#now here i am with Consequences of My Actions and trying to do what i need to do today is very daunting when my thumb hurts like this

[pepprs]

idk how to reconcile my new self with my old self. also i fucking hate waiting. GRAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[lizardho]

I was like 11-12 years old when I figured out at a boring-ass church activity that you could put rocks into little plastic spoons and then pelt people who annoyed me with them. I did this for the rest of the activity, and at Sunday dinner the next night was bragging about my victory (cornering the mean kid who picked on my youngest brother and pelting him with rocks). One of my cousins was like “no way, that sounds SO fun! Let’s do that RIGHT NOW!” So we grabbed spoons and went and got pebbles from the back yard and launched them at each other.

The problem was my grandma sold her soul for the world’s most resilient plastic spoons so we could launch those fuckers HARD. I gave out welts like candy on Halloween, and I got them back in kind.

So we resorted to taking cover and giggling until we got whacked, then yelping, then returning fire.

My cousin hid in my grandpa’s little fishing boat. It was a good boat, but simple and honestly underused. We didn’t know the little windows on it, meant to keep the wind out of my grandpa’s face while he drove, were cracking. However, they were definitely cracking. Eventually it became obvious and we realized we had been being dumb.

This was NOT the first time in my life I’d been dumb roughhousing and broken something, and I had developed a reputation in my family as being “suicidally honest” so I was the one to deliver the bad news. My grandpa let out a pretty good chuckle and said it was OK, tousled my hair, and asked my grandma to bring me cake. I am not kidding. I learned later he hated his boat and only bought it for his kids’ sakes, since he thought everyone needed to know how to fish. At the time though I was just bewildered and pleased at my good fortune. FINALLY, at long last, being honest and telling the truth about breaking something expensive was getting me cake. I knew if I kept trying it would eventually serve me, and now so had CAKE. I was pleased as could be.

My dad, on the other hand, was livid. He LOVED that boat. He spent several weeks each summer recovering from breaking ribs in that boat every year for about 7 years prior to this incident. He had great memories and memories that boat. So he told my Grandma NO cake for me AND that I’d be coming by this weekend to fix stuff around the house and pay for the broken window with my babysitting/lawn mowing money.

Obviously I was devastated, but that felt more in-line with the way things normally went when I broke something expensive so I just figured it was OK. My grandpa gave my grandma a look and sadly said “Ok, have her here on Saturday to help me with some yard work.”

That Saturday my dad woke me up at 6:00 sharp and drove me, sleepy and bewildered, to my grandpa’s house. He was mumbling under his breath the whole time but he thought he was teaching me consequences for my actions so he was ultimately OK with it.

We get to my grandpa’s house at 6:15. My grandpa is outside with a ladder hanging Christmas lights. The lawn is freshly mowed, the trees and garden are weeded and well-tended to, the carnations in the front yard look immaculate, and my grandpa has this giddy mischievous look on his face. He tells me he was so excited that I was coming over that he couldn’t sleep, so he did all the yard work himself. He asked me to help him put up Christmas lights and decorate the Christmas tree, which I did, then said that because I was such a good helper I could have some pancakes for breakfast. I was sent home with the slice of cake I had been denied the week before, wrapped to keep it as fresh as possible.

The whole way home my dad looked a little miffed, but told me that he was glad I had been honest and was proud of me for helping grandpa. I know he wanted me to Learn a Lesson™️the cowboy way, like he had as a kid, but didn’t have much room to complain since I’d still been Put To Work.

I think that was a lesson for both of us, although I’m not totally sure what it was supposed to show me. I think it was my grandpa’s way of showing my dad that discipline without tenderness doesn’t count as much. He died last year and I miss him terribly, as does my dad. I hope that my story of victory, drama, punishment, and ultimately a secret second victory is meaningful to someone else out there, but if not it still means a lot to me ❤️

[thisisadecisionimayregret]

hm.

[kitorin]

g.satoru - 1:19 am

"i can't believe you kissed him—"

it's the dead of night when gojo satoru's fuming, acting as a means of prevention to your long awaited (and well deserved) sleep.

you pull your shared blanket, covering the entirety of yourself. "shut up. not now."

satoru rips the blanket off you. "yes, now. don't try to run away from the consequences to your actions."

an effort to pull back the blanket becomes futile, as you decide not to bother. "you're overreacting."

"why him, why not me? majority of his face is forehead and he's built like a rugby ball. he doesn't even look like a man" he inhales sharply. "what about this face isn't perfect?" satoru gestures to it, hair still slightly damp from the late shower and blindfold nowhere to be seen. "this is basically cheating. why would you do this to me? shall i get rid of my bangs so i have a bigger forehead?"

"satoru, he's just a plushie." you pull the white softness of the cinnamoroll plush to your chest, fingers stroking it's fluff.

"lucky bastard..." a curse or two accompanies his words, as he wraps himself in the blanket, as far away from you as possible. "should've been me."

"satoru—"

"i bet my hair's softer."

"why don't you come here and prove that to me then?"

the blanket unfolds to reveal a pouting gojo satoru. "you even called it a he."

cinnamoroll settles on your bed's head rest, somehow balancing with his 'majority forehead face'. satoru shuffles closer to you, closing the distance between you two.

you shrug. "he's my son. my baby."

"i'm your baby."

"he's baby in the sense of an actual, cute baby. you're baby in the sense of an immature grown ass man."

he responds with an eye roll. "wow. okay. plushie's more important than me i see."

another shrug from you, biting down on your lip to swallow a snicker (it wasn't successful).

"love it's just a plushie—"

"i tried to tell you that initially." satoru faces you to pout, but it has no effect on this little squabble of yours, maybe only a giggle or two from you. "he's so cute, c'mon.

without much effort, satoru picks cinnamoroll up, staring, no, glaring at the poor dog. "you can't find someone cute after they stole your lover."

"he's my son. that would make him your son." the observation makes him stick his tongue out. "all i did was kiss him."

"me related to him? no thank you." satoru continues to inspect the plushie from the sky blue, plastic eyes to the swirly tail on its bottom. "i hate him."

"you look the same. white hair, blue eyes."

satoru scoffs, very pretentiously. "that shade of blue is so dull. mine's bright and shiny. therefore prettier."

you lean in closer, not to whisper to him but to the plush. "i guess you'll be fine with having satoru's good night kiss?"

his jaw drops—literally, betrayal scrawled on his features. "you wouldn't."

"learn to get along with our son then."

satoru huffs indignantly, but brings the plushie to his chest, hugging it tightly. "well he's nice to cuddle. and his big head doesn't look so bad anymore."

finally, you reclaim the blanket stolen from you. "we both know you love him as much as i do."

"ew, as if." but he knows very well you're correct.

[he ended up forgetting the goodnight kiss he was fuming about]

taglist (send ask to be added) : @yuzurins , @pokkomi , @chigirizzz

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[always-coffee]

WV Libraries Are Under Attack: How to Help

News came out yesterday that West Virginia House passed House Bill 4654. This would remove “bona fide schools, public libraries, and museums from the list of exemptions from criminal liability relating to distribution and display to a minor of obscene matter. …”

Potentially criminalizing librarians is bad, and it’s straight out of the fascist playbook. “Opponents of the bill said that while the bill does not ban books, the bill would have unintended consequences for public and school libraries, resulting in increases in challenges to even classic books and attempts to criminally charge librarians over books not pornographic in nature, but books that include descriptions of sex. They also said it could result in improper criminal charges against library staff,” Steven Allen Adams writes.

So, the question is: now what? What do we do? Where do we go from here?

If you live in West Virginia, call you state senate reps. You can find them listed here.

It’s okay to keep your message short:

“Hi, I’m [full name] calling from [ZIP code], and I’m a constituent of [Senator Name]. I am calling to voice my opposition to Bill 4654, because this is a dangerous step toward book banning. It could potentially harm librarians and libraries, which is incredibly wrong. Do not back this dangerous bill.

You can also ask how many people have called to voice their opposition to this bill. This may annoy the person on the phone, but they technically have to answer you. They may be evasive anyway. But you can either give them your contact information and tell them you’d like a call back or you can call back again later and ask for the tally.

The thing is, people rarely call in. A handful of calls is considered a lot, and the best thing you can do right now is make yourself a nuisance. Good trouble, etc.

Only call if you live in West Virginia, because they do not count calls from those outside their constituency. I am obviously not an expert, but if you have additional questions, ask them and I’ll try to help. I learned way more about how politics work during the last presidency than I thought humanly possible.

Additional resources:

[andhumanslovedstories]

I've been running this writing experiment lately to cut out phrases like "I felt" in my fiction writing. Like I was looking at a sentence in a draft that said, "he felt as if character's eyes were pinning him in place." And then I was like, "well, does he think that or is it true? As a result of this person watching him, he's froze. It's not like a thing, it is that thing."

Oh and "almost"! I'm always going, "He felt almost relieved that it hadn't happened." Well, did he feel better that it didn't happen or didn't he? Or "somewhat", I'm always going, "she felt somewhat perturbed."

And like none of that is wrong, to be clear. I don't know if it'd improve your writing, I don't even know if it'll improve my writing, but I use this sentence structure all the time so every viewpoint is from a voice that thinks about what it thinks, hedges its statements, and offers the same ability for wry little jokes formatted in the exact same way. And I have a lot of writing like that and I think (!) that they're good, but read as a whole, I'm like, "god, they all sound the same." Like there's one melody that I write songs to, so even with different lyrics, it's almost (!) the same song. Something I've been struggling with in regards to my writing and why I've felt so blocked is how boring I found writing my usual way. I'd read something and enjoy the individual parts of it, but then I'd step back and I didn't like the whole. And I got good at this enough at seeing that I didn't like it to do it in real time as I was writing, which as you can imagine didn't improve the process of writing because now I was bored AND dejected about being bored.

There's this sentence-level structure fact that I use unconsciously. A pattern I find easy is short sentence, short sentence, short sentence, long sentence. So I write that. "He [verbed]. He [verbed]. Then he [verbed]. As he [verbed] to his [consequence], he [verbed] that [noun] was [statement of condition]." Which could work, it often does make for a nice rhythm, but it's something I reach for often because it's easier for me.

Just last sentence, I originally typed, "I find it easier for me." But if what I mean is "using this pattern is less effort than another pattern," then it's easier for me. One voice is hedging its bets and the other asserting. Either is fine! But they're different! And, again, GOD you would not believe how many words I've cut out of this paragraph as I write it. I'm so chatty. I love using twelve words when six will do. And that gives my writing a specific tone to my ear.

So if I am bored of that tone, why not try using just the six words? Why be understated? Why be afraid of stronger opinions? So right now with my fiction, I'm experimenting with cutting out as many self-reflective words as I can. Sometime you do need to draw attention to the face that this is the character's interpretation, but like you definitely don't need to do it as much as I naturally want to do it. You don't need to always go out of your way to allow the possibility that the narrative voice is wrong. During editing, I trim the weaker ones (I originally typed, "what I consider the weaker ones" Is that more accurate?). But I think them being there in the first place shifts my language which shifts my character's which shifts my plot. It's sentence structure all the way down!!

(this barely applies to my writing on here, btw. i try to do good but yknow this is a tumblr blog. i'm not trying to get a lit mag to accept it.)

Anyway blah blah (chatty!) the point is I've been trying to write in a way opposite of my interests. Something that doesn't take itself too seriously, that emphasizes EMOTION and ACTION instead of minimizing it, and that clips through scenes at a good pace. Doing this been amazingly fun. I've been having such a good time doing it. I am writing so much because I really enjoy doing it. The process of writing is so fun again.

This post is about two things. One is my new mood stabilizer and therapy day camp. The other is about the benefit of pretending to be MXTX.

[rafedaddy01]

Babysitter y/n slipping into rafes bed during the night when his wife is away on a work trip

She convinces him ,because she normally already drove home at 8 pm that he is just having a lucid dream

So shes not real and there are not consequences to his actions

So rafe makes all his dream about her come true

Fing her tight virgin p Doggy style as hard as he can

Of course raw

Grabing her as he wishes

And it really is a dream come true

Until the next mornign when he wakes up d still inside of y/n and he hears "honey I am home"

And he realizes he just actually f d his babysitter

Summary: You've spent years trying to get Rafe Cameron to pop your cherry. He's eight years older than you, but that's never stopped you. Ever since you were 16, you've been obsessed with him. Now, you've finally landed a job as his babysitter, and you're determined to get exactly what you want.

Warnings: SMUT, age-gap

Notes: thank you for the request. I added my own little back story to it ❤️

Your heart pounded in your chest, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins leaving you trembling. “Y/N? What the hell are you doing?”

“Shh, it’s not real. Just a dream, baby.”

He placed his palms firmly on your hips, his grip possessive as he steadied you over him. A sly smirk tugged at his lips. “Is it now? Funny, ‘cause it feels pretty damn real to me, baby.”

Your heart raced, but you forced yourself to stay composed as you leaned in and kissed him deeply, your lips lingering against his. Pulling back just slightly, you whispered, "If this were real, would I be doing this?"

The atmosphere shifted in an instant, heavy and electric. Rafe moved with predatory precision, flipping you over with ease until you were ass-up beneath him. His palm came down hard on your skin, the sharp sting leaving a mark and pulling a startled whine from your lips.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his hand lingering on the sting he left behind. “You like that, huh? Thought you could tease me and get away with it? Nah, baby, I don’t play nice.”

“Rafe—” your voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper as you glanced back at him. Your skin burned under his touch, a mix of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach. “You can’t just… do that and expect me to keep it together.”

Rafe’s grin was wicked as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “Baby, if this is a dream, I’m making the most of it. Who knows when I’ll get to ruin you like this in real life?”

Your voice was barely a whisper, soft and inviting, as you tilted your head slightly, exposing the curve of your neck. Your eyes met his, a mixture of daring and vulnerability. “Do anything you want to me, Rafey,” you murmured, your words hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge, full of promise and surrender.

“Fuck,” Rafe muttered under his breath, his voice rough and low, like he was trying to convince himself this was real. The way you looked at him, eyes wide and filled with something between trust and temptation, made his chest tighten. You looked untouchable, like some kind of angel sent to test him, and yet here you were, all his for the taking. His lips curled into that signature smirk, dark and dangerous.“You’re too fucking perfect for me,” he murmured, his hand brushing your jaw as his thumb traced over your bottom lip. His blue eyes burned into yours, a storm of desire and control swirling inside them. “But you keep looking at me like that, and I’ll ruin you, angel. Consider it a challenge… and I never lose, baby.”

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation as you felt the tip of him pressing against your entrance. Your hips instinctively rolled back, seeking him, your movements deliberate, enticing, and impossible for him to resist.

"Ready, baby?" Rafe's voice was low and rough, a warning laced with dark intent. He didn't wait for your answer, pressing forward until his cock filled you completely, stretching you to the hilt. A guttural groan escaped his lips, his head falling back for a moment before his piercing blue eyes locked onto you again. "Fucking perfect," he hissed through gritted teeth, his palms gripping your hips with a bruising intensity. Without hesitation, he pulled back, then thrust forward with a force that made your breath hitch, his control slipping as he chased the pleasure only you could give him.

"Yes! Oh, fuck," you moaned, your voice breaking as your nails clawed desperately at the sheets beneath you. Your knees dug into the mattress, your back arching instinctively, presenting yourself to him in a way that made his breath hitch. From behind, Rafe groaned, his grip tightening on your hips as he watched himself disappear into you, the sight driving him wild. "God, you're fucking perfect," he growled, his pace faltering for a moment as he took in the view, utterly consumed by you.

"Fucking perfect, baby," Rafe groaned, his voice rough as he pulled you closer. "So tight and warm... I fucking love it." Without warning, he smacked the curve of your ass, the sound sharp and satisfying. His hand lingered there, gripping and kneading the flesh, soothing the sting with a possessive caress.

Your release built rapidly, the pressure becoming unbearable. "Rafe, l'm gonna cum!" you moaned, your voice trembling with need. His palms gripped your hips tightly as his cock pulsed inside you, his own release dangerously close.

"Come on, baby, give it to me. Let me feel you soak my cock," Rafe growled, thrusting harder, his tip relentlessly hitting your g-spot.

"Fuck, Rafe," you gasped, the words barely escaping as the floodgates opened. Your legs trembled uncontrollably as you came, his release following in sync, his body collapsing beside yours. His cock still nestled inside you, the two of you drifted into an exhausted slumber. But morning arrived with an ominous chill, the sound of creaking steps jolting you awake. A voice, clear and sharp, echoed through the house-his wife's voice, calling out for her husband. Your heart froze as Rafe stirred beside you, still buried within you, completely unaware of the storm about to erupt.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover @mema10 @writingroom21 @wtfdudesblog

[sweetbunpura]

Filled with Static...

Summary: Yuu was already fed up before coming to Playful Land and now that it's over... She has some very choice words for she has reached her boiling point...

Sorry in advance~

Yuu watches with hollow eyes as Fellow and Gidel depart without having to face the consequences of their actions. Everyone jokes around her about what they just went through, but static is rapidly and quickly filling Yuu's ears. She moves away from the group and makes her way down a street, unaware of the sound of footsteps behind her. A hand lands on her shoulder and she's quick to slap it off.

"Ow, rude much?"

Yuu turns to see Ace with his arms crossed. "What?"

"Just wanted to know why you took off like that."

"Why do you care?"

"Wow, jeez." Ace scoffed. "I knew you were snippy from the start, but I thought that would've cleared up. What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? What's the big deal!?" Her voice echoes throughout the small area of the docks. "Ace, are you fucking blind as well as a total fucking moron!?" She jabs her hand to where Playful Land used to be. "We almost got turned into puppets and sold off because of you guys!"

"Hey, we got out in the end!"

"No, we didn't. If Fellow hadn't gotten that phone call, we'd be goners." The others have stopped a few feet away, but Yuu ignores them. "And you're cracking jokes about it."

"Well, destroying the park was-"

"I mean about the whole thing, you brainless baboon." She snarls. "From the start, you ignored all the fucking warning signs that said you should stay far away from this man. Did Azul tricking you not ring any bells in that empty head of you?" She tapped her finger against Ace's forehead. "And even when you were told that the warning signs were blaring red, you still ignored them."

"Hold on." Ace growled. "Why am I getting signaled out?"

"Oh it's not just you, Ace." She points behind him. "It goes double for those cacophony of idiots."

"Wow, rude, Yuu-chan..." Cater mutters.

"I get that you guys are like this. It's all fun and games to the ones who can use magic." She shakes her hand in a mocking way. "But this is just another scar on my body that I do not need." She pulls up her sleeves to show the overblot scars...as well as a new wooden looking scar on her wrist. "You guys think this is a joke, when it's not. You're risking my life with your guys shit."

"You came with us!" Ace argues.

"Cause I had to make sure my useless excuse for a fucking cat didn't keel over and die!" Yuu shouts and begins shoving Ace. "You. Treat. Me. Like. I'm. Expendable." She pushes him back. "I'm a living being too, jack ass, what I have done to warrant being treated lower than dirt? Every time this happens, and I almost lose my life in the process... how many more times is this going to be an almost before it actually happens?"

The red head narrows his eyes and snorts. "If you hate it here so much, why don't you just go back home?"

"Ace..." Lilia tries to say but is cut off by Yuu socking Ace in the face and sending him to the ground.

"NEWS FLASH, ASSHOLE!" The look in Yuu's eyes are murderous. "I'VE BEEN TRYING TOO! YOU GUYS CAN JUST CALL UP YOUR FAMILY OR SEND THEM A QUICK TEXT TO CHECK UP ON THEIR WELL BEING! YOU'RE A PORTAL AWAY FROM HOME! I HAVE NOTHING, I GOT NOTHING, I HAVE NO FAMILY HERE AND I AM REMINDED OF IT EVERY DAY BY YOU GUYS AND BY CROWLEY!" Tears well up in her eyes. "I've had it here. I'm gone. I'm leaving NRC, I'm getting far away from you guys." She turns to leave and rubs her eyes. "Enjoy the rest of your fucking lives."

"Yuu-chan!"

"Shrimpy!"

"Herbivore, come back!"

"Potato!"

"Henchhuman!" Grim tries to follow after her only to lower his ears and back up as she shoots the darkest glare she can muster at him. "I'm....I'm..."

Yuu disappears into the morning crowd that had gathered to learn what the commotion was about. She did not return to NRC that day...rather Crewel had found her, curled up outside his temporary house.

"Oh, Pup...." He pulls his coat off, wraps it around the crying young lady, and helps her inside.

[a-spes]

So.. guess who is back with more thoughts about Wanda's really nice hands, and long nails?

Me.

I am the one who can't think about anything else but those perfect hands 🙆

You have many bad habits. You would bite your nails — or your lips, depending on your current mood — and skip meals sometimes. The woman hates that, but there is one bad habit of yours that she doesn't want to fix because she finds it absolutely endearing, and it is the way you are always avoiding her gaze.

She had quickly noticed that you were unable to hold eye contact with her for more than a few seconds, crumbling under a simple glance. She loves to slowly drag her index all the way up your neck until it finds a place under your chin. She loves to apply a slight pressure here, forcing you to tilt your head back until you have no choice but look at her, directly in the eyes. She loves the embarrassment she can read on your face.

—

Sometimes, you forget to think, and words you regret eventually fall past your pretty lips. Words that you do not mean, but would still get you in trouble with the woman — “Shut it, before you say something I'll make you regret,” she reprimands, and you can feel her nails slowly digging into your cheeks.

She is right. You don't want to suffer the consequences of your own actions, you were just craving for some of her attention. She has been so busy with her job lately that you've been feeling left out. Eventually, her thumb would find its way in your mouth, and you would just accept it.

“Isn't it what you wanted, honey? My whole attention? No, don't get shy now that you have it, and use your words to tell mommy what you want,” she teases, and suddenly you find yourself unable to speak — god, there is nothing she likes more than seeing how fast she can make you shut the fuck up and how quick she can turn you into her perfect, and obedient, little girl. One that would do anything she asks without thinking twice about it.

—

She does it on purpose, and you know it. The woman keeps pretending that she left these marks by accident, but you can see in her smile that she meant every one of them.

She loves them.

She loves to see those red crescents that decorate your skin. They are the reminder of who you are belonging to. They are the memory of the nights you've shared, and her not so gentle touches. Most of those are left when you try to squirm out of her grasp, when she has to dig her nails into your hips in order to keep you still while she ruins her precious baby.

—

That is something she loves to do, grabbing you by the hips whenever she is given the chance to. It is not her fault that you are looking so adorable that it gives her the urge to have her hands on your body, and to slowly draw pattern on your skin.

Most of the time, the woman would just sneak up behind you when you are busy, and you would have no idea that she was coming before you could feel her nails slightly digging into your skin and her soft breath brushing your neck.

[theemporium]

[22k] in attempt to bridge the decades old rivalry between the two gangs, a marriage of alliance is proposed between the new jersey devils and the new york rangers. the last thing you expected was to find yourself offered on a silver platter to your enemies. and you certainly didn't expect your future husband to be the likes of the devils leader himself, nico hischier.

new jersey mob masterlist || nhl mob masterlist

warning: this is a mob au. topics and themes such as violence, blood, murder and gun use are prevalent and constant throughout the fic. please keep that in mind if you choose to proceed with this fic and the whole series.

read part two here

.

“You know I would never question your authority—”

“It sounds like you’re about to question it.” 

“Are you really sure this is a good idea?” 

The footsteps echoing through the long corridor came to an abrupt stop as Nico stopped walking. The second set stopped shortly after, and he turned to find his second-in-command already looking at him with a mixed expression. It made him sigh, pushing back the meeting they were currently walking to to the back of his mind as he turned to his closest friend and confidante. 

The same man he had chosen to stand beside him in this lifestyle of theirs without a moment of hesitation because he knew no one would have his back the way Jesper Bratt did.

“Would there even be a point if I said no? It’s not like we can back out now,” Nico pointed out, and he watched Jesper’s shoulders slump a little like he was expecting that answer.

Jesper gritted his teeth. “I just don’t understand why you are doing this.”

“It’s for an alliance, Jesper, we’ve been over this,” Nico said, and despite himself, his eyes softened a little when he noted the hint of concern in his second-in-command‘s face. “We have too many enemies for our own good. We need to have people we can trust.” 

His eyes narrowed. “And you think you can trust them?”

“Just as much as they can trust us,” Nico replied, though the response sounded way too rehearsed and planned, even to his own ears. “We need this as much as they do.” 

“We have plenty of enemies you could have negotiated an alliance with,” Jesper pointed out. “We could have strengthened the bond with Philadelphia. Or even the Sabres. Hell, Nico, you could have even tried to fix things with the Panthers down south. Why in loving fuck would you pick the Rangers?”

Nico remained silent.

“Because you want something from them,” Jesper murmured, realisation clicking into place as he carefully noted Nico’s expression. “Or someone.” 

“I am doing it for the sake of the gang,” Nico answered simply.

A slow smile spread across Jesper’s face. “Us, huh?” 

“Shut up.” 

“You know, as your second-in-command, surely I deserve to know what your game plan is.” 

“My game plan is to get to this meeting and sign the papers to start a new era of alliance with the New York Rangers,” Nico stated, his voice simple and blunt, but Jesper knew better. “That is all.” 

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.” 

“Hm, sure.” 

Nico shot the boy a look over his shoulder, but Jesper just grinned in response.

“I should’ve brought Palat with me instead,” he grumbled under his breath, lips twitching upwards when he heard Jesper let out a noise of disagreement. “C’mon, don’t wanna be late.” 

“Please, we are already thirty minutes early.” 

“Walk faster.”

…

“Stop making that face.” 

Silence.

“You look prettier when you smile.”

Silence. 

“Rogue, baby, come on. Don’t be like that—” 

Your hand snapped out, your fingers wrapped around his wrist and halting his actions before he could even reach out to touch you. You turned your head to look at him for the first time since you left the house back in New York, your glare icy and cold. 

“Don’t try to fucking touch me again.” 

Jacob Trouba stared back at you, his face remaining impressively blank but you noted the small twitch in his jaw. It wasn’t often someone talked back to the boss of the New York Rangers and didn’t face some consequence, but you guessed you were getting a pass due to current circumstances. 

“Play nice,” he said eventually as he leaned back against his chair. You sat in the seat next to him to his right, with two men settled behind. Jacob had said they didn’t need any more men in the room, but you knew well enough that he would have some of his men crawling within a block radius of the building. “And try not to be too difficult.” 

“You picked the wrong woman then,” you retorted, your whole body feeling stiff and on edge as you glanced over at the clock above the door. Two more minutes before the meeting was set to begin. “There’s still time to change. There’s always—”

“Not happening.” 

You gritted your teeth together. 

“Smile.” 

“Don’t fucking test me right now.” 

You heard one of the boys choking on a laugh, quickly trying to cover it up with a laugh. You didn’t need to turn your head to know that Jacob was probably glaring at them. 

You couldn’t even find it within yourself to smile at the interaction. 

When Jacob had called you into his office two weeks ago, you honestly thought he was joking. He had told you about the offer the Devils had offered, a few other members of his inner circle in the room as the lot of you discussed it. Most of you mocked it, talked about how it was a fucking joke that such a deep, historical rivalry was meant to be fixed with one marriage. Jacob himself had made a few teasing comments during the whole thing. 

Then, a week later he told you he was actually contemplating it. 

And then, just this morning, he gave you next to no warning that it would be you heading across the river to marry one of the Devils boys. 

Your reaction was as one expected when they were told they were practically being sold off for the sake of an alliance—you were fucking pissed. You laughed it off but when he didn’t join, you felt an unexplainable rage bubble inside you.

You knew how this world worked. You knew the reality and the politics of mob life. You knew nothing but mob life. And you knew very well the way women were seen in the eyes of the mob, the way they were seen as objects more so than humans. You had seen friends close to you be shipped across the country for the sake of alliance arranged marriages. 

But never once did you think it would be you.

Never once did you think Jacob would pull this shit on you. 

And for an alliance with the Devils, of all fucking people.

You weren’t the kind of girl that mob men liked. You weren’t quiet or compliant or a pushover. You weren’t the kind of girl they liked to have on their arm to show off. You weren’t the kind of girl to be a mob wife, full stop. 

Jacob knew this. He knew it better than anyone. It was the main fucking reason you were close to him, that you had his respect, that you were one of the few people in his inner circle that he trusted beyond belief.

And he had thrown it back in your face. 

You hadn’t spoken to him after your initial outburst. Once your throat was raw and your hands were shaking with rage, you had turned on your heel and walked out the room. He had tried to speak to you, quite a few of the boys did. But you remained silent for the whole ride over, for the hours that passed, for the whole day until a few minutes ago. 

“You are being fucking ridiculous right now.” 

A muscle in your jaw twitched, an overbearing urge to turn in your seat and spit out every thought you had bubbling in your mind since this morning, but your attention was quickly diverted by the sound of the door opening. 

You had encountered many of the Devils before, though not many of their faces were familiar and recognisable. It was good to know one’s enemy, to know the strongest and weakest points of their group. You had studied them far more than you cared to admit, probably more so than needed over the years. 

However, years of meetings and unfortunate accounts meant you recognised the faces that walked through the door, but the last person still took you by surprise. You knew he would be here, you expected as much. 

But never once had you met Nico Hischier in the flesh. 

His reputation preceded him. You had heard a lot about the man, most of it surrounding the young age he stepped into power for the Devils. You knew what the other organisations thought about him, the whispers and rumours that travelled outside of New York where the hatred and rivalry wasn’t so prominent. 

He was seen to be…fair. 

You didn’t think it was necessarily possible to be considered fair in the life you all were in.

“Hischier.” 

You watched the man stop at the other side of the table, making a point of dragging the chair out and settling down comfortably. He waited a few moments as his men stood behind him in formation, and only after they were comfortable, did he speak.

“Trouba.” 

You could only imagine how much he was seething. A small part of you enjoyed it, even if you didn’t turn to watch his expression closely. 

“I assume you still agree to the terms of our deal.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement that laid heavy in the air between the two men.

“As long as nothing has changed on your side.”

Jacob’s lips twitched. “Now, Nico, what kind of man would you take me for? This is about an alliance.” 

Nico raised his brows a little. “To the start of a new beginning.” 

Jacob’s eyes shifted away from the man he had called his mortal enemy for years now, and instead shifted to you. “Your boys will like her.”

Your jaw clenched. 

“A wife isn’t meant to be shared,” Nico retorted, though there was a hint of something in his voice you couldn’t establish. “Though, I am not sure how things are run in New York.”

Jacob laughed, but it wasn’t one of amusement like the room pretended it was. “Of course not. I am sure—”

“Do I get to know who I’m marrying now?” You spoke up, watching as every pair of eyes in the room turned to you. They were heavy and judging and focused, but your expression remained impassive. “Or am I expected to just sign a paper and be done with it?” 

Nico’s eyes fell onto you, something swirling in them that felt strong and captivating and almost made you want to lean a little closer to read whatever was written in them. He tilted his head, almost like he was inquiring your words before he spoke.

“You’ll be my wife.” 

You froze, blinking. 

Understanding washed over Nico’s expression. “You didn’t know.”

“No,” you gritted out, your nails digging into your palm as that bubbling rage from earlier returned. “I did not.” 

Nico’s eyes shifted to Jacob, and you resisted the urge to do the same.

“I didn’t see it necessary information to share,” was all Jacob responded with. 

You bit your tongue.

“Hm,” Nico hummed, seeming to have a lot more to say but resisting the urge to do so. His eyes lingered on Jacob for a few moments, analysing and observing before his gaze settled on you again. “Are you returning to New Jersey with us, or do you wish to return to New York to collect your things?” 

You opened your mouth but Jacob bet you to it.

“She will go with you once the marriage is official.” 

Nico didn’t take his eyes off you. “I wasn’t asking you, Trouba.” 

You heard someone cough behind you, but you found yourself staring right back at Nico.

He raised his brows in question. 

And you could feel Jacob’s eyes boring into your side. 

And maybe it was petty or maybe it was fuelled by the lingering anger you had towards the man, but you kept your eyes on Nico as you spoke. 

“Might as well get used to New Jersey as soon as I can, no?” You stated simply, but you could have sworn he almost looked pleased with your response before his eyes returned to Jacob. 

“Then it’s settled,” he said as he pushed himself off his chair, the two men behind him quickly taking a step closer as if on instinct. “We’ll be sure to send you a wedding invitation.”

…

You thought you had an idea what it would be like to live with the New Jersey Devils, truthfully because you didn’t assume it would be all that different to life with the Rangers. You weren’t naive enough to think both organisations were run the exact same way, but you assumed there would be a lot more similarities than there actually were.

The first thing that caught you by surprise was the way they talked. 

You hadn’t spoken a word as you left the room, not taking Nico’s offer to say your goodbyes to the Rangers you had come with. The last thing you needed to hear was an earful from Jacob for not following his orders, or his plan (the one he conveniently kept to himself and expected everyone to simply know). You followed Nico out the door, trying not to feel so on edge about having the two other Devils flanking you from behind.

When you reached the car, it wasn’t too much of a surprise that Nico reached to open your door. Most men were raised to act like gentlemen in this life, even if they were far from it. He waited until you were settled in the seat behind the passenger’s seat, seatbelt clicked in place before he closed the door.

You were somewhat surprised to find him round the car and settle on the other side of the backseat, and not sit in the front. You tried not to stare at him too much. 

You expected the drive back to be similar to the journey you had with Trouba this morning. It almost startled you the way the three of them instantly broke out into conversation. 

It wasn’t anything damning or secretive, but it still felt wrong to listen in. It felt wrong for them to talk in front of you. It felt like a culture shock, being in a car and not having the people inside the vehicle with you being overly paranoid at the car being tapped. It felt weird that they didn’t even hesitate, didn’t even wait until the dark haired man (the vague memory of his name on the tip of your tongue) in the front had turned the key in the ignition. 

“I get to choose the music since I rode shotgun!” The blond in the passenger seat blurted out before the car had even reversed out of its space.

“Fuck off, you like my music!” Nico snapped back.

“Sure, Boss, sure.” 

You blinked. 

The fact they spoke was one thing, but you certainly didn’t expect them to talk to each other like that. The fact they spoke to Nico—their boss—like that. It was far from what you were expecting. 

“Back me up, Siegs,” the blond tried again but the man in the driver’s seat just snorted. 

“I don’t care, Jesper,” Jonas replied, though there was a smile on his face.

Jesper let out a huff. “You are so fake in front of him, I know you hate it.” 

Jonas only shrugged in response, which made Nico’s smile widen a little.

You tried not to gape at the three of them, but it was a little difficult. It wasn’t like you expected to be treated like an outcast—although, maybe you did—but you certainly weren’t expecting them to seem so…relaxed around you. 

The silence that usually filled the Rangers car was nowhere to be seen. The underlying tension between the boss and his men was non-existent. It almost felt like you were sitting in a car full of friends. Maybe even a family.

It was a little disconcerting. 

The second thing that caught your attention amongst everything else was the way they treated you.

You knew the expectations of a mob wife. You knew that arranged marriages, like yours and Nico’s, had been happening for decades now. You had seen many play out with your own eyes back with the Rangers, saw what was expected of these women who were thrown into new homes and lives for the sake of alliances, money and more. 

It wasn’t a surprise when Nico led you through the house, guiding you upstairs with a hand placed in the dip of your back. The shock came when he stopped suddenly outside a door, turning to you with an expectant look. 

“This is your room. I thought you would want to rest for tonight, maybe have some time to yourself,” Nico explained, polite and curt, like a true gentleman. “I can have some dinner sent up to you. And my office is just down the hall. Feel free to knock if you need anything.” 

You stared at him with a confused expression. 

Nico’s brows furrowed a little in response. “Sorry, is that okay? You look…lost.”

“You said your room,” you said, though the boy still looked a bit confused. “Instead of ours.”

“Oh,” Nico nodded, realisation dawning over his expression before he gave you a polite smile. “My room is the next one over.” 

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “We aren’t sharing a room?”

“We aren’t married,” he stated simply.

“Do you expect us to share a room after we are married?” You asked.

His expression remained impassive and unreadable. “If you wish so.” 

There was a small voice in the back of your head telling you he was being genuine, and yet, somehow, that only made your confusion grow. 

“Goodnight, Rogue,” was all Nico said before he headed down the hall, leaving you lost in your own thoughts and suspicions and mixed emotions.

You thought there was nothing less that the New Jersey Devils could do to catch you by surprise. And you were very wrong about that.

You had hardly slept the night before. There was something unsettling being away from the place you had called home your whole life. There was something even more unsettling knowing you were in enemy territory—even if you couldn’t really call it that anymore. There was just something unsettling about lying in a bed, knowing that you didn’t know a single soul beyond the door. 

And after tossing and turning, you had mostly given up by the time someone knocked on your door just after nine in the morning. 

You had almost expected that yesterday was the last you would see of Nico before he rushed off, hiding away in his office or meetings or whatever other excuses he could make to avoid you. You certainly weren’t expecting to find him on the other side of your door, a polite smile on his face once again.

“Good morning,” he greeted you, his hands tucked behind his back. The sun had barely been in the sky for a few hours and the man was dressed immaculately in a shirt and suit pants, looking far too put together. “Sleep well?” 

“Yes,” you lied, because it wasn’t exactly like you wanted to get into the details with your soon-to-be husband. “Can I help you?”

“Oh yes,” he cleared his throat a little, taking a step back and only then did you realise he wasn’t alone. The boy beside him was taller, a little skinnier too. With curly hair and a baby face, you would guess he was at least a couple of years younger than Nico. “This is Luke.” 

You glanced over the boy before your gaze returned to Nico. “Is he my babysitter?” 

Nico’s lips twitched upwards. “I was going to say bodyguard.”

“Semantics.” 

Luke cleared his throat a little, ducking his head down but not fast enough for you not to see the small smirk playing on his lips.

Nico straightened his spine before he spoke, his expression impassive again. “He can help you with whatever you need. And if he can’t, then he knows someone who can.”

“Let me guess,” you started, leaning against the door as you surveyed the older man with a knowing look. “He’s under strict orders to make sure I don’t run off?”

Nico’s brows furrowed together. “Of course not. If you wish to go out somewhere, Luke will accompany you.”

You could only blink in response. You felt as though you had been doing that a lot lately.

“Oh.” 

You didn’t remember what else Nico had said before he ran off, muttering something about a meeting and someone called Jack—the name familiar once again—blowing up his phone. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if it mattered. Everything in the last twenty-fours had thrown your life upside down, you didn’t think you could handle much more.

And then Luke turned to you with a shit-eating grin on his face and said, “wanna go get McDonald’s breakfast?” 

…

You had come to realise that despite his baby face and slight cartoonish laugh, Luke wasn’t as bad as you expected him to be.

Back in New York with the Rangers, you had crossed paths with your fair share of young and ambitious members. They were dedicated and strong-willed and determined to do anything to prove themselves to the cause, to prove themselves to their boss. They were willing to be ruthless, merciless and cold-hearted. 

New Jersey was very different. 

There was a strong lack of fear in the air, replaced with something more akin to encouragement. The boys here didn’t fear to make mistakes as badly as you had seen in the Rangers. They followed the rules and did what they were told because they wanted to, because they wanted to thrive. Not because they were scared of what would happen to them otherwise.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how you felt about it.

“Every week?”

“Every week,” Luke confirmed with a nod.

“Without fail?”

“Mhm,” he nodded once again.

“Everyone?”

“Usually,” Luke answered, pausing for a moment before he shrugged. “Unless someone has something else on. But nobody actively goes out of their way to miss it. Candy would kill them.”

You paused for a moment, your brows furrowed together as you tried to put a face to the name, only to come short. In your defence, though it had been close to a week since you arrived, most of your time had been spent with Luke. You would see people here and there, wandering around the house or passing by, and Luke would always try to inform you on who they were as best he could. But there were so many new names and new faces and new…everything to get used to.

You still felt like an outsider wandering the halls. 

You still felt pretty pissed that Trouba, or any of the Rangers back home for that matter, hadn’t tried reaching out to you.

You still felt very fucking confused on the fact you had yet to see Nico since the day he brought you to Jersey. It seemed as though he was hiding away to avoid you after all. 

“You’ll know her when you see her,” Luke informed you, seeming to pick up on the confusion on your face. “She’s the loud one in colourful clothes who has a guy resembling a lovesick puppy following her around.”

You raised your brows in question.

“Long story,” Luke snorted. “But where Candy goes, John follows.”

You nodded. “And John is…”

“Tall guy, dark curly hair, always silently brooding and judging people,” Luke listed off like it would help. “He kinda looks at you like he wants to kill you.” 

You let out a huff of amusement. “You sure he doesn’t just do that to you?”

Luke paused, almost as though he was having a revelation. 

Your lips twitched upwards. And then, because apparently you couldn’t keep a nice thing going, you found yourself asking, “are you even supposed to be telling me all this?”

He frowned. “What? That John is kinda emotionally constipated?” 

“I—” You paused, your nose scrunching up a little. “What? No. Just about everyone in general.”

Luke stared at you. “Why wouldn’t I tell you?”

“Information,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders. 

“Anyone with two working eyes could see half the shit I tell you,” Luke retorted with a snort. “It’s hardly confidential information when I tell you what a pain in the ass Jack is. Or that Dawson goes through three bottles of shampoo in a month. Or that—”

“That you are scared of spiders?” You interrupted, something close to a teasing smile on your lips as you watched the boy scoff.

“I’m not!” He insisted. “That spider just caught me by surprise.”

“You screamed.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see it.” 

And even if you never said it to Luke, it was weird he was being so open with you about the members of the New Jersey Devils. Every piece of information—no matter how small or insignificant—could be used against you. It was a life motto, one ingrained into you when you grew up as a Ranger. It felt like a basic life rule everyone followed. 

At least, it did back in New York. 

In New Jersey, it seemed like the second you stepped foot onto their premise, they saw you as one of their own. And once you were one of their own, there were no secrets between you. Everyone knew everything about everyone—or at least, a general understanding. No one was shying away from each other, from you. 

You didn’t know how you felt about it, but it did make your heart pine for something familiar. For something that felt like home. 

And New Jersey would never be that. 

…

To your utter surprise, the next time you saw Nico was that following Sunday.

You weren’t naive to think he would be glued to your side, that much was confirmed when he ordered Luke to be your round-the-clock bodyguard. He wanted to keep an eye on you, he just didn’t want to be the person to do it. You were somewhat surprised he didn’t send one of the bigger guys—like Kevin or Kurtis—to be your bodyguard, someone to intimidate you. Though, you assumed he was probably saving them for more important jobs than a glorified babysitter. 

Your days had been blurring into one, and though you hadn’t spent much time in Jersey, it had felt like a lifetime.

Your life was stuck in routine and you had gotten pretty used to it by that point. 

Luke would be at your door by eight sharp, ready to get the day started. You would share every meal with him, though it varied whether you both bothered in the kitchen or went somewhere out to eat—Luke had been enjoying showing you various places around the city. But that was about as exciting as your days got. You might bump into some others, talk to them, get to know them.

But your days were boring, pointless and repetitive. 

The only slight change to your routine was Sunday. The unspoken but very relevant rule of every member attending the dinner, by your surprise, extended to you too. Luke had told you as much over breakfast, talking away about how Candy had been interrogating him on what dishes you would prefer. 

You had told him you didn’t care—because you didn’t and you had a feeling it would give him a harder time with Candy, which amused you. 

However, Luke had been frustratingly vague with the timings of everything. It wasn’t a big deal, considering you didn’t have much else on your plate to be worried about. But the limited wardrobe and Luke’s shrugged response when asked about the dress code for the dinner was turning out to be quite the issue.

It was somewhere just past seven when you heard three knocks on your door.

“I’m decent!” You called out, frowning at the few options hanging in your wardrobe. It was quite sad, to be honest. But you hadn’t had the chance to get everything transferred from your New York apartment, not that anyone from the Rangers seemed eager to offer their help. 

But instead of coming in like he usually did, Luke knocked again.

You frowned, turning to look at the door. “Just come in!”

The door remained shut.

“You’re so dramatic,” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes as you made your way towards the door. You reached for the handle, fully prepared to see Luke on the other side with his face in his phone or even giving you a shit-eating grin like he knew he got under your skin. 

You were not expecting Nico to be standing on the other side.

“Oh.” You blinked. “I thought you were Luke.” 

Nico’s lips twitched. “I gave him the night off.” 

You raised your brows. “Oh?”

“There was a small change in plans.” Nico continued. “I thought I would escort you to dinner.”

“Escort me,” you repeated, something quite like amusement lacing your voice. “I didn’t realise these big dinners were so fancy. Should I change?” 

“We won’t be joining the others this week. I thought we could have dinner alone,” Nico corrected, his eyes watching you closely like he was inspecting your reaction. “If that is okay with you.” 

You tried to hide your surprise that he was giving you an option. A part of you wondered if it was a formality, something he phrased like an option but was really a command—something Jacob would do often. Yet, you couldn’t really find yourself imagining Nico was one of those people.

“Just the two of us?” You questioned.

Nico nodded before he spoke. “I thought it would be best for us to get to know each other.”

Your interest piqued but you didn’t show much as you nodded, telling him to give you a few more minutes before you joined him.

For the dinner itself, he led you away from the large dining room where you assumed the large group dinner was taking place. He didn’t say a word as you walked, seeming comfortable enough in the silence until you reached the room. 

And Nico played the part of a gentleman well. He opened the door and guided you in first. He pulled the chair out and waited for you to settle in your seat before he even made his way to his seat. He reached for the wine and filled your glass before even daring to touch his own.

You felt on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“You look tense.” 

You raised your brows. “Just what a woman wants to hear.”

Nico’s lips twitched. “I have a feeling that you wouldn’t care what people say about you.” 

“Your feeling would be correct.” 

“Your reputation precedes you,” he mused, leaning back against his chair with an ease only a man in power would have. 

You tilted your head. “And yet, you still agreed to marry me.” 

“Who said your reputation wasn’t what appealed to me the most?” Nico retorted, hiding the smirk on his lips as he took a sip from his wine glass. 

“I am sure whatever flowery promises Jacob added definitely sold it,” you commented, unable to hide the bite in your voice. 

Nico stared at you for a few moments before he spoke. “I do apologise.”

You raised your brows in questioning. 

“For blindsiding you that day,” Nico continued. “I was under the impression you were aware of the contract.” 

“Funnily enough, I was not informed my name had been thrown into a deal,” you replied, jaw clenching a little as the reminder of what Jacob had inserted you into washing over you. This was your home now, not New York. “Jacob knew better than to tell me.” 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, your name wasn’t officially included,” Nico added. 

You paused, a crease forming between your brows. “What do you mean?” 

“Just that the official agreement between the Devils and Rangers included me marrying someone but no names were included for technicality reasons,” Nico answered and it took everything in you to keep your face straight. 

Up until this point, you were under the impression that Jacob had practically thrown you into the deep end with no warning because your name was the one on the contract. You had seen it time and time again in arranged marriages, you had seen demands to be made because men felt entitled to certain women or dangled them in front of the enemy as a bargaining chip. 

If you were being completely honest, you had assumed that was what happened here. You had assumed back and forth negotiations had been made and Jacob had deemed you the best bargaining chip to get whatever he wanted from the Devils. The Rangers tended to be old school and traditional that way. 

It never occurred to you that you weren’t a part of this, that you didn’t need to be a part of it. 

“So, Jacob just offered me up to fill a spot?” You questioned, your voice remaining steady and calm as your mind swirled with a million thoughts.

Nico’s eyes glimmered with an unreadable emotion. “Something like that.”

Your heart was racing in your chest. “And any woman could be in my spot and the agreement would still remain?” 

“I guess so,” Nico stated, seeming like he wanted to say more but he remained quiet. 

“Interesting,” you commented, a plan already forming in your head as you reached for your glass. “You may have made a mistake, you know?” 

Nico’s lips twitched upwards. “What makes you say that?” 

“If this is to be my wedding, I want it to be absolutely perfect,” you said with a casual shrug of your shoulders, staring at the man across the table from you. “I refuse anything less.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Nico mused before raising his glass in your direction. “Do as you please.” 

Your smile widened in response as you took a long sip from your glass. 

You were going to break Nico Hishcier and you were going to make sure he sent you running back to New York, if it was the last thing you did. 

And then, you would make Jacob Trouba regret even uttering your name into the stupid agreement. 

…

“It was targeted?” 

Jesper nodded, his face serious and shoulders tensed as he slid a copy of the official police report across the table towards Nico. “Last night,” he said with a heavy sigh. “They broke in, roughed the place up a little and then set it on fire. It didn’t seem like they found whatever they wanted so they burned the place down.” 

“Talk about dramatic,” Jack grumbled from his spot on the couch. 

Nico shot the younger boy a look before turning back to Jesper. “What did the police say?” 

“As much as you would expect,” the blond shrugged. “They don’t want to get involved if it’s dirty work.” 

Nico raised a brow. “And is it?” 

“You tell me,” Jesper shot back, his jaw clenching. “Did your best friend Trouba mention anything about his boys’ weekend plans to break into one of our warehouses?” 

“Bratter is feeling sassy,” Jack sang, snickering even when Jonas tried to jab him with his elbow to keep quiet.

“These attacks have been going on for months,” Jesper pointed out, his lips turned downwards in a frown. “And they aren’t going to stop until we retaliate.” 

“We don’t know who is behind it yet,” Nico retorted. 

“Of course we fucking do.” 

“Jesper,” Nico shot him a look. “I know you don’t like my agreement with Trouba but he wouldn’t break it. We signed the truce.” 

“It isn’t official until the wedding,” Jonas spoke up from his spot on the couch next to Jack. 

“Jacob Trouba is many things but stupid isn’t one of them,” Nico sighed, ignoring the ‘ehhhh’ Timo muttered out as he leaned back in his chair. “And it would be incredibly stupid to target the people you are trying to sign an alliance with.” 

“Still,” Jesper grumbled as he nodded at the police report. “One week earlier and half of our stock could have been up in flames.” 

Timo raised his brows. “You think someone knew?” 

“I think someone may be getting delayed information,” Jesper corrected.

“I want you and Timo investigating this,” Nico said as he tapped his finger on the file. “Dig out the reports from the other targeted attacks and—” 

RING! RING! RING!

Nico frowned a little as the shrill of his phone echoed through the room. He ignored the boys’ curious looks as he reached for it, answering the call and lifting it to his ear. “Nico Hischier speaking.” 

“Uh, Mr Hishcier, so sorry to bother you,” a mousy, timid voice spoke from the other side. “This is Jeff from the bank calling and—”

“Get on with it, Jeff,” Nico stated bluntly. 

“Right, yes. Uh, there has been a suspicious amount of transactions coming out of your bank today and we wanted to inform you in case you wished us to freeze the accounts or—” 

Nico tried to bite back his smile. “Where are these transactions coming from?” 

“The last one to go through was a purchase of four hundred thousand dollars for…flowers?” 

This time Nico actually let out a loud, boisterous laugh which caught both Jeff and the boys in his study off guard.

“What was the one before that?” Nico asked, clearly amused. 

“Three hundred dollars spent at…McDonalds.” 

“Keep letting them through,” Nico assured the man on the other side of the phone. “That’s just my fiancée having some fun.” 

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Mr Hischier, and congratulations!” 

Nico thanked the man before hanging up, throwing his phone back down on the desk before he turned his attention back to the meeting they were having. However, he seemed to pick up on the eerie silence and lifted his head to find all of the boys looking at him with various expressions painted across their faces. 

“Out with it then,” Nico said eventually. 

“Count on Nico bagging the most expensive fiancée in New York,” Timo teased, a shit-eating grin on his face.

But Nico just shrugged. “It’s her wedding day. She wants it to be perfect.” 

“Even if it leaves you bankrupt,” Jonas snorted.

“As long as she’s happy,” Nico answered, sincere in his words. 

“If only Trouba knew how whipped you were for his girl, he would have never agreed to the deal,” Jack commented, raising his hands in mock surrender when Nico turned to glare at him.

“She’s not Trouba’s girl,” Nico gritted out. 

“Yikes, Boss has claws.” 

“Anyone with a pair of eyes can see how whipped Nico is,” Jesper commented with a huff of laughter. “Trouba is, in fact, stupid if he didn’t notice. Now, can we please get back to the main problem before he starts singing limericks.” 

Nico frowned. “Hey—” 

“My money is on the Sabres being involved!” 

“As if they even know how to light a match.” 

…

“You look like you have had a busy day.” 

You turned your head to find Nico standing in the door entrance, leaning against the frame as his eyes wandered over the dozens of bags in your room. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his sleeves were rolled to his elbows and a few strands of hair were falling into his face. It almost annoyed you that this was the most dishevelled you had seen him and he still looked so good and put-together.

“I decided to take it slow,” you answered casually, turning back around before you could see the smile tugging on his lips. “I didn’t want to scare Luke off too soon.” 

“The boy is tougher than he looks,” Nico commented. “I am sure he can handle whatever you throw at him.”

Your lips twitched. “You weren’t the one listening to him whine about carrying a couple of bags.”

“A couple is an understatement,” Nico mused. “He’s still unpacking the car with Dawson’s help.” 

You glanced over your shoulder, something victorious and smug shining in your eyes. “Is there a problem with that?”

Nico flashed you a smile. “My money is your money. My boys are your boys. Knock yourself out, schatz.”

You blinked, his words barely processing in your head before you realised he had already begun walking away. You glanced down at the countless bags littering your bedroom floor, most of them useless purchases you picked up to push the balance higher. 

And yet, Nico just walked away without a care in the world. 

…

“I really wouldn’t recommend this.” 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not listening to you.” 

“Rogue—” 

You rolled your eyes, listening to the satisfying clicks of your heels against the floor as you made your way down the corridor. “He’s my fiancé.” 

“He is in a meeting,” Luke shot back. “He doesn't like being interrupted. Not even by us.” 

“I’m not you,” you retorted, almost hearing the eye roll from the younger boy following behind you. “And I don’t care if he is in a meeting, he can make time for me.”

“That’s not how it works,” Luke muttered under his breath.

“It is now.” 

“God, I’m going to have to plan a funeral.” 

You ignored the boy’s last feeble attempts to stop you from going through with it—or to at least knock on the door—but it was hopeless as you reached Nico’s study, hand on the knob and opening the door before Luke could even think to pull you back. Or throw you over his shoulder and run back down the corridor. 

The room fell silent as you stood in the doorway. 

You didn’t recognise the men sitting across from Nico at the large desk. They were old and burly and quite literally looked like characters out of Sopranos. They turned to face you, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned downwards at the interruption. 

You smiled in response. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” One of them spoke, the Jersey accent strong and thick and coating his words generously. “We’re doin’ business here, sweetheart. Bounce!” 

You glanced at the man, unfazed before you turned your gaze towards Nico who was watching you with interested eyes. “I need to talk to you.” 

“We are busy here, lady, can’t you see?” The other man spoke, huffing and puffing in his seat and it took everything inside you not to roll your eyes at his tantrum. 

“And now I’m busy with him,” you stated simply, arms crossed over your chest as you stepped further into the room. “Scram. You are done here.” 

The first man huffed, puffing his chest out as he opened his mouth to say something but Nico cut him off. 

“Go.” 

Both men turned to Nico, angry and outraged. “You cannot be serious?!” 

“Go,” Nico repeated himself, a little more firmly this time. 

The men were smart enough not to test Nico’s patience any further, rushing out the room with their tails between their legs as they did. It almost made you smile the way they avoided your gaze as they did so. You heard Luke let out a sigh behind you, muttering something under his breath as he followed the other men out and closed the door behind him. 

“You’ve intrigued me,” Nico spoke up, leaning back against his chair. “What could possibly be so important that you needed to discuss it with me?” 

You grinned as you lifted the folders in your hand. “Wedding venues.”

Nico blinked. “Wedding venues?” 

“Wedding venues,” you repeated, your eyes eagerly watching every inch of his face for a reaction. 

It took years of training to school your features as Nico nodded you over, still relaxed in his chair as he smiled back at you. Back in New York, a move like this would’ve gotten you killed and yet here—

“Show me,” he replied. 

Your eyes stayed on his face, waiting for a slip up as you walked towards his desk. You rounded the piece of furniture, pushing the boundary a little bit more as you hopped up on the desk and placed the folder down beside you rather than handing it to him. 

“Comfortable?” He asked, his voice almost sounding playful as he reached for the folder. 

“I’ve sat on more comfortable desks,” you commented offhandedly. 

His eyes darkened a little at that. But before you could even bring yourself to comment on it, he was already opening the folder and scanning through the options. 

They were obscene, if you were completely honest. They were tacky and loud and far from a place you would even step foot in, let alone have your wedding in. But they were expensive—so expensive that it would send a normal man into cardiac arrest to see the numbers beside each venue. 

Then again, Nico Hischier wasn’t a normal man. 

“Which one would make you happiest?” He eventually asked, lifting his head to look at you expectantly. 

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you that incapable of making a decision, Hischier?” 

His lips twitched. “And if I say I just want you happy?”

“I would say that is a weak man’s response,” you replied, lifting your chin a little. It was a testy comment to make, not one that many men in power would take lightly. 

To your shock, Nico just laughed. “Then I say pick the church.” 

You raised your brows a little—the church was the most expensive option on the list. 

“Do you disagree?” Nico followed up, watching the way you stared at him with an odd look in your eyes.

“No,” you said as you took the folder from him. “The church will do.”

“Is that all?” Nico asked, something in his voice that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was like he was eager, whether that was for you to leave or stay, you couldn’t quite work out.

“Yes,” you answered, though you made no move to slide off the desk just yet. “Seeing as I have nothing else to do in this place. Just a sweet, complying fiancée doing her duties and planning a wedding.” 

Nico’s eyes glimmered in interest. “Sweet sums you up pretty well, no?” 

Your eyes narrowed in a glare. 

“I mean, by all means, take the honeymoon planning off my hands if that is what you want,” Nico continued, shifting a bit closer so your foot was nudging his thigh. You were almost distracted by the casual drop of information about the honeymoon he was apparently planning.

“You’re mocking me,” you stated bluntly.

“A little,” he mused.

“You know my reputation,” you added. “Surely you knew what kind of wife I would be.”

“I had my guesses,” Nico confirmed with a nod.

“And yet, here we are.” 

“Here we are indeed,” Nico grinned. “Do you want to reserve the venue or shall I?”

It was safe to say Luke steered clear of you for the rest of the day following your mood after you left Nico’s study.

…

“You don’t get it,” Luke huffed, fingers tapping along the wheel. “This is the best bakery on the east coast, maybe even the whole country!”

You raised your brows. “Is that so?”

“Just wait until you try Peter’s strawberry tarts,” Luke insisted, so serious that it took everything inside you to not snort. “It’s like…heaven in your mouth.” 

“Peter is just that good, huh?” You mused.

“You’re teasing me now but you will be wanting the guy to make your wedding cake after you try some of his desserts,” Luke stated confidently. 

You had no real plan for today other than the desperate need to get out of the house. You were bored out of your mind and Luke was not too far behind, considering you spent almost every waking hour with the boy. It had been an offhand comment about wanting something sweet that made the boy grab your hand and drag you out of the house.

Luke was adamant that Peter’s Bakery in Hoboken was the best bakery in the state. You had been content to just sit in the passenger seat and let the younger boy ramble on about how all the Devils frequented there, that Candy was known to visit once a week, that Jack tended to hide out there after a particularly bad day. 

It was endearing to hear about the place. 

It was even more endearing that Luke trusted you enough to take you there, even if you wouldn’t dare to admit that out loud.

“Pete?” 

“One sec!” 

Luke glanced at you over his shoulder, grinning wider than you had ever seen before turning back to the counter. A few moments passed before a man walked out: brown hair, average build, a little mousy looking. And the apron covered in flour truly added to the baker charm.

“Moose,” the boy greeted with a large smile. “What can I get for my second favourite Hughes?” 

Luke rolled his eyes but began listing off far too many pastries and sweet treats for two people to enjoy. 

Five minutes later, you found yourself sitting across from the boy in a booth with a large variety of baked goods laid out on the table in front of you. It was borderline overwhelming and intense but you didn’t have the heart to stop Luke from ordering so much when he kept insisting on all the classics you had to try.

“So,” you began as the boy pushed a slice of apple pie towards you. “Moose?” 

“It’s an old nickname,” Luke answered with a halfhearted shrug. 

You raised a brow. “How old?”

Luke’s lips twitched. “Peter is an old friend of mine and Jack’s. He…he’s been there for us through a lot.” 

“Because our line of business crosses paths with bakers so often,” you mused, lighthearted and playful. You could tell the words were heavier than he was letting on but you didn’t have the heart to start poking at old wounds. Not today.

Luke snorted. “Nah, he needed to lay low after some close calls. He made some deal with Nico. Boss offers him protection, he offers the best apple pie you will ever have in your entire life.”

You shot a glance towards the other boy, working away behind the counter with a sense of ease that told you he was comfortable, that he felt safe even being so out in the open and exposed to the public. It wasn’t something you saw often in this industry when people had a target on their back. 

“He did?” You asked, your voice a little softer than before. 

“He’s a good guy, you know,” Luke murmured in response, watching your expression closely. 

“He has a reputation for being fair,” you commented absentmindedly. “Which is a load of bullshit when it comes to our work.” 

“Not with Nico,” Luke retorted. “He is harsh when he needs to be. But he is understanding. He gets it.”

“Hm,” was all you could respond with, your mind spiralling with a million different stories of men in power that exploited and corrupted the world around them in the greedy hunt for more. You had seen men crumble under that desire, you had seen them sacrifice their lives and loved ones to get what they want. 

You couldn’t imagine someone having all that power and not being corrupted by it. 

“Hey,” Luke whined, all youngest child like, as he lightly kicked your shin under the table. “Stop procrastinating and try the pie!” 

You rolled your eyes, making a show of grabbing the fork and cutting off a good sized chunk before shovelling it in your mouth.

Luke looked at you expectantly. “So?” 

“It’s good.” 

He blinked before frowning. “Just good? Are your taste buds broken?” 

“Fine, it’s very good,” you corrected with a small smile on your lips. “But it’s not the best apple pie I have ever had.” 

Luke raised his brows. “Oh yeah? And where was that?” 

“Tony’s Tiny Bakery,” you shot back, watching as the boy huffed across from you. “It was around the corner from this cute Italian place that did amazing garlic bread too. I’ll have to take you one day, it’s only—” 

And then you paused. 

And it was stupid to say when you had quite literally spent the better part of the last few weeks in your new home, when you had been coming up to the three month mark in New Jersey. But it hit you that you would never see New York again, not in the way you had growing up. 

You were a New Jersey Devil now. You had a new home and new territory. You had a new family you were supposed to be accepting. You weren’t able to step back in the city you grew up in, not without direct permission from the people you used to call your family. 

You had been so pissed that day when Jacob had thrown you into the deep end of an arranged marriage you had never known about that you wanted to get him back, you wanted to hit him where it hurt and have one last act of defiance. You had walked away from New York with no proper goodbye because you knew it wasn’t what he wanted. 

And truthfully, it wasn’t what you wanted either. 

You never got the chance to say goodbye to such a large part of your life and identity. You never got the chance to say goodbye to the people who raised you and the people you grew up with. You never got the chance to visit your favourite places in New York with the freedom of being a Ranger before you jumped ship. 

It never really hit you that you missed New York as much as you did.

“I get it.” 

You almost jumped in your seat when you felt a hand over your own, when you blinked away the tears welling up in your eyes to find Luke smiling fondly from the other side of the booth. You tried to pull your hand away and pretend everything was okay, but the boy tightened his hold on you.

“I know what it’s like to leave the only place you called home,” Luke murmured, his voice soft but thick with emotion. “It gets easier.” 

You nodded, swallowing the ball in the back of your throat before you flashed him a small smile. “This apple pie is pretty damn good.” 

Luke’s smile widened. “Of course it is. I don’t mess around when it comes to food, Rogue. Catch up.” 

You let out a small but genuine laugh in response. 

…

“How quickly can you get dressed?” 

Your eyes wandered over your magazine page towards the boy standing at the bottom of the couch you were currently laying on. He was dressed in his usual attire—the shirt, dress pants and nice shoes that probably cost more than the average man’s monthly salary—and raised your brows. 

“Depends,” you answered as you lowered the magazine you were halfheartedly reading to rest on your stomach. “Get dressed as in ‘we are walking around the park’ or ‘we are about to go to a gala’?” 

Nico smiled a little. “More ‘wear something that is comfortable and easy to carry guns on you’.”

Now that caught your attention.

You sat up on the couch, the magazine abandoned on the pillow beside you as you stared at the boy with interest. “You’re taking me on a job?” 

“I was hoping to use your expertise for something,” Nico said with gentle but watchful eyes. “Are you in?” 

“Give me fifteen minutes,” was all you responded with before walking past the boy and towards your bedroom.

Less than thirty minutes later, you found yourself slipping out of Nico’s car and looking at the absolute mess in front of you with raised brows, a low whistle of surprise leaving your lips as you took in the damaged property. 

“And this was done recently?” 

“Two weeks ago,” Nico confirmed with a nod, frowning at the warehouse with a look of frustration and annoyance. “Third warehouse chosen. Fourth targeted attack.” 

You glanced at him. “What was the other?” 

“A person,” Nico frowned. “We were lucky that their plan failed, which is why I assume they began to target buildings instead.”

“Coward move,” you frowned, choosing to ignore the way Nico snorted a little at your response. “What did the warehouse hold?” 

“Just some of our basic exports,” Nico shrugged.

Your eyes widened a little.

He frowned. “What?” 

“Nothing,” you shrugged, clearly your throat a little. “Just a little surprised you told me, to be honest. I thought you would have given some weird elusive answer.” 

His frown deepened a little. “Why would I do that?” 

“Because I’m a glorified stranger,” you retorted like it was obvious. 

“You’re my fiancée,” Nico corrected, his voice still serious and sincere as he spoke. “What’s mine is yours.” 

You swallowed a little at his intensity. “So this mess is mine too?” 

“Just like everything else I own,” he said with a nod. “And as much as is your right to be here as my fiancée, I also brought you because you’re smart. Because you know how to get in people’s heads. Because you’ll be able to spot things neither me nor the others will see.” 

“Trouba’s favourite tool,” you deadpanned.

“You’re your own person here, Rogue,” Nico assured you, something else written in his expression that you couldn’t quite read. “It’s something you should get used to. You’re a Devil now.”

You didn’t get much of a chance to reply before he wandered towards the desolate warehouse, footsteps crunching with every step he took whilst you were left slightly baffled by the enigma that was Nico Hischier. 

…

“So, is she in love with you yet?” 

Nico shot Jack a look. 

“Because from what Luke’s told me, she has been doing everything under the sun to piss you off. And I’m no expert in love but that doesn’t seem like something someone in love would do,” Jack continued as he settled happily on the couch in Nico’s study—one of his favourite spots.

“Did I not give you a job?” Nico asked bluntly, leaning back in his chair and sighing. He knew there was no point of attempting to do any more work whilst the younger boy was in the room.

“Yeah but we both know I’ll get to it eventually,” he waved the older man off, his hands tucked behind his head as he lounged back on the comfy couch. “This is far more entertaining.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico sniffed. 

“I have seen you shoot a man between his eyes without a second thought,” Jack mused, the glee in his voice unmissable as he continued to tease the older man. “And yet, I watched you have a full breakdown to Dougie on whether or not your fiancée would prefer your hair slick back or product free on the off chance you bumped into her that day.” 

“I like to make a good impression,” Nico retorted. 

“You’re trying to seduce her and failing miserably,” Jack shot back.

“She is my fiancée,” Nico huffed out. 

“She is the girl you have been downright obsessed with since she knocked you on your ass four years ago,” Jack corrected. “And she doesn’t even remember.” 

“I was undercover,” Nico defended. “Pally hardly recognised me that day, too.”

“Are you listening to yourself, Hisch?” Jack questioned, his brows raised in amusement. “This is getting a little pathetic.” 

Nico let out a heavy sigh, raising his hand towards Jack for him to continue. “Okay then, what do you suggest?” 

“Less mind games and playing the elusive mob boss character you’ve been trying out,” Jack answered, his voice a hint softer than before and it caught him off guard, “Be Nico—the real version.” 

“That was very High School Musical of you,” Nico teased. 

“I knew it was a bad idea letting you watch those movies,” Jack playfully groaned but he was grinning back. “I take it back, put the scary mob boss face back on. She is gonna laugh you back to Switzerland if you quote that shit to her.”

“She could be a fan,” Nico pointed out.

But Jack just shot him a look. “I know you’re blinded by love and all that jazz, but even you have to know that is a load of bullshit.”

“Go do you work now, Jack.” 

The younger boy gave him a mock salute. “On it, Boss.” 

…

In your mind, the plan was full proof, effective and successful. 

In reality, it was a form of torture that didn’t have the results you wanted and instead left your brain scrambled on whether you really wanted it to work or not.

When you stepped out of that meeting room months ago, you were under the impression you were stuck in this arranged marriage with Nico Hishcier. A week later, you thought you had a loophole and a clear path back to New York and the life you had. 

Instead, you were laying in your bed and reeling that although you may not be the typical mob wife, Nico Hishcier was far from the typical mob boss. And it was completely fucking with your plan. 

And maybe you weren’t fully ready to admit it but it was fucking with your desire to go back home too—if New York even felt like home anymore. New Jersey was a breath of fresh air that you never knew you needed, that you never knew you wanted. 

The Rangers may have been your family once upon a time, but the Devils felt more like the word than the former ever had. You felt like you were watching the family of them through a window, and you were starting to realise maybe being on the inside wouldn’t be so bad as you thought. Maybe being in a place where they valued and listened to you wouldn’t be so bad either. 

But New York was all you ever knew, was all you ever thrived in. It was hard to just throw that all away. 

Even if Nico Hischier was making the option of staying very appealing. 

Even when some of the other Devils—the ones that weren’t your biggest fans—felt more welcoming than the boys back in New York. 

Exhibit A: Jesper Bratt. 

Nico had pulled Luke out for the day, saying he needed the boy’s help with a different job. He hadn’t offered to put anyone in Luke’s place. To be honest, you think Luke was only continuing with it because he enjoyed spending time with you too. But it had been Jesper who offered himself into Luke’s role when you had mentioned visiting a few shops in town by yourself. 

It didn’t take a genius to work out he was suspicious of you.

You didn’t take it to heart, not really. He wasn’t going out of his way to make you uncomfortable or wary, but the lingering tension was enough to make you observe him with the same watchful gaze. 

“You don’t like me.” 

Jesper’s eyes flickered to meet yours in the rearview mirror before returning to the road. “I never said that.” 

“You didn’t have to,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s written all over your face. And the extra gun you slipped into your waistband before we left.” 

His cheeks burned a little at your words. 

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “You’re his second-in-command. It’s your job to be wary, to have Nico’s back.” 

Jesper hummed but didn’t say anything right away. 

Instead, a few minutes of silence passed as you two made your way through usual Jersey traffic. The radio was on, but turned on so low that the two of you could barely hear it. The streets were busy, even for a random Thursday afternoon. It was like the world was going on as normal, despite the lingering tension in the car between you and the blond.

“I do like you,” Jesper said eventually. “I just don’t trust you.” 

“Because you think I’m going to betray the Devils?” You guessed. 

“Because I think you are capable of hurting Nico far worse than a gunshot or a knife in the back ever could,” Jesper corrected, seeming to catch the surprise on your face.

“You think I would hurt him?” You questioned, ignoring the way your stomach twisted at the words. Growing up in this life had meant you had seen far worse than a gunshot or a knife in the back, had meant you had done much worse. And yet the idea of any of it being directed towards Nico seemed to leave you on edge and make the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

“I think you are capable of a lot without even realising it,” Jesper answered honestly. 

You didn’t reply to the blond but you wondered if your return to New York would hurt Nico. 

You wondered why it made your chest feel tight and uncomfortable. 

…

“So how did you get the nickname?” 

You blinked out of your thoughts, looking over at Luke who was walking by your side. “What?” 

“Rogue,” he said with a nod, like that was enough of an explanation. “Nicknames stick in this industry. So, where did you…go rogue to get it?”

You let out a small snort of laughter. “How do you not know it’s my actual name?” 

Luke glanced at you, his brows furrowed together. “Is it?” 

“No,” you grinned at him before shrugging. “I don’t know, to be honest. I just…never did well with listening to people’s instructions. It was a nickname my father gave me and I guess it just stuck.” 

“You listened when Trouba sent you here though,” Luke pointed out, unfazed by the glare you sent his way. You assumed that was bound to happen after you spent almost every day with the boy for the last few months or so. He was bound to feel comfortable enough to poke at the uncomfortable subjects.

“Because I’m stubborn not stupid,” you shot back, giving the boy a look. “I value my life.” 

Luke frowned. “You think he would’ve killed you if you didn’t comply?” 

“He’s killed people for less,” you shrugged but noted the way the boy still looked uncomfortable, unsettled even. “He wouldn’t have killed me. I’m too valuable, even if I’m disrespecting him. He probably would’ve just put me on some really shit jobs until his ego was healed.” 

Luke nodded, still looking quite on edge. 

“Luke,” you stopped walking, placing your hand on his arm to catch his attention and make him stop too. Logically, you knew that he was a grown man and he could handle his own emotions. Especially in an industry like this. But another part of you—the part that had spent the last few months with the boy almost every day—felt the need to wipe that frown off his face. “It’s fine now. And it doesn’t matter.” 

“Does it not?” Luke shot back at you. “You’ve been trying your hardest to find a loophole out of here, have you not? But you still want to go back there? Back to him? Even after everything he’s done to you?”

You blinked. 

“I’m young but I’m not stupid,” Luke huffed out, shaking his head as he took a step back. “It’s—whatever. Let’s just go. You said you wanted to check out that shoe store?” 

You took a step forward. “Luke—”

“We should head over now before heading back to the house. We—” He paused before continuing. “I don’t want to be late for dinner.”

…

You didn’t see Luke over the next few days. 

He had sent a brief message about being busy wrapped up in a job Nico gave him, which albeit wasn’t the best excuse but you let him off. You weren’t sure what upset him and you didn’t think poking around and asking more questions would do any favours. So, you let the boy take his space and take his time. 

It was Luke. 

You had no doubts that he would talk to you again when he wasn’t as worked up or upset about the situation. 

But the lack of daily companion left you feeling quite lonely, which was ironic considering you had considered your whole stay in New Jersey to be quite lonely as an outcast. You hadn’t realised just how much you relied on Luke’s company until he wasn’t knocking on your door every morning, convincing you to try some new outrageously overpriced cafe using Nico’s card to pay. 

You broke around the third day, deciding to seek out your own company in the form of your fiancé.

“I was told you would be here.” 

Nico lifted his head, peeking out from under the hood of the car he was currently hunched over. He glanced at you, an expression between surprised and elated as you stood on the opposite side of the garage.

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, glancing around the large garage with eagle eyes. “Apparently this is how you spend your limited free time.”

Nico stood up straight, giving you a full look at the white tank top clinging onto his torso. It was criminal the way wiped his hands on a random rag, his biceps clenching with the movement before he tossed it to the side and gave you his full attention.

“I like fixing up old cars,” Nico said with a shrug, though there was a sense of ease in his posture. “It’s relaxing.” 

You blinked. “Tinkering around with some old metal is calming? Even if you can’t get it running?”

He laughed. “It takes my mind off things.” 

“How…mundane,” you responded, your brows furrowed together as you glanced at the few cars dotted around the garage. You didn’t know enough to know the brands or names of any of them. You didn’t even try to attempt it. 

“Mundane is nice sometimes, especially with the lives we live,” Nico retorted and you were inclined to agree. 

“This still seems stressful though,” you added. 

Nico leaned against the car, arms crossed over his chest like he knew it would snag your gaze. “And what would you recommend I do?” 

“I don’t know, something normal people do to relax,” you shrugged your shoulders. “Like, go on a picnic.” 

Nico paused, staring at you as he tried to fight the grin off his face. “A picnic?” 

“I don’t know!” You threw your hands up in mock surrender. “People do it all the time in movies and shit.”

“What movies are you watching?” Nico laughed, though he seemed to enjoy watching the way you tried to hold back your own amusement. 

“They have picnics in plenty of movies,” you argued back. 

“Alright then,” Nico nodded. “Then we will do it. You and me, tomorrow at twelve.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

“We are gonna have a picnic and be normal,” Nico stated, leaving no room for questions as he reached for the rag once again. “Unless you have some super normal thing you do to take your mind off things to do instead?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Shooting range.”

“That’s what I thought,” he snorted as he flashed you a grin. “Me and you, schatz, at twelve. Don’t be late.” 

…

A small part of you thought Nico was joking about the picnic. 

A larger part of you knew the boy would be knocking on your door by half past eleven, dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie and looking so normal. So unlike the mob boss you know him to be. 

And the white bucket hat on his head was oddly endearing. 

In complete honesty, you hadn’t expected much from the picnic and how seriously the boy would take it. Though, you should have known better when he parked his car, an excited smile on his face as he led you towards the grassy patch in the park where a blanket and wicker basket had been laid out. 

“Oh wow,” you murmured out as you walked towards the scene, his palm warm and guiding on the small of your back. 

“Really fits the movie vibes, huh?” Nico retorted with a knowing smile.

You snorted. “I feel so normal right now.”

“Then my job here is done,” he smiled as he leaned back on the blanket, balanced on his elbows as he looked up at you. 

You were surprised how far he ran with a passive comment. You wondered what it must have looked like to people passing by the two of you, if you looked like a normal couple on a date, enjoying a sweet picnic together. You wondered if it even counted as a date at all. 

It was ironic that the man beside you had been your fiancé for the better part of the last four months and you didn’t know much about him, that neither of you knew each other all that well. 

“What’s your favourite colour?” 

Nico paused, looking up from the small plates he was loading up for the two of you. “My favourite colour?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. 

“Red.”

“Favourite kind of music?” 

“Swiss rap.” 

“Favourite animal?” 

“I don’t think I have one.” 

“Cat person or dog person?” 

“Both.” 

Your nose scrunched up. “You can’t be both. That’s cheating.” 

Nico raised his brows in amusement. “I don’t think I can cheat at a game I don’t know.” 

“Just wanted to know what kind of man I am marrying,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders. 

“Is there where you tell me that being a cat person is your deal breaker?” Nico joked.

Your lips twitched. “It would be something I would have to take into consideration.” 

“Might have to keep some secrets to save my marriage then,” Nico said with a sigh, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiled. You don’t think you had ever noticed that before. It was weird seeing someone in his position show any emotion but intimidation so easily. 

You raised your brows. “Doesn’t everyone have a few skeletons in the closet?” 

“Is this your subtle way of asking me what mine are?” He questioned, pushing the plate towards you. You were surprised to find a few of your favourite snacks on the plate. You wondered if he had bothered Luke or someone else to find out, or if it was a lucky guess.

“Would you tell me if I asked?” You shot back.

“I would tell you anything if you asked,” Nico replied, the playfulness replaced by sincerity that made your brain spiral a little.

“You know,” you tried to laugh it off. “I don’t think many people in this life agree with you there.”

“I’m not them and you’re not their fiancée,” he answered with a shrug. “Who gives a fuck what they think?” 

You looked at him with a mixed expression. “And you’d answer anything I ask you right now?”

He gestured for you to continue. “Try me.”

You tilted your head, taking a few moments to contemplate before you spoke. “Did you know I was going to be the one waiting for you in that room?” 

“I did,” he confirmed with a nod.

“And you had no issues with that?” 

His lips twitched. “Quite the opposite.” 

You shot him a curious look. “And if Jacob had lied to you? If there was someone else in the room?”

“I would have refused the alliance,” he stated simply, like he was reiterating a well-known fact.

You snorted. “Yeah, okay.” 

“I would have,” Nico insisted, his expression remaining dead serious.

Your smile faltered a little. “Nico.” 

“Rogue,” he mocked in the same tone of voice.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” you murmured.

Nico frowned. “Who said I was lying?” 

“You would have refused an alliance that would massively benefit you?” You retorted, your brows furrowed a little. “Don’t be stupid.” 

“Both sides went into that alliance wanting something,” Nico answered with a heavy look in his eyes, one that you couldn’t quite read. “I knew what I wanted and I wasn’t signing shit for anything but that.” 

“And that was me?” You teased because the conversation was getting serious and your heart felt like it was in your throat and you were pretty sure you would lose your mind if Nico kept staring at you with those intense eyes. You were also pretty sure you would lose your mind if he looked away.

“Yes.” 

You blinked, waiting for him to laugh but he didn’t. 

“What?”

“I think you heard me clearly enough the first time,” Nico mused, watching the way a million emotions passed over your face.

“Oh,” was the only response you could come up with. 

“Still don’t believe me?” Nico questioned, something like amusement in his voice. Something quite like a challenge too. Like he was expecting you to call him out on it, like he had been waiting for the chance to prove himself.

“And if I don’t?” You murmured, a little more breathless than you intended.

You watched as his eyes dropped to your lips, lingering for a few moments. “Then I’ll find a way to prove it.” 

You opened your mouth to say something, though you weren’t even sure what. You didn’t know if you were going to beg for him to do it, to prove it. You didn’t know if you were going to tell him to stop playing whatever game he was playing. You didn’t know if you were going to tell him to fuck the vague, elusive chat and to just fucking kiss you already. 

You were pretty sure it was most likely going to be the last option.

But you never got the chance to even utter a word before the loud, high-pitched shrill of a phone broke the moment.

You blinked, quickly glancing away and taking a few moments to ground yourself as Nico quickly sat up on the blanket. He patted his pockets before slipping his phone out, answering it with a slight peeved off look on his face.

However, that quickly changed when the person on the other side of the phone began speaking, the words muffled but the urgent tone was clear even to you.

It took less than a few seconds before Nico was scrambling to get up, abandoning the basket and blanket before he nodded for you to get up too. His hand was a little more pushy as he directed you towards his car, his face serious and almost murderous as he quickly got in the car, racing to turn it on.

“It’s Jack,” was all Nico could mutter out for context before the two of you were racing towards the house.

.

[mbsneur]

Dumb thing

Alexia Putellas x reader

Hi everyone, I have posted a new fic and I hope you like it, I am open to any kind of opinion and wish, feel free to write me!🩵

Summary: Alexia catches you fingering yourself

WC: 824 (very very short don’t be mad)

Warnings: Smut18+,masturbating,crying

My Masterlist

your fingers deep in your cunt they pump in and out your other hand on your nipples your body makes little moans, you hear the apartment door slam loudly

"i’m home" alexia, screams through the hallway your whole body shakes you quickly pull your fingers out you hear alexia's shoes fly through the hallway your heart races

Alexia texted you just 20 minutes ago to say she'll be home soon and that she had a bad and exhausting day. You were looking at pictures of the two of you that Alexia took while you were riding her. Your hands immediately went to your pants to free yourself.

Your bedroom door opens and Alexia bursts in, "Amor, what are you doing here, why are you already in bed, are you okay?" she asks confused, your hands and body still under the covers, you nervously try to form a sentence, Alexia looks at you with a furrowed brow.

"Um - I was just about to go to bed - I'll wait for you," you stammer, and you can see that Alexia doesn't believe you.

"Did you touch yourself?" she asks, rolling her tongue in her mouth as she quietly closes the door, "N- no, no, no," you stammer again, your head spinning back and forth in panic.

"show me your hands" alexia says and your hands carefully come out of the blanket, you forgot to wipe them quickly somewhere. You stretch your hands out in front of you and alexia comes closer to the edge of the bed to look at your hands

"I knew it," she says, giving you a funny look, the next moment she suddenly pulls the covers off your legs and exposes your whole pussy.

Your legs tighten involuntarily, and you swallow hard. You look up at Alexia, who now has a certain kind of horny and pissed-off look in her eyes.

"Baby, why did you try to hide it from me?" she asks looking straight into your eyes "I didn't want you to get mad," you say softly in a sweet voice the heat rises in your head and the room around you gets warm you feel ashamed.

Alexia lets out a little sigh and sits down on the bed in front of you. You wince a little as the bed gives way. "Do you think I'm as stupid as you?" she asks with a little frown. You're not really sure what to say. Your eyes glaze over a little, and you're not sure, you don’t want Alexia to punish you because the last time she did, you couldn't sit for four days.

your eyes start to water you didn't want to upset her you were just so horny "stop crying it won't do any good anymore" she says and touches your ankle she brings your feet apart "spread your legs or you won't like the consequences of your disobedience“

You feel even more embarrassed, but you do what Alexia tells you and open your legs right away. "aye , buena, ur so wet," she says with a little smile. "I can smell you from here, What were you thinking, sweetheart?" she asks, looking at you. "I was looking at pictures of you and got so turned on I couldn't wait until you got here," you say, still with tears in your eyes, waiting for Alexia's next move.

"I want to see you touch yourself, go on ," Alexia says smugly and leans back, holding herself up with her arms, "I don't want to, I'm unsure," you say shyly and nervously, "Just a few minutes ago your fingers were so deep inside you and now you're suddenly getting shy," Alexia says slightly annoyed.

She grabs your ankle and pulls gently as your upper body slides further down and you whimper from the sudden action "Rub your clit. Better, do what I say," she says through clenched teeth.

you sigh in tears as your finger hits your clit, you rub hard and your legs continue to bend alexia stares at you watching your every move

Your lips open as a small sigh comes out, tears continue to trickle down your cheek as you finger yourself in front of your trusted girlfriend, "Stop crying, you're not making me soft," Alexia says a little angrily, "what's the problem," she adds as your, sigh grows heavier and your legs spread wider, your juices dripping onto the paint, your pussy throbbing as you gyrate.

"I couldn't make myself cum" you moan and Alexia starts to laugh "of course you couldn't because you're my slut and a little dumb thing that doesn't realize how dependent you are on me" she laughs and spits out you start to moan at her words of course you're all hers

"next time you wait for me before you do these stupid things and now turn around and stick your ass up in the air i want to see you cry some more"

[kr-starz]

I saw a TikTok about how Ambessa and Silco's last words to their daughters weren't out of love and oh my god am I pissed OFF, (no hate to this creator)

I am NOT super into Ambessa and Mel's relationship so I will not be elaborating on them at ALL, but here's what I feel like what Silco and Jinx's relationship can be chucked up to.

First of all, I'm not here to say Silco and Jinx was a healthy relationship. They're not. They are both mutually toxic and enabling. Silco could very well be classified as manipulative, but did he love Jinx? Yes. Let's just state this now, Silco is an underground drug lord who's trying to control the underground as a whole. In an attempt for independence and making Zaun a reality, he's come up with an immoral plan that does nothing but benefit him and his socioeconomic status. Improving his own status with both power, and influence, with Shimmer. That is how he is making himself heard to the people of Zaun, that is why he is so powerful.

In order to keep this status of power, he needs people. Loyal people. Sevika as an example is undoubtedly his most loyal. We have to also acknowledge that Silco is not scared of Jinx swaying to the pilties side, or siding with enforcers. He's more worried about how erratic Jinx can be, Silco might have a semblance that Vi is alive, but she's in a cell. Vi has been locked up and she is basically dead for what he knows, since, well she's responsible for blowing up a high ranking officials home and robbing them. Which would probably put her away for an incredibly long time.

Silco's impression is that Vi will no longer be in the city of Zaun for an incredibly long time, or she's dead. Him telling Jinx that Vi is gone isn't incorrect. She's in a cell, impossible to see. It is manipulative how Silco's isolated her though. He was indeed convincing Jinx of an outcome that was false and tried to convince Jinx that the only other person in her life that she was hopeful to see was no longer there and did not care for is a tactic that abusers use in order to convince their victims that they're the only person they need in their lives.

This was, necessary, for Silco at least. At this point in the story, Silco has yet to realize just how much he values Jinx as daughter. He continues to care for Jinx gently though, as a parental figure.

There are two faces powerful men must uphold. Their status and their values must be something unmovable, which means he must exude a powerful presence. So when Silco is doing business, he usually has a very different energy around him. But when Silco is at his home, he acts this way specifically with Jinx. He is soft. He is never inclined to make moves to touch or guide her. He acknowledges exactly how mentally disturbed Jinx is and does the very least in order to not agitate her. He knows Jinx has episodes and breakdowns which cause her to do harsh and brutal things. Yet has he ever yelled at her for hallucinating? Has he ever blamed her for being ill? No, he acts accordingly. He wants Jinx to acknowledge that there have been consequences to her actions, natural Karma, yet he doesn't blame her, he simply tells her.

When Jinx screws up the first Job, when they encounter the firelights. He first asks Sevika what happened, which gives him a clear run-down of what happened. Then, he goes over to Jinx, asks her what happens. He's open to hearing her side of things which is essential for trust in a relationship. To continue this topic of trust, he hands Jinx his syringe. He trusts her, even after screwing up to poke him in the eye and give him his dose of shimmer. All these indirect ways of telling Jinx that he continues to have faith in her, that he trusts her and that she is still valuable.

Value; this topic is important for Jinx and her psyche. As a person with abandonment issues, she most likely has adapted to this need of being needed, especially from people she deems important. So through this Silco has realized this and continues to put value on Jinx by giving her jobs and responsibilities, unwavering trust.

During this scene, we see Jinx wrap herself around Silco. She slides from Silco's desk into the same chair that Silco is sitting in. There's a lot of people I see looking at this scene in a strange way which is upsetting to me how they manage to sexualize a TEENAGE DAUGHTER and a PARENTAL FIGURE.

Jinx's love language is physical touch, this is established by Vi and her in the first act. They exchange many acts of casual physical touch. Always on the receiving end though, through Vi cupping her cheek, or touching her physically in other soft ways, I only remember Powder receiving touch from Vi.

When Jinx initiates any form of physical touch to Silco, we see no push-back, we also don't see Silco moving to initiate MORE physical touch. When Jinx is in his chair, he sits back, his hands nowhere near her yet he doesn't deny Jinx closeness. We see Jinx playing with the syringe, and this is the only time where Silco initiates touch. Not directly by the hand but by the wrist he grabs her to make sure she's listening. When Jinx pulls away he doesn't resist.

Silco never initiates any physical touch from Jinx, the request of handing over the syringe to Jinx is an act of trust. We can infer, from how comfortable Jinx Is that she's been giving Silco his medicine for years now. This is a tradition, and daughters sitting in their father's laps, especially at a young age is not a sexual act and it is STRANGE to think of it as one.

Jinx and Silco have no concept of what healthy father daughter relationships are. Essentially what Silco's way of parenting is, is "I will let you do what you think is best for yourself, as long as you continue to do some tasks for me." Which means he leaves Jinx to deal with her issues, which he himself is not equipped to handle. This doesn't mean he doesn't try to combat it, he takes measures so that Jinx doesn't have really bad episodes in the first place. He treats Jinx's hallucinations as normal as that isn't something that he himself can tame. But he does know that most of Jinx's episodes come from her trauma of Vi.

So in order to prevent these episodes which seem to harm her physically he does what we see as him Isolating her from Vi, making her not think of Vi, and reassuring that Vi is no longer present. He does his best to help Jinx, does this mean that this was the best option? No! But was this the best option for both his goals and Jinx, yes. It ensured loyalty while doing his best to help Jinx and her Vi induced episodes.

During the bridge scene, we can see that Jinx is badly hurt and Silco in an attempt to revive her in the only way he can is bring her to Singed. I think at this moment Silco begins to see Jinx as something very important, something stronger than just a loyal subject, and more-so his daughter. In the beginning we can see that he is almost 50-50 for Jinx, it's obvious he favors her, defending her and backing her up. Yet he continues to put his cause before her. But when he's found Jinx almost dead on the bridge, he does everything he possibly can to ensure her survival. Because Silco has gone through similarly traumatic events that have changed him (The Silco and Vander event where Vander tries to kill him) we can see that his perception of pain in exchange for power and life is a lot.

When Silco wakes up from being drugged the first thing he does is look for Jinx, then he goes to threaten Singed about where Jinx is. Which says a lot. He values Jinx enough in order to threaten an individual he used to work with, and enough to put his chemicals in his body as well as hers.

After this, there's the last episode of s1. Silco is tied to a chair, obviously kidnapped by Jinx, as well as Vi. He's muzzled, and the first thing he tries to say is "her name is Jinx." to Vi. It's the first thing he says muzzled and unmuzzled. Even at his most vulnerable, he's defending Jinx from her biggest trigger at the moment, Vi.

He doesn't ask to be released, he doesn't question what it's about. But what he does do is tell Jinx about the offer he got from Piltover, for independence. At this moment Jinx is splitting, because of the shouting from Silco and Vi, she's incredibly stressed out. Her two personalities of Powder and Jinx; she's having an identity crisis and neither Silco or Vi is helping. Silco notices the physical pain that Jinx is in due to the fighting, he could also observe how she's basically having an stress-induced episode because of her identities and Vi. So what he tries to do is shoot Vi, in an attempt of getting her to shut up. What Jinx does in response is to shoot at the nearest bullet fired, because here's the thing. Jinx is still in a daze almost, she would've had the same reaction she had with Silco if she shot Vi. Because at the end of the table is the two people she's valued the most.

When Jinx shoots Silco, what Silco does is finish telling her that he wouldn't have given Jinx to Piltover no matter what. Value. He's showing her that he values her. He then goes to tell her,

"don't cry, you're perfect."

This line is a show of Silco, even at the end, he wants to help Jinx as much as he can. "Don't cry." He doesn't want to see her hurt, he doesn't want to see her in pain because of her mental illness, he wants her to be as happy as she can, if she can.

"You're perfect." Jinx is quite literally having an identity crisis. She's on the bridge between Powder and Jinx. What a manipulative person who wants to mold her into the perfect person would've said something along the lines of "don't cry Jinx, you're perfect." He would've included her name somehow. But he doesn't, because right then and there, no matter what Jinx picked. Silco would've been on her side.

Through all of these acts of trusting jinx, and him doing his best to help her, not giving over Jinx in exchange for independence, and his final line of "you're perfect." It's hard to say that Silco didn't love Jinx.

End of TedTalk; and If anyone wants to claim that Silco can't love Jinx because he manipulated her, wrong! I've been in a relationship similar to theirs which is why I feel so strongly about this and It's incredibly obvious what he valued Jinx a lot, he loved her enough to learn her needs and catered to them. Showing Jinx that he valued her was his way of reassuring her he loved her. And him giving one last act of trust, telling her she's perfect shows that his love is unconditional.

[queers-gambit]

The Strength in Honor [ part 3 of 3 ]

prompt: well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of your own actions. let the Games begin.

pairing: General Marcus Acacius x female!Aurelius!reader

fandom: Gladiator II -> no masterlist

word count: 8.3k+

warnings: spoilers, blood, character injury, canon character death, Acacius survives, drama, depiction of canon complicit physical violence, epilogue, very lil tiny smut, very lil tiny NSFW, depiction of happiest ending author could think of.

part one: read here part two: read here

The gladiators perked up when the sounds of struggle echoed from a distant tunnel; torchlight glowing brighter the closer the approaching intruders got. While restrained to their cells, most prisoners peaked out to watch as multiple guards were required to wrangle an irate General Acacius into an empty cell.

"You're no men of mine," Acacius snarled at the guards as they shoved him to the ground before slamming it shut; keeping bars between the feral man and themselves.

"No, General. We're the Emperor's."

He scoffed, "Hardly men of Rome, then."

"Do try to get some rest, General," another tacked on smugly, "you'll need your wits about you if you're gonna save your lady by," he raised his voice to ensure everyone heard, "fighting every man here!"

There was a grumble from the gladiators, Lucius' arms poking out to rest between the bars; keys heavy and hidden on his hip. He glared at the man he'd been convinced he needed to kill; the man he told Macrinus he wanted in exchange for being his champion; the man he thought would avenge his wife's death. Yet as he listened to the guards taunt him, he heard his aunt's voice pleading with him to understand the General was not the enemy.

He ignored the Wisdom of Venus in favor of his own anger.

The Praetorian Guards spat on the General before laughing and taking their leave; several hushed voices whispering to one another as a distant door clanged shut.

"General? General Acacius?" Someone questioned from the dark.

"Yes?"

"General," the voice insisted, "the hell's going on? What're you doing here?"

Lucius watched Acacius approach his cell door with narrowed eyes, taking the bars in hand as he identified, "Augustus?"

The guard winced as he neared the cell, "Ah, hell, it is you, thought I was seein' shit at first."

"Solider," Acacius greeted.

"Is the plan off?"

"What?"

Augustus shook his head, "The Lady Aurelius was here not long ago, sent Ravi to gather your men. Is the plan off?"

Lucius watched in real time as the General blinked slowly in remembrance, giving the Gladiator time to note the scattering of facial injuries. "Y/N sent Ravi to gather the men?"

"Yes, General."

"Good, good," he nodded, then shaking his head in disappointment. "I don't know what's to come next, soldier, we were betrayed."

"What?"

"The Emperors... They knew, yet I don't think specific details were shared as I saw no deployment to intercept my men yet."

"So they threw you down here?"

Acacius nodded, "In the morning, I am to fight all of you for the life of Lady Aurelius. There's no use in hiding it now: the Lady and I have been involved in an extramarital affair nearly 20 years."

"Jesus, Mary-Mother, and Joesph," Augustus scoffed, head cocking in confusion. "Why not just marry her?"

"I had planned to," Acacius admitted, "after the war, when the fighting was done, when I returned to Rome. I even had a ring," he smirked sadly, "but before I could propose, Lucius Verus died and widowed Lucilla. The Emperor asked me to marry her instead, for protection."

"He did not know about you and Y/N?"

"I'm sure he had his suspicions, we were young and dumb; not very good at hiding anything."

"Why accept? If you loved Y/N, why marry Lucilla?"

Lucius listened intently as Acacius admitted, "Because General Maximus told me to honor our Emperor, honor Rome. There was no denying Lady Lucilla's hand in marriage."

"But you and Venus never quit, huh?" Augustus snickered, "My man!"

"Just loved her too much to stop," Acacius shrugged, shaking his head. "Couldn't ever let go, and even now, I can't. So, tomorrow, I will attempt to fight you all - but we all know, the Emperor's are orchestrating a plan now to ensure I do not succeed."

The creaking of an opening iron door made both men pause their conversation, looking up in time to spy Lucius stepping from his unlocked cell. He watched the way Acacius straightened up with a knowing look; understanding his aunt must've had enough time to tell him about Lucius before their downfall.

"Hanno," Augustus tried to intercept, "how'd you - "

"Is it true?" He directed at the General.

Acacius let his eyes shift from guard to Gladiator; noting how Augustus did not seem phased by his unlocked cell. He asked "Which part?" for clarification.

"Loving Lady Y/N for 2 decades, Maximus telling you to marry Lady Lucilla?"

"All of it," he nodded. "Though my marriage to the Lady was not all bad, she... She just..."

"She wasn't Y/N," Lucius filled in, sounding neutral; neither angry or offended on his mother's behalf, but also not elated on his aunt's either.

"Nobody was - nobody ever will be again," Acacius told him. "Without her, Rome will be set adrift. You should all prepare."

"You speak as if it's already over."

"Weren't you listening?" Acacius snapped. "I am to fight you all, by myself. The Emperor's will ensure neither of us walk away - though, they will try to get Y/N, they spoke of their desire for her."

Lucius and Augustus shared the same expression of disgust, upper lips curling. "They can try," Augustus scoffed, crossing his meaty arms. "Your men still march for the city, General, and the men in these cells stand with you. What's the plan?"

"'Plan'? There's no more plans, kid, it's over. We lost."

"Not yet," Lucius mused, "the Games have only just begun."

"Look," Acacius shook his head, "when we face each other in the arena tomorrow, there will be no way out. I only ask for a swift death for us both. Should the Emperors ever get their hands on her, I fear death will be Y/N's only relief... Do not condemn your aunt to such a fate, she's the best of us and deserves better."

"No, the answer is simple, is it not?" Lucius asked, looking around the other cells of gladiators. "You hear that, lads? Your General Acacius must fight us all tomorrow to protect his lady-love! To protect Venus!" Flesh and metal banged on iron cell doors, a gentle hoot answering his rhetorical inquiry. "He says give him a quick death!" Another round of door-banging. "Know what I say? I say! The answer is simple! The Emperors intend for the General to fight us all - so none of us will fight!"

"What?" Augustus asked over the approval of agreeing gladiators. "Hanno, the hell do you mean? We'd all get shot by the archers!"

Lucius smirked, "There is strength in numbers, my friend... And 2,000 men loyal to the General march for the city. So long as the Emperors have a show, we keep them drawn in and locked on us, fully distracted - they won't so much as notice the city being sacked."

"There need be no sacking, the city is ready to fall," Acacius inputted, eyes narrowed at Lucius.

"All the more reason then," he smirked.

Augustus chuckled, "Oh, hooo! Hear that? I think Hanno has a plan, lads! Should we hear him?" The gladiators banged louder, "I asked, should we hear him!?" Now, they roared in agreement, making Augustus smirk at Lucius and cross his broad, bulging arms. "Go on, then. What's the plan, Hanno?"

Acacius leaned on the bars of his door, ready to take his orders like any good soldier.

The General was collected first from his cell, provided a change of clothes, his armor, and weaponry. Before he disappeared from sight, his head turned to catch Lucius' eyes; either man nodding subtly in agreement to what they had strategized all night.

The Praetorian Guards gathered first at the doors, posted along the inner arena of the Colosseum with archers lining the walls between sand and spectators. Acacius watched from the tunnel as a huge, decorated wooden cart was lugged into the arena by decoratively-matching white horses; you tied to a broad post in the center; dressed in a gorgeous white chiffon dress. You were accessorized in gold, but what caused instant anger from the crowd wasn't just the sight of you... But the sight of you, bound and bloodied.

Geta's Guards were none too gentle in their "watch" of you that night. Your nose bled, bottom lip split down to your chin, apple of your cheek cut open and weeping down your neck, over your collarbones and into the shoulders of your dress. Your wrists were raw, shoulders strained as your arms were bound behind you. In a twist of cruel irony, your maids - including the one who betrayed you - were bound in chains to the cart, as well; surrounded by the Senators who had agreed to your plans of usurpation.

"Gracus," you called to the old man closest to you. When his eyes met yours, you heaved, "I'm so sorry - for all of this."

"You need not apologize, my Lady," he warbled, hands bound before him in a sign of prayer. "This was what we knew could happen, yet we still sided with you. When it comes to Rome's best interest, that is where those most loyal must stand - no matter the consequences."

You nodded slowly, blinking back emotion - still feeling handsomely guilty.

"LET HER GO!" It was heard echoing from the stadium seating; more and more voices joining in their own protest. The archers lining the walls turned to prevent the packed rows of citizens from getting too close; causing tensions to mount as the people did not like such a brash reaction.

In the spectator's box, Emperors Geta and Caracalla sat pompously with Lucilla and Macrinus; waving to the booing crowd. Over them all, the Master of Ceremonies cried out, "People of Rome! Oh, hear me now, my good friends! People of Rome, settle! Settle yourselves! For today, you bear great witness to our Republic's great and fair justice!" The crowd growled and jeered. "Today... Today, great people, we witness the Gods judgement! Today, General Marcus Acacius," the crowd now cheered, "shall face the whole of the Emperor's gladiators in an effort to protect his long-standing affair partner, Lady Y/N Aurelius!"

The people stirred as your head bowed in shame. The Master of Ceremonies paused to let his words marinate, Geta smirking as he misunderstood the mumbling crowd to be displeased with you and Marcus.

"Who cares!?" It was cried.

"Let her go!"

"MERCY!"

"DON'T DO THIS!"

"Just let them be together!"

"LET HER GO!"

"MERCY, EMPERORS, MERCY!"

You could see the way Geta shifted in his seat with discomfort as nearly all citizens of Rome begged and pleaded for your mercy; to allow redemption, to seek penance, that this was not justice just because it was labeled as such.

A door opened across the arena, your head lifting in time to see Marcus striding out of the tunnel to the cheers of his loyal spectators. Your chains rattled as you stood upright from the post, tears mingling with blood down your neck as you watched him march to his death. Around him, Praetorian Guards moved from their place along the outskirts of the arena to surround him and your cart.

Acacius came to a halt, surveying the arena before locking his eyes with yours. "Are you hurt?" He asked. Your head shook, the tears did not lessen. "Good. Stay strong, my star, I'll get you outta here."

You nodded, truly believing him for a reason you didn't understand. Was love truly so blind? Perhaps.

Unknown to you, Augustus was galloping through the city to meet with Acacius' men at the city gates; intending on leading the first wave into the Colosseum. The gladiators burst from their cells and slaughtered the Emperor's men left behind; gathering at the gates of the tunnels to watch as General Acacius saluted the few of his men unlucky to be placed in the Emperor's guard. Several freed gladiators were sent through the Colosseum to neutralize as many archers as possible while the fighting inside the arena began in a brutal fashion.

For what it's worth, it was a glorious attempt by the Praetorians - but this was General Marcus Acacius they fought! Trained by General Maximus - the Spaniard, himself! He was a soldier foremost and for the first time, had something tangible and real and in his hands to fight for. The men in black armor fought well, for all it's worth - but you were on the line and Acacius wasn't in the clearest states of mind. There was no stopping him. There was none that could stand against him yet.

Until Lucius lead few gladiators into the arena next, signaling the next stage of their plan was in motion. "Acacius!" You warned, struggling in your restraints, "Behind you!"

He dodged out of the way of the last solider, swinging his sword around to lacerate the man's neck; splattering his face with a spray of blood. He panted, backing up a few paces towards the cart, leaning a hand to a wheel spoke. "Are you all right?" Acacius asked, looking exhausted but still strong.

"Are you!?"

"I'm fine," he assured, looking up at you with a smirk, "but you need to get ready, love."

"For what?"

"We're gonna need you to put on a bit of a show, hey?"

"Who the fuck is 'we'!?"

"Just - get upset when you see us fight, my Lady, really give 'em a show. We need all of their attention on us for as long as possible."

"Please, Acacius, what's happening!?" You begged, yelping shrilly and flinching when an arrow thumped into the meat of your inner thigh - managing to graze the femoral artery, causing blood to trickle down your leg at a mild rate as your dress slowly soiled with a blossom of blood where the arrow was embedded. It was a very deliberate hit, the crowd 'oohing' in union as every set of eyes darting over to see Geta standing at the stone banister with a smirk as he lowered his bow. "Oh, he's fucking lost it!" You squirmed in discomfort, whimpering in pain, lifting weight off the injured leg; the crowd enraged.

"Fuck - how bad is it? Y/N, please, my love, I know it hurts but talk to me!"

"It's not bad," you assured through your warbling tone, managing to look down and note the front of your dress. "No, no, not bad, it's embedded, plugging the wound. As long as we don't pull the shaft out, I should be fine."

"Acacius!" Lucius bellowed, charging over the sand.

"Wait - wait - wait - what's happening!? Don't! Acacius, please, please, that's Lucius! Do not - you cannot kill him!" You nearly forgot all Acacius had just said when he was forced to engage with the obviously angry Gladiator. "Lucius! Lucius, don't! Please! Please! Fuck honor, you two, this isn't worth your lives!" You felt flooded with genuine fear as your nephew gave your lover a real fight; both equally challenged, hacking at one another in dramatic flares. They moved all around, forcing the other gladiators to take new positions - keeping the attention of the crowd: commoners and the wealthy alike.

Then, after a wave of panic faded, your maid, Melody, reminded, "My Lady! The General said to keep their attention, remember? Put on a show?"

"What?" You asked the woman who hadn't betrayed you. The one who did was posted behind you - dead from the Praetorian Guard managing to get to her before Acacius could get them. Only few Senators were still standing.

"You have to scream - make a big deal of their fued!"

"Fuck," you breathed in mild confusion - then, like a crack of lightning, you understood. "Don't!" You begged them with a cry, "Please! Acacius! He's my nephew - you cannot! LUCIUS! LUCIUS, PLEASE!"

"Keep going," Melody encouraged, eyes on the crowd from her position facing the watch box occupied by Royal Romans. "They're all listening, keep going!"

You pulled against your chains, "Lucius! Mercy, mercy, nephew, please! Let us leave in peace - don't do this! I beg of you! Spare him!"

"Something's happening..." Melody informed with narrowed eyes. "Geta's on his feet - keep going, my Lady! Louder! Get hysterical!"

You were no actress but still put on your best show. "LUCIUS! NO!" You screamed authentically when he swiped his sword up through the spear Acacius wielded - severing it in two. "Ah, for fuck's sake, you two! Come off it, please!"

The fighting seemed oddly personal and poetic; the two dancing tunelessly through the sand, dressed in blood. You heard Melody gasp when Acacius backed off Lucius, kneeling to the ground at the Gladiator's mercy; her picking her chains with a spare hair pin. The two exchanged a few words you could not hear, both Emperors on their feet to watch with Macrinus and Lucilla standing just behind them in earnest wonder. When Lucius looked to Geta and saw his thumbs-down, he looked to Acacius and mumbled something else. Then... He knelt, too.

Geta appeared enraged for a long moment, almost ready for the Guards to shoot them both dead, before Lucius was climbing to his feet. He left Acacius with his knees in the sand, you perking up as Lucius paced a large circle before calling loudly, "Emperor Geta! There's been a request made!"

"Deadmen don't get requests, Gladiator, but living ones take them! Should they want to remain living!" The Emperor called back, trying to remain aloof.

"Is this," he pointed his blade back at Acacius, "how Rome treats her heroes!?" This caused the crowded Colosseum to hiss in anger, growing more restless with each word from their favorite Gladiator. "Since it is the Emperor who passes judgment, since it is the Emperor who has decided the General dies - should it not be by his hand?"

Geta scoffed gently, "I gave the order, I need not swing the sword."

"But in the name of honor, you should," Lucius smirked, offering his weapon. "Here, come, take mine! You say the General dies, you yearn for the Lady Aurelius? Come claim it all like the greater leaders before you!"

Knowing he was being called out, Geta chuckled, "You've a sense of humor, Gladiator, as much as you're a poet, I see. Now, prove you're a solider and kill the General."

"I would think it just and fair to come from you, Emperor," Lucius refused, lifting his arms with his voice, "and the people of Rome came for a show! Are you not entertained!?" The crowd roared deafeningly as if to agree Emperor Geta should enter the ring himself, foolishly, he thought, as Commodus once did. Lucius paced another circle as the archers were clashing with citizens still, facing the spectator's box and pointing his sword, "Come, Emperor! Nobody else can swing their sword, there's none present who will fight their General. The men here, they know loyalty! And honor! And love! They will not fight your man, let alone kill him. So, come! You must - if you want him dead, come, kill him."

Macrinus approached Geta and began rushing his words of advisory, telling the Emperor he should prove to the people he was fair - not tyrannical - by passing this sentence; to 'just' step in the arena. "I am not as vain as Commodus, I need not kill the General myself," Geta told him with a snap.

"It's just a show for the people, don't you want them to get their worth? Or turn unruly from their disappointment and resentment? Think about it: they've been sat here, all day, in the sun, hungry and thirsty, after having paid to watch their city-favorites fight to the death. They want to be sated - so, perhaps seeing their Emperor pass his own sentencing would be enough to satisfy them."

"And with what protection for myself?" Geta snarled, "My men are dead, all that's left are slaves."

"There are still archers, take the few Praetorians from here," Macrinus offered, cocking his head.

"What safety is this you offer?" He seethed.

"C'mon, Emperor!" Lucius taunted again. "Come down! Disband Rome's General for yourself!"

"I should shoot the fool now," Geta considered, nodding to the archers in the box. They strung arrows to their bows and aimed at Lucius, making the crowd jeer and boo; for the Gladiator to lift his hands in innocence, backing away a few steps; and for his mother to protest. "But!" Geta announced to the Colosseum, "I am merciful!"

The crowd cheered lazily, more so in excitement as Geta waved the archers down and was strapped in flashy, never-before-blooded armor. The procession of Praetorians from the box followed him to the mouth of the gates; surrounding the Emperor and jogging inside. Surviving, straggling gladiators just milled about their strategic positions, watching carefully, as the Emperor approached Marcus - still on his knees.

Your eyes widened as a ruckus was heard from above, a shrill scream of terror sounding before a body dropped - dead - into the sand. It was a woman from the crowd, tossed over the side by a Praetorian. This caused people to fight back and for Emperor Geta to startle as it was discovered Augustus was successful in leading the first wave of men into the city; soldiers and gladiators working together to dispel the archers and any Roman loyal to the Twins. Marcus smirked and easily lifted to his feet, making Geta stumble back a couple steps as the General seethed while swinging his sword in hand, "What was it I said earlier? You'd sooner die than touch my Lady?"

Geta's eyes widened as he looked up to you chained on the post, seeing the blood on your dress and trembling. "Now, Acacius!" Lucius shouted as chaos descended onto the Colosseum; the Gladiator fighting a Praetorian a short distance away. "We haven't the time! It's now or never!"

"M-Mercy - mercy!" Geta begged, trying to back away but tripping over a dead body. He sprawled pathetically in the dirt, trembling hand lifted as if Marcus was his savior, "Mercy, General, please! MERCY!"

You watched as Marcus swiftly swung his sword, cutting steel through the Emperor's neck - sending his head rolling away to the sounds of Caracalla's shrieks. They did not last long.

Marcus instantly turned and sprinted for the cart, you gasping his name and pulling on your chains painfully when an arrow found his shoulder. It sent him off course slightly; enough to stumble, leaving time for a second arrow to find his thigh. This time, he tripped into the dirt, head bowed in pain as you begged him to get up; heart in your throat, fingers slippery from the blood you drew from open wounds caused by the sharp edges of your cuffs.

You whimpered nervously as the fighting turned chaotic; all Senators dead, several fires started, the ringing of swords drowned by the sounds of people screaming. If there were any Gods, today, they turned a blind eye to Rome; making you feel isolated, as if your father's faith had finally been sucked from your soul as you watched Marcus snap the arrow from his thigh. He reached for his shoulder blade and grimaced as he ripped the arrow out, too. Slowly, he found his feet and started forward again; limping the rest of the way to the wagon.

Melody freed herself and instantly scrambled to start on your cuffs, too; trying to be strategic together and adjust so she could cower behind the post and work.

Lucius looked up in time to see Marcus clamor onto the cart, just feet from you before an arrow suddenly lodged in your abdomen - just merely inches from your sternum. It made Acacius freeze before all but materializing in front of you just to throw his body over yours in protection from other flying weaponry. Lucius looked to the box - where the arrow had once more come from. What he saw both slowed time and made his blood boil.

Emperor Caracalla's corpse was slumped in his seat, and above him, Lucilla wrestled for the bow in Macrinus' hands before he was overthrowing her from the balcony. Lucius winced when her body landed in a small mushroom of dirt, sprinting across the arena to slide on his knees at her head.

"What did you do!?" He gaped, trying to support her broken neck but fearing he'd make it worse.

"What... What was necessary... For my... My family..." She managed to get out between strangled breaths, fading fast. Yet, before the light could fully extinguish, her eyes brightened in recognition and reached for his cheek, whispering with the ghost of a smile adorning her lips for the last time, "My son... My Lucius."

But her life was swept into the wind before her fingers could ever find purchase on his flesh. "Mother?" He whispered, finding her eyes unseeing; her arm falling and body turning limp. Emotion clawed at his throat as he asked again, "Mum?"

There was no response.

Lucius heaved a heavy sigh and left Lucilla in her place as respectfully as possible, racing towards the wooden cart in time to witness Meldoy free you from your chains and for Marcus to settle you on your back. He smacked the arrow from your gut and thigh - not pulling them out, but just swiping the excess wood from his way. "Acacius!" Lucius shouted, rushing into the cart's edge to catch himself. "Is she...?"

"She's alive, but there's blood," Marcus informed, using both his hands to straight-arm press into the wound of your gut - thigh seemingly fine to leave alone for now. Nervously, he added quietly, "Too much blood, Lucius."

"Get her to the healers, the army's moving in," he nodded, quickly surveying the arena as Melody made her escape through an open gate. "They've taken out almost all the Praetorians."

"And Lucilla?" Marcus asked, seeing Lucius shake his head; so his bowed and he cursed quietly. "Hey, hey," he rushed when blood splattered over your lips, chin, cheeks, neck, and some flecks reaching your chest from your coughing. "Don't speak, you're all right, love, I've got you," he assured as calmly as he could, Lucius noting the way your face scrunched in delirious pain. From where your dress appeared the most concentrated with blood, he assumed you were struck in at least one or two vital places. "What happened to Lucilla?" Marcus questioned, looking to Lucius.

"Macrinus. I imagine she's the reason Auntie's not dead right now - looked like they were wrestling, she might've knocked the arrow off course."

"I imagine," Marcus repeated in agreement.

"Do you see him? Macrinus, I mean, do you see him?" Lucius asked, both men trying to see through the chaos. "We need to end this now with him!"

"There," Acacius inclined his chin across the arena, directing Lucius' attention to where Macrinus was stealing a horse and galloping out of the Colosseum. "Go! Go, Lucius!" He encouraged.

"Keep her alive!" Lucius barked, rushing for one of the other white horses; running alongside before kicking off and leaping onto the steed.

"Yeah, I fucking plan to, kid," Acacius muttered, looking around for an exit strategy. "Fucking hell," he saw nothing but fighting, gore, tragedy, devastation, carnage.

"General!"

"Augustus! Here!"

The former gladiator rushed for the cart, tugging the reins of another horse behind him. "C'mon! Let's go! You have to move, General, you can't stay here! Only a single squadron made it into the city, Macrinus sent his men to delay the rest!" Augustus panted, holding the animal steady as Marcus started apologizing to you profusely. You whimpered when he lifted you in his arms, roughly maneuvering from the cart and lifting you on bare horseback.

"We owe you, friend," Marcus nodded, smacking the soldier's shoulder before taking claim of the reins.

"Just get her somewhere safe and meet us at the city limits," Augustus panted, offering the General a leg-up onto the horse before slapping its hindquarters to send the couple off through the Colosseum at a gallop.

For three days, you slept. For three days, Rome was expunged of the Twin Emperor's reign of tyranny. For three days, bodies burned. For three days, General Marcus Acacius sat at your bedside in palpable worry.

"How is she tonight?" Lucius questioned softly, stepping into the med-bay with a tray of food that would, once more, go uneaten.

"Breathing still," Marcus answered.

Lucius sighed, "Why don't you go clean up, General?"

"I'm General no longer," he corrected, "I was stripped of my rank."

"As if anything those two did will permanently stick," Lucius scoffed with a roll of his eyes, setting the tray aside. "Go bathe and feed yourself, Acacius, I will sit with her tonight."

"I can't leave her," his head shook in refusal, "I won't."

"You did before," Lucius noted with a sigh, taking a seat in the only other spare chair in the room on the other side of your medical bed. "You met us at the gates of the city after the Colosseum."

"It wasn't easy," Acacius snipped, "and I was better help there than with her - she's got the healing touch, not me. No... No, I just cause injury, it seems."

Lucius could hear the exhaustion in the General's voice, understanding this didn't come from lack of sleep. "And now? As she rests, what help are you to her now? You know she wouldn't approve."

He chuckled dryly, "I wouldn't forgive myself if she woke and I wasn't here."

"She'd not forgive you if she woke and you had wasted away."

"You two are so fucking loud," a third voice grumbled, making both men nearly fall out of their chairs from sitting up so fast.

"Y/N?" Marcus reached for your hand, his other lifting to pet over your head.

"Who else?"

Lucius shared relieved laughter with Marcus, your eyes begrudgingly opening. "There she is," your nephew mused, "welcome back t'the world, Auntie."

"Fuck this," you grumbled, letting him help you sit up a bit.

"Gave us bit of a scare, love," Marcus whispered.

"Hm," you considered. "Well, seeing as I'm awake and you two are here, I take it... Things... Worked?"

"First, here," Marcus insisted, offering a simple cup of water to your lips after you were settled upright. He tilted the goblet for you, careful not to let you gulp it - but the sweet relief of water on your cottony tongue was too good to resist. You drank greedily. "Easy, easy," he cautioned when you coughed a little, pulling the chalice back to let you breathe. "How're you feeling?"

"Stiff," you admitted with a grimace. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"Uh, 's bit of a blur at moments," you sighed, rubbing your eyes as you thought deep. "I remember the Emperors, the post, you two fighting. Then there was... Geta's head, the Praetorians fighting citizens and gladiators... The army, I remember the army got there, right?"

"Yeah, good," Lucius encouraged.

"Ah, shit, I got shot," you remembered, opening your eyes to regard your thigh.

"The healers got it out in one go," Marcus told you, "didn't cause damage - you should heal easily from that, my star. But you can't put pressure on the leg for a few days more, not until the cauterization set."

You nodded slowly, "That's... Good to hear. What happened after? I... I think I remember getting shot again? Ah, fuck, did I get shot twice?"

"By Macrinus," Lucius confirmed. "Got yah right here," he reached out to gently pet the bandaged wound, "bled a good bit."

"But the healers got the arrow out," Marcus was quick to assure, "and it was an easy enough wound to close after."

You prodded the area gently, asking, "Didn't come out so easily as the first, did it?"

"You can tell?" Lucius asked curiously.

You nodded, "It's sensitive all around, makes me imagine they had to pry the wound open - maybe even wriggle the arrow to dislodge it."

"It wasn't as clean, no, love, but it's out," Marcus sighed. "You're not in danger any longer."

"No, ma'am," Lucius smirked, watching Marcus settle a little more in his chair. "Not from your wounds or external enemies."

"Hm?"

"We've control of the Empire."

"You've been coronated?"

"Not yet - thought I'd wait a week, see how you progress. For now, we're cleaning up where we can."

You smirked, "So... It worked?"

"Yeah, the plan worked," Lucius nodded, "which," he sighed, leaning back casually, "miiiight not work out so well for you two in the end."

"I beg your pardon?" Marcus sneered, looking ready to lose his mind and stomach contents.

Lucius chuckled, "Ease up, you two, Gods. I only mean, I know you both long for retirement, but with Lady Y/N's knowledge of the Empire, Marcus, your experience as Rome's General, and both of your insights to Emperor Aurelius' vision of Rome... I thought you two might be of use in how we proceed."

You immediately insisted, "There is no need for expansion, Lucius. The Emperors wanted India and Persia - but I fear we've too broad a hold to control already to worry about territory."

"Agreed," Acacius sighed. "Rome's too many mouths to feed as is, and with respect, Lucius, we're both exhausted of war."

"I do not intend to prolong war, but end it. End Rome's expansion - there's far too much of this Empire already being neglected."

You looked at Acacius, "Told you he was right for this."

"I didn't disagree."

"I remember you doubting my judgement."

"I would never!" He gasped comically, offended you'd accuse him of such a crime. Lucius snickered with a shake of his head, standing from his seat.

"Listen, uh," he cleared his throat, "while relationships might be strained for now, I do hope we might rebuild together. I held plenty of resentment towards you both - all of you, in truth. Yet now, I can see the Strength it took to Honor yourselves after years of being the Empire's puppets. I would see such strength and honor rewarded, perhaps... A house in the countryside?" You offered a bashful smile with a small chuckle of amusement, watching a bright grin stretch across his lips. "I'll send a healer in to check on you," he told you softly, squeezing your hand, "and I'll be back tomorrow. Yes?"

"Yes, good," you agreed, watching him out the door. When it shut, you sighed, "What of Lucilla, Marcus?"

You half-expected her to burst into the room, unable to look away from the door; knowing the answer before Acacius even opened his mouth. "She didn't make it, my love," he whispered. "Macrinus, he... He shot you, but it didn't kill you," his other hand laid over your bandaged abdomen; warming the wound.

"Right."

"Lucius thinks it's because Lucilla intercepted Macrinus' attack - but in the struggle, lost her life."

You paused for a long moment, relishing the feel of his hand - warm and heavy in yours - tracing idle patterns on your skin. "So, we're only here because of her?"

"I think so."

You were both silent outside of the scrape of his chair drawing closer to your bedside. With hands tangled and tightly woven together, Marcus let his forehead rest against yours in the first moment of peace you'd known in two decades. The idea of "winning" felt farfetched, inconclusive in some manner; and just as you lifted back and opened your mouth to question this peace, Marcus quickly assured first, "It's just us, my star. It's finally just us, we can rest."

Perhaps the Gods hadn't turned their backs completely on Rome yet. How could they? When the evidence is right in front of you, now pressing his lips to yours in sweet relief.

epilogue

In the weeks following his coronation and your wedding to the General, Emperor Lucius Verus secretly employed Rome's finest (surviving) contractors and carpenters to erect a gorgeously secluded homestead beyond the city limits. It took less than half a day's ride, but still felt like a far-enough ride, the home wasn't near the city's stench; it was legitimately nestled in the countryside, naturally secluded and protected. There were trees, fields of wild barley, an abundance of wildlife, and just the smallest of streams that surrounded the home.

He thought it was perfect.

So, the new Emperor commanded something quaint yet sufficient be built upon a newly paved road that only he frequented. He trusted you and Marcus to Rome's handling, finding little time to sneak away and view the progress being made. It was impressive how quick the builders built.

One morning, Lucius sent for you and Marcus, insisting there was something beyond the city he needed your opinion on. So, you each mounted a stallion and spurred from the city with a gaggle of newly appointed Praetorian Guards left in the dust - desperate to keep up. It was evident you, Marcus, and Lucius had all spent much time on horses; your seats natural, gait quickened as the fundamental feeling of freedom took over and sent you galloping all the faster. Over fields, through mud, kicking up grass, the three of you rode hard and long - but mostly out of playfulness.

You couldn't remember ever seeing Lucius like this, beaming and almost carefree; like the weight of Rome had evaporated and he could be "Hanno" again - whoever the hell that was. You decided you liked watching him, just noting little things here and there about your nephew; traits of your father, of his, of your sister, and yes, sadly, your brother, too; but that was just how genetics worked. He seemed approachable like this, not the brutal Gladiator that tore a baboon's flesh with his own teeth or bested Rome's General.

He was just a guy. Some... Dude. You'd say a kid, but he was full grown - wise, aged, knowing.

Lucius slowed his horse first, you and Marcus doing the same; trio trotting up a hill as Praetorians still galloped from behind to catch up. Upon climbing to the top, you discovered a home in the valley below, your horse whinnying your question, "What's this?"

"Your estate," Lucius answered easily, both hands casual on the pommel of his saddle. "Thought it was close enough in case anything happened or I needed you - you needed me - something or other," he flushed, rubbing the back of his neck, "but still remote enough to remain private."

"What's that?" You pointed to a small add-on to what looked like the main house.

"Oh, I, uh, took the liberty of building myself a bit of a guest house. You... Don't mind, do you?"

"I only mind you didn't include it in the main house," you teased, shifting your horse to sidestep closer for your arm to wrap around your nephew's waist. "Are you being genuine?"

"You think I jest?"

"If you do, it's not very funny," you warned.

"It's not a joke, this is serious," he promised, casting a knowing look towards Acacius over your head. "Welcome home."

It didn't take long for you and Acacius to settle in. The house wasn't overly large that you would grow weary in your age here, but still the size considered comfortably privileged. You had a set of maids and few personal guards - all of whom were housed on their own new estates, curtesy of the Emperor. Yet besides them, you were alone - and most days, you assured the staff they need not bother at all. You found domestic work strangely comforting after decades in politics, under this ruler and that; finally able to have a little control in your life by tending your own gardens, changing your own sheets, perhaps even cooking for your own husband.

The walls were nearly all made of retractable doors that could still be closed and reinforced in storms. Curtains hung from the rafters, creating a ethereal environment for you to glide through on bright, sunny days to the sounds of a picturesque stream trickling. Most mornings, you stood in awe of your new home, amazed at such subtle beauty long since taken fro granted - now, coveted in your retirement. And most mornings were then interrupted by your husband beckoning your back to bed and insisting you need not rise with the sun now.

Old habits die hard, however. Especially when the baby in your womb took solid form and began to wriggle around your guts in a mostly pleasant feeling, it was enough to keep you up some nights. This particular morning, you were laid on your back to a cotton blanket, moaning loudly as your husband feasted on his choice of breakfast: the honey that oozed from between your thighs. Your stomach had begun to swell with a bump, just barely stretching the cauterized scars that only now faintly reminded you of that day. Marcus swore it was his seed that made you taste different, perhaps sweeter; the grey in his beard glistening from your sloppy arousal as he indulged himself. One hand kept you pried open (as if you'd ever cut him off or resist), the other slithering up your body to paw aggressively at your swollen, sensitive tit; pinching and tweaking your nipple in time with his lips sucking and tongue tickling your clit.

Right there in wild lavender, tickled by wisps of barley, you met your peak - thigh clenching around your husband's head as the Gods intended. This was your reward after decades of service, of sacrifice.

"Fuck," Acacius muttered when you released hold of his hair, watching him lick his mouth when his eyes met yours, "you think it'll ever get old?"

"What?" You asked breathlessly as he gently maneuvered your legs off his shoulders to slowly crawl up your form. He left a few kisses in his wake.

"This," he smirked against your lips, sweeping his tongue against yours to mingle spit and the taste of your arousal. "The taste of you," he continued, "the smell," he let his nose nuzzle up yours, "the feel," he ended, pulling your thigh up his hip.

"I do doubt it, if it hasn't after 20 years."

"Good," he purred, trying to line himself up naturally, but not entirely successful. So, not wanting to lose the feeling of him, you reached between you to keep his cock at the mouth of your cunt so he could just push inward. You groaned in union; mouths open; all but exchanging hot air between you as Marcus bottomed out.

From this position, it was languid and lazy; slow and feeling. Each thrust felt anew, his balls tickling the slick down your lower lips, all but pushing the air from your lungs as he went. His hand kept a vice grip on your thigh as he moved, the other firmly planting on the blanket beside your head as it was evident his orgasm was mounting the sloppier he got, humping into you with a roll of his hips.

"Fuck's sake," he grit, "you're so fucking wet, my star, this is - it's - it's all I fucking need, but it's too good - I can't, I can't hold on, oh, fuck."

"Don't," you moaned in encouragement, directing his eyes back to yours. "Don't hold back anymore, please, I don't want you to ever hold back."

"But the baby - "

"Is fine, Acacius, worry about the mother right now!" You laughed, reaching to hook your hand around his neck and yank down. Your lips met in messy union, humming, moaning against one another; so, imagine your surprise when all you had to whimper was, "C'mon, husband - " and...

"Fuck!"

You laughed lightly when he dropped - not his full weight, but enough - onto your chest, face fully in your breast; balls contracting as he winced from the sudden release of his pleasure. Manicured fingers raked through sweaty, salty grey hair; relishing in the feeling of being safe, at home, in peace; finally married, pregnant, and at liberty to couple at your own leisure in the sunshine and grasses. You grinned, laughing lightly in absolute bliss. There was no way this was real life, it was impossible to think it was finally your reality after being deprived of openly loving him for 2 decades.

Acacius tried to question what was so humorous, but it only came out as a bewildered moan; reverberating in your flesh.

"Why does that get you there, my love?" You teased, pecking his forehead as his cock gave a last few pulses. "Oh, that's right, the great General Marcus Acacius of Rome meets his end like a ruddy-faced teenager from the weight of his emotions!"

Marcus chuckled against you, slowly lifting up to find your lips spread in amusement. "Aye," he agreed, "but only from the weight of emotions for my wife."

You smiled bashfully, admitting, "How silly, that word, 'wife', or 'married'... 'Husband'. It still sounds a little untrue. Almost unreal, fabricated, as if it's a joke being used against us. Like an insult somehow. Now, we're to be parents, too?"

He frowned, still sheathed within your gummy walls but with both elbows now planted on either side of you so he could pet your hair from your face. "It's very true, we've just gotta train your ear to accept it," he whispered, taking your hand and presenting your ring. "See this? Know what this means?"

"That I am yours?"

Acacius scoffed and laced your fingers, "You're not property for me to own, my morning star, you are revered. The absolute prize, earned from years of service and turmoil to this Empire, your father. And in turn, I am who will protect you, love you; admire, respect, adore, cherish you. This ring means we are bonded in this life and the next, that we travel this path and every path beyond, together." He kissed your gemmed ring chastely, swearing, "It's you and I from now on, pretty girl. It's only us."

"That sounds too good to be true," you admitted in a whisper, lazily kissing one another. "Just us?"

"Just us."

"Promise?"

"Swear on my life," he rushed against your lips.

"Then tell me, sweet husband," you whispered, "what do you call that?" You couldn't help but laugh, pointing in the distance over his shoulder. Acacius torqued his torso to quickly turn over, spying Lucius on horseback atop the hill; waving his arm in glee.

"Oh, this fucking kid," Acacius groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and shoulder. You clung to him tightly in humor.

"He's the Emperor."

"Still a fucking kid, interrupting us. Thought we moved out here to get away from everyone and all their shit? Aren't we retired?" Marcus groaned, begrudgingly pulling out of your heat to spill his spend onto the blanket beneath you. He sat up to cover your bare body with his, pausing to gaze down at you fondly and caress the bare bump; then reaching for the meek clothing that had been tossed aside. "Did you know he was coming?" Acacius asked, both dressing swiftly as Lucius began his canter down the hill.

"No, he didn't send word ahead," you pointed out, "and it's still early morning, look, the doves are still out. Oh, he must've left in the middle of the night..."

"Think something's wrong?"

"Let's find out," you nodded, Acacius standing first in a simple wrapped around toga; reaching down to assist you to your feet. Your hand gently caressed your belly as you thanked him, both barefoot in the grass as you approached the deck of your open-concept home.

Lucius released his horse with your own in the paddock, opening his arms in grandeur as he jogged up the short steps to reach you. "Auntie, mh," he greeted, kissing your cheek sweetly with a tight embrace, "oh-hoooo, you're glowing! Look at yah." He pulled back only to offer his hand to Marcus, "General."

"Emperor," your husband greeted stiffly but still kindly, "to what do we owe this pleasant surprise?"

"Hm, yes, I, uh... I should've sent word ahead," he winced, grinning sheepishly. "I did not mean to interrupt your marital acts, though, I can see it's already paying off."

You tisked your tongue and nudged his shoulder as you supported your bump with one hand. "Tell us, what news? What's wrong? What brings you all the way out here, Lucius?"

"Oh, no, nothing's wrong. I am starting my tour," he proudly announced, "and the road takes me past here, so... I might've wanted to, you know, stop a bit early..." You looked back to the hill, finding it bare for several long seconds, then back at Lucius - who avoided your eyes comically.

"Oh, Lucius, you didn't..."

"What?" Acacius asked. "What did you do?"

"I... Did nothing... Wrong, per se," Lucius amended, slowly backing up into the house with hands held in innocent defense.

"You snuck out!?" You gasped shrilly. "Lucius! You cannot do such things as Emperor - the whole of the city would burn if they thought something happened to you!"

"They know where I usually am!"

"Not when you sneak out in the middle of the night! Praetorians will flood the country looking for you!" You swatted at his beefy arms, him laughing and trying to back away; never hitting hard enough to leave marks, mostly just with enough force to cause a sound. "And that will scare the citizens! And the occupants of the city, and the fucking Senate, since the Emperor himself has now gone missing!" Acacius watched with a fond smile and followed as you backed Lucius into the home. "Just look at you, boy! Look! Look what politics does! You've lost weight - they not feeding you at the Palace? Oh, bullshit, there's so much, it's often left over. I'll have a word with them - c'mon, come, come, come, you must be hungry after riding all night. Speaking of, why did you?"

Lucius shrugged with a smirk and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, yours latching around his waist; both strolling towards the kitchen as he quipped, "Just missed you, I guess."

[ part one: read here ]

[ part two: read here ]

requesting rules and masterlist -> no Gladiator II masterlist

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 1 part 4

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions

do you think it took Rio a long time to choose her revenge dress? did she agonize over every detail? I picture her process like, okay I need an outfit that says fuck you (threatening) but also fuck you (horny) and fuck me (very horny) and then circle all the way back to FUCK YOU THOUGH (VERY threatening)

as to why Rio goes from super soft to *that* - I see it as the equivalent of the TV trope where someone almost dies and their loved one is very concerned, but as soon as there's no danger they slap them around the head and call them a fucking idiot. this is Rio's WELCOME HOME, CHEATER moment (Agatha has been kiiiind of been cheating death, lbr)

this is the best way rio could choose to approach agatha too, and not only because it lets her express all that pent up anger. what would be the alternative? sit Agatha down and have a honest chat? Rio knows her too well, she knows it would be simply too much. Agatha *is* more comfortable with big bombastic scenes, with violence that is a lot like foreplay. Rio is looking out for her right now, she is making it as easier for Agatha as she can, while also not letting her get away with her bullshit any longer.

one little sentence, so many ways to read it

only physically. she's not letting you in. not anymore. you'll have to save her from herself kicking and screaming. dear god she's actually honestly crying. this is a WHOLE fucking deal. and it's also the first time she sees Rio while knowing WHO rio is. she's feeling all the feelings

girls. GIRLS. how am I supposed to take decent screenshots if you keep flinging each other at walls. keep STILL! (look at the furniture btw, isn't it a bit curved? I think they're still using a fisheye lens. reality is still shifting. almost as if we're in the presence of an otherworldly being)

oh the metaphor of it. sometimes you just have to reach out and connect, even if you get hurt in the process.

BECAUSE SHE'S BEEN SHIELDING FOR SO LONG TO HIDE FROM PAIN. OH MY GOD. did a 2000s emo kid write this

every other MCU fight wishes it were this perfect storm of hot and emotionally devastating

Rio cannot physically kill Agatha, it's not allowed, she's only the collector. So what is she trying to do, exactly? Has Agatha really been cheating death for so long that Rio has no choice but to bring her in? Or is she not here to collect at all and this is just her way to get back at her ex (and possibly win her back)? I adore both options, they're tragic in different ways.

time to bullshit! time to bolt! time to get to that escape route! this is what Agatha does best. anything but face the truth

funny how agatha usually has no problem looking undignified. it's almost like this is not the point at all. so let's review: wanda has stripped agatha of the powers that have been keeping her hidden from rio. rio comes over to confront her - and not kill her, she wouldn't be allowed anyway. she does it in a way that agatha would find less scary than having a mature convo. still, agatha has to face things she's been escaping for so long and it's simply too horrifying, too overwhelming. the fact that she's joking around so much (while her future conversations with rio will be sad, soft, dramatic) tells you just how scared and how miserable she is. She's begging rio to stop, because even fighting and flirting, which is their comfort zone, is proving too much. And what does rio do? She listens and goes away. only temporary, she won't let her off the hook now that she has found her. but she's still willing to go at Agatha's pace.

aubrey plaza I would die for your evil little face

can I just say that agatha trying to flirt right now is devastating? she is at the end of her rope. she does NOT want rio to stay, doesn't trust herself around her in so many ways. but she knows how much rio wants her and just... she tries to manipulate her with flirting. it's a desperate gamble, completely undignified, completely in character for agatha. she offers herself to rio, but only physically. when what they had was infinitely more than that, it was beautiful, it was sacred.

and rio... forgives her. she laughs another one of her little soft laughs and lowers the blade. plaza is so good here, the way she says "okay, agatha," is a perfect blend of resentment and tenderness. she knows agatha better than anyone ever had or ever will. she knows why she does everything she does. and she follows her lead. one last time.

agatha's relief. she's trembling, deflated but still on her guard. she looks completely traumatized. the masterpiece that this scene is: you feel smart when you realize that they're flirting rather than fighting. when it finally dawns on you the real weight of their encounter... it's too late.

"by the way there's a bunch of scary witches after you and I totally want them to kill you, that's why I'm telling you exactly who they are and when they're coming"

agatha tries with all her might to believe that rio is heartless. because anger is easier than sadness.

we're leaning, we're leaning, we're leaning!

rio licking agatha's wound to heal it perfectly encapsulates her feelings: anger, horniness, and infinite tenderness. what a power move. rio was the one in control this whole scene, and it wrecked agatha.

"te veo" (I'm gonna go scream in a pillow)

she's gone, honey, she's gone. breathe.

Billy walking on the two of them having sex would have been less awkward than this

she was a BIT preoccupied, kid

and episode 1 is in the bag!

next stop: IT'S LILIA TIME

go to episode 2 part 1

[sushiyuzu]

untouchable

gojo satoru x reader

warning: angst; contains emotional conflict and intense argument.

you pace around the room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, unable to sit still as you wait for him to come back. the sound of the door creaking open catches your attention, and you turn to see gojo strolling in as if nothing had happened. his white hair is tousled, his blindfold hanging loosely around his neck, and that ever-present, carefree smile is plastered on his face.

“you’re late,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, but the tension is already slipping into your tone.

he shrugs casually, as if being late after a dangerous mission is no big deal. “traffic,” he jokes, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

your blood boils at his nonchalance. you’ve been worried sick, imagining the worst possible outcomes while he’s been out there throwing himself into danger without a second thought. for a moment, you try to calm yourself, to breathe through the anger. but when he walks past you, hands in his pockets, not a care in the world, something snaps.

“do you think this is funny?” your voice trembles with the weight of your frustration. he stops in his tracks, turning to face you with that infuriating grin still on his face.

“what are you on about?” he asks, amused.

“you act like nothing matters, like you’re untouchable,” you say, stepping closer, your heart racing in your chest. “you can’t keep doing this, satoru. you can’t keep acting like you’re invincible!”

he tilts his head, his smirk widening. “i am the strongest, remember?” the arrogance in his voice only fuels your anger more.

“that’s not the point!” you shout, throwing your hands in the air. “just because you’re strong doesn’t mean you’re invincible. it doesn’t mean you can be so careless with your life.”

he sighs, as if you’re overreacting, and rubs the back of his neck. “you worry too much. nothing can touch me, you know that.”

“and what if one day something does?” your voice cracks, the vulnerability you’ve been holding back spilling out. “what if one day you don’t come back, satoru? what am i supposed to do then?”

for a moment, his expression falters. the smile fades just a bit, and you think you see something flicker in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or recognition of how deeply his actions are affecting you. but just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, replaced by that same cocky grin.

“come on, nothing’s going to happen to me. you know i can handle it,” he says, waving his hand dismissively.

“stop it!” you snap, taking a step closer to him. “stop brushing me off like this! i know you’re strong, but that doesn’t mean you can just act like you’re invincible. it doesn’t mean you can keep pushing yourself without thinking about the consequences.”

he chuckles, but there’s no warmth in it. “you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

your chest tightens at his words, the casual dismissal of your concern cutting deeper than you expected. “a big deal out of nothing? satoru, i sit here, waiting for you, not knowing if you’ll come back, if you’re even alive, and you think that’s nothing?” your voice trembles, and you hate how vulnerable you sound, but you can’t help it.

he sighs again, clearly not understanding the weight of your words. “you know what kind of life i live. it comes with the territory.”

“and what about my life?” you demand, stepping even closer, until you’re right in front of him. “do you even think about how i feel? how much it tears me apart every time you walk out that door, not knowing if you’ll come back?”

his expression shifts again, but this time, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something softer, almost hesitant. he opens his mouth as if to say something, but the words don’t come. instead, he closes it again, his jaw tightening slightly.

“you knew what you were signing up for,” he mutters, but there’s less confidence in his voice now.

“i knew you were strong, i knew your job was dangerous, but i didn’t sign up to watch you throw your life away as if it means nothing,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “i didn’t sign up for this constant fear that one day you won’t come back.”

he looks at you, really looks at you this time, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. he’s still trying to keep up his confident front, but something about your words has gotten through to him, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“you know i can take care of myself,” he says, but the arrogance is gone now. his tone is quieter, almost uncertain.

“that’s not what this is about, satoru,” you say softly, your anger ebbing into something more raw, more vulnerable. “it’s about you understanding that you’re not invincible, that you don’t have to do everything on your own, and that it’s okay to let someone care about you.”

he’s silent for a moment, his blue eyes searching yours, and for once, he doesn’t have a quick comeback. he just stands there, the usual cockiness stripped away, leaving something more real in its place.

“i can’t lose you,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “i can’t keep doing this if it means watching you act like nothing matters, like you don’t matter.”

he swallows, his throat bobbing slightly, and for the first time, you see him falter. there’s a softness in his gaze now, a vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see.

“i didn’t realise it was that bad for you,” he says quietly, his voice no longer laced with arrogance.

“it is,” you reply, the weight of your emotions heavy in the air between you. “i’m scared, satoru. i’m scared of losing you.”

he hesitates for a moment before finally reaching out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “i’m not going anywhere,” he says, his voice soft and sincere.

but even as he says it, you can’t help but wonder if he really understands, if he truly gets the weight of what you’re saying. because being the strongest doesn’t mean he’s untouchable, and you need him to realise that before it’s too late.

[stevie-petey]

stug stug stug pleaseee i would LOVE to see something where bug is comforting steve maybe he had a fight w his dad or j in general. i’m so excited for season 4! but obvi take your time j know that we’re all very excited bc we just know that you will blow us away with your writing!!

really missin happy steve and bug so im writin this <33

enjoy !

"i dont think it looks that bad."

"youre a terrible liar, y/n."

"im not lying!" but the way your voice pitches gives it all away, and steve knows it.

"im ruined." he drops his head into your lap, burying his face in the flesh of your thigh. partially because hes mourning the loss of his hair, but mostly because he adores your thighs and revels in them whenever he can.

steve is in mourning. he can be as selfish as he wants when it comes to your thighs. its his god given right as your boyfriend.

knowing what hes doing, you shove steves face away from your thighs, though not unkindly. youre still shy around him, his touch against your bare skin foreign after only a month of dating. steve is gentle and patient with you, he understands that youve never really been in a relationship before, so he takes his time with you.

secretly, you adore how gentle he is. how cautiously he skims his fingers over your waist or how softly he breathes against your neck. it makes everything easier, lighter, for you. to be loved so tenderly without any falsehood behind it.

lost in your honey warmth of love for steve, your fingers tangle through his hair. that is, whats left of it. steves chest faces you, the hem of his shirt has lifted slightly during his complaining. soft skin spills out from underneath, revealing a plush tummy. with a mind of their own, your eyes draw down the lines of his abdomen. a low hum stirs in your own stomach.

"are you seriously checking me out right now?" steve taps your nose with his finger, snapping you out of your daze. "i mean, here i am, the love of your life, mourning the loss of beautiful hair that was taken from us too soon, and youre drooling over me."

you flick his forehead, he scrunches his face, and its familiar and lovely. "i wasnt drooling, i just wasnt listening to your dramatic despair."

steve gasps, hand over his chest. "my hair was murdered!"

"honey, only like, two inches were cut off."

well, more like three, but you wont tell him that.

somehow one of the kids, almost certainly mike, left their chewed up gum on the counter top of family video when they visited earlier today. they came in like a storm, turning the place upside down before you, robin, or steve could even stop them. apparently dustin had wanted a new movie, will was bored, lucas wanted max to go outside, and el forced mike to join because shes never seen a movie store before.

the wreckage they left behind for such simple reasons for even entering the store in the first place had astounded you.

then, because steve is always perpetually suffering the consequences of the partys actions the most, had dropped his head down onto the counter top in exhaustion as soon as they left.

right in the same spot the gum had been left.

never before have you ever seen steve crumble to the floor quite so suddenly. it was comical, really. the way he shrieked in horror while you and robin watched, neither having any idea what had just happened.

which leads you to now: consoling steve as you comb through his newly cut hair.

"what, are you implying two inches isnt a huge amount of length?" steve raises an eyebrow at you, teasing, and you blush furiously. sparing you, he doesnt point it out and instead changes the topic. "i hate those little heathens, i really do."

"how do we know one of them is the gum culprit?"

"because theyre cursed little shitheads who always mar my appearance one way or another." then, as an afterthought, steve adds, "plus that wheeler kid has a weird obsession with watermelon gum."

again you try to defend the kids, even though you know it was most definitely mike. sure, he shouldnt have left his gum on the counter, but it was funny. "and how do we know it was watermelon gum?"

"i could smell it when robin was cutting all my hair off, angel."

"and yet youre as handsome as ever!" you press a purposely messy kiss atop of steves head, blowing slightly into his face and making a dramatic kissing sound when you pull away. anything to distract him from realizing it was all mikes fault.

gotta protect the little shithead somehow.

steve shrieks, reminiscent of the shriek from earlier, and shoves you away as he wipes at his face. "ew!"

"how dare you wipe my kiss away, steve harrington."

"you spit on me!"

"lovingly."

steve rolls onto his stomach and throws himself onto you. now its your turn to shriek as he throws his weight on top of you, tackling you onto his bed. luckily his parents arent home, otherwise theyd have some very horrified questions.

"steve!" you land with a soft thud on his pillows, and he smiles up from above you. hes all proud, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and his eyes shine with adoration for you.

hes beautiful. you cant believe hes yours.

"youre supposed to be comforting me, angel!" steve presses himself down even more, rendering you unable to move and wiggle away from him. you squeal when his hands find your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he tickles you. "i mean, im wounded here!"

you squeal with laughter as his hands attack you, mercilessly, yet gentle nonetheless. "s-steve! stop!"

"not until you apologize to my hair."

"your hair?" more laughter rips from your chest, ribs aching.

"mhm, tell my hair that its still handsome. his feelings are hurt." steve buries his nose into your neck, causing you to giggle even more, and the sound encases his body and reminds him of everything good and lovely.

you try to pull away, but steve has you pinned. "youre-ah! youre such an-an idiot!"

"that doesnt sound like an apology, y/n."

finally giving up, you force out an apology in between breaths of laughter. "i-im sorry! your-your hair is handsome!"

steves fingers leave your sides, but he pulls you deep into his chest and collapses upon you. he nuzzles into your neck, wraps his hands around you, tries to meld the two of you into one. "much better," he mumbles into your skin.

"your hair really is handsome, you know." you draw circles into steves back, breath slowly returning to normal. fingers finding his hair once more, you play with the strands and massage his head with your nails. "youre handsome. two inches lost or not.”

"really?" steve lifts his face, looks down at you, preening at your words with an unusual shyness.

you bring your hands to his face, holding it with all the love you have for him. "the handsomest."

lips find lips, and soon the two of you get lost in each other as you inevitably always do.