#meeting the inlaws

[starwarsmum]

HMB Word Darts: prompt for this one is Meeting The In-Laws ❤️

Marinette stretched and looked around at the full plane. It was six hours into the eight hour flight and she was anxious to be landing. She should have slept, she had meant to sleep, but her mind was blasting through very stressful scenarios instead. 

“Nette, can you chill the fuck out?” Jason muttered from next to her. She blushed and grimaced apologetically but couldn't stop her leg from bouncing. Jason sighed and took her hand in his, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “What's on your mind?”

“I just…I haven't come back here since Hawkmoth was stopped and I don't know how to feel about it all. Like, I'm allowed to rage, be upset or whatever, but all I'm feeling is anxiety,” Marinette rambled, focusing on the calluses on his fingers and palm. They grounded her and made her exhale fully for the first time in an hour.

“You know, you still haven't totally explained the whole ‘Hawkmoth thing’ to me,” Jason remarked drily, frowning when she hesitated. “Mari, if you don't tell me I'll just assume the worst and I don't think either of us wants to deal with that.”

“Okay, okay,” she relented, squeezing his hand tightly. He didn't say anything and she blew out another breath before beginning. “So, I told you about Hawkmoth the emotional terrorist, right? And that the Justice League helped take him down about six months before you…returned to Gotham.

“Well, he was active before I came to Gotham. Like, very active and we had two superheroes: Ladybug and Chat Noir. They were young, like fourteen/fifteen when they started? But they beat his akumas and that's all that really matters. 

“But then Ladybug went missing. She just stopped showing up and then there was a new Ladybug, Scarabella, who said she had to take over. And she was fine, Hawkmoth never got the earrings or ring, but they also didn't get anywhere with it? 

“Anyway, after I spoke with Dinah and told her a little about my history she got the League to look into it,” she shrugged, still staring at Jason's fingers. 

“...you realise that doesn't tell me nearly enough,” Jason said in a low voice, and Marinette knew that if she had the nerve to look him in the eye she would see a green taint. “Mari, please, just tell me whatever it is you're so afraid of.”

“I don't know, okay? The last time I was here I helped facilitate a conversation between the League and the local heroes. And that should have been amazing, I should have been thrilled to be a part of saving my home city. But all I could think was that it wasn't home anymore, and that I let everyone down.”

“That makes no sense,” Jason said after a brief and awkward silence. “How could you have let anyone down? You were a teenager and you lost your parents. It is a goddamned miracle that you didn't end up as a puppet for that Hawkmoth guy.”

“I guess you're right,” Marinette replied, knowing that he wasn't but not wanting to argue. He made a sound that crossed between a huff and a growl and she winced. “Look, everyone has secrets that they'd rather not share. All I can say right now is that I was connected to the heroes before I left. That's why I'm confident we can get their help now.”

Jason didn't say anything but his hand pulled away from hers before clenching into fists. Marinette wasn't sure what he was thinking but she was fairly sure the Pit was whispering awful things to him again. They had had long conversations about how he had come back differently and he had admitted that when the Pit was in the driver's seat he wasn't sure what lines he wouldn't cross.

It was the main reason he hadn't kissed her again, in spite of Marinette insisting that she would be fine. He had the idea that he would wind up hurting her if he spent too much time with her and nothing she said would change his mind.

The silence persisted through the remainder of the flight and he didn't break it until they were checking into a hotel. Once they were settled in their separate rooms, she knocked on the door that connected them.

“I don't know how to feel about you being connected to the heroes,” he said once they were sitting on his bed. She gave him a questioning look and he rubbed his face with both hands. “It just seems so twisted that we didn't tell you about the whole Robin thing so you didn't get hurt but, actually, you probably would've found it easier to talk to us if you'd known.”

“Yeah, believe me I've thought about it a lot,” she said in as light-hearted a tone as she could manage. “It all feels like some cosmic joke and I wish I could say that I found it funny but…it's just another thing I screwed up in the long list of my failures, I guess.”

“Hey, that's not true. You were a traumatised teenager and you had no idea if you could even trust us. It's not like we told you what was going on either,” Jason argued, pulling her into a hug. “If anyone's to blame for what happened, it's me and Bruce, not you.”

“How about we just agree not to blame ourselves,” Marinette laughed, holding carefully still so that he wouldn't push her away. “Anyway, the most important thing is that I know who the current Ladybug holder is and can probably get us face time with Tikki.”

“And Tikki is…”

“The Kwami of creation, counterpart to the Kwami of Destruction who has the whole green thing going on. She'd know if the Pit Madness is linked to Plagg.”

They chatted for a few minutes longer before Marinette stood and stretched. Jason gave her a quizzical look; she never ended a hug first.

“I already messaged my friend about meeting up but she hasn't got back to me yet. I figured I should probably visit the cemetery while I have some time,” she explained, staring out of the window rather than looking at him. “You don't have to come with me, I can call you when Alya gets back to me-”

“Of course I'm coming with you,” Jason said immediately, standing and grabbing his jacket. A wave of relief crashed through Marinette - she didn't want to go alone, but hadn't wanted to ask.

_ _ _

Jason wondered if he should feel weird, visiting a cemetery. Logically, he knew that he didn't remember crawling out of his grave but he still had flashes, sometimes. A feeling of slight claustrophobia, cool dirt under his nails and pressed against his face. 

Perhaps if this was that cemetery, he would, but this Parisian cemetery was full of sunlight and fresh air. Not to mention he had Marinette with him, practically the only thing that he had in his new life that meant anything to him. So he was struggling to find anything to be anxious about.

“We're here,” she said softly, laying a bouquet of flowers on the twin graves in front of them. “Maman, Papa, this is the boy I told you about, Jason. Jason, my maman and papa, Sabine and Tom.”

Jason didn't say anything, a lump in his throat choking off any words he might have said. Marinette didn't seem to expect him to say anything anyway, her soft voice rambling on as she talked about everything and nothing. 

She had just started talking about planning to see her friend when her phone rang. Apologising, she pulled it out of her pocket and stepped away. She was speaking very swiftly in French and Jason didn't bother trying to keep up.

“I’m sorry I never got the chance to meet you,” Jason said once Marinette was further away. He felt a little silly, talking to a couple of headstones, but Marinette had done it. “She talks about you now, but even before that I could tell she loved you. Whenever she talks about you she kind of…lights up a bit.”

He went silent, relieved there wasn't anyone else there to hear him talking to no-one. It wasn't too much longer before Marinette returned, looking pensive. She grinned sheepishly when he asked what was wrong.

“Well, my friend says she can meet up with us right away, but she's going to an event with our old class. So we can either wait until she's free next week, or suffer through rubbing elbows with a bunch of people I haven't seen in a long time. I'm inclined to head straight there so I can get some answers but I'd understand if you wanted to give it a miss and wait a little longer.”

“I don't think I want to waste any time on this,” Jason answered immediately. She beamed at him before leading him out of the cemetery and, hopefully, to answers.

_ _ _

As they approached the park outside the old collége, Marinette felt her eyes straying to the newly finished apartment buildings that stood where the bakery had previously. She had known it was happening, they had been blocking it off the last time she was here, but it still made her ache to see anything other than the bakery standing there.

“Marinette?! Oh my gosh, hi!” A pink blur launched herself at Marinette, who caught Rose easily. She hadn't changed much; her blonde hair was still in a pixie cut although there was now a hot pink streak running through it. Her clothes had aged with her and she sported pink jeans, a black vest and a white jacket, but she was still bright and bubbly.

“Hey Rose, long time no see,” Marinette replied softly, hugging the other girl back. Jason stayed back, not interrupting but not being too far away from her. “Alya mentioned you all were going to be here, I'm glad I managed to see you.”

There were excited shouts and greetings all around as Marinette came closer to everyone. She spotted Alya, who grinned at her, standing with Nino and Adrien. She made her way around everyone she could before reaching the trio and gave Alya a tight hug.

“Girl, it's been way too long,” Alya said in a low voice, full of affection. Nino took a turn squeezing her as well, although Adrien merely lifted an awkward hand in greeting. “How have you been? I haven't seen you since, what, a year ago?”

“Something like that,” Marinette said, smiling before she gestured for Jason to step closer. “Jason, these are my old classmates, Alya, Nino and  Adrien. All of you, this is Jason Todd.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Jason said, not stepping close enough for any of them to touch him. “Nette’s told me about you all before, it's nice to be able to put faces to names.”

“I wish I could say I'd heard of you,” Alya replied, gaze turning inquisitive behind her lenses. “But as I said, Marinette and I don't actually talk too often anymore. So what brings you-”

“Oh gosh, I'm so sorry I'm late everyone! I was just helping one of the heroes with a statement to the Italian Embassy and lost track of time.”

Marinette felt a detached amusement when she turned and saw her one-time enemy, Lila Rossi. The young woman was dressed in a ridiculously poofy dress, the sleeves almost comically wide. Her looks hadn't overly changed, her hair still in ponytails. 

“Wow, Lila, that's so cool,” Juleka muttered, blushing when everyone looked at her. Marinette refrained from rolling her eyes - it was hard to get worked up about someone lying for clout when it didn't impact her directly, after everything she had been through.

“Yeah, it's really something else,” Alya said through slightly gritted teeth. Marinette almost jolted when she realised that Alya would obviously know that Lila was lying now. With a vague sense of detachment, she wondered whether Alya had tried to call the other girl out at all.

“Alya, just leave it,” Adrien muttered, giving Alya a reproachful look. Marinette looked at him quizzically, curious as to why he was trying to talk Alya down. “The high road, remember? It'll all come out in due time.”

Nino didn't seem to be paying the pair much attention, but Marinette was very interested in what was going on. Alya took a deep breath, and forced a smile back onto her face. She turned back to Marinette and released the breath before moving past it.

“Anyway, what were you saying? About why you're back in Paris?” Alya continued, brow furrowed in concern. “And who's tall, dark and handsome back there? Jason, you said, right?”

“It's…complicated,” Marinette hedged, glancing at Adrien and Nino briefly. “I kind of need to talk to our little friend, T? And maybe our other mutual friend, P?”

“Oh,” Alya said, eyes widening behind her glasses. “Right, okay, sure thing girl. Is it, like, time sensitive or…”

“The sooner the better, honestly. I know you're having a party right now, if you could just let CN know that I need to talk to P, I can wait for him somewhere-”

“Um, give me twenty minutes? And then the party should be in full swing and I won't have to watch every little thing.”

It was more like half an hour later, and Alya dragged Jason and her away to a secluded alleyway. She pulled up short when she saw both Adrien and Nino standing there, looking confused and a little concerned.

“Okay, so this is going to be a little awkward. Mari knows about me,” Alya said to the other two. Nino nodded, but Adrien started, his eyes wide and brow furrowed. “Honestly, if Mari hadn't chosen me, I wouldn't be who I am, so…”

There was a pause as Nino and Adrien looked at her confusedly before something apparently twigged. Nino did a double take and made a noise of comprehension. Adrien's was by far a more comical reaction. He flushed red and practically jumped towards Marinette.

“Wait, you were Ladybug?” Adrien whisper-shouted, grabbing hold of Marinette's shoulders. She winced almost imperceptibly and Jason snarled as he grabbed Adrien's upper arms. “Sorry, I'm sorry, it's just- I can't believe it was you, all that time.”

“The fuck does he mean, you were Ladybug?” Jason hissed, eyes beginning to glow green. Marinette felt a distant panic, not knowing how to pull him back. But apparently she needn't have worried because Plagg was suddenly in his face, staring at him.

“Pigtails, how did you find someone who's been in the Lazarus Pits?” Plagg asked, his tiny body inches from Jason's face. “Don't you know how embarrassing it is to have awful things you created waved in your face? How would you like it if I found something you made when you were a kid and showed everyone?”

“Plagg, this is not the time,” Tikki chided, floating over to Marinette and nuzzling her cheek. “It is so good to see you again, Marinette! But you should tell your boy to put Adrien down.”

Jason released Adrien slowly, the green in his eyes flickering out as Plagg continued to hover in his face. Marinette watched as Plagg flew even closer and settled himself on Jason's nose, still staring unblinkingly. Her gaze flickered to Adrien, who was staring at her in amazement. 

“Okay, so this is mind blowing for obvious reasons,” Marinette said, stunned. “But Plagg, the Pits are the reason we're here. Jason was exposed to them and it's making him a little-”

“Full of rage?” Plagg said snarkily, floating over to her. “Pigtails, the Pits are evil and if he was exposed to them…”

“I know, that's why we're here. Jason was a little bit dead a couple of years ago and now he's not but he's got Pit Madness. When I saw the green, I thought of you and we were hoping you would be able to help,” Marinette explained, only flinching slightly when she said ‘dead’.

“How can someone be ‘a little bit dead’?” Adrien asked incredulously, inching closer to Marinette again until Jason growled at him. 

“She means I was very dead but, through some magic bullshit, I'm not anymore. But the Pit Madness is making things a lot harder and she's hoping someone here can fix me,” Jason said, conveying through tone that he didn't think they could.

“I just want you to feel normal again, Jay,” Marinette said softly, touching his hand. Alya shot her a scrutinising look but didn't say anything. “So, can you help?”

“Sure thing, Bug,” Plagg said, eyes glowing brighter. Jason turned rigid, eyes wide and also glowing. Tikki shrieked and cut them off before it could go any further.

“Plagg, what are you thinking?! Don't you remember what happened last time you cleansed someone of Pit Madness?” Tikki chastised. “If we're going to do this, we need to get him lying down. And maybe have a bucket to hand,” she added thoughtfully.

Marinette glanced at Alya before announcing that their hotel would be the best place to go.

_ _ _

Marinette paced in her room, Nino sitting on her bed as they waited for Alya, Adrien and the Kwamis to finish whatever the heck they were doing to cleanse Jason. She had tried sitting still but she had picked at her fingers so much that they had started bleeding. 

“It's awesome to see you by the way, Dudette,” Nino said at last, looking up from the music app on his phone. Marinette shot him a tight grin but didn't say anything back. “And it's really freaking cool that you used the earrings before Alya.”

“It was a lifetime ago,” Marinette muttered, fingers stroking her ear lobes absentmindedly. “I can't believe you know about Alya and Adrien, but she didn't tell you about me.”

“Yeah, but it wasn't really her secret to tell,” Nino said in that relaxed way of his. “Thanks for trusting Als with everything when you had to go, she's been a really good hero.”

“I knew she would be,” Marinette said quietly. They lapsed into silence until both Adrien and Alya came out of the adjoining room. Immediately she was upon them. “How's he doing?”

“Tikki says he's going to be fine,” Alya reassured her. “But it's going to be several hours before you can go in to see him. Which gives us plenty of time to catch up, okay? Starting with how Jason got exposed to the Pits.”

“Well, he was killed in a joker attack…” Marinette began, launching into a brief explanation of Jason's story. Or at least, in so much as she knew it. Adrien's eyes were fixed on her as she talked but she mostly just stared at the door separating her from Jason.

The others were silent while she spoke, and for a time afterwards. Marinette paid them very little mind as she waited for Tikki to come and explain what was happening. So she was surprised when Adrien came and sat down next to her.

“It is so good to see you again, M'lady,” he whispered, grinning brightly at her. She smiled back, but the old panic that used to come when Adrien looked at her didn't surface. “I can't believe that we were in the same class.”

“It is a little crazy,” Marinette said, a giggle bubbling up. “God, if I'd known you were Chat I don't think I would've been as nervous to talk to you. I used to have such a crazy crush on you.”

“Wait, are you telling me that I was the other boy?” Adrien's eyes were wide and it made Marinette giggle even harder. She was gasping for breath as she nodded, the situation finally fully hitting her. “This isn't funny, Bugaboo!”

“Yes it is,” she gasped back, tears of mirth prickling her eyes. “It's almost…as funny…as Lila…saying she…was with the heroes…when you were…right there…”

“Ugh, don't get me started on that,” Alya grumbled, throwing herself dramatically onto Marinette's bed. “Girl, why didn't you stop me from putting the video of her claiming to be Ladybug's best friend on my blog? I can't believe I fell for that.”

“Jagged Stone's pet kitten, anyone?” Marinette said, snorting when Nino leveled a tired look at her. “She was so obvious with her lies, but now I guess I get why you were a little willing to believe her, chaton.”

The conversation turned to complaining about people lying for clout, Adrien sharing some crazy fan stories and Marinette talking about famous people at galas who somehow still did it, bragging about knowing the Gotham Bat because they'd been saved once.

It successfully distracted Marinette and she jumped when the interconnecting door opened, revealing a pale Jason. Immediately, she leaped to her feet and pulled him over to the bed so she could check him. She was completely oblivious to Adrien handing Plagg some camembert, or Alya letting Tikki nestle in her hair.

“Mari, chill out, I'm fine,” Jason said at last, although his voice rasped slightly, like he'd been throwing up. “The little demon cat thing purged me or whatever, I'm just tired.”

“Well excuse me for worrying,” Marinette sniped back, forcing his chin to point in her direction so she could look in his eyes. “May I point out that you were just cleansed of Pit Madness by miniature gods who have the powers of creation and destruction? They're cute but Plagg literally sank Atlantis and destroyed the dinosaurs.”

“Pigtails, I'm pretty sure I said not to bring up my past failures,” grumbled Plagg from inside Adrien's pocket. 

“Sorry,” Marinette said, sounding anything but. She continued to stare at Jason, even after she was sure he was okay, until Alya cleared her throat. She looked questioningly at the current heroine, head tilted slightly.

“If Plagg and Tikki are done here, I'm pretty sure all Jason needs now is rest,” Alya said warmly. “And I'm sorry to cut a very entertaining visit short, but I have to get to work. And Adrien, you have that appointment?”

After that, Marinette was left alone with Jason. She promised they would be in Paris for a little longer and that they could meet up for dinner in that time. Then, she crawled onto the bed next to Jason, resting her head on the same pillow.

“Hey,” he whispered, turning to look at her. His eyes were so blue and so much clearer than they had been that she couldn't make a sound. “I guess this means I don't have to worry about being a danger to you anymore.”

“Mhm.” Marinette didn't know what else to say, her heart swelling in her chest. Tentatively, she moved until she was resting her head on his shoulder, his arm curving around her. 

They lay like that until they both fell asleep and Marinette knew that she would have the best sleep since before donning the mantle of Ladybug.

[athina-blaine]

Psst. Hey. What do you think Kabru's opinion on Laios' issues with his parents would be?

Gosh, I can barely manage to form my own concrete opinion on Laios' feelings about his parents, much less ascertain Kabru's, haha! After all, Laios says the source of his strained feelings towards his parents is how they treated Falin after her powers manifested, but then again, Falin still regularly writes to them and Laios himself says she wasn't particularly phased by her parents or the village's treatment of her (which is additionally confirmed in the AB). I can't help but wonder how much of Laios' resentment actually stems from how they treat Falin, or if he uses it as a justification to hide how deeply it hurt for him to feel like an outsider. I think this is best supported by how he says he couldn't stand how the village treated Falin, and yet, somewhat paradoxically, says this is the reason why he leaves her behind, which was worse for her than anything the village had done. As with all things, the truth likely lies somewhere in the middle.

Personally, I can't help but feel a lot of the tension between Laios and his father comes from the two of them seeing in each other the parts they don't like about themselves. Ryoko Kui leaves just enough breadcrumbs in the supplemental material to imply Laios' father also has trouble connecting with and taking an interest in the people around him, finding solace in hunting and his dogs, and that could be why he appears to be so standoffish with his family. It's probably especially frustrating for him when Laios falls up short of his expectations because he himself has already run this circuit. I think it's intentional that Laios' father seems to be an alternate version of Laios if he'd never tried to become adventurer, although it's hard to say if Laios had ever picked up on that himself. If they were to ever understand the similarities between them, I think it would go a long way to mend their rift.

As to how Kabru would feel about it, I'm sure he'd recognize how deeply complicated and tangled Laios' feelings would be, considering his own complicated relationship with Milsiril. Coming to terms with your parents' flaws is such a tough pill to swallow, and lord knows it's 10x more complicated with everything going on between Kabru and Milsiril, but Kabru at least seems to have already reached a place where he's made his peace with it, the same as with Falin (which, ugh, Kabru, you are a much stronger person than I am lol). I do feel that he'd want to help Laios mend his relationship with his parents if it's something Laios expressed an interest in doing someday. If nothing else, I feel that Laios' opinion of his father would likely soften over time after having experienced a few stressful years of leadership himself. (I also think Laios' father would more easily come to terms with his own mistakes as a father after seeing Laios surrounded by people who love and accept him for being himself.)

[rriverrunning]

imagine a hypothetical tyrion/asha marriage... they could maximize their joint slay by creating new uniquely awful combined family dynamics never before seen in westeros

[lavanfalas]

Zevwarden doodles ehehe

[frikatilhi]

Tilhi.

Hey Tilhi.

What if Jere watches Bojan fall asleep while they are in a video call one night because Bojan is so tired but he still wants to make time for Jere.

What if, you know?

Dunno what you're talking about

It's been known to happen a few times, both ways.

Like this once, it happened across time zones, when what was 3 am for Bojan was already 10 am for Jere, and Bojan was feeling raw and unloved and Jere kept talking nonsense at him until all he could hear was soft snoring

And this another time, not even the rocking of the tour bus could calm Jere's post gig jitters so Bojan needed to... talk him down... so to speak, with visuals, and afterwards Jere fell asleep with earbuds still on, phone lying face up on the bed so all Bojan could see was the bottom of the bunk above, but still he kept whispering stupid, sweet nothings in the ether, things that he would be embarrassed about had Jere actually heard him

Once it was in person, in Jere's childhood bed, Bojan exhausted from travel and drowsy from sauna and ananaslonkero, and Jere didn't even notice he was slipping under, just kept yapping about their plans

Another time it was also in person, they had just watched football together but excused themselves pretty early, and Jere jostled awake a few times just to grab Bojan's hand again, and Bojan kept talking a bit more, just to answer Jere's unspoken question, yes yes Bojan is here

[tinyarmedtrex]

A Wedding of Discontent

Read Chapter 3 here

Preview:

"Mm," Astarion looked up at him with half lidded eyes. "Will you show it to me later? I do so desire to know you in every room." He let a finger trail down Gale's chest as he licked his lips. The wizard flushed but didn't pull back.

Behind them someone coughed. Loudly. Astarion slowly swung his head towards the voice, leaving his finger right above Gale's belly button. Gale's father was watching them, a beautiful vein on his forehead threatening to pop.

"My lord." He purred.

"We're waiting for you to take your place." He said through gritted teeth. 

[ganonfan1995]

Taking the first vacation of my adult life which included travel via plane….and man I really did not understand how crucially important leaving my home region is.

No wonder I never felt “rested” after taking a long weekend/month off work in my own house.

[pocketramblr]

Okay, for utter crack purpose and Endeavor's misery:

Rei with Dfo stick

yes - well crack but its tragic and everyone's miserable kjhjkjh

though it'd be hilarious if AfO decided "eh what the hell" and make everything worse for Endeavor to just, reveal himself and torment everyone by staying there now and implicitly threatening that no one can say anything about Grandpa moving in.

[yumichikah]

He's having himself some breakfast.

[eritvita]

continued from x ;

@intothewildsea

Roland hums in sleepy mumbling at her shoulder, fully pressed to the front of her body in this long lounge of gentle resting. The beam from the sunlit window encapsulates upon Roland’s broad back, naked and endearing in that silt of Niamh’s cotton sheets.

He entwines a strand of her hair through his fingers, weaving it for that pleasure of beautific texture. “What is the humor of thine Grandmother and Father?” inquires he, as his brow quirks and his expression tastefully hardens a’fore anyone or anything in dislike of communal niceties.

[ileftherbackhome]

truly cannot stand whenever i try and educate people on taylor swift because they will ALWAYS make some snarky ass comment just so they can feel superior to a swiftie and its so fucking gross and exhausting.

[nerves-nebula]

SAD! well there's other years.

side note, I didn't know what Skin Hunger was and it turns out it's just a weird way of saying "Touch Starved" which is. well. Skin Hunger sounds like something really fucked up so idk why you'd go with that but whatever.

[kayhi808]

I love how you're working the Avengers into the story.

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 6

Part 6: What We Need

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.6k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mafia families. References to arranged marriage. Potentioal infidelity. References to crime family violence. Coercion. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

A/N: Thank you to @brazen-impudence for the absolutely beautiful mood board I'm using for this chapter. 🙏💕

~~~

The soft notes of Chopin’s Fantaisie-Impromptu greeted you when you stepped out of your room and headed for the stairs for dinner. It was just after six. You just knew if you made him wait any longer, there’d be another confrontation.

Not that the one earlier today was so terrible…

No. You weren’t going to think about that kiss. Again.

Dyson waited at the foot of the stairs, looking dapper in his gray suit and red tie. He flashed you a warning look as you descended.

His gaze assessed you, fatherly where Steve’s was…

Stop.

You’d made an effort. You wore dark slacks, a nice blouse. You’d dressed up, hoping it would earn you points. You put on makeup, did your hair. You could tell yourself all you wanted that you weren’t trying to be attractive for Steve but…

“You look lovely,” Dyson told you as reached the bottom of the stairs.

As he always did, he directed you. Gesturing towards the living room, you expected to see Clint playing the piano, the dining room table beyond it set. All was as you expected.

But Steve stood next to the piano, talking to two newcomers. One was a beautiful woman with red hair and a winning smile. Next to her was a man with curly dark hair and a deep voice. His dark eyes were friendly when he noticed your arrival.

With everyone’s attention on you, you took a deep breath and made your way over to them. You didn’t miss the way Steve’s gaze moved slowly over you.

“There she is,” he said finally, wrapping an arm around your shoulder when you reached him and pulling you into his side like it was habit.

“You finally get to meet my sister, Natasha,” Steve told you as she switched her champagne glass to her left hand to offer you her right.

She was impossibly more beautiful close up. You shook her hand, told her it was nice to meet her.

“And her husband, Bruce Banner,” Steve continued.

You also shook his hand, his firm grip reminding you of your father.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Bruce said after a moment. “He helped me out when I graduated college. Put me on the path to being a consigliere.”

Okay, you’d seen The Godfather. He was a mafia lawyer then?

Some confusion must have shown on your face. Natasha laughed, taking a sip of her champagne. “He’s Steve’s consigliere,” she amended. “And a good one.”

“That he is,” Steve conceded. “Which reminds me, Bruce. We need to discuss a couple of things. Why don’t we knock that out now so we can enjoy the rest of the evening?”

Bruce nodded. “Lead the way.”

“We won’t be long,” Steve told you, brushing a kiss on your forehead before leading Bruce off to his study.

That left you right in Natasha’s sites. While her gaze was as razor sharp as her brother’s, her smile was disarming and warm.

“You are not what I expected,” she told you, motioning to the plush sofa and taking a seat. When she motioned for you to join her, you did.

“I can imagine what you expected,” you told her.

A young man wandered in from the kitchen, a fresh tray of loaded champagne flutes balanced on it. You accepted one from him, needing the courage it offered.

“Did you know?” she asked you.

You took your time, sipping at the fizzy drink.

“Did I know my father told everyone I was Quasimodo?” When Natasha laughed, you shook your head. “No. I didn’t.”

“Then I guess the first time you met Steve was a bit of a surprise,” she mused.

“That’s putting it lightly,” you told her. “Until that day, I didn’t know I was supposed to be horribly disfigured. I also didn’t know my father was dying.”

Some realization lit up her face at that. “You know, I wondered why…”

“Why he didn’t go shoot him in the head that day?”

You’d caught her off guard, but she recovered quickly.

“That was his intention,” Natasha told you. “I’m starting to see now why he didn’t.”

What did she mean by that?

“You just might be a very good match for my brother.”

“Well, that’s good,” you told her, downing more of your champagne. “It’s not like I have a choice anyway.”

Something softened her expression. Her eyes were kind. Her gaze cut back to Clint at the piano and back to you.

“That I do understand,” she said quietly.

You didn’t have long to wonder what that meant. As if he sensed her attention, Clint glanced back at Natasha over his shoulder. He didn't miss a note he played, on to the Clair de Lune now. Something about his fond gaze…

“I was supposed to marry your brother, you know,” she threw out there.

“That’s what I heard,” you said. “I’m sorry. I hope you got to choose your husband after all that.”

Oh. Oh. Something about the way she tried to school her features told you that… maybe she didn’t.

“Being married to the consigliere is a pretty good life,” she explained, downing the rest of her flute, and signaling to the young man with the tray to bring her another. She plucked two off that tray and handed one to you.

Grinning, you drained your first and set it on the elegant glass coffee table. You took the second from her, grateful.

“We’re very comfortable,” she went on. “And Bruce is a successful lawyer so it’s relatively safe.”

You didn’t need the reminder that your soon-to-be husband was a crime boss. You’d live your life on the edge of disaster. Sure, Dyson assured you that Steve was too clever to get caught.

If you’d really loved him, maybe the risk would even be worth it. But you weren’t here by choice. The risk just made a hard-to-accept situation that much worse.

“Do you have any children?” you asked.

Natasha dropped her gaze and you felt like an inconsiderate ass for asking. When her gaze returned to you, again she schooled her features. She seemed to be thinking of an answer.

“I’m sorry,” you told her. “Not my business.”

Your apology seemed to surprise her.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “We’re going to be sisters after all… No. We don’t.”

You weren’t about to continue that line of conversation.

“Are you ready for the wedding?” she asked, redirecting the conversation.

You shrugged. “As ready as I’m ever going to be.”

You’d been fitted for your dress, your veil. You had outfits for the rehearsal dinner, for life after the ceremony.

Natasha’s gaze went to your left hand, her expression kind.

“But you’re all alone, aren’t you?” she asked quietly.

It was the truth.

“We need to think about this,” Natasha told you. It was then you noticed Dyson had wandered into the room standing next to the young man with the tray of champagne. “Yes, this marriage is important for Steve. For this family. But how it goes is important for you too. It matters how we do this.”

That she said “we” got your attention.

“Do you have any close friends who could be your maid-of-honor or bridesmaids?”

You had acquaintances. Girls who’d been the kids of your tutors, the servants. It wasn’t like you hung out with them ever.

“No one I know any better than you,” you admitted.

“Someone should give away the bride,” Natasha went on, her investment in your upcoming marriage growing. “Do you know anyone?”

You shook your head. Your gaze landed on Dyson as you felt tears sting the backs of your eyes.

“I’d be proud to walk you up the aisle,” the older man who was probably the closest thing you’d ever had to a friend told you. “If you’ll have me. If it’s okay with Steve.”

You couldn’t have said why. You burst into tears at that, more grateful than you could say. Dyson looked panicked. Natasha was next to you in an instant, putting your flutes to the side on the table and pulling you into her arms.

“Would that be okay?” she asked you, holding onto you.

“Yes,” you managed through your tears. You managed to meet Dyson’s gaze. “Thank you.”

Natasha eased back from you. “I’ll be your matron-of-honor. I’ll ask a couple of my friends to be your bridesmaids. We’ll get the stylists back, get dresses made.”

Why was she trying so hard to help you?

Instead of speaking the question, you hugged her in your gratitude. “That… would be wonderful.”

Dyson’s eyes were suspiciously shiny. “I’ll go call them, set up another appointment. I’ll get myself a suit made up.”

“Thank you,” Natasha bid him as he bustled off.

You looked up just in time to see a glance pass between Natasha and Clint, who’d stopped playing and sat straddling the bench in front of the piano. The silent connection between the two was intimate, made you feel like you were intruding.

“Hey,” Natasha told you, drawing your attention back to her. “It’s all going to work out.”

You felt so fragile under those sympathetic gazes.

“I don’t care if it does,” you whispered, hoping the boy with his tray and Clint didn’t catch that.

Cautiously gazing around the room, Natasha tipped up your chin so you’d meet her gaze.

While she kept a smile on her face, it didn’t match the urgency in her tone. “You should. You’re in danger in this world. People will want to hurt you because of who your father was. Yeah, he led the families for decades and most loved him. But he was no saint. He made enemies.”

No matter how many times you tried to envision your father as a mob boss, someone feared, you just couldn’t. Your father had been a confident man, kind to you. In truth, you hadn’t known him all that well. You hadn’t seen him often though he spared no expense on your care.

It didn’t occur to you until after he died that there was more than one reason behind the protected life of isolation he’d provided you. He’d told everyone you were disfigured and that kept them away from you.

What kept him away from you? He lost his wife and son that day in the wreck. Only you had survived, and you had no scars, physical or otherwise, to show for it. Did being around you hurt too much? Remind him of his losses?

It has everything to do with her.

What happened between Bucky Barnes’ family and yours?

“And you’ll be Steve’s wife,” she went on quietly. “It might not be life you pictured for yourself, but my brother can keep you safe.”

“He has enemies too.”

She didn’t deny it.

“How am I going to do this?” you wanted to know.

“Like you said, you don’t really have a choice,” she pointed out. “You’ll just do it.”

Grabbing your flute, you downed it in record time. It was your second on an empty stomach.

“That’s the spirit,” she told you.

When the piano started playing again, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see Steve and Bruce strolling back into the room a beat later.

“Already making your new sister-in-law cry, Nat?” Steve was only half joking, his gaze intent on you.

You shook your head in denial.

“Wedding nerves,” Nat explained away with an easy charm. “We all get them.”

“Do we?” Steve drank from the glass of liquor in his hand. “I’m looking forward to it myself.”

You could almost feel his lips on yours, the memory of him cornering you in your room burned into your mind. You knew one thing he was looking forward to.

You weren’t about to admit that maybe you were too.

But physical attraction? Sex? There was a big difference between that and love, a lasting relationship. You’d never have that with him. And thanks to him, you’d never have it with anyone else. Not while he lived.

“Dinner’s ready,” Luca’s voice was booming from the kitchen.

Steve’s gaze locked with yours. “Shall we?”

***

After a lengthy dinner and more drinks, you hugged Nat goodbye. With Steve, you walked your future in-laws to the door. The snow was falling again. Would it ever end?

Luca had cleaned up the kitchen and gone to bed some time ago, as had Dyson and the rest of the staff. Clint had disappeared earlier than that, right after dinner started.

Now you were alone with Steve…

Feigning a yawn, you decided to try and end the night. You wanted nothing more than to escape to the solace of your bedroom. Today had been one hell of an emotional rollercoaster.

“Thank you for dinner,” you told him as politely as you could manage. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

Oh, the look he cut you. Bad choice of words.

But he smiled indulgently. “Just a minute. Now that it’s just us, I have something I want to give you.”

You hesitated a beat, giving him time to steer you towards the sofa. He sat next to you there, your backs to the snow-frosted window. The blaze in the fireplace still warming the room, making it glow with the lights dimmed.

Reaching into the pocket of his black slacks, he pulled out just what you expected to see. The dark red ring box looked small in his hand, his gaze locking with yours.

A corner of his mouth curved up into a smirk. “You know it would help if you didn’t look scared to death.”

Shame flooded you at the words. It was true.

“I’m trying,” you assured him weakly.

“You are,” he admitted. “Dinner was nice. My sister really likes you.”

You did like Natasha. Just maybe you’d have her and Dyson as allies in this new life.

“I just hope one day, you like me,” he told you.

What did he expect you to say to that?

Slowly, he opened the ring box to reveal a stunning sapphire solitaire with tiny diamonds placed artfully around it. Plucking the dainty ring out of the box, Steve carefully captured your left hand in his, sliding the ring onto your finger.

It did fit perfectly, winking like a beautiful star off your hand.

Steve spoke your name quietly. “Since it’s already been agreed upon that we’re getting married…”

Maybe it was the wine – and the champagne -- you’d been drinking all evening. You met his gaze squarely.

“I didn’t agree to that,” you told him.

“I’m asking you to obey me at all times because your safety depends on it,” he said carefully. “And I’m asking you to just… give me a chance.”

The sincerity he put in those words shook you up a little, had you searching his face for any trace of a lie.

Why was he even bothering to say all this? You both knew the marriage was to benefit him and his position in leading the crime families of Boston. A trophy wife to pop out a couple of kids for him was all you were.

How dare he look at you like you were something he valued beyond that? If he thought he was going to use pretty words to bend you to his will, he had another thinking coming.

When you shook your head, he blew out a frustrated exhale.

“I get that the obedience part is going to be difficult for you,” he threw in.

You couldn’t help it, you laughed.

“Don’t act like this is some love story unfolding,” you warned him as your mirth faded. “From where I’m sitting, the last thing I should do is give you a chance.”

Steve looked taken aback and you went on.

“We both know why you’re marrying me, and it’s got nothing to do with love. If this is my life now, then I’d very much like to be realistic about it.”

You expected him to be pissed off. Any variation of it.

What you didn’t expect was the subtle way he shifted just a little closer to you on the sofa, the heated way his gaze roamed over you.

“You want realism, huh?”

“It’s what I need,” you told him, edging away from him on the couch.

You were in dangerous territory here. The subtle notes of amber and cedar in his cologne were enticing, warm as he was. Again, he shifted to be closer to you, hemming you in at the corner of the couch. The light from the fireplace lit up his handsome face, blazing on the shiny surface of his silver tie. His blue eyes were heated, moving over your face and hair covetously.

“There are things I need too,” he whispered, his gaze dropping to your left hand, his ring on your finger. “I need this marriage to take place. I swear to God if ceremony wasn’t so important to everyone, I’d have gotten you in front of a justice of the peace by now.”

You swallowed hard. “You’re that eager to take my father’s place.”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he said quietly. “Like you pointed out, I could probably take his seat even without this marriage. I’d planned to. But what I need is more of you.”

Planting one muscular arm on the arm of the couch you were backed into and one on the cushion by your hip, he caged you into the corner. You expected him to come at you like a wild man, greedy.

The kiss was the softest caress, the petals of his lips against yours, the soft brush of his beard. Steve took his time, enticing you with slow movements, a gentle hand. Within seconds, you were moving with him, tasting his lips as he sampled yours. When his arm curled around your waist to pull you closer, you didn’t fight him. The linen of his fine shirt felt so soft and warm as your hand skimmed up his powerful forearm, over the hard muscle of his bicep. As his kiss grew more demanding, you parted your lips for him. Steve tasted like cognac, power, and deep longing.

The passion in that kiss had your mind spinning. Steve was gorgeous. He felt good, so good. If you were going to be forced to marry, it could be far worse, and you knew it. Sure, he was ambitiously seeking to lead the crime families of Boston. But it was an opulent life and you’d be cared for in the manner you’d always been.

And this? This wasn’t so bad, was it?

Until he goes back to other women.

Until he gets what he wants.

But it was so hard to care about that when your hands were sliding up the solid wall of his chest, into the fine silk of his hair. He moaned deeply at that touch and you felt it all through your body, currents of pleasure and desire racing through every part of you, centering low in your belly. His kisses were like the champagne you’d enjoyed all evening, sweet and intoxicating.

His large hands roamed over your back and hips, up into your hair. When his lips blazed a trail across to your jaw and down over the delicate skin below your ear, you were fighting to get closer to him. It took your breath away…

“Steve!” Dyson yelled, his booming steps heading in your direction fast.

Steve’s glare was murderous as he reluctantly eased away from you, turning to see why his man was heading towards you with such urgency.

Dyson’s gaze flew over both of you as he came to a stop just a few feet away. Putting his hands up, he said, “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t…”

“What?” Steve asked with a huff.

“It’s Clint,” Dyson told him. “He’s been hit.”

You felt Steve tense next to you, his hand curled around yours.

Your heart flew in your chest. Didn’t that mean he’d been shot? Hurt in some way?

“Is he alive?” Steve demanded.

Dyson nodded. “For now.”

Sending up a small prayer of thanks, you blew out an exhale. There was hope.

Steve’s gaze flew to you and back to Dyson. “Get everyone in my study in ten minutes,” he told him. “I’ll need a driver so get Scott.”

Dyson nodded. “Will do.”

Rising from the couch, Steve motioned to you to join him. “Go to your room. Don’t leave it, no matter what you hear. Do you understand?”

To Dyson, he said, “I want my best guards here. Two outside her door, two on the ground. They don’t leave until it’s cleared by me. Got it?”

“Anything you say, boss,” Dyson told him, shuffling off to set Steve’s plans in motion.

Steve took you up the stairs to your room himself. With his hand on the doorknob, he leaned in to steal one last kiss. Your heart hammered in your chest, beating out a wild tattoo of desire, fear, and apprehension.

“If you need anything,” he told you with his forehead pressed to yours, “text Dyson. Kill the lights and stay away from the windows. Okay?”

You nodded, growing more fearful by the second.

“What will you do?” you asked him.

“I need to protect you first and foremost,” he said meaningfully. “And I need to find out what happened. Don’t worry yourself about this. Try to get some sleep.”

With that, he opened the door for you and closed it behind you firmly once you entered the solace of your bedroom.

You just no longer wanted that solace.

[philosophicallie]

im starving so ik why I'm thinking this but

[tearmannfoilathe]

Continued from Here with @aethergate...

" It is with great pleasure to meet you then, Luka. Worry not, I completely understand what you're trying to convey. " Nymh paused her own fidgeting and placed her hands behind her back. It's almost silly really, both parties being anxious over the other. Reminiscent of a human and a house spider...

" Ah. I am a bit of a traveler these days, so, I suppose just being back here is like, touching home base in a way. " This wasn't her forest, certainly not, but the one nearby Will's current residence. It's about as close as she felt comfortable getting in broad daylight...

" If you do not wish for company, I am more than comfortable with locating myself elsewhere. The last thing I wish to do is intrude. "

[ge]

my hc for chosam is that he's being taken care of in heaven by the ppl chung myung loves...

aw..thats good..if i was unwillingly kicked out of my own body id like it if i had a support system