he thought that avoiding the sight of Natasha and Matt together would provide him some sort of reprieve, his mind had other ideas. He had thought to sublimate at the gym, but it was to no avail. It didn’t matter how many times he pounded his fists into the sand-filled bag before him, no amount of force could exorcise the images of Matt peeling Natasha out of her dress from his mind.

As he focuses his attention back towards the carpet, he watches as Natasha begins to walk towards the entrance of the Red Room, and he grits his teeth when he sees the hand Matt places on the small of her back. With a sigh, he turns to follow them. He’d lost count of the number of night watches he’d done during his tenure in the Army, but somehow, something tells him that this night would shape out to be the longest of his life.

“What’s Red’s shithead of a brother doing here?”

From his position by the bar, he looks towards where Clint is stationed up on the balcony, his arms resting against the metal rails as he keeps an eye on the teeming crowd from up above.

“Which one?” Bucky asks from somewhere by the dance floor.

Sam scoffs. “Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” Clint concedes, “but I hope his business acumen is better than his dancing. If not, Red’s really holding this entire family up.”

“He’s here because he can’t resist a photo op and because the board doesn’t want the press to know that there’s a rift amongst the siblings,” Steve says, his tone clipped. “And keep the line clear.”

As a cacophony of apologies fill his ear, he mutes his microphone before huffing out a breath. There’s a part of him that knows that he’s being unfair to the team. His foul mood has nothing to do with their banter – usually, their snarky back-and-forth made working shifts like this fly by – and all to do with the fact that he chose to be in the field today of all days.

The thought is one he finds himself lamenting as he turns his gaze to his left, to where Natasha is sitting on one of the oversized couches, nursing a Martini as she chats with Loki and a group of their friends. Matt sits next to her, one arm draped around the back of the couch, and he doesn’t miss the way the man’s fingers caress Natasha’s bare shoulder every now and then. Much as he’d like to look away, he can’t. Regardless of how much the sight causes his blood to boil, it's his job to watch her. Even so, every single time he catches the gesture, he can’t help but curse his inability to stay put. He could have been the type of business owner that kept to balancing the books and negotiating their contracts, but because he’s physically incapable of remaining within the four walls of his office, he’s left with no choice but to watch another man do the one thing he wishes he could: touch the woman he’s absolutely crazy about.

It's then that reality crashes over him like a ton of bricks. Everything from his fetid mood to the tension that’s found a home seemingly in every muscle in his body since they walked into the hotel lobby a few days ago has nothing to do with Matt Murdoch specifically. And, despite what he’s been trying to convince himself of these past few days, it doesn’t even have anything to do with the history Matt shared with Natasha. The latter was none of his business, and when it came to the former, he barely knows the man outside of what he’s heard about his life in passing during what felt like the longest elevator ride of his life. Surely, what little he does know about him isn’t enough to warrant the hate he feels coursing through him every time he sees him.

But as he watches Matt lean in to whisper something in Natasha’s ear, causing her to laugh, he realizes that what he’s truly envious of are the possibilities Matt has. If Matt wanted to and Natasha was so inclined, he could wine and dine her. Matt could take Natasha’s hand and intertwine their fingers as he guided her through a crowd. The two of them could be out in the open together and no one would bat an eye. With them, being together would have zero consequences – the complete opposite of what it would be like for him and Natasha.

He swallows the sudden tightness that’s formed in his throat, and he peels his eyes away from Natasha for a second as he taps on his earpiece again. “Stepping off,” he says, already turning. “Sam, take my 20.”

“You got it, Cap.”

With Sam’s confirmation, he weaves his way through the crowd and towards the back of the club before slipping into the bathroom. At the sink, he splashes his face, repeating the action once, twice, and then another time in hopes that the frigid water will temper the bitter cocktail of longing and jealousy still burning its way through his entire being. When it doesn’t, he curls his hands around the sink, groaning in frustration and wanting nothing more than to rip it right off the wall.

Natasha isn’t his to covet. He has absolutely no right to feel this way – especially when it was he who had told her that being together would only compromise her safety. And yet, the very idea of her with someone else feels like a blade slicing right through his chest. The risks are crystal clear in his mind, and while he knows he won’t be able to live with himself should they ever play out, it’s as though his heart outright refuses to accept the reality.

He looks up at the mirror before him, studying his reflection, and while his face is hardened by the impasse he finds himself trapped in, somewhere in there he recognizes parts of the man he still is. The man who, regardless of the circumstances, always does the right thing. Who puts the people he cares about first. And while he may be at a crossroads now, what’s clear to him is that he needs to find a way to go back to completely being that man. For that man would never jeopardize the livelihoods of his peers. And, above all, that man would never let anything get in the way of protecting the woman who’s covertly clawed her way into his heart – his feelings be damned.

It's with that newfound determination that he lets go of the sink, shuts the water off, and dries his face. As he exits, he reaches for his earpiece. “On my-”

“Fancy running into you here.”

He looks up to find Sharon standing there, looking elegant in a little black dress and her pin-straight mane falling down her shoulders like a golden curtain. He musters a smile. “Sharon, hi. Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Sharon says, her lips coyly curling upwards. “I was actually hoping you’d be here tonight.”

“Is that right?”

Sharon nods, tilting her head to the side. “Any chance I could interest you in joining me for a drink?”

“Sharon,” he says, chuckling quietly as his gaze falls momentarily to his feet. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m on the clock-”

“Oh, come on,” Sharon says, taking a step forward so that mere inches separate them. “We’re at the hottest new nightclub in Vegas. Surely, even the big strong bodyguard can have a little fun.” Her hand falls to his arm, curling around his bicep as she stands on the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear, “Besides, your boss is pretty preoccupied right now, so I doubt she’ll mind.”

“Sharon-”

“Oh, excuse me.”

The voice is one he could recognize anywhere, and as he and Sharon turn towards the sound, his eyes widen when he finds Natasha standing there, appraising them both.

“Pardon the interruption,” she says, shooting them both the most saccharine of smiles. “I’ll find another bathroom.”

The techno beat pulses throughout the room, but Natasha doesn’t hear it through the sound of her own heart beating in her ears. She doesn’t really have a destination in mind as she pushes through the crowd of sweaty bodies, but what she does know is that she has to keep walking, to put as much distance between herself and the scene she just walked in on.

In all honesty, she doesn’t even know why she got up from her seat to begin with. First it was because the drinks that were being passed around the room were all too sweet and brightly colored for her liking. But as she rose from the couch to make her way to the bar, the sight of Sam standing in the spot a few feet away from her that Steve had previously occupied, stopped her in her tracks.

The irony wasn’t lost on her that in a room packed with people, somehow, she was the one fretting for her bodyguard. Absurd as the notion was, though, she decided to go searching on her own anyway – going as far as to let Sam know that he need not follow her when she saw him begin to move when she did. Unease flickered across Sam’s face at her request, but with one sweet smile and a promise to be back soon, he had let her go, no doubt radioing the rest of their team. Her eyes scanned the expanse of the room, searching the sea of bodies all but plastered together as they moved to the beat. Even the massive counter at the bar was filled with patrons, each of them watching as the bartenders put on a show as they poured their drinks. There was a part of her that knew that the sight should make her happy. Without a doubt, the Red Room’s opening was a success, and yet, all she could focus on was how none of these people around her were Steve.

At some point, she had wound up towards the back of the room, a wave of relief washing over her almost instantly when she passed the hall leading to the restrooms to see Steve’s familiar frame. Only the feeling was fleeting, dissipating almost instantly when she saw Sharon so close to him, whispering in his ear. She hadn’t meant to disrupt their moment, but the words had tumbled out of her mouth before she could bite them back, and it’s only by reflex that she managed to plaster on a smile for them both before excusing herself.

As she works to get away from them now, she supposes she shouldn’t be so surprised to have witnessed Steve and Sharon together. After all, Sharon had given her a heads up, and while she hadn’t even noticed her friend leave the little alcove they’d formed back at the couch, if there’s anything she knows about Sharon Carter, it’s that her determination is nothing but staunch. What she hadn’t anticipated, however, was just how much the sight of someone else’s hands on Steve was going to sting – hurting her more than she could have ever imagined.

She’s aware that it’s that very hurt that’s driving her to stop in front of a server now, but she doesn’t care. When her heart feels as though it’s just been ripped out of her chest, if she’s to survive the rest of the night, she needs to numb the feeling away. With that, she grabs a shot glass off the tray, bringing it to her lips and knocking back the contents in a single gulp. It’s only after the alcohol burns a stripe down her throat, momentarily blocking out the images playing in her head that she finds it in her to cross the room, making it back to where Loki and everyone else are still chatting animatedly.

She stalks up to where Matt is still seated, bending down to huskily whisper in his ear, “Dance with me.”

Matt turns her way, a smile breaking out on his lips as he rises from his seat and takes her hand. From the corner of her eye, she catches the brow Loki arches her way, but she ignores her friend as she allows Matt to guide her towards the dance floor. They settle at the center, and as Matt’s hands find their way to her waist, pulling her back flush to his chest, she begins to sway her hips to the beat.

If the music has lyrics, she doesn’t catch them. But it doesn’t matter. This is the type of music that’s meant to be felt, and it’s with that that she surrenders to the rhythm, raising her arm up to wrap it around Matt’s neck, holding him to her. Underneath the neon red lights that illuminate the dance floor, she allows herself to do everything one’s supposed to do at a nightclub. Bump. Gyrate. Hint at what lies ahead once the night ends. She and Matt grind together, and she can’t help but close her eyes when she feels his hold on her only tighten.

“Imagine what Principal Coulson would say if he saw us now,” Matt whispers in her ear, and she feels him smile against her skin as he nuzzles her neck.

“Probably the same thing he said when he caught us by the fountain,” she muses, her lips curling up into a smirk as she leans further into him and turns to catch his gaze as she adds, “That we’re bound to get arrested for indecency one day.”

Matt chuckles. “Far be it for us not to live up to his expectations.”

Before she can respond, Matt turns her, parking his hands firmly at her waist as he smiles down at her. And then he’s leaning down, but just as his face is mere inches away from hers, her hands suddenly come up, landing on his chest and pushing him away. “I’m sorry, Matt,” she says, her eyes wide. “I can’t do this.”

Confusion colors Matt’s expression as she turns away, and vaguely, she hears him call out to her over the music, but she doesn’t dare look back. Instead, she hastens her steps, the air suddenly too thick around her. It’s as though the presence of the crowd is all too much, and she knows she has to get out. Her eyes search for the glowing sign of the nearest exit, and she’s glad when she finds one close by. She turns the corner, stepping into the hall, only to gasp when she feels a hand on her waist, gripping her firmly and pulling her into a darkened room.

“Did he kiss you?” The question slips out angrier than Steve had intended it to, but with how incandescent he feels, he can’t quite seem to bring himself to care as he backs Natasha up against the door of the storage room, caging her in as he rests his hands on either side of her.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Natasha spits out, her nostrils flaring even as she makes no move to get away. The room is dark, lit only by the light peering in from the hall through the space between the blinds and casting a red tint on the small space. Nevertheless, he sees the ire in her stare as she glares at him. “You’re lucky I didn’t take a swing at you!”

He ignores her remark, gritting his teeth. “Did. He. Kiss. You.”

“What’s it to you?” she says, tipping her chin up in challenge.

Guilt washes over him almost instantly, the fight he had in him suddenly extinguished by her question. Despite the blinding envy rushing through him right now, he knows he has no right to demand answers from her, much less about this. He sighs, his expression softening. “Natasha-”

“Why are you acting like this?” she cuts in.

“How am I acting?”

“Like a jealous ass!” she says, unable to keep her frustration at bay any longer. He looks away, ashamed of how easily she had seen through him. “You’re the one that said we couldn’t be together, remember? That there are too many risks.” When he finally finds the wherewithal to meet her gaze again, he finds himself taken aback to see her expression brimming with mutual guilt. “And I’ve been trying to respect that. But ever since that night, all we’ve been doing is stealing moments where we can, and I go along with it, because you know what? I’d rather have a piece of you than none at all.” Her bottom lip begins to quiver, but she sinks her teeth right into it. “But then out of nowhere, you just push me away-”

“I pushed you away because I couldn’t stand to see you with him!” he finally admits, watching as her eyes widen in surprise. “I watch him with you, watch the way he touches you” – he grits out the last word, his eyes falling shut as the images of her dancing with Matt only moments ago replay in his head like a special kind of torment made just for him – “I see it and it makes me feral because I don’t want anyone else’s hands on you but mine!”

“So what, if you can’t have me, no one can?” she challenges hotly, her brow rising. “You don’t own me, and you definitely don’t get to act like you do just because you want to fuck me!”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Isn’t it, though?” she says. “You can’t tell me that the idea of me with someone else all but sickens you when not half an hour ago, you and Sharon-”

“Sharon? Natasha, nothing happened with her.”

“I saw it,” she says, a scowl forming on her forehead. “I saw her all over you.”

“And if you hadn’t run off, you would have seen me tell her that I wasn’t interested!” he exclaims before scoffing. “God, Natasha, how could I possibly be even remotely interested in someone else when you’ve been on my mind every second of every goddamn day since I met you?” Her lips part at the revelation, and as he looks her right in the eyes, his voice softens. “You’re so far under my skin that I find myself rationalizing all the ways to bend my rules for you, and that scares the shit out of me! Because the rules? They keep me from slipping. And I can’t slip, not with you.” He sighs. “You asked me that night what it’d do to me if something happened to you,” he reminds her. “It’d kill me, Nat. That’s what it’d do. But maybe that doesn’t even matter because resisting you? That might just kill me first.”

“Then stop!” she says, her words almost a plea. She brings her hands up, cupping his face between her hands, and it takes all of him not to melt right into her touch. “Stop resisting me, Steve.” She runs her thumb over his jaw. “You said we couldn’t be together because you’re scared I’ll get hurt, but the only thing hurting me right now is not being with you.”

He shakes his head. “Nat-”

“I miss you,” she says, pulling him closer. “I ache for you. So much.”

“Baby…” His eyes fall shut as he leans his forehead against hers. It’s as though the wind’s been knocked right out of him, taking with it the last vestiges of his will. He knows he should walk away right now, but all he can seem to focus on is how much he’s been aching for her, too. “Fuck,” he mutters, and then he’s leaning down to slant his lips over hers, letting his desire for her consume him whole. He kisses her as though he’s claiming her – allowing himself to pretend, if only for this moment, that she’s his instead of someone he covets – and he can’t help but groan at the intoxicating taste that’s a mix of her cherry lip gloss, tequila, and just her.

When he pulls away, he can’t help but smile as her lips chase his. He leans further away, and she whimpers. “Ssh,” he says, giving her a conciliatory peck before maneuvering them back a step so that her back is against the door once more.

“People will wonder where we are,” she breathes out halfheartedly, watching as he raises an arm to slide the lock shut behind her.

“They’ll wonder where you are,” he corrects. “But don’t worry, we’ll be out soon.” A smirk forms on his lips. “I just need to properly apologize first.”

Her eyes darken. “Do you now?”

His only response is to gently turn her, guiding her until she’s facing the door. “Palms on the door, baby,” he whispers, catching the way her skin prickles at his words as she complies. “Let me show you how sorry I am for acting like a jealous ass.”

She laughs at that, but the sound quickly dies when his hands find her waist, and he hears her breath grow shallow as they begin to move upwards. A shiver wracks her entire body when he presses a kiss just where her ear meets her neck, and the second he cups her breasts, palming her through the material of her top, she moans.

“Is this how you’re going to apologize?” she asks, her voice shaky as she leans her forehead against the frame and his lips brush against the nape of her neck.

He chuckles against her skin before trailing open-mouthed kisses down the column of her spine. “No, Nat,” he says, his hands finding the front of her pants and making quick work of undoing them. A whimper falls from her lips when he pulls the material down to her knees, taking her panties along with it. And as he curls his hands around her hips, she goes pliant under his touch, allowing him to tug her back until she’s almost bent at the waist. With her rear in the air, he kneels behind her, pressing a kiss to each of her cheeks.

“Steve,” she sighs out, craning her head as though she can’t resist looking back at him. “Please-”

Her words dissolve into a moan when he presses his thumbs against her, spreading her open, and he barely contains his growl when he sees how slick she already is between her legs. “This is how I’m going to apologize.”

“Oh, God,” she cries out the second he kisses her throbbing center, his touch like a jolt of electricity through her body as it trembles underneath his ministrations. None of his memories of that night or his fantasies over the past few weeks could compare to having her right now, to losing himself in the decadence of her arousal – she tastes of salt and honey and like the woman he’s been desperate to devour again, and he can’t help but groan as he licks a broad stripe up her sex. He lavishes attention on her clit, and he hears her breathing pick up as he swirls and sucks on the bundle of nerves, his name falling from her lips in quiet little pants as she attempts to keep her voice down. She tries to push her hips back, seeking more contact and whimpering in protest when he holds her firmly in place. Her thighs shake, and coupled with the way her walls are fluttering against his tongue, he can tell that she’s close. He quickens his pace, working over her with deep, firm licks until she shatters with a whine. Even so, he doesn’t relent, pulling her even closer to him until another orgasm bursts over her hot on the heels of the first.

It's when her breathing begins to stabilize that he pulls her panties back up, followed by her slacks. She turns as he rises to his feet, quickly wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Her lips pull up in a dazed smile when they pull away. “I suppose you’re forgiven.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he says, dusting another kiss to her forehead. She looks up at him, her eyes so vulnerable that it pulls at his heart. He cups her face in his hand, running a thumb over the apple of her cheek. “What is it, Nat?”

“Come back to my suite with me.”

This time, he doesn’t even think twice before nodding. He can’t, not anymore.

“Rogers to Comms, come in. I’m with Red. We’re inbound to base. Does anyone copy?”

The response is swift. “This is Wilson, I copy,” he hears Sam say just as Natasha swipes her keycard through the reader and he follows her through the doorway of her suite. “Making my way over.”

“Negative,” he says, closing the door behind him. “I’ll take the night shift.”

Natasha turns to him, the surprise on her face impossible to miss. He’s never done that before, but the implication of his words – of borrowed time for them – sparks something in her eyes that’s akin to hope. In his ear, Sam’s reply comes a beat later. “Copy that. Wilson out.”

He only manages to slip off his earpiece, tucking it into his pants pocket before Natasha closes the distance between them, her mouth hungrily finding his as she presses him against the nearest wall. He pulls her closer, letting out a moan when she nibbles on his bottom lip.

“Want this off,” she says between kisses, her hands balling around the collar of his shirt in emphasis.

A smile finds its way across his lips as he lets go of her, placing his hands up in front of him as if in surrender. Desire flashes brightly in her stare, causing a bolt of heat to tear right through him as she moves her hands down, her fingers quickly working to rid him of his vest and then his shirt. It’s as she pushes his button-up off his shoulders, baring his torso to her, that her eyes rake hungrily over his bare skin. She swipes her tongue over her lips, huffing out a sigh before looking heatedly back up at him. “You’re infuriatingly beautiful, you know that, right?”

“Look who’s talking,” he says with a scoff.

As she brings her eyes back to his chest, he catches the way her hands twitch, her fingers curling into her palms as though it’s taking a great deal of effort to keep them at her sides. “I-” she begins, only to shake her head. “Need you in my bed. Now.”

He pushes off the wall, letting her lead him past the living space of her suite and through the archway of the bedroom. A devious smirk paints its way across her lips the second they’re inside, and she plants a hand on the bare skin of his belly, pushing gently and walking him backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed.

“Sit,” she commands, and even in the darkness of the room, he catches the way her green eyes have all but gone black as he sinks down on the mattress. She struts over to him, the tops of her breasts brushing over his face as she leans in, and like a reflex, he reaches to pull her closer, only for her to step back.

“Nat,” he says, the need to touch her growing only all too consuming.

She wags a finger at him, and as he ticks a brow up at her, he watches in intrigue as she reaches for his belt, undoing the buckle and pulling it out from the loops. She runs her hands through the leather, pulling it taut as if to test its strength. He chuckles quietly. “Didn’t take you for the flogging type.”

“I’m not,” she says, moving to place one knee on either side of him as she sits across his lap. “But never say never.”

She reaches her arms around him, tugging his hands on the mattress, and it’s as she adjusts them behind his back, securing his belt around his wrists, that his lips quirk up. “I thought you liked it when I took control?”

“Oh, I do,” she says, moving off of him again. She takes a step back as she brings a hand to the back of her head, feeling for the pin of her updo. She pulls it loose, and as her hair cascades down her shoulders, she smiles. “But maybe I like it when you lose control for me, too.”

His breath catches in his throat, and he watches as she slides her hands down the front of her blazer, stopping right at the hem. Her fingers find the hook and eye closure, and she makes a show of slowly unclasping it. She undoes one, and then another, working her way upwards until the fabric falls open and sashays down her body, landing behind her with a soft thud and baring her creamy skin to him. From where he’s sitting, he revels in the ravenous look that fills her eyes, feeling himself tenting even more uncomfortably against his pants as he takes in the flat of her belly and the perfect teardrops of her breasts, her rosy nipples tipping upwards as they pebble in the cool air of the room.

She holds his gaze as she moves on to her slacks, unbuttoning it before sliding the zipper down. With a coquettish tilt of her head, she turns around, and then she’s hooking her thumbs into the waistband and causing a groan to rip from the back of his throat as she bends to slip it down her legs along with her panties. He can see the evidence of her arousal shimmering between her thighs, and whether that’s from what he’d done to her up in the Red Room or simply from the show she’s putting on for him now, he doesn’t know. Nor can he bring himself to care as his mouth waters.

She’s about to step out of her heels when she pauses, stealing a glance back at him. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she says, smirking. “You like when I keep these on, don’t you?”

“I do,” he tries to reply coolly, but his voice betrays him. She saunters back to him, her hips swaying with her every step before she moves to straddle him. As she does, he feels the warmth of her sex against him, and with a growl, he strains against his belt. “Natasha.”

“You said you weren’t going to touch me again,” she coos, desire crackling hotly in her eyes even as her mouth forms into a petulant pout. Her hands find his shoulders, and she dusts a kiss to his jaw. “Luckily, I didn’t make the same promise when it comes to you.”

“I think we both know I didn’t make good on that.”

“Maybe not, but you did make me wait,” she counters, flattening her palms against his chest. “God, Steve, do you have any idea how much I’ve been needing this?” She shakes her head, leaning in closer. “Ever since that night, I’ve been dying to feel you again…” Her lips begin to follow the trail of her hands, staining his skin with the remnants of her gloss as they graze each of his pecs and then every plane of his sculpted abs. “To touch every inch of you.” Her hands slide even lower, brushing past the light patch of hair below his navel, and he lets out a grunt when she cups the outline of his erection through his pants. “I mean, it’s only fair, isn’t it?” she muses, looking up at him from underneath the fan of her lashes as she undoes the button, “seeing as there isn’t a part of me you haven’t touched.”

A grunt – loud and feral – slips from his lips. “Nat,” he says, her name sounding both like a warning and a plea all at once. But then she slides a hand past the waistband of his boxers, and he throws his head back. “Fuck, fuck.”

“You know, I tried,” she says as she curls her fingers around the base of him, causing his hips to arch off the mattress as she squeezes. With her other hand, she hooks his chin between her thumb and forefinger, pulling his head back so she can slant her lips over his. “I tried to be… good.” She begins to stroke him, his breath picking up with every languid slide of her hand up and down his length. “I tried to play by your rules. Keep you out of my mind.” She pulls away from him, sighing. “But I remember everything.”

“What… what do you remember?” he manages to sputter out between heavy breaths.

“I remember how you touched me,” she purrs, making him hiss as her thumb runs over the head of him, gathering the wetness that’s formed before shuttling her hand back down. “I remember how you felt inside of me…” His entire body grows rigid at wantonness that fills her tone as she says that, and another curse falls unbidden from his lips. “The way you filled me and stretched me… ruining me for everyone else.”

“Jesus, Nat,” he swears, feeling the sweat beginning to form on his brow as he pants. “I-”

She cuts him off with another bruising kiss. “I remember what you taste like, too,” she says, making him whimper. “I want to taste you again.” She cups his cheek with her other hand, tracing his bottom lip. “Do you want that, baby?”

“Yes,” he says, not caring one bit that he’s begging now. “God, yes. Please, Nat. Please.”

With a final kiss to his lips, she lets him go, sinking down to her knees right between the spread of his legs. She makes quick work of pulling his pants and boxers down his knees, her tongue coming out to wet her lips as his length, thick and flushed, springs free.

“Oh, fuck,” he cries out the second she wraps her lips tightly around him. When he strains against the belt again, she digs her nails into the skin of his thighs, imploring him to stay still. She looks up at him, and the unabashed lust in her eyes as her mouth moves fastidiously over his shaft is without a doubt the biggest turn-on of his life, sending a fresh wave of desire right through him. His lips lift in a dazed, intoxicated smile. “So fucking gorgeous.”

His words only spurn her on. She pushes at his knees, and he parts them wider, surrendering to her and the delicious pleasure building at the base of his spine as she takes him deeper. But then she lets a hand roam lower, and he cries out, her name falling brokenly from his lips once again when she cups his sack, gently kneading it in her grasp.

It’s when she hallows her cheeks, sucking him harder, that he feels his quads begin to tighten, the beginning embers of his impending orgasm already sparking. And while he’s spent many a night wondering what it would be like to have her mouth on him like this, there’s something he wants more right now.

“Nat, sweetheart.” The weariness laced with the desperation in his tone causes her to ease off of him, and when she shoots him a worried look, he shakes his head. “Please, just- Need to be inside of you.” In a second, she’s rising to her feet, and despite the desire roaring in his veins as she pulls his boxers and pants the rest of the way down, he finds the wherewithal to call out to her again, nodding towards his pants. “Wallet.”

Her teeth bother her bottom lip for the briefest of moments before she cups his face. “I’m covered,” she heaves out. “And I’ve been tested.”

“So have I,” he says, eyes finding hers. “There’s no one else but you, Nat.”

She groans at that, the look in her eyes rapacious. “Then I want you bare,” she says as she makes a move to straddle him again.

“Wait,” he says, managing a lazy smile when she whines his name in protest. “Turn around.”

For a second, she stares at him, uncertain. But her confusion fades quickly, and he catches the way her skin prickles with gooseflesh, her breath hitching with excitement as his request dawns on her. She swivels around, her back to him, and when she positions herself over him, he swears he feels his blood run thick when she reaches for his length and rubs the head of him over her folds. She leans back as they both moan, taunting him as her scarlet tresses fan across his chest. He wants to grip her hair firmly in his hands, tug her back, and kiss her neck. He knows she knows it – and that she wants it just as much, too.

“So wet,” Steve all but growls into the skin of her shoulder as she continues to tease him. “Is this all for me, Nat?”

“Only for you,” she says, letting out a mewl when she finally sinks down on him. He moans loudly, feeling as though flames are licking across his skin as she takes him in, inch by inch. Behind him, his hands clench into fists in an effort to keep himself grounded. He’s been longing to feel her again for weeks, and now that he’s enveloped in her warmth, not a single barrier separating them, he feels as though he’s slowly being driven mad with desire. It’s only by sheer will that he resists the urge to buck up into her, allowing her to control how much of him to take. She whimpers his name when he finally bottoms out, one hand shooting up to wrap around his neck, holding him to her. “It’s so deep this way.”

“It’s perfect,” he says, kissing her neck, her cheek – any part of her that he can reach. “You’re perfect.”

He feels her shiver against him, and they both gasp as she begins to move her hips. Everything from the way her walls grip him to how his name falls from her lips as though it’s a benediction feels like nothing short of a fever dream. But it’s real. He can feel it, real and raw and oh so right as she rides him, and he savors each rise and fall of her body over his length.

“Tell me again,” she says, leaning back against his shoulder and pulling his head to the side. “Tell me there’s no one else.”

“There’s no one else,” he promises, and she looks so beautiful like this, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes wild that he can’t help but kiss her. “I want you, Nat. Just you.”

The needy moan she lets out against the lock of their lips causes a tremor to roll over him. He wants so badly to touch her, to grab her hips tightly, to feel the weight of her breasts in his hands. But he knows her, knows that for as much as she loves bequeathing control to him that sometimes, she needs to be able to lead, too. So he lets her, electing instead to bask in the view of her gorgeous figure moving up and down on him, her hands trailing up her own body, rolling a nipple between her fingers as she chases her own pleasure.

Soon enough, her hips are moving faster against him. Even so, she whines in discontent. She’s close, he can feel it in the way her walls clench around him and by how much louder her moans are growing, but he knows this isn’t enough.

“Untie me, baby,” he says. “Untie me so I can fuck you the way you need me to.”

She barely has time to react.

The second she frees him from his restraints, he springs up, wrapping his arms around her and maneuvering them until her back is on the mattress. He hikes her legs up on his shoulders, holding her down with his body. “This won’t last long.”

Her lips part to agree, to tell him how close she is already, but the words diffuse into a moan when his arms find her thighs, holding her in place as he enters her in one deliriously delicious thrust. She’s exquisitely pinned in this position, unable to do anything but wrap her arms around him, her nails scratching down his back as he pulls out nearly all the way before snapping his hips forward, burying himself deep into her. The pace he sets toes the line between pain and pleasure, but she welcomes it, luxuriating in being able to feel him in every part of her body, right down to her bones, as he drives into her hard, fast, and rough. Come tomorrow, she knows she’ll have bruises where he’s holding her, but she couldn't care less, only growing wetter at the idea of having some semblance of a keepsake to remember this moment by once it’s over.

“Steve,” she calls out at a particularly delectable push of his hips. He kisses her so hard and deep and consuming that she has to pull away, her lungs burning for air. “Oh, just like that.”

“Close, baby,” he warns, and she feels the way his thrusts grow erratic above her.

“Me too,” she whimpers as he reaches between them, down to where they’re joined. His hand brushes against her bundle of nerves, and she shrieks as he continues to drive into her, taking her body and claiming it with the hard and rough fucking that she’s been craving for weeks. She can see in the way his forehead is creased, a bead of sweat dripping from his temple, that he’s holding on for her – denying himself for her – and though she didn’t think it’s possible to want him any more than she already does, with every fiber of her being, she does. His thumb begins to rub tight circles around her clit, and as white spots start to flicker across her vision, she reaches for him. “Come on me,” she breathes out, pulling his face so close to hers that she can feel his breath across her skin. “Want to feel you all over me.”

She hears him groan just as the heat pooling low in her belly unfurls, causing her eyes to fall shut. Her stomach tightens, and as her orgasm bursts over her, curling her toes, everything around her blurs, save for the sensation of white-hot pleasure pulsing throughout her every cell.

Her body is still trembling when she feels Steve suddenly pull out of her, and as she forces her eyes open, she finds him kneeling between her legs, the muscles of his forearm flexing as his hand furiously strokes his length. Then he grits out her name, his hips bucking, and she gasps when she feels the warmth of his release against her belly, making the blood thrum in her veins all over again despite how boneless she already feels.

Steve collapses down next to her, and when she turns her head to him, her pride swells just a little at how thoroughly wrecked he looks. He peels an eye open once he gets his breathing in some order, reaching out to touch her face. “Are you okay?”

“Mm…” She doesn’t look away from him as she trails one hand down her stomach, rubbing her fingers across the warmth still strewn on her skin before bringing it up to her mouth. A curse falls from his lips, and she smiles as she licks her fingers clean. “Never better.”

It's later on when they’ve managed to clean up and make it under the sheets that he pulls her to him. Below them, Sin City is still alive and buzzing, the glow from the Strip casting her room in a neon hue. She rests her head on his chest, and as his hand begins to run up and down her arm absentmindedly, she revels in the quiet and the comfort of being wrapped up in his warmth.

“Do you think this’ll ever fade?” she asks, looking up at him.

“Wanting you this way?” he clarifies, to which she nods. “I don’t see how.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

He stares up at the ceiling, silent. Eventually, he sighs. “I don’t know.”

Earlier that night…

“Your Old Fashioned, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Thank you, Brad,” Loki says, leaning back into his seat on the balcony as the server leaves and he takes a sip of his cocktail. Before him, the sea of bodies is still grinding to the beat, showing zero signs of slowing down any time soon. It’s nearly midnight already, and he can’t help but smile into his drink. In the morning, the success of this opening will be strewn across the publications, and it’s with glee that he’ll clip every single headline into his next presentation for the quarterly Odinson Holdings earnings call. How’s that for a measly subsidiary.

His reverie is broken by the feel of a weight on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Natasha. “I was wondering where you went.”

“Had to get some air,” she says over the pulsing music, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Steve lingering a few steps away.

“Everything all right, darling?”

“Everything’s fine,” she says. As he studies her appearance, he notes the way the color on her lips has begun to fade, and while her hair isn’t a mess, the slicked back updo she’s had on certainly isn’t as pristine as when she first arrived. Even so, he says nothing of it as she shrugs. “I might have had a little too much to drink tonight, though. Do you mind if I take off?”

“Not at all,” he says, setting his drink down on the table before rising from his seat to wrap his arms tightly around her. “This night is a certified success. Congratulations.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” she says, squeezing him back just as tight.

“Oh, you could have,” he says. “You just wouldn’t have had as much fun.” He punctuates his words with a smile, making her giggle before he turns to Steve. “You’ll make sure she gets back to her suite?”

Steve nods. “Of course.”

He bids Natasha goodbye with a kiss on her cheek, and as she and Steve make their way down the stairs of the balcony and onto the main floor of the club, he picks up his drink again before walking towards the railing, looking out into the vast expanse of the room. He watches as they both make their way towards the exit, Steve slightly in front of Natasha as he guides her through the throng of people.

“You know something.”

The statement prompts him to glance to his left to see that Sylvie’s joined him, her hands curled around the railing as she, too, watches Steve and Natasha leave. He doesn’t respond, electing instead to take another sip of his drink as he looks back out onto the floor.

“This little class reunion of yours… it isn’t the happenstance she thinks it is, is it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, merely earning a snort from Sylvie.

“You’re not going to tell her that you know?” she asks, a touch of amusement in her tone. “It’s unlike you two to keep secrets from each other.”

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, a smirk crossing his lips. “She’ll tell me when she’s ready.”

[ac3may]

Undisturbed ~ Sam Kerr x Williamson!Reader

A request by the gorgeous @dreamin-inwoso​! I hope you’re not offended that I made it into a sequel to my other Conti Cup fic, they just kind of worked together but can also be read entirely separately. Sorry if this sucks, it’s the first thing I’ve written in actual months...

Part 1 | Part 2

Request: "Something fluffy with Sam. Something like reader consoling her after the Conti Cup loss."

Words: 1.5k, edited

Masterlist

As Leah is called away for press and the trophy presentation you and Sam are joined by your mum. She steals Ari’s attention, taking him into her arms. Your daughters are entertaining themselves watching the celebratory scenes, so you take the moment to check in on your partner. 

Sam is lent against the barricade separating the two of you, and watching as the team in red collect their medals, disappointment and self-depreciation plastered on her face.

If there was one thing you knew about your girl it was that she hated losing far more than she enjoyed winning. You knew she’d be beating herself up for this one despite the performance she gave the children.

Wrapping your arms over her shoulders and pulling her in tight to your chest you rest your chin on her shoulder. 

“How are you doing baby?” The hushed tone is accompanied by a brush of lips to the Australian’s ear. 

Her hand raises to entwine fingers with yours, her reply accompanied by a gentle squeeze, “I’m okay.”

Her tone is disheartened, desperately trying to be strong for you all. “They played a better game, they deserved the win.” She lets out a defeated sigh as she shrugs, eyes following her opposition as they cheer together, trophy in the air. 

“I’m sorry lover,” bringing your conjoined hands to your mouth you place a kiss on the back of hers.

Sam simply hums in reply, the downturned corners of her lips tell you all you need to know. But as you glance at your two girls playing patty cake on the grass and your younger sister chugging champagne you know it's not the right time for the conversation you want to have.

Instead, you hug Sam tighter, pressing intermittent kisses to her shoulder, head and cheek, providing as much silent support as possible. 

As the celebrations on the pitch began to die down you and Amanda manage to gain control over your hyperactive little ones. A task which was not helped by the chocolate treats a certain Alex Scott had provided.

Following the little bodies away from the grass you find yourself falling in step with your mum. 

You sigh before speaking, “they’re gonna be a nightmare getting to bed tonight,” an exasperated chuckle follows the words. 

“Well, I can take them?” The question is casual, the redhead beside you running her gaze adoringly over her three grandchildren, holding hands and skipping along in front of you.

“Are-are you sure?” You're hesitant, “it’s a school night! And Marlee’s been having her nightmares again. Ari only sleeps if Sam cuddles him a certain way! No-no, I can’t let you do that.” Although the idea of yourself and Sam in an empty home for the first time in aeons sounds like a dream.

Tutting at you your mother rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Go home. Take care of our girl. I can handle the tots. I raised three menaces myself, remember?” Raising her eyebrows she leaves you with a gobsmacked look as she approaches the children. “Who wants a sleepover at Nana’s?!”

Making your way home childless was an unusual experience, but as you arrived you basked in the silence of the house for a moment.

A mewl breaks the moment as the white cat slinks through from the kitchen to the hallway. “Hey, Helen.” You can’t help but chuckle as you lean down to fuss over the fur baby gently. 

After a few moments, Helen loses interest in you entirely and stalks away to curl up in the corner of your sofa and you set about putting your last-minute plans into action.

Collecting the shopping bag, abandoned at the door you begin organising your purchases in hopes to set up the perfect night in for your girl.

You dot about positioning candles, closing the curtains, digging through bath bombs and pulling out two glasses to accompany the freshly purchased wine stashed in the fridge.

Glancing at your phone you notice an unread message from the woman herself informing you she’d made it back to Cobham and was on her way home. You respond with a short and simple ‘see you soon baby x’.

Twisting the basket to sit carefully on the edges of your bathtub you can’t help the prideful smirk that appears on your face. A selection of Sam’s favourite bath bombs, bath salts and facemasks sat inside.

Admiring the set-up you had created you can only hope she won’t be moody enough to deny your efforts of a childless night with a non-pg movie, adult takeaway, an alcoholic drink (or two) and a warm bath.

As you're pridefully snapping a photo of the setup Sam’s confused voice reaches your ears.

“Y/N? Are you here?!” 

A wide grin grows on your face as you skip down the stairs excitedly, bounding like a child yourself. "Coming!” You call.

By the time you’d reached the plush carpet of the living room, the striker had left a trail of bags, shoes and coats before collapsing face-first into the sofa miserably. 

Dodging the abandoned belongings you settle gently on your knees beside Sam’s head and run your fingers softly through the stray hairs falling from her ponytail.

“Hey star girl,” the gentle whisper encourages a grumpy groan into the sofa cushions from the brunette and dramatic grumbles as she shifts her body to face you.

The two of you sit in an undisturbed silence for a moment, hands interlinked as you continue stroking gently through her hair. “Not feeling like much of a star right now,” she sighs, eyes closing. 

Continuing your movements you press soft lips to her hairline, “You’ll always be my star girl.” You murmur the promise gently and received the softest of smiles from the girl in front of you.

Jerking slightly in your place, heavy hands press against your hips and a giggle escapes your lips, Sam chuckles with you as she speaks.

“What are you doing down there?” She asks, a playful smile tickling her lips as she runs her hands up and down your sides. “Get up here,” she grins tightening her grip again and tugging you towards her chest.

Despite the emotions of the day Sam can’t help grinning adoringly down at you as she holds your giggling figure tight to her own. 

Settling together, eyes which had gently fluttered shut at your touch open slowly as a confused frown pulls at the Australian’s lips, “Where are the kids?”

“Mum took them?” The response is hesitant, unsure of the reaction it’d receive.

Eyebrows raise, “Really?” The confirming nod of your head has a smirk appearing on Sam’s lips immediately.

“Wow,” she sighs, “do you remember the last time the house was empty?” Daring fingers run along the expanse of exposed skin as you watch her mind flick through all the possibilities for the night. 

“Before Ari was born?” You question a knowing smirk of your own growing.

Your patience with her gentle touches and soft looks quickly reaches an end and you move fast in latching your hands together and dragging her from the cushions. Tugging her with you the pair of you share childish giggles as you lead your unknowing partner to the bathroom you’d prepared. 

With Sam wrapped in your arms, you don’t feel anything but content as your muscles relax in the warm bubbly water.

But as you massage into her shoulders it is evident she is not feeling the same peace. Tension is held tightly in her body language despite the soft fluttering of her eyes and the ticklish patterns she draws on your bare skin.

Resting your chin on her tanned shoulder you gently murmur in her ear, “How are you doing baby? Do you wanna talk about it?” 

A defeated sigh falls from Sam’s lips and your body follows hers as she visibly deflates. “What’s there to say? We lost. I hate losing. Especially to them.”

Lips pressing to all available skin you hum as she rants, evidently needing to get the emotions off her chest. “But football’s football, I know I should just leave it at the club and let it go. It's just so hard.” 

Humming again, this time you reply, “Yes, football’s football but it has also been your life for basically forever. You’re allowed to be angry and upset.” You can practically feel the roll of Sam’s eyes at the care in your voice.

“Why are you always so logical.” She complains with a huff, sending a wave of water backwards towards you. 

Giggling at her response you can’t help but tease her, “I don’t know about you but I wouldn’t say either of us are being very logical right now.”

Turning her head to be inches from yours she presents a furrowed brow and questions, “How so?” You let your fingers run sensually down her spine as you pause before replying.

“We’re naked in a childless house and somehow you're still talking about work?” A grin grows immediately on Sam’s face and her sultry tone from that morning drips into her words as she begins lifting her body from the tub. 

“I guess we should do something about that, huh?” Without giving you a second to respond your girlfriend swoops down, collecting you into her arms, a squeal emits at the sudden movement, “Sam!” A hearty laugh leaves her as you cling tightly to her muscular biceps your laugh joining hers as she tosses you on the mattress. 

[macfrog]

just me over here thinking about reader having a favourite song and singing bits from it in front of joel constantly just to have him surprise her one night when theyre spontaneously slow dancing in the kitchen (where else amiright?) and he sings the lyrics softly to her… BESTIE I AM NOT OKAY

and to make it worse, he emphasizes certain words in the song to subtly let her know he thinks about her when he hears them I AM DONE RIP

BESTIE YOUR MINDDDD I SCREAMED FOR 5 MIN STRAIGHT BEFORE I WROTE THIS

[cowboy like me dbf x reader - 800 words of pure FLUFF below the cut sorrysorrysorry]

i feel like, as much as she’s a lil swiftie and whatever, one of her guilty pleasures is dad rock. her dad probably didn’t let her play her own stuff in the car growing up ‘cause he figured his stuff (marty robbins ew) > beyoncé, so she wound up liking a whole lot of that stuff. lotta queen, lotta eagles, all that. and she probably heard the likes of can’t fight this feeling by reo speedwagon as a kid and used to dream about when she’d meet someone who might love her enough to feel that way.

one day she’s at joel’s and she’s in the shower. it’s a sunday morning, she’s spent the night. he’s still laying in bed, sat up against the headboard. and he can hear her humming.

dude was literally alive when the song came out. he knows what it is. and he just sits with this dumb smile on his face ‘cause she’s graduated to quietly singing: even as i wander, i’m keeping you in sight.

n then she pushes the door open, towel around her body, probably twirls over to the foot of the bed still singing the words, and he just sits with his arms crossed, shoulders bouncing, chest vibrating with stifled laughter.

she’s like, c’mon, old man.

excuse me?

this is your era. sing with me, she pleads.

and she’s crawling up the bed to him, tilting her head and nananahing the guitar solo until she’s sat in his lap, his hands on her hips, watching her perform for him with what he reckons is more passion than even the band had.

she hums it when she’s following him around the grocery store, elbows on the handle of the cart, watching him doing all the heavy lifting. she sings it while they’re lying on his couch, both doing separate things but together, y’know? he can’t focus on the building plans he’s tryna read on his phone ‘cause she’s stuck singing the same bit on a loop while she flicks through netflix or something.

so then maybe one night the power goes out and they’re home alone. she raids his cupboards for candles; they sit in the kitchen and eat leftover pizza and drink cheap wine and wait for the lights to turn back on. and joel puts some playlist on his phone, sits it on the counter while they eat and talk and…whatever else you do during a power outage.

he gets up to go refill their glasses. she follows, sliding the empty pizza box onto the counter as pearl jam fades into silence. and then…the twinkly intro. the piano melody. the crooning bassline. she gasps. her jaw falls slack, huge beam spreads across her lips. eyebrows lift as high as they’ll go. n joel’s shoulders jerk with a laugh.

she takes his sleeve in her fist and pulls him into the middle of the kitchen, and he lets her, obviously. and she’s swaying, and his arms sit comfortably on her hips, wrists cross at the bottom of her spine. and he watches her with this little glint in his eye, the reflection of the candles and probably something more, just letting her sing to him.

you-really-gotta-sing-this-time-cmon, she says, squeezing it between the lines of the song. and i’m getting closer than i ever thought i might, she sings.

and she shuts her eyes, balls her fists and jerks them twice when the drums kick in, and joel snorts, leans in, lines his lips with hers until they’re, like, an inch apart, and they’re breathing the words to one another as they sway back and forth.

…and i can’t fight this feeling anymore, i’ve forgotten what i started fighting for…

her arms cross around his neck, and his forehead’s on hers, n she’s singing it’s time to bring this ship into the shore, and he sings back and throw away the oars forever, and they laugh because it’s so fucking corny, so sickly sweet, and neither of them care.

she lets him sing the second verse, mostly ‘cause she’s never heard him singing this song and never heard him sing so softly, like he’s doing it for only her to hear, and no one else. she kinda nuzzles her head into his neck and feels the bristle of his beard against her temple, his lil quiet drawl singing, it always seems that i’m following you, girl, ‘cause you take me to the places that alone i’d never find.

and it’s cute, and they’re so in love, and my chest hurts to think about them looking at one another as they sing the last fucking line, the lil oooohs, the lil saxophone notes. the dumb little grins on their dumb little faces.

yeah. what the heck, dude. i need an inhaler.

series masterlist | main masterlist

[moreespressoformydepresso]

I was thinking about your Pup time loop au and what if scenario where he wasn’t the only one looping. Like, what if Treech was also caught in the time loop - they’re both trying to save Lamina for different reasons.

Pup doesn’t realize Treech is also looping because he doesn’t like Treech (still viewing Treech as an obstacle to Lamina winning) and doesn’t pay him enough attention to any Not-Lamina-Tribute to notice Treech is doing things differently. Treech does realize because Pup starting to act differently every time is Very Obvious.

Maybe Treech tells Lamina he’s in a loop and it makes her try to get both of them out (of course, that doesn’t work, and Treech doesn’t tell her in the next loop because he doesn’t want to watch her die for him again).

(And the inevitable discovery that both of them are in a loop and begrudgingly working together until an eventual ✨friendship✨ because there’s only so many times you can redo the same week before warming up to the only other person who remembers.)

Genius

Pup only figured out Treech was looping after around 100 retries of about 300 or so? It takes a while to get the games cancelled in a week okay? And even then the first day of the games still starts with all the tributes alive.

Treech caught on by loop 3.

Actually, he noticed immediately that Pup was acting different, but chalked it up to him just not paying attention or being uncharitable the first time. Or maybe the butterfly effect is at play here? Well, the second time around he was paying attention. There is nothing he could’ve done to cause this. So yeah, he picked up on not being the only time traveller really quickly. However, he also caught on to Pup’s dislike of him and wasn’t about to open that can of worms if he’s gonna keep going back in time anyway. What’s the worst that can happen? Death? So Treech isn’t saying anything and Pup just straight up doesn’t realize, which causes quite the amount of shenanigans.

It’s pretty obvious they both want the same person to win (to Treech) so he tries very hard to use this to his advantage. It doesn’t work because Pup keeps changing up his strategy, but it’s gotta be effective at some point right? So he tries everything. Being violent to draw the other tributes’ attention away from Lamina, hiding like the first time but specifically to keep her safe, causing distractions whenever the pack starts approaching her, leaning very hard in the performer angle to get sponsors to help Lamina with, you name it. Sometimes he involves Lamina in planning, sometimes he keeps her out of it. Especially after that time she died for him in hopes of getting them both out. The performing one really makes Pup loathe him though. Something about “stealing” sponsors from Lamina? Ha! Jokes on this guy, Treech was gonna share anyway.

Then he slips up.

After weeks upon weeks of pure Hell, groveling and suffering and dying to get Lamina home and constantly failing, he breaks. Rambles about her deaths and the more notably horrible ones like Circ and Coral with the snakes (they almost always die of those stupid, horrible, disgusting snakes. At least they don’t remember, unlike him) or Bobbin’s bashed in head those few times he came across it. Less often as loops come and go, but still a horrifying sight. Once he gets those off his chest, his stupid mouth can’t quit and starts talking about his own deaths. The snakes (down his shirt, dragging him down, all over his body. Bites in his neck, in his legs, in every inch of his skin) and the trident and the pitchfork and the broken neck and the drones and the powder in his eyes and the cold and hunger and everything else. Later, he plays it off as just a nightmare he let get to his head. Luckily, she just hugs him. What sane person would jump to time travel as their first conclusion anyway?

Well, turns out fate ain’t on his side because Pup decides to try and separate the two in that exact loop. Lamina gets mad when he insists the two will get over each other just fine and shouts that Treech is her friend and she won’t abandon him. When he tries to convince her she cares more about him than he does her, she brings up the “nightmares” as proof that he’s worried sick. Which he is, and he did admittedly spend the most time breaking down over her deaths, but still. The one she told Pup about specifically is a little too recognizable for Pup to not notice, and three loops later he has the epiphany. And confronts Treech. Yay.

They have an argument that ends with a tenuous alliance once Treech finally manages to convince Pup they both want Lamina to win here. Despite this teamwork, the two remain frosty and uncomfortable with one another, mostly because Pup is still hardcore dehumanizing every tribute that isn’t Lamina. Though Treech doesn’t like being around more Capitol people either. He’s still figuring out how to feel about Vipsania. By now, he’s managed to admit to himself that aside from one loop where he murder-hobo’ed as many mentors as possible because the Capitol’s bullshit broke him, Vipsania always ends up caring about him. Kind of. She never really gets there, or if she does it happens during the games at which point it doesn’t matter because he’s already dead. Treech is a little too busy figuring out how to feel about that seeming change of heart to worry about Pup of all people. He’s going to die no matter what so it’s not like it matters.

Switching to Pup’s POV as he is the main character for this AU:

Finally, Lamina wins. Treech has to sacrifice himself and dies slowly for it to happen, but Pup can’t bring himself to care when Lamina is finally out and safe. The boy was gonna die anyway, it’s not like he matters all that much. Except Lamina isn’t happy or relieved or even numb. She’s inconsolable! Nothing he says helps, and if anything he’s making everything worse! And then he’s right back at the start of the week again. Treech… doesn’t talk to him. He already knows she won, and that it didn’t matter. He clings to Lamina, and for the first time… Pup actually sees him. Not just another tribute or an obstacle, but a kid. A terrified child who’s died over and over and over again, only to find out that it meant nothing. They don’t talk that loop. Treech doesn’t respond to anything he says. But the next time, Pup brings food for Lamina and Treech and talks to them both. Not about the games, but about them. And this unfortunate partnership becomes a bit of a camaraderie. Pup’s the only one that knows about the loops and he’s happy to sit on the other side of the bars, hugging the other boy as much as possible while he sobs his heart out about the horrors he lived through and about how much it hurt to die.

That’s when Pup really starts working to fix the problem, rather than the symptom. Losing a girl he cares for a symptom of the disease that is these horrific games, and Pup starts to plan. Treech can’t do much for now, so he lets the boy mentally pull himself together for a few loops while he collects info from his classmates on who would be willing to help him.

I’ll come back tomorrow or something to write down my thoughts on how this will conclude. Now I wanna write this lmao but idk if I should.

[qismet]

seiko lore drop

the usui family is well enough known among jujutsushi as a cursed - tool wielding family, they have their own arsenal of tools at their residence and seiko was allowed to pick from the collection at 15. the bo staff they wield belonged to their aunt 7 generations ago

seiko’s cursed tool works in tandem with their technique. their technique is dubbed ‘slice n dice’ as per the usage of the tool they are attached to to further the technique, but without the tool seiko can still land a physical hit/kick on an opponent and perform up to 4 additional hits provided they can envision them on the body

current generation of jujutsushi within their family consists of their great great aunt (she’s hanging on by a thread), their grandmother, their aunt and uncle (twins, heads of the jujutsushi side of the family as current), seiko, 2 cousins on their uncles side, a nephew from their brother’s family (+ a distant cousin that they don’t see). there are distant relations that do not consider themselves affiliated

they are the middle child (26) between two twin sisters (younger, 22) and their brother (older, 32, about to inherit the usui technological business that the non jujutsushi side of the family owns + runs)

seiko was raised by their aunt and uncle within the separate family residence from the ages of 7-14 before attending kyoto tech

the two sides of the family coexist together, but have separate roles. it is likely seiko will take over as head for the jujutsushi side of the family once their aunt and uncle step down. for now they’re happy working full time as a sorcerer and part time as a volleyball coach

nepo baby of sorts :)

graduated from kyoto tech as a semi grade 1 encroaching grade 1 with potential :)

there they are for u … art belongs to yemsao

[gimmemore14]

Ooh can I hear about royalty!!!! Dark brudick 👀👀👀👀

Yes!!! So glad you asked hahaha

In this royalverse Bruce takes in Dick when his court performer parents die tragically in front of him, at first it’s not for nefarious reasons but a feeling of kinship. This is seen as odd because Bruce has not married yet and does not have any suitable heirs either, so everyone just assumes he took in the pretty boy to raise as his bride.

King Bruce wants to fight the rumors despite growing more possessive of dick, so he decides to take in another orphan boy to quell the rumors. I played around with the ages so dick and Jason are only like a year or two apart but, of course this plan backfires and Bruce grows jealous of Jay because of his unhealthy codependency with Dick.

He sends Jason off to become a knight at age 14ish, hoping he’d lose interest in dick or bring honor to the Wayne crest in another way, but Jay keeps writing to dick even ten years later (but they’re intercepted) so Bruce keeps sending him out to fight…

Bruce ends up slowly coercing Dick into an unofficial relationship but does more messed up things that finally force dick to realize that things aren’t right and Jason to stand up against his king

Anyways, have a snippet!

Dick tries to relax in the royal bathing chamber. It should be easy with his head pillowed on his propped up arms, his body cradled by the smooth tile and hot water funneled in from the natural hot spring, but he feels like a compressed spring as he mulls over the news from the royal Knights. Jason is to be sent out again to lead another tour, he didn’t even get to come home for a day in between this time…

The omega jumps as big hands land on his shoulders, but instinctually, he starts to relax as the familiar scent of Bruce fills his nose. “You startled me, my lord.”

The king hmms thoughtfully as he nuzzles the younger man, pulling him back to settle on his lap. “A king never apologizes, but perhaps I will, just this once.”

As Bruce lavishes kisses on his neck, Dick chuckles as he should at the familiar running joke between them. It occurs to him suddenly that it may not actually be a jest to the king, never once has he actually apologized.

Soon the alpha grows tired of the lack of response and gently grips Dick’s chin to turn it towards him. “What are you thinking of, my little Robin, that has your head amongst the clouds?”

He wants to ask about Jason, about why he’s been sent to fight again, but for some reason, nearly all of their disagreements begin and end with Jay. Dick won’t bring him up when they are having such a nice bath. It’ll have to be an after dinner subject, he still will require an answer.

“I was thinking about your child. How long will it be until I get to hold the baby princling?” He asks instead, turning around in the water to straddle the King. He rests his forehead against Bruce’s, enjoying the intimacy they rarely get nowadays.

Bruce sighs, as if this is another topic he’d rather not discuss. “Within the next couple weeks, but we cannot be certain the babe will be a boy…” His fingers caress up Dick’s chest to begin circling the omega’s unmarked mating gland. “We can hope however. Then once the babe is weaned and my line of succession is unquestionable, Queen Talia will move to her own villa and I can finally make you irrevocably mine.”

“No one would question you, my lord, as king, but would they accept me as one of your consorts?”

“As the royal consort, of course. This is common practice with political marriages, once the duty is fulfilled they live amicably but separately.” Bruce soothes, nuzzling their noses together. “Be patient and remember that I know what’s best for you, for us. You trust me, do you not?”

The omega meets Bruce’s eyes, still unnerved by how sharp they can be despite his softened body language. “With all my heart, my lord.”

Bruce lets out the breath he’d been holding with a chuckle, “How many times will I have to remind you, when we are alone you still may call me Bruce.”

Another one of their games. Dick smiles, running his hands up and into the king’s hair before whispering, “At least once more, my lord.”

The king groans and seeks out the omega’s mouth with his own. Dick loses himself in the gentle but demanding kiss Bruce provides. It goes no farther today as King Wayne’s presence is required soon at important meetings. Once dressed, he says goodbye with a searing, possessive kiss, leaving Dick wound up but alone again in the bath.

He really does trust Bruce with everything, he should have just asked about Jason. He will though, tonight. Jay is still his son, after all, he’s likely just as worried about him as Dick is. However, in the solitude of the royal baths, he can’t help but remember the first time Bruce shipped Jason off…

“One day, you and me are going to ride off into the sunset.” Jay sighs, twirling a piece of straw between his teeth in a way the tutors despise.

Dick just giggles and falls back into the lush grass beside him, resting his head on the young alpha’s bicep like it’s a pillow. “And where would we go?”

“Away,” Jason answers quickly. “Anywhere as long as it’s far from here… from him.”

Dick’s face falls into a frown. “The King has treated us far better than we could have asked. He’s gotten us the best tutors, clothing so fine I couldn’t have imagined it, and he’s kind-“

“To you.” Jay interrupts, propping himself up to peer down at Dick. “He’s almost too kind.”

“Is he not kind to you as well?”

Jason huffs out a breath that billows through his overgrown locks. “Sure, in a distant, cold sort of way. Look Dickie, I know you’ve been here a lot longer than me but the way he acts around you is not fatherly.”

The omega just laughs, “Of course not, he promised he’d never replace my dad, that’s why he’s just my guardian instead!”

“It’s not the way a guardian is supposed to be acting around you either, alright?” Jason explains, getting even more frustrated that Dick isn’t taking him seriously. He rolls them over so he’s half way on top of the older boy now, ready to talk some sense into him.

“And what way is that?” The omega asks after his giggles subside.

“Almost romantically… almost like, like I do.”

That finally shuts Dick up. He realizes suddenly just how close the alpha’s face has gotten to him, lips a mere inch from his.

“Jay- you don’t mean-“ Dick starts but Jason cuts him off with a chaste kiss. It’s soft and sweet, everything the omega didn’t know he wanted but now knows he needs. The kiss only lasts mere seconds but when they break away, both are breathing hard. “That-“

“Boys.” A harsh voice cracks across the courtyard.

They spring apart and rush to their feet as King Bruce storms up to them. His face is red, a vein faintly bulging on his forehead, it’s a terrifying sight. As soon as he sees the fear on Dickie’s face, however, he schools his expression and his tone. “Dick, you’re far past tardy for your tea time etiquette lesson. It is unbecoming of an omega to be disrespectful of another’s time. Run along, Jason and I have much to discuss.”

By the time Dick was through with his lesson, Jason’s room was all packed up and he was sent off to train with the same knights Bruce did without even a letter of explanation.

“He didn’t even say goodbye,” Dick sobbed into Bruce’s finery.

The king held Dick as he cried, hushing him softly but staying stoic in the way he’s known for. “We agreed it would have been harder for you, we were only thinking of your gentle nature, chum. It’s time for Jason to be out from under my wing, to become his own alpha. He will return once he’s ready, do not worry. You trust me, do you not?”

Through his tears, Dick managed to nod, “With all my heart.”

[smellyrottentrees]

could you tell me a little about the governing system of Furajya in your wip?

Absolutely, and thank you for the ask!

Furajya is an empire, meaning one governing body has control over many separate nations. But they are somewhat different from empires as you or I might know them.

The Emperor

The head of the empire is, of course, the emperor/empress. They ascend to power after being appointed by the previous emperor, whose duty is to appoint whomever they feel is best suited for the task. Often this person will be their partner (if still living), a close advisor, or in numerous cases the emperor’s child (such as in Ga’avan the Mighty, where Valos passes power to Bek’sorr, or in The First Emperor where Fastar’s father passed it on to him), but not always. If the imperial seat is passed down two or more blood generations, it is considered a dynasty.

The emperor oversees the empire as a whole, and imperial law is the more basic stuff that the imperial seat wants everyone to follow. The imperial seat also solves conflicts between kingdoms when they are unable to solve them at a local level. And, of course, the imperial seat can order the mobilization of however many and whichever kingdoms under their control as they need to ward off other nations or empires (most notably throughout history, their main rival tends to be Insu’mej). The emperor deals in international diplomacy.

The emperor lives in the Imperial City, in the Imperial Palace. As kingdoms are centered around cities, the emperor is also functioning ruler of their city-state. The emperor has their own military and local laws in place. They are usually surrounded by a group of anywhere from none to twenty council members, who help perform the duties of emperor and provide insight when a law is on the table.

The Kings and Queens

The kings and queens operate under the emperor and answer directly to them. They rule their kingdoms as other non-imperial nations might, forging alliances and leading battles against their neighbors. The emperor allows this infighting except in emergencies, such as when widespread mobilization is necessary to defend the empire. The only difference between them and non-imperial nations is that they are expected to follow imperial law, which limits certain actions and provides certain freedoms to the people which the king cannot overrule. If they fail to do this, imperial soldiers will act to correct them.

Kings and queens generally have a good deal of military experience—like the emperor, they ascend through merit. A particularly impressive general will be appointed station in the king’s court and, perhaps, later ascend themselves.

They oversee all which occurs within their borders and can make laws, but all laws must be approved by the imperial council. This can be a swift and painless process or a tedious and frustrating one, depending on how many council members the emperor has appointed and how efficient their system is. Generally, though, the imperial seat is quite lenient and kingdoms can operate relatively freely without intervention.

Governors and Generals

Governors and Generals have roughly equivalent status but very different tasks. They are appointed by kings and queens and assigned a district to manage. All governors and generals are on the king’s council. Governors enforce laws and ensure the people are provided for, while generals manage the militant and diplomatic side of things to ensure the people are safe. They work together very closely, which is why they’re on the same tier in my mind. Some will have officers to enforce their work, others will enforce it themselves depending on how small the district is.

All in all, the government is very merit-based (though corruption and greed will cause this to vary throughout history) and organized like the roots of a tree, feeding to the single stem that is the imperial seat.

Hope this explains it well, and feel free to ask if you have any further questions!