#were written I couldn’t quite figure out if the patterns had to be made with a specific thread movement in mind or if you could

[diavolo-is-babygirl]

Ficlet: Diavolo x GN MC. Waking Up.

Diavolo woke to the soft whisper of candlelight and the gentle rustling of silk as it shifted beneath him. The world around him was a blur of muted colors, the weight of his body still heavy with the remnants of pain. It was as if he had been submerged in darkness for days, lost in the clutches of an illness that had drained him of his usual vitality. But now, in the dim quiet of his room, something pulled him back—something warm, steady, and familiar.

His eyelids fluttered open, the world slowly coming into focus, and there you were.

Sitting at his bedside, your hand cradled his own, your fingers gently entwined with his as though you had been holding him together while he drifted in and out of fevered dreams. The soft glow of the room wrapped around you like a halo, painting your skin in golden hues. In the stillness of the moment, you looked almost otherworldly, like a figure born of the dawn, waiting to guide him out of the shadows.

“Y-you’re here,” Diavolo murmured, his voice raw from days of silence, but there was something deeper in his tone—relief, quiet and vulnerable. His eyes, though still clouded with exhaustion, were fixed on you, as if you were the only thing tethering him to the waking world.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “I’m here,” you whispered, your voice as tender as the touch of a breeze through autumn leaves. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

Diavolo’s heart clenched at your words, the simple truth of them cutting through the lingering ache in his body. For days—he couldn’t quite remember how many—he had been locked in a battle against his own weakness, his fevered mind plagued by the fear that he would succumb, that he would lose himself to the sickness without ever seeing you again. But now, with you by his side, the fear dissolved like mist at sunrise.

“I thought…” he began, his words faltering, heavy with the unspoken. His hand squeezed yours, as if to reassure himself that you were real, that this wasn’t some dream he’d fall back into.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmured, leaning closer, your face inches from his. Your eyes held his with such tenderness it made his breath catch. “Just rest. You’ve been through enough.”

He wanted to protest, to tell you everything he had been feeling—the frustration, the pain, the overwhelming helplessness that had gnawed at him in the depths of his illness. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he allowed himself to be still, to simply feel your presence beside him, solid and unwavering.

Your hand, still clasping his, was an anchor in the storm of his thoughts, grounding him in this moment of fragile peace. The scent of you—soft, warm, like the earth after rain—mingled with the faint fragrance of healing herbs that lingered in the air. It soothed him, calming the tumult in his chest. As you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, Diavolo’s eyes fluttered shut. The touch of your lips was like a balm, chasing away the last vestiges of fever and pain, filling the space between you with something sweeter, something deeper than words.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

Your hand tightened around his, and when he opened his eyes again, you were gazing at him with a quiet fierceness, a promise written in every line of your expression. “You’ll never lose me,” you said, your voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Diavolo exhaled, the tension in his body finally giving way to a warmth that spread through him, slow and soothing, like the first rays of sunlight after a long, bitter night. He let himself sink into the comfort of the moment, his heart settling into a quieter, softer rhythm.

With you here, beside him, the world seemed to right itself, the pain receding like the tide, leaving behind only the quiet lapping of your presence against his soul. And as your fingers traced gentle patterns along his wrist, Diavolo found himself drifting once more—but this time, it wasn’t into darkness. It was into the safety of your care, into the soft promise of your love, which had pulled him back from the edge.

He sighed, a quiet breath of surrender, and closed his eyes again, his hand still held in yours.

“I’ll rest now,” he murmured, his voice softer, lighter than it had been in days. “As long as you’re with me.”

And with that, Diavolo let the warmth of your touch carry him into the quiet peace of sleep, knowing that when he awoke again, you would still be there, a constant in the turning of the seasons, a light in the heart of his autumn.

[merryfortune]

Jumping to Conclusions over Jumpers

Written for 12 Days of Yurimas

Dec 29th: Ugly Sweaters

Title: Jumping to Conclusions over Jumpers

Ship: Gothgfshipping | Gloria/Marnie

Fandom: Pokemon Sword and Shield

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,678

Warnings: None

Tags: Christmas, Fluff, Communication

   “Happy holidays, hon, here’s your gift!” Marnie ecstatically shared with Gloria, arms outstretched and holding a haphazardly wrapped present in her hands. She grinned. “Go on, take it. Yer gonna love it.”

   “Aw, thanks, Marnie.” Gloria replied.

   She accepted the gift with a smile of her own. Though, it was quite small and paled in comparison to Marnie’s, which was very unusual of her. Marnie didn’t exactly wear her heart on her sleeve, after all, but here she was. Proud of punch, something on the tip of her tongue as she took a breath and blurted out a hint.

   “I made it meself.” Marnie added.

   “Huh?” Gloria blinked.

  “Yeah, I put lots of love into it, too, because I know yer bit of a fashionista, Gloria.” Marnie admitted, she was trying to strike a tone of voice which was both modest but rightfully proud of her hard work. She shrugged. “I hope you like it.”

   “Oh, I'm sure I will.” Gloria said - and was speaking far too soon.

   Because here’s the thing… She and Marnie had been going out for several months now and even before that, she and Marnie had been the best of friends for a few years now.

   Yet, somehow, this was the first time Gloria was hearing about Marnie’s apparent talent in making her own goods. She didn’t know Marnie was into things like handicrafts - or even so talented at making them that they were gift worthy materials. 

   Still, excited, Gloria was happy to learn a little bit more about her girlfriend that she didn’t know before. She held onto the present and whatever was inside the shiny, colourful paper was soft and limp. Already, Gloria was formulating a guess as to what it could be. Some kind of article of clothing seemed obvious but what exactly? And she couldn’t tell through the paper if it was knitted, crocheted, or sewn, either. So, Gloria decided there was only one way to find out.

   It was time to open it up and take a look.

   Gloria balanced the gift in her arms and was careful to undo the sticky tape. She knew Marnie was the frugal type, and making a gift aligned with that, so Gloria figured it would be polite to save the paper in case either she or Marnie wanted to reuse it. The paper was cute enough for being obviously from the discount section of the supermarket. 

   As the paper peeled away, the garment revealed was not exactly what Gloria was expecting. Or hoping. She had to stop herself from reacting poorly but Gloria could do little against the initial twinge of dislike that furrowed her brows and stopped her in her tracks because, um, she very much did not like it.

   And Marnie could not know.

   That was the instinct that Gloria followed up with as she turned her gaze from the ugliest jumper she had ever seen in her life to Marnie. Marnie looked so happy, so cheery in her scarf and jacket. She couldn’t have been prouder for presenting this gift to Gloria.

   “Well?” Marnie urged her, awaiting praise with sparkles in her eyes. “Do you like it? I bet you do, I bet you love it even.”

   Gloria held her tongue.

   The jumper in question was a garish mustard yellow. It mixed patterns, like zig-zags and cables, with pom-poms that had been sewn on via a crochet hook unlike the rest of the monstrosity which was clearly knit. The collar was uneven, there was already holes in from where the yarn hadn’t been pulled tight enough during the process. It was shoddy and horrid and very clearly made with love.

   It was so, so painfully obvious that Marnie had put her all into this jumper - and that it was a first attempt. Or so Gloria thought until Marnie shuffled closer, snow crunching under her boots, to reveal something else about the jumper.

   That there was two of them.

   “Tada.” Marnie said as she pulled the top jumper off what Gloria was holding. “It's a matching set, so everyone knows we’re, um, you know… a thing.” A scant blush turned Marnie’s cheeks rosy as she fessed up. “Oh, an’ don’t forget, there’s a special design on the back.”

   She turned her jumper around to demonstrate the, quote, “special design”. As though it couldn’t already have been more clear that these ugly jumpers were a set, they even had Gloria and Marnie’s names felted onto them on the back inside of an acrylic applique which looked straight from the Valentine’s Day rack.

   It was so earnest and so entirely hideous, too. It set Gloria’s teeth on edge as she couldn’t help herself. She had to tell Marnie what she wanted to hear even if it was a lie.

   “G-Great, that’s, uh, just great.” Gloria stuttered.

   “Wowsers, you are practically speechless. I knew I was good but I didn’t know I was that good.” Marnie laughed.

   Taking entirely the wrong idea from Gloria’s courteous hesitation.

   Gloria felt like she just took a field hockey stick to her gut. She couldn’t. It would be cruel of her to keep Marnie in the dark about her dislike of this very ugly jumper but look at her. She glowed with happiness, it was so nice and sweet and good on her for trying, honestly.

   But that’s exactly why she needed honesty. She wasn’t going to get better at her hobby if Gloria buttered her up nonsensically.

   “C’mon, let’s put ‘em on.” Marnie said.

   “Right now? In front of everyone in the park?” Gloria croaked.

   “Er, yeah.” Marnie confusedly replied.

   Gloria stiffened as she watched Marnie take her jacket off to then slip her jumper on. She pulled it down, baggy and uneven, over her scrawny body and because her iconic leather jacket was a handmedown, of course it fit over the jumper.

   “Go on, don’t be shy. I made it to be used, not to be stared at.” Marnie joked.

   Robotically, without giving any heed to the part of her mind which was begging her not to and to come clean about her dislike of the jumper, Gloria did as she was told. She put it on over her head - and over her cardigan. Yep, lots of room even with the second layer.

   “Aw, don’t we look as cute as cute can be.” Marnie laughed.

   Gloria stood there. Knees knocking and not because of the cold. And they were attracting all kinds of attention. Most of it the wrong kind. It was the mid-afternoon of a chilly winter’s day and there were a few people, just like them, enjoying the snow but they seemed to hurry on due to the strange little scene between the Champion and her Gym Leader girlfriend.

   Worse still, the longer Gloria stood there, the more she hated the jumper. It was itchy and scratchy. The yarn was low quality and seemed to fester, even through the shop quality of her cardigan. It was awful. Gloria grit her teeth.

   She could hear Hop’s voice in her head, as though he were the angel on her shoulder. He wanted her to tell the truth, to be communicative about her feelings. He knew better than anyone that not doing that, that keeping it all inside would only hurt more people unnecessarily.

   So, Gloria paid heed to her little Jimminy Nymble.

   “Marnie.” she spoke up.

   “Yes, hon?” Marnie replied upon prompt, she quit fidgeting where she stood, swirling and twirling her dress, and admiring the handiwork of her horrible jumper.

   “Your, um, jumpers… your first attempts, correct?” Gloria asked. Her teeth chattered.

   “Yes, they came out so good, too. I followed the pattern an’ ev’rything.” Marnie boasted.

   “Well, its just… Here’s the thing…” Gloria quivered as she did her best to choose her next words very carefully. “I am SO proud of you for making them, I think you did a great job and put in a lot of hard work.”

   “Aw, thank you muchly.” Marnie replied.

   “But.”

   Marnie paused. There was always a but and Gloria felt awful but she needed it off her chest. Literally and emotionally.

   “But, I don’t like it.” Gloria said. “I think the colours clash and there’s more than a few errors apparent in its creation.”

   Marnie sucked in a breath and her chin pruned, “You hate it?” 

   “No, no, I love it. For you. And I want to see you get even better at making jumpers, you had fun, right?” Gloria asked.

   “Y-Yeah, lots o’ fun.” Marnie mumbled.

   “Then I can’t wait for next year’s jumper. This year, it's the thought that counts. Next year, I bet you’ll make an even better jumper that, um, doesn’t have nearly as many holes in it. And is made from a softer yarn that isn’t as itchy, either. And why not ask me for my preferred colours to wear, too? Th-That could help.” Gloria blustered in her effort to provide constructive feedback.

   Marnie’s eyes were shiny but she smiled, she nodded, “It's itchy on you, too, huh? I thought it was just me.” She offered a small laugh.

   “Not just you.” Gloria replied and with her spare hand, she took Marnie’s and swung it playfully. “Let’s go get some hot Apple ciders and call it a day for this year? Yeah?”

   “Yeah.” Marnie replied. She squeezed Gloria’s hand then let her go.

   Gloria sighed in relief. Gladdened that she had come clean and hopefully, they would both be better off for it. They took off their jumpers and Marnie bundled them up inside of the paper. She started to chat to Gloria about how her next pair of matching jumpers were going to be much better and already had some ideas on how she could try again but different this time.

   Gloria couldn’t wait as they walked off in the direction of the nearest warm cafe and out of this cold that whistled around them. Besides, they didn’t even need matching jumpers to obviously be an item, they were lovey-dovey enough without as they held hands on their stroll.

[dragongod800]

(this was a writing assignment for my imaginative writing class. It was a story-starter assignment The first sentence of the story was my story-starter)[looking for criticism and opinions]

The doorbell rang at midnight, and when I opened the door, there was no one there—except for a small box with my name on it. The night was still, the only movement the gentle swaying of tree branches in the breeze. I felt an uneasy prickle at the back of my neck as I scanned the empty street, but it remained silent and deserted.

The box was unassuming, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a simple string. My name was written in neat, almost delicate handwriting. I brought it inside, setting it on the kitchen table. The house was dark, the only light coming from the dim bulb above the table. It cast long, eerie shadows across the room.

I hesitated for a moment, then untied the string and carefully unwrapped the paper. Inside was a plain wooden box, polished to a smooth sheen. It was old, but well-kept, the kind of thing someone might cherish for years. There was a small latch on the front, which clicked softly as I opened it.

Inside, nestled in a bed of dark velvet, was a small, silver locket. It was intricately designed, the surface engraved with swirling patterns. It looked valuable, but not in a flashy way—more like a treasured keepsake. I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. It felt warm, almost like it had been held recently.

Curiosity pulled at me. Who would send me something like this? And why? I turned the locket over, looking for a way to open it, but the clasp was stuck. It didn’t seem broken, just… stiff, as if it hadn’t been opened in a long time.

I glanced at the clock—12:05. The late hour made everything feel more surreal, more ominous. I shook off the feeling and tried the clasp again, this time with a bit more force. It gave way with a soft click, and I opened the locket.

Inside was a tiny, faded photograph of a woman. Her face was partially obscured by shadows, but I could make out delicate features, a slight smile, and dark eyes that seemed to stare right through me. There was something oddly familiar about her, though I couldn’t place it.

I examined the photo, but there were no markings, no clues as to who she was or why this locket had been sent to me. I put it back in the box, frowning. The whole thing felt off, like a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit together.

I looked around the kitchen, at the empty chairs, the stillness of the room. Everything was normal, just as it had been before. But the longer I stared at the locket, the more unsettled I felt. There was nothing overtly wrong, nothing out of place—just this lingering unease that gnawed at the edges of my thoughts.

The silence in the house felt oppressive, heavy. I got up and checked the locks on the doors, made sure the windows were shut tight. As I moved from room to room, I found myself glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting to see someone there, watching.

But of course, there was no one.

Back in the kitchen, I stared at the box, at the locket inside. It was ridiculous, really—this small, innocent object causing so much anxiety. But I couldn’t help it. Something about it just didn’t sit right with me.

I decided to put it away, out of sight, out of mind. I placed the locket back in the box, closed the lid, and shoved it into the drawer beneath the counter. But even after I’d hidden it, the feeling didn’t go away. If anything, it grew stronger, as if the locket was still there, its presence pressing down on me, demanding attention.

I poured myself a glass of water, trying to calm my nerves. I was overreacting, letting my imagination run wild. It was just a locket. Nothing more.

But as I drank, I caught my reflection in the kitchen window. For a split second, I thought I saw something—a figure standing behind me, just out of sight. I spun around, my heart racing, but the room was empty. The silence was louder than ever, almost suffocating.

I shook my head, trying to laugh it off. It was late, I was tired, that was all. But as I stood there, staring at the empty room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Not with the house, not with the locket, but with me.

I decided to go to bed, to sleep off the strange feeling. But as I turned out the lights and made my way upstairs, I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman in the photograph. The way her eyes seemed to follow me, even when I wasn’t looking at the locket.

In the dark, as I lay in bed, I heard the faintest of creaks from the kitchen. Just the house settling, I told myself. But I couldn’t shake the image of the locket, sitting in that drawer, the woman’s face hidden inside, watching, waiting.

I closed my eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung to me, a creeping sense of dread that refused to leave. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep, the uneasy feeling still gnawing at the edges of my mind.

In the morning, I found the box on the kitchen table again, the locket inside, its clasp tightly shut..

[vividaway]

mini analysis on the finale

yall im not even gonna lie..........i liked the season 5 finale. the concept that these are teenagers who have been beaten and worn down to a crisp to the point of multiple mental breakdowns from both marinette and adrien.........like of course marinette didn’t tell adrien. she’s a literal child, and she loves him, and honestly? its really not her PLACE to tell him. emilie knows about gabriels involvement with the miraculous. nathalie knows about EVERYTHING. there are multiple ADULTS who can step in and talk to him about this, and they chose not to. multiple people have said it: of COURSE adrien deserve to know, and i will be very upset if they never write in him finding out. but it also seems excessively cruel to do that to adrien. as far as adrien is aware, his dad was trying. he thinks his dad is a man chiseled away by depression and grief, who turned towards his works to cope with the loss. he believes there was a turning point where his father started to try. he allowed him to go to school, to make new friends and go to their house, allowed him to quit, started to show up to school events, and finally started to show him affection. adrien is none the wiser on WHY, and it feels extremely cruel to take away what little happy moments he had left with his father. what is the bare minimum to us, is literally EVERYTHING to adrien, and to me, that does mean something. to me, seeing gabriel sacrifice himself for adrien and his wife-- means EVERYTHING. it is what differentiates an evil, unrecoverable person, from a dynamic character who was never meant to be a good person. we were never meant to like gabriel. he’s the villain! but that doesn’t mean we aren’t supposed to be sympathetic to certain aspects of his journey.  i really do think his character was written well. gabriel is a bad, unredeemable man, who did one good action. i personally can’t look at gabriel from season one and say, “he shouldve sacrificed his life in place of his wives life sooner”, it feels wrong. gabriel from season 1 was EXTREMELY different from gabriel from season 5. we see him change (for the worse) over the course of five seasons. 

and the thing about how gabriel is written is like, its realistic. gabriel isnt just a cartoon villain from some kids show, he show’s patterns of real life villains as well. the manipulation, the lying, the guilt tripping, the abuse-- all of it. and thats why, i understand why some people are pissed he got redeemed. but for me, i see the build up. lila has the photographs from gabriels house, and she knews he was monarch. on top of this, it seems like she’s the successor to the butterfly miraculous. people know what he did, and its not just the people on the good side. i don’t see gabriel staying a sympathetic figure for much longer. but all this being said, i dont think it was the worst. the pacing was great, and the animation was top tier for me. theres so many episodes where i can predict whats going to happen next, but i couldn’t with this one. some thing about it just felt....special. like if you showed alyssa from 2016 the finale, i could literally die. no need to show a peasant child, just showing Season One Era fans what happened and how it looks and we’d just. die. everything about it 10x better than we couldve imagined. the writing, the animation, the pacing, the score, the dialogue, the way the world has expanded and been built up and how often we’re interacting with “background characters”.  for once, it felt like i was watching a real show, with a plot that made sense, and wasnt a dumpster fire. but...from reading the #MLBS5Spoilers tag....yall do NOT agree with my sentiments! and thats okay! 

[birdo-is-here]

also some writing I did, in which Phanuel and Dabria liberate a zoo

written from third-person perspective because why not

word length is 1390, no TWs that i can find! (let me know if i’ve missed any)

Phanuel manifested amidst a very crowded area. He looked around, taking in what he could of his surroundings that weren’t obscured by the bustling chatter of the human form. He was on some sort of flat, stone-esk path, likely built by humans. Hm, actually. As he looked around, he figured most of the things here were human-made.

Phanuel himself had made sure to take it upon himself to go incognito. Especially considering… recent events. He took the form of a blond-haired human with white highlights, because even if he was trying to be discreet he couldn’t possibly give up his theme – even if the colours had to be inverted. He wore some ‘denim jeans’ and an article of clothing he’d heard called a ‘letterman jacket’ atop a vibrant yellow ‘t-shirt’. All those funny human words.

Around him he figured were different types of fences: some metal and jutting out of the ground with more, muuuch longer metal bars running horizontally across the beams as support, creating some sort of grid pattern. Other fences were entirely clear – so clear he almost thought they weren’t there, but he wasn’t gonna be fooled twice by these dastardly demons supposedly called glass. The ‘glass’ ones were rather tall, and reinforced by wooden rims and beams.

Past the fences seemed to mimic several different natural environments. Admittedly, Phanuel only recognised a few of them. He saw animals resting in the trees and on the floors of the spaces, though!

A familiar, clawed, terribly feathery, figure landed on his shoulder, trilling something in his very human ear. He recognised the trills to be from the lovely Dabria, who seemed to be telling him not to stand in the middle of the road.

“Joke’s on you, I can’t even remember what a ‘road’ is,” The process of moving the lips to fit one’s speech was terribly redundant. He didn’t know why humans bothered with it.

Dabria made a small sound of disgruntlement. Just move to one side of the stone slab on the floor, it translated. He did as much, before finally doing what he had come here to do.

He scanned the environment, taking careful consideration not to have his head do a 360 degree turn, because apparently that wasn’t very natural for humans. And yet ‘glass’ was, he understood. Makes sense.

There were no signs of Jesus in the immediate vicinity, but he did pick up some other divine aura. Strange, he picked up quite a few divine auras, actually. They all seemed to be past the fences, but… lower. Underground, perhaps.

Dabria seemed to pick up on it as well, releasing a nervous scree. He could sympathise with her worries; most types of divine auras would mean bad news for them now. Still, Phanuel was a terribly curious angel. Fallen angel? Heaven-assigned fallen angel, he figured was closest. He didn’t really like to think about that too much.

He veered his attention back to the divinities underground. They seemed angelic, at least. Well, actually, that would be worse now, wouldn’t it… Hm. Anyway.

Phanuel approached the closest group of humans, waving to them in a very human fashion.

“Hello fellow humans! I must ask, is there anything underground?” For some reason Dabria did the owl equivalent of exclaiming her exasperation, which hurt Phanuel’s poor human ears, by the way.

The humans exchanged momentarily confused glances, before one of them responded, “uuuuhh… I guess there’s the underwater exhibit? Is that what you’re after?”

“Maybe! How would one get there?”

“Oh, it’s.. The entrance is just behind you, I believe,” Another pointed somewhere behind Phanuel, where he spotted a stairwell going down into the ground. There was an incredibly blue sign labelled ‘FISH AND FUN’ with a smaller sign next to the entrance that read ‘Come see the swimming harpies!’

Phanuel bid the humans farewell, before heading for the stairwell. As they got within typical eyeshot, Dabria released a small hoot. Harpies, she repeated the sign, once again slightly exasperated. Phanuel didn’t really know what those were.

When he expressed as much, Dabria gave another, slightly longer hoot. Mythological creatures. Not real at all. I think I can guess what those ‘harpies’ are supposed to be. He hummed, his attention drifting to the stairwell as he reached it. He hovered at the entrance a moment, though he was quickly ushered forward by a very impatient owl on his shoulder.

Inside was some sort of long human-made cave with rounded corners. Just ahead of him was more ‘glass’, barricading him from a very large, water-filled exhibit that held many, many scaled creatures of varying sizes. He recalled them to be the ‘fish’, if he wasn’t wrong.

There were also angels inside. About six or seven that he could see.

Oh that’s a problem actually. He momentarily stumbled back, preparing to leave the underwater exhibit before they noticed him and Dabria, but then he noticed something.

..Oh, they were Guardians. They had the odd scarf-like accessory to show as much. He debated his chances that they were unaware of the most recent news.

“Angels! Wherefore hast thou soggied yourselves?!” He called in a foreign language, in a way any human would not be able to hear. Dabria squawked very loudly in his ear. ARE YOU STUPID, she exclaimed, though Phanuel doubted he really needed to translate that one.

The angels looked over. A few of them were on the ‘sea’bed, resting gracefully on some rocks and slopes. Others were actually out swimming, playing in the currents. It was immediately obvious that they were trying to be dramatic about it, as if they were putting on some sort of show.

Their forms were distorted by the effect of the water, but it was easy to see how soaked they were – as one would be when spending all your time underwater. He wondered how heavy their feathers would be when they stepped out of the water.

“What?” The closest one replied. She had a sort of mustard-coloured halo, slightly distorted by the water just like her body. Fortunately, she didn’t immediately jump up to go apprehend him on sight, so he’d take any win he could get.

“Why are you in the water?” He clarified. Honestly he didn’t know where he learnt that other dialect.

“Oh! Uuuuh… it’s fun!”

“Oh, okay!”

Well that settles that, Phanuel thought. But then Dabria decided she wasn’t quite satisfied. Ask them if anyone knows what they actually are, she cooed. He repeated the bird’s question to them.

“The CEO does! And some other employees!” One called. “We’re working as interns!” Said another.

“Woah! I don’t know those words, but okay!”

Why would they be working as interns? Are they getting paid?

“Are you getting paid for it?”

“No! Mr. CEO man said we can stay to guard this place as long as we work as attractions!” One further up the back contributed.

Dabria made a rumbling noise of uncertainty. Phanuel didn’t really know any of these words, but he was happy to be here. She began to screech quietly again, giving quite a spiel of information for Phanuel to translate across.

“Okay— Have you ever heard of this thing called a union?”

“A bit! Not enough, though! What is that?”

“It’s this thing where like— You get money for your work, right?”

“Nah!”

“Well the.. Typical human gets money for their work, right?” He couldn’t really remember what money was all the time. It was brought up a lot, though, so he figured he’d have to get familiar with it.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah that happens!”

“You’re doing a work right now, and you’re not getting any money! And why would you need to intern for being a.. zoo attraction?”

Many of them hummed in strange unison. “That’s true! And we can get cool things with money!”

“Yes! . .. y. yes?” He looked to Dabria, who nodded in confirmation. “Yes!”

“Wooow! Oh, well– let’s go on strike!”

They said it very cheerfully, the one who spoke clasping her hands together in front of her torso. A moment later, all the angels were teleported out of the tank, and Phanuel heard screams of shock and a bit of fear upstairs.

Dabria bopped him on the head with a wing. Job well done, we should probably go before chaos erupts.

“Yes!” He replied with finality.

Truth be told, he didn’t know what he just did, but he enjoyed the validation from the owl. The scene began to change around him as he teleported away.

[autumnslance]

(@driftward) Let's see. Let's Get ((REAL)) fic writer asks, for.. ✨, 💫,🎀,🎀,🎀,💌

*screeches*

Someday I am making a prompt list and there'll be no numbers or letters or symbols, just the questions so folks who aren't menaces have to put the full text in the Ask.

Anyroad. Scheduling maintenance on our local bot later. For now:

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

Fics like "When Everything Changes" and "Where the Skies Are Safe" are works I'm quite fond of, but are hard to sell to fandom readers either here or on Ao3; they're from the perspective of my OCs as small children, and very few people want to read kid fic.

But a chunk of my literature studies were in YA and Kid Lit, as I originally was dual-majoring an Education degree, and I've always found getting into a child's (or pet's) mindsets and perspectives to be an interesting exercise as a writer, and finding what new info it can reveal that an adult POV won't notice or would see differently.

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

Any and all of them, but incoherent screeching is always fun, as are rambles about what someone liked, maybe even the why if they can articulate it (if not, that's cool, just copy-pastes of favorite lines with keysmash responses are great too).

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

x3?!

FINE.

-I am a decent mimic; I can copy a style and voice patterns pretty well, enough to make what I'm writing read or "sound" like the style I'm playing in. The attempt in many of my works to feel like quest text or the official stories on the Lodestone is intentional, and I feel good when I get comments on it cuz that's the goal.

-I can drop some evocative, pithy lines to make one giggle and/or break one's heart.

-My constant replaying and revisiting the text, and talking to/reading about others' canon-centric takes on characters and situations, means my NPC characterizations tend to be good. Which is good practice for making my own OCs distinct people that fit into the world well.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

(Again, with the caveat I've been in a bit of a slump break since BSotP, here's a bit of more the Thancred in the First fic I don't...think? I've shared? If I have, what of it! Below the cut cuz someone asked multiple questions so this got long.)

“So can you build it?” Thancred asked.

The blacksmith looked over his crude drawings and the schematics pulled from the Tower’s archives, as well as the detailed descriptions Thancred had painstakingly written with Gridick’s aid. “I think so; enough to get a prototype working, and then we can go from there.”

Thancred nodded. “Do let me know,” he said, offering his coins for the initial deposit.

It had been several months since that first disastrous patrol. Thancred had been on a few other patrols since, as well as forays into the forest on his own. The more common wildlife wasn’t much of a problem, but the sin eaters, when stumbled across, left him feeling as if his simple blades were no longer adequate.

So he had delved into the Tower’s archives, seeking out weapon schematics. The Exarch couldn’t say which time period the Tower had come from when summoned to the First, but Thancred figured it had to be later than his own, since the Tower was still in Mor Dhona from his perspective.

Days of searching had found not only equivalent Allagan plans, but also a few Garlean and even proper Bozjan examples for the sort of gunblade he wanted. The weapon would still allow him his speed and dexterity, but also was far more defensive, for himself and others.

The only trouble was going to be the cartridges, as Thancred could not imbue them himself. That was a bridge to cross later; for now, he would see if the Mean’s artisans could even create a workable gunblade.

He made his way across the Crystarium toward the markets before returning to his apartment. He wanted to stop by the city’s single barber.

Thancred still wasn’t the best at shaving daily; his schedule was still too easily thrown off, he was often in the field, and frankly it wasn’t much of a concern. His hair was getting far too long and ragged, though, enough that something had to be done.

In another moon, he would count a year on the First, though the mirror still showed only a day had passed on the Source, which was the smallest of comforts. He helped the Exarch search the Tower’s archives as the man tried various spells and counter-effects to send Thancred’s soul back to his body, but to no avail.

[ariannes-gibberish]

Debugging An Essay

- a reflection paper.

On a Tuesday morning at school, our professor gave each one of us a paper and asked us to proofread it. As I read the paper, it felt like something was wrong, while it did have grammatical and punctuation errors that needed to be pointed out for the activity, there was something about it that was bugging me. As if despite the proper English and format, it felt like it wasn't really written from someone's mind and heart.

The proofreading activity was quite fun yet as someone who’s really not confident with their grammar, I couldn’t help but overthink every word if they’re right or wrong - especially if it was written in a style that I don’t like, especially its tone. But thankfully, I was able to get most of it right. The activity was an eye-opening experience to how I’ve been dependent on Grammarly when it comes to proofreading my own writing. While this tool has helped me work more efficiently, activities like these really make you realize that it is better to learn and improve your grammar on your own than rely on an AI tool to prevent situations like this where it feels you’re unable to finish a task without feeling helpless due to the absence of AI.

What was interesting about the activity was that it was actually made by an AI tool called “ChatGPT”, the answers were also made by it. When this was revealed to us students, it explained why the text itself felt off. While the AI did a good job at providing a structured and informative article, it also showed that it didn’t have the same authenticity and knowledge that a human possesses when writing an article on their own, it lacked the human touch and it felt too structured as if it was strictly following a template. It was quite amusing how the tool made mistakes that weren’t flagged as mistakes on its end, while we students managed to point them out. For instance, some of us pointed out how some parts of the article are redundant and I believe that the AI didn’t see this as an error since most of its data that is used to generate are probably from vast sources all over the internet.

As someone who has had fair use of ChatGPT, this tool really makes our tasks easier and it uses less time to finish them - this tool also helps when I’m having a difficult time brainstorming for ideas. But I’ve always noticed how limited the tool is in providing creative ideas, while it has given me a wide range of suggestions that might have not occurred to me before - it lacks depth. The ideas it generates aren’t fresh or innovative - it’s just patterns and data from pre-existing content, but I do have to admit that sometimes it has helped me get out of a mental block and has sparked inspiration at times when I need it the most.

Nonetheless, this activity proves that AI may be a helpful tool for generating content and assisting in finishing tasks but that’s just it, just a tool, and shouldn’t and should never be used as an alternative to humans. If there’s one thing that people keep forgetting is that AI doesn’t have our ability to think “outside the box” nor has perspectives that come from our lived experiences. Even if it provides the “perfect” output that we’re looking for, it doesn’t and will never have the “human touch” that makes our creations better, that an AI can never replicate. In the end, it is our humanity, insight, creativity, and lived experiences that breathe life into our work, that brings meaning to what we make.

While I understand the importance of working efficiently, we must take our time to learn how to create, make, craft, and write things on our own. It may take a while for us to be good at it but I believe that’s the beauty of it, to take our precious time honing our craft, to figure out how to make things on our own instead of relying on an AI tool for the results we need.

[arwenkenobi48]

Happy Halloween, Doctor Hypnos

The wind ruffled my hair as I crept gingerly down the empty street. Aside from the flickering glow of a streetlight, only a full moon illuminated the midnight skies. The rhythmic, hollow tapping of my footsteps sounded much louder than they actually were. Despite knowing I was the only one out at this hour, I couldn’t help feeling like I wasn’t alone.

Looking around to reassure myself that I wasn’t being followed, I peered down the long slope of a subway tunnel. It led down into pitch darkness. My hands shook slightly as I gripped the metal railings. I gulped and steadied myself. It was now or never. With slow, methodical footsteps, I descended into the tunnel.

Turning on my flashlight, I half expected to see someone - or something - peering out at me from the shadows, but I saw that I was still deserted. So, my old friend hadn’t arrived yet. Or maybe he had and I was unable to see him. There was only one way to find out.

I made my way through the tunnel, shining my light at the graffiti on the walls, watching as they changed from spray paint scribbles to detailed street art to intricate, spiralling patterns. A smile of relief spread across my face. He was close by, I could sense it. I just had to keep going. Just a little further…

“Hello, Ezra.” His voice made me jump out of my skin. Whirling around, I pointed the torch at a tall figure clad entirely in black leather, with a hooded cloak and - most notably - a plague doctor’s mask. “Doctor Hypnos!” I exclaimed, once I’d got my breath back. “You scared me! Do you ever consider making a non-startling entrance?”

“First of all, you also startled me with that flashlight,” the evil genius replied. “Second of all, where would the fun be in that?” “Touché.” I answered. Doctor Hypnos approached a hidden door at the end of the tunnel and entered an enigmatic security code. The door opened, revealing the villain’s secret lair. “Shall we?” He purred, extending a gloved hand, which I eagerly took. We both stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind us.

“So, the penultimate month of the year is nearly upon us,” Mused Hypnos, wearing Mesmer the python around his neck like a scaly scarf. “Yep,” I smiled, pulling a large packet of mochi out of my bag. “I figured that since it’s Halloween, I’d bring you something sweet. You’ll probably have to remove your mask, though.”

“Why, thank you, my dear boy,” Doctor Hypnos examined the packet curiously. “I shall certainly enjoy these.” “That’s not all, I’ve got some good news as well,” I continued excitedly. “I know I haven’t written about you for a while, but I’m going to resume your latest adventure!”

A muffled gasp of excitement could be heard behind the birdlike mask. “That is most excellent news,” Doctor Hypnos chuckled evilly. “I must admit, I am deeply honoured that you decided to write a sequel.” “Hey, it’s the least I could do. You’ve become quite popular on my blog, you know.” “Well, I look forward to seeing what happens next,” Doctor Hypnos replied. Somehow, despite his face still being hidden, I could tell he was beaming with pride.

[head-empty-only-sunshine]

Part of You

Eclipse X Reader

A/N: Once again writing this in the back room uwu. Gotta get some content out before I drop my self insert like it's hot. Anyway, there's a lot of gender neutrality in this one. Eclispe uses they/them exclusively, and reader has no gender. Issa they them party ayyyy. Side note, this was written so you can picture your fave eclipse when reading it.

Description: The lights broke. In the w h o l e Pizzaplex. Flickering and dim lights lead to a unique discovery though, and you get pulled away from your work to do a bit of comforting that is 110% necessary. Undoing the damage that others have done is always a difficult task.

Tags: fluff, gn!reader, programmer!reader, established relationship, comfort, so sugary sweet

Word Count: 2000

Sometimes you wondered how in the hell this place stayed up and running. Despite the new management and heavy upgrades, old problems eventually caught up to the establishment, and now you were on double duty.

The Plex was closed for the day due to faulty lighting in ninety percent of the building. Lights were flickering pretty much everywhere, or were just straight up out. Another large chunk of lighting had gone dim, causing poor lighting in many areas and leading to staff members tripping over themselves and every other thing hanging around. It was quite the refined mess, and now you had to lead a group of technicians to fix it.

You had been at it for hours, ordering more suitable workers to replace old lights, fixing generators, rewiring old fail safes that were no longer up to code, and all other things of the sort. It was a miracle you had as much knowledge and leadership as you did, stepping in to help out your fellow coworkers between rerouting things on the network to avoid lethal electrical shocks to anyone. It was a huge team effort, putting you on your feet for nearly nine hours by now. It was necessary though, so you all held your complaints until the building was safe to walk through again.

Once the main halls were back in order, you and your coworkers started going into specific rooms to check the situation. The daycare just so happened to be the next stop, which jogged your memory. Through all the intense work, you hadn’t gone to check up on Sun or Moon, and figured that now would probably be a good time to do so considering how spooky the place was looking right now. With a wave you told your group you’d page them on any changes to the situation while they worked on the generators, leaving to go and check up on your partners; whichever one would be present in these wacky circumstances.

Without stable power you couldn’t ride the fly line up, so you had to use the stairs like a regular person. Groaning with each step you finally made it up into their room, but found things to be a little different than they normally were. With a gentle creak of the door opening, you saw the dim, flickering lights tingeing the room an odd orange tone every time they flickered brighter, not completely turning off. The whole place was poorly lit, making it hard to see if Sun or Moon was around. There was someone there though. They were just… crumpled into a corner, concerning you greatly. You dropped your bag at the door, and made your first move.

“Sun? Moon? Is that you?” You called out tentatively, watching the figure in the corner jolt upon hearing your voice.

“N-no! Go away!” They responded.

The voice was odd, but familiar. It sounded like both Sun and Moon at the same time, and now you were curious. You would not in fact be going away, and marched yourself on over to that corner to see what was going on. Though half turned, you were able to tell clearly what was going on, and you were both shocked and impressed.

It was neither Sun nor Moon, but a unique combination of both. Half of the sun rays were out, the hat was there, the colour combination was mixed between the two of them, as well as the clothing patterns being jumbled between what was usually Sun’s and Moon’s as well. It was almost as if they had merged. You were so very intrigued by this phenomena, and gently reached out. This form shied away from your hand when they noticed it getting near though, and you became confused.

“Hey, it’s me, _______. Head tech? Your… partner? Sun… Moon… er, what do I call you…?” You pondered, trying to bring ease to the poor form on the floor.

“Please don’t deactivate us.” Was the only thing they said.

“Wait, what? Why would I- No! Oh my god no I would never!” You insisted, quite appalled that such a thought even existed.

“But this is… we are a bug…” They repeated, almost sounding sad.

You let out a deep sigh and sat yourself down behind this new form, staring at the back of their head. You crossed your arms, not wanting your touch to bring sudden discomfort to this clearly uncomfortable situation.

“I doubt this is a bug. Everything is so intricate it can’t be anything but deliberate. This is intentional. What… what do I call you when you’re like this? To save me from being rude.”

Your gentleness and comforting tone were finally enough to get them to turn around and look at you, a morphed expression of fear and trust resting on either side of their face. The look in your eyes was strong enough to bring them comfort thankfully, and they finally gave you a name.

“We are… Eclipse.”

“You say ‘we’ so… does that mean that…” You paused.

“Yes. Both Sun and Moon are present and able to speak. We are one in the same right now.” They confirmed.

“That’s wild. How does this mode come about? Like what triggers this?” You questioned further.

“Dim lights, heavy black lighting, and… emergency situations. This is a mode that can only be maintained under lighting like this or dire security protocols.” They answered reluctantly.

“That’s amazing. Why would I ever delete a protocol like this? It’s clearly necessary, and meant to happen. What makes you think the first thing I’d do is wipe you out?” You asked gently.

“Last time we… hurt someone.”

You let that sink in while silence flooded the room once more. Eclipse hurt someone. But with the combined efforts of both Sun and Moon, plus the circumstances needing to be so specific, there’s no way it was a bad thing. It had to be justified, and now you had to know.

“May I… check your memory banks? I know I’ve never done so before, but I’m curious to know what happened. Maybe I can bring you some closure?” You offered.

“N-no! You’ll decommission us for good! I know you will-”

“Eclipse. Honey.” You interrupted, reaching out to hold their hand. “I wouldn’t dream of getting rid of you. I’m just curious. I want to bring you peace. You shouldn’t be so scared in this form. You should be free.”

There was hesitance when Eclipse stared at you, but they had to remember that this was you they were with. You were special. You have never done anything to hurt them. You… were the one they loved. They nodded, giving you their trust and sliding out of the corner a little for you to reach them with ease. A sigh of relief left you, happy that they weren't totally lost.

“I promise I’m just looking. You can watch it with me.” You stated again.

You crawled away to where you dropped your bag and dragged out your laptop and connectors. Carefully, still watching Eclipse’s expressions, you wired him into your laptop and got started on accessing their memory banks. You had never done so before, because you felt like you were invading someone’s privacy. The last time you looked into old memories was for a security issue on one of the Glamrocks; specifically Monty to pull footage and prove innocence on behalf of the Plex. It still felt dirty even then, but curiosity won this time. With permission, you carefully dug up the old file from last time Eclipse was active, and watched.

The footage was honestly pretty gruesome. They did not lie when they said they hurt someone. Watching back that footage knowing you were now a witness to it too made Eclipse cringe, but you got some details that were left out. The man in question of the attack had every right to have a gash that big ripped out of his chest. The man was… well, to put it lightly, a predator. Eclipse activating was the correct response, and saved that child. The only issue was how rich he was, which had a close lawsuit almost fall through. That’s most likely where the original threat to decommission them came from, and it made you livid.

“I’ve seen what I needed to. That man deserved every bit of what you did to him. Now who the hell said they’d decommission you for that?” You asked, closing your laptop and unhooking them.

“The last tech…”

“God!” You huffed in a fit. “It’s always something with that last tech. That prick did a mental number on all of the animatronics here at least once. Look, you don’t need fixing. This right here is a part of who you are, and I would NEVER change anything about you unless you asked me to do it yourself. I will never change who you are. This isn’t a glitch. In fact, I’m surprised they haven’t made this mode more easy for you to get into. But then again, that’s something I can discuss with you later on depending on your feelings.”

“_______, we…”

“Hold on. Both of you are here, right? You said Sun and Moon become one when you’re like this?” You asked, reaching out to hold their face.

A nod.

“Lovely then. Eclipse, I love you. All of you. I will never change you because realistically, who the hell would? I get to speak to both of you right now. How rare is that? This is the only way I’ll ever get to love you both at the same time, and I wouldn’t change that even if it would save my life to do so.” You told them sweetly.

You sealed your statement with a kiss, gently rubbing your thumb across their cheek as weak, oily tears spilled from their eye sockets. Originally a feature that was deemed pointless but implemented anyway by your encouragement, it made them feel more real. More human. More valid in what they felt. Though shaky they reached out to you, and you quickly moved yourself into their lap to allow the closest embrace possible. Your words were enough to heal the fracture in their mechanical heart, and for once, they knew they were safe. The safest place was here, you in their arms, your lips pressed to theirs.

The sweetness your kiss left lingered, and instead of fear, Eclipse was now flustered as all hell. More so than usual too. Must be because of how they were combined that it doubled their emotions. The odd flustering shade of pink and blue spread on separate sides of their face, and you giggled, happy that they had found contentment again.

“Mmm, I feel like the lights will be repaired soon.” You mused. “My team does good work. Would you like me to turn down the slider to keep them dim once power is regulated? You know, so we can stay like this.”

“... Please. We need you right now.” Eclipse nodded.

You smiled and offered one more quick little kiss before you stood up to turn down the lights. It was crazy how correct you were, power being restored mere seconds after you dimmed the lights. A little buzz ran through Eclipse, but they were fine. When you came back to them, you were scooped up immediately and plastered against their chest in a desperate hug. Perhaps you needed to give a little more care to your robotic partners. This was a lot of pent up fear, but you were glad to finally have it released now. Warmth flooded over both of you as you hugged tightly, finally at ease.

You sent off a quick little page over your phone to your team, letting them know you wouldn’t be back down for at least an hour or two. There were some more important things that needed fixing and it would take a while. They didn’t need to know it was a heart you were healing. Not yet.

[sukirichi]

reckless [02.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. angst, toxic situations

✘ note. yes, feel free to scream at me in the asks. but like don’t worry, i promise there’s more to come and there’s more to happen! it’s going to get fluffier as we go hehehehe. ALSO, I can’t help but feel that Zayn’s “Let Me” speaks perfectly to CEO playboy Gojo. hmph.

one  ✘  two  ✘  three 

One glance at the tall man beside you, and you would’ve thought he would pass out soon.

Satoru had been endlessly fidgety hours before the appointment. Flicking from music stations to another, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel or sighing at the sight of you calmly watching the city go by in a flash – it was clear he was restless. Judging from the dark circles he tried to conceal under a pair of shades, he probably hadn’t slept much last night as well.

Now that you were both inside the clinical room, with you laying back down on the reclined bed, belly exposed and all for him to marvel at, his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing. “Satoru, calm down. It’s just a doctor’s appointment.”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m just…excited yet nervous, you know? It feels so real now.”

Real didn’t begin to cover it. Although you masked your nervous quite well, you felt your stomach tighten when a woman came in. Her smile was gentle and comforting enough, talking you both through the process and spilling little fun facts about pregnancy. She applied a cool gel over your belly before turning to a screen, where mixed dots and waves of black and white blurred in front of your visions. Your eyes widened in awe, throat dry from the inability to speak. The baby had always felt real, but seeing it with your own two eyes, a small figure barely even a comprehensible shape in the screen, you couldn’t help but tear up a little.

“That’s mine?” Satoru breathed out, absentmindedly looping his hands through yours. It made you stiffen for a quick second, but your attention was quickly pulled back to the sonogram. “We made that?”

Your heart clenched at his words.

He sounded so happy – like all his dreams came true and you’d just given him a gift that was beyond priceless. You supposed it really was; a baby was always a miracle and joy to have, but this child wasn’t made out of love. How could he have so much fondness for something he didn’t want in the first place?

“The baby is perfectly healthy. This pregnancy doesn’t seem like a high-risk one, but it’s too early to tell so we’ll keep checking in on you,” the doctor pushed her glasses back to her nose, the sound of her cool voice pulling you back from a dangerous path of self-doubt and wariness. “Do you guys want to know the gender?”

Glancing at Satoru, you shook your head. It was amusing that you didn’t need to share words before he got the meaning behind one look, and he squeezed your hand as if to say he understood.

“I’d like that to be more of a surprise. Thank you, doctor.”

“Congratulations on being a father, Sir,” she bowed, and it occurred to you just now she was probably a family doctor. Satoru did end up keeping his promise that your pregnancy be kept private for a while. This little detail made you turn to him with shock written all over your face, though his attention was centred in on the swirling monochrome colours on the screen. Whether the doctor noticed the brewing tension between you two or not, you were still gad when they bowed once more to excuse themselves. “I’ll leave you two to talk now.”

The moment she was gone, you sat up and pushed your blouse down. Satoru’s demeanour had changed as well. His smile was wiped from his face, replaced only by a slight downturn of his lips.

Sighing, you swung your legs over the bed, not minding one bit that he was inches away from resting his chin onto your thighs. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been so worried since we got here.”

Satoru winced.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Even if you aren’t, it’s not that hard to see through you,” you spoke gently, a spirit possessing you because there would’ve been no other logical reason on why you placed a palm over his. Satoru’s hands were warm and large as he cupped your knee, tracing little patterns over your jeans as he kept his gaze lowered to the floor. It was an odd sight to see; that the Gojo Satoru refused to look a woman in the eye. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Satoru’s sigh is painfully drawn out, though his chuckles took the brunt.

“I don’t know what to do – how to be a father, I mean. Don’t you ever get worried…that maybe we might fuck up and ruin someone’s life?”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes – which you really wished he didn’t, because you’d never seen such azure this up close before. It was no secret that his eyes alone stole the hearts of people, but you had to remind yourself he broke them as well, so that you pulled away right before he got too close for comfort. It wasn’t what he needed anyway. Satoru simply required reassurance, so you opted for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Weren’t you the one telling me the other day we’ll work it out?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, a smile lighting up his features once more. “Are you feeling good? There’s someplace I want to take you, as a celebration for our healthy baby.”

You pursed your lips. As much as you appreciated his enthusiasm, this ‘celebration’ didn’t sound like a good idea. You’ve made mistakes before and now you lived the consequence of it; being reckless was outdated. Caution, wariness, and space were the top three perfect recipes for the complete opposite of a disaster.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why not?” he challenged, taking your hand in his as he guided you out the clinic. You made no comment on why he led you out the back where he’d parked his car, even going as far to bow for you as he opened your door. “Liven up a little, we got good news today! Plus, we didn’t both take a day for nothing. Come on, you’re going to have fun, I promise you!”

“And where would we go where people won’t recognize you?”

“Somewhere people are too lost in their own world to focus on others,” Satoru announced before sending you a side glance, smooth hands already on their way to rev the engine.

This wouldn’t go down well. Or at least that was what you wanted to believe, because his smile and excitement were too contagious that you couldn’t restrain the smile you wore.

“A carnival? Really? We’re too old for this.”

“We’re never too old for anything,” he insisted, placing his hands on your shoulders as he maneuvered from stall to stall. Everywhere around you, children and people of all ages milled by, laughter and screams that fading into the distance. One survey at the long, endless lines for the rides and crowded spaces, you grimaced, feeling an uncomfortable weight resting on your shoulders that was beyond Satoru’s hands. “Aw, come on, don’t be such a bore. Day offs like these are rare and think about the baby! Don’t you think they would’ve wanted us to get a long?”

“You’re just using the baby as an excuse to have fun.”

Of course he would – Gojo Satoru was like a man-child. Whether it was someone randomly bringing donuts or puppies into the office, he easily lit up like a firework, seemingly finding joy in every little thing. Being stuck in the office and forced to work his ass off under your supervision must’ve taken a toll on him too.

Add on the fact he hadn’t gone out on dates or parties ever since he found out he was going to be a dad, the desperation to go out and do something was written all over his face.

Satoru pouted. “That’s mean. Take that back.”

“No.”

“And I’m the childish one here?” he snickered. You merely rolled your eyes at him and gave in; too much time spent working and not enough time relaxing (not that being a carnival was your definition or relaxation, but alas, Satoru was dragging you around everywhere like always) wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“You see that bear over there? I’m going to win that for you. It could be my first ever present for our baby.”

There was no stopping him. You didn’t want to, either, because you just stood there, arms crossed against your chest as you let him do whatever he pleased. A literal man-child, a youthful soul stuck in an irritatingly attractive man’s body – these were the thoughts that ran through your head while Satoru kept swinging his arm back and forth. He chose a stall where you had to knock down stacks of cans down with one set of three balls, all because he wanted to win a bear. You would really rather go home than watch him fail four times now, but he wasn’t giving up, only flexing his shoulders before gesturing to the young man.

“Hey man, three more balls please.”

Nothing was funny about it at all. Watching your boss fail miserably even after ten tries shouldn’t have been so hilarious, yet sweat was dripping all over his face and his patience was hanging on a loose thread that you were giggling before you knew it.

His usual confident bravado began to tear down bit by bit, his face flushed from the sounds of your teasing.

“Satoru, stop,” you laughed, “We’ve been here for twenty minutes and your wallet might as well be empty! You can just go buy a bear at the mall.”

“You’re too functional. Where would be the meaning behind it if I just bought a random bear?” he huffed, pushing the sleeves of his denim jacket up to his elbows. Determined now more than ever, he even stretched his long arms side to the side with a shake of his hips. You could tell the young man manning the stall was hiding his amusement by whistling to himself, but Satoru really was such a ridiculous sight you couldn’t blame him. “No, I’m going to get that for you, then I’ll brag to my baby how cool their dad was when he knocked those cans down.”

“You mean, if you knock those cans down.”

His shoulders deflated. “Support me a little bit, will you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, it might just inflate your ego and you’ll be too distracted by yourself to ever actually knock those cans down,” He threw a ball with a force so strong it hit the curtain above the cans, and it bounced back somewhere below the tables. It didn’t even touch the can by a smidge, and you snorted. “See what I mean?”

Expecting that Satoru would take insult to heart (as his ego was easily wounded, this much you knew when he refused to talk to anyone at the office for a whole day because one of his directors forgot his name) you smirked at him, but that smirk immediately dropped when he grinned back at you. He was no longer wimpy like before, an aura of confidence brimming from him. “That’s like the second time you’ve told me I was distracting,” he mused, leaving you baffled because he was right. “On the contrary, I think you’rea lot more distracting, so I take that back. Just stand there and watch me win.”

“Okay,” you drawled out in faux disinterest, thankful for the corny carnival music and chatter from the crowd that he couldn’t hear your poor beating heart.

You were too focused on pretending to be unbothered by him that you failed to see how the cans were knocked down. The counter guy was already picking them up as Satoru pumped his fists in the air, way too much like a child high on sugar.

Was this really the father of your baby?

“I won! I fucking won! That huge brown bear, please!”Satoru’s smile from holding the bear that was half his size couldn’t even compare to the city lights and sparklers. Even his eyes were lit up in joy as he skipped back to you, happily waving the doe-eyed bear in front of you. At your lack of reaction, he sighed before jutting his cheek out to you. “No congratulations kiss?”

“How about a slap?”

“Kinky,” he teased, sending your brain to overheat when he tapped his chin in thought. “Well, you did make my back bleed so I kind of got the idea you’re sort of extreme in bed – ow! Would you please stop hitting me? I just won you a wonderful prize and your first reaction is to hit me! This arm is exhausted from swinging endlessly, you know.”

“Maybe if you aimed better, you wouldn’t have had to exhaust yourself. Like I said, you could’ve just bought a bear,” you scolded, raising your arm threateningly when he opened his mouth again. Idiot. “Give me that.”

Satoru effortlessly swung the bear until it was under your chins, his white lashes ethereal as he peeked at you through them. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath dusting on your cheeks, that same warmth that had been mixing with yours in a sloppy, heated kiss just weeks ago. “And who said I was letting you carry this?” he taunted, thoroughly enjoying how for once, you weren’t hitting him.“I’m supposed to wave this around proudly then place it in our baby’s room when we get home. Besides, your hand looks heavy already.”

“My hands? Wait, what do you mean our baby’s room?”

At your words and questioning gaze, Satoru did a quick turn, trying to use the bear as a shield.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I may or may not have had my parents’ guest room renovated as a baby room, although if you ask me, I think moving somewhere else would be much better. Raising a child in a penthouse doesn’t seem like such a great idea if you ask me,” opening your mouth to scold him, Satoru stopped you by placing a finger on your lips, noses grazing against each other. “Don’t scold me right now; I know that look on your face and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, okay? We can still decorate it ourselves. I just had the beds removed and the space cleaned out. Now stop over thinking and let me help you with your problem.”

You pushed his face away for the sake of your heart. In fact, you should be paid for your acting skills for looking so unaffected.

“What problem?”

“Your hands look heavy,” he beamed, long fingers looping through yours as he swayed them side to side. “So let me carry it for you.”

“Satoru, I—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he blinked innocently while surrendering his free hand, “I’m not doing this for you, it’s for the baby. Did you know oxytocin is released and makes you feel good and reduces pain, maybe even stress? We can pump your oxytocin levels through touch. It also lowers your blood pressure, and we want you at your happiest and healthiest for this pregnancy, right?”

“Since when were you an expert on this?”

“Since I found out I’m becoming a dad,” his words struck you speechless, mouth pressed into a flat line as you stared him openly. You hadn’t mean to come off as rude in that moment; you were just trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words, to explore the depth in his eyes, but Satoru must’ve took it wrong as he cleared his throat, “I can let go if you really want me to.”

“N-no! It’s fine…can we move? We’ve been standing here for ten minutes now,” Embarrassed, you pointed to the closest thing in your sight – a photo booth. “How about there? That looks fun.”

Satoru followed where your arm was pointed, laughing when a couple exited the red curtains while giggling amongst themselves. The guy even leaned down to steal a long kiss from his lover, and if you were embarrassed before, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back again right now. “You know, if you wanted me to be stuck in a cramped space next to you, you could’ve just said so. I didn’t bring the limo with me, but the Audi could be pretty small for us, I guess…”

You hissed at him in warning, “God, you never shut up do you?”

“It made you smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“Sure, mommy, whatever you say,” bumping his hip with yours, Satoru led you inside the cube. There were a plethora of filters to choose from; ranging from heart frames and ones that placed shades on your face. Not really thinking of what to pick, you reached out to press the frog hats one, but Satoru was swatting your hands away for the effect with heart emojis everywhere. “This is cute. We can show this to our baby once they’re born.”

“They won’t really know what a Polaroid is, Satoru.”

“It’s still sentimental!” he grumbled before clicking the camera icon, a huge smile already on his face until he saw you squished on the other side of the booth. Only one side of your ear could be seen, and Satoru furrowed his brows at you. “Come closer, you’ll be cropped from the frame.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t act shy now, I already fucked a baby into you,” mouth falling open at the vulgarity of his words, Satoru took the chance to drag you beside him. “Relax, you’re always so stiff. Our baby might come out frowning if you keep huffing like that.”

“You’re too close for comfort.”

“My apologies, I’ll try not to be included in the photo when you’re the one who suggested this in the first place,” he muttered playfully, booping your nose before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He was close, too close, that his musky perfume filled the close space. You wanted to lean closer to his warmth and sturdiness of his broad shoulders; his mere presence bringing about a sense of tranquillity despite your words. You told yourself it shouldn’t be too bad to lean into him for just a little while, absentmindedly following him as he cheers, “Smile!”

One photo turned into two, and Satoru ended up inserting a few more bills into the slot to take more. He tried out as many filters as he wanted, acting as if you two had been long time friends from how easy it was for him to be around you like that.

You supposed it came from his heavy experience with women. You were so unlike; while he was open to touch and didn’t care too much about space, you craved it deliriously.

It was obvious none of this meant anything to Satoru. You were probably just another woman in his life, with the exception that you had a kid, but you couldn’t mean something more. If anything, he treated you more like an old friend than a lover. He’d said it himself before that you weren’t his type and you didn’t mind, so why did it hurt the longer you mulled about it? Sure, you may not be as attractive or luxurious as his previous lovers, but did you really not even have charismatic pull? Is it because you weren’t his type that he was so casual with you, while you on the other hand, felt like you would lose your mind at every little thing he did?

You watched as Satoru pulled out his wallet and kept the Polaroid of you both grinning at the camera, forming a silly heart shape with your hands per his request. It was silly and platonic – yet the gesture confused you to no end.

“Why’d you do that?”

Satoru’s hand paused. “Am I not allowed to…?”

“We’re not lovers. You can’t just put a photo of us in your wallet.”

As if to prove a point, Satoru pulled out more photos of his wallet and showed it to you. There were several more wallet-sized photos, mostly of his white cat with black shades, another of him and his best friend, Shoko, and the last photo was of him skiing. They were all placed in his wallet along with a small, faded out photograph of what seemed to be his parents from the younger days. You couldn’t understand why he was showing you this, much less how patient he was as he smiled softly at you. “It’s memorabilia. I keep photos of everyone I care about everywhere with me,” he said, pocketing his wallet back before gazing up at the night sky. “I like to think we’re friends, at least. We’re definitely not just boss and employee anymore.”

Then what are we?

There were so many things you wanted to ask. You always knew he was always this overly friendly and nice, but what did make you? What did a friend mean to him? Other than Shoko, who was his lesbian friend who was also the company’s resident doctor, you’d never seen him be platonic with another female before.

The realization made your mood drop.

Maybe you were right. He probably didn’t even see you as a woman, but what did it matter? You didn’t like him. You shouldn’tlike him. Even if he had no intentions of wooing you, Gojo Satoru was far too appealing for his own good. Being around him was dangerous for your heart.

“Wanna ride the ferris wheel? The night city always looks beautiful.”

He was just your boss...and you were just a friend. Things were going to be alright as long as no feelings were involved. You survived seven years of working with him with not a single moment where your heart fluttered when he spoke your name; a baby made between you shouldn’t change anything now. At the end of the day, you were both only doing this out of responsibility. Satoru was trying his best to become a supportive co-parent to you, and that was all it ever would be. Strictly business – purely professional – as it always had been and always will be.

Foolish girl, you could hear a voice whisper at the back of your head, don’t get too lost in his eyes.

“Y/N, are you tired? Do you want to go home now? We can just order dinner to be delivered if you’re exhausted,” Satoru tugged at your sleeve to get your attention, and you chuckled awkwardly, not meaning to have spaced out the whole time. Worry was written all over his face from the way his brows dipped, stunning blue eyes darkening like the night sky you both made memories under.

Don’t look at me like that...

“Are you okay? Do you wanna go home?”

“Yeah,” you chirped far too brightly than you would’ve liked. Right now, it was more of a mission of fake it til you make it. You would just have to keep exerting the same amount of effort into making this work for the baby’s sake. And if that meant pushing aside any budding desire for this to last any longer to focus on your ‘friendship’, then you would do it. Taking Satoru’s hand for the first time since the baby ordeal, you flashed him a genuine smile. “The ferris wheel sounds nice. Let’s do some sightseeing before the night ends.”

Neither of you speak inside the cab. Beautiful the night was as the city shone into awakening illumination beneath you, comforting you with the thought that in the grand scheme of it all, you were small. Insignificant. That somehow everything you worried about wouldn’t matter when there was a much bigger world out there, and you were but a fickle dot in the middle of its entirety. But that was you, and Gojo lived in a much different world than you did. For somewhere in the city, you could recognize several of the sky towers, buildings, and establishments owned by his family. He mattered in the grand scheme; you were a small factor in his world.

Glancing back at the man who’d been silent the whole ride, you smiled upon seeing that he was doing the same. Satoru was practically bouncing in his seat as he snapped several photos of the city, mumbling something about he’d never seen this view before.

He was so innocent yet so out there, igniting within you an urge to take care of him and wanting to be taken care of by him.

You’d already accepted that you may just never have him that way. That small, fleeting crush was like a butterfly – pretty look at, but damn near impossible to catch. You’d already stopped crying yourself to sleep over the new changes brought about in your body, that in a few months’ time, you’d look back into everything and see that everything had changed. The mistakes you made that night were still something you regretted because you wished you could’ve done better, but seeing him right in front of you now, there was only gratefulness blooming within. Grateful that he was right by your side, grateful that at least the father of your child was more than capable of giving them a comfortable life, grateful that he didn’t push you away like you expected.

Acting more on impulse than logic, you leaned over to press your lips on his cheek.“Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you let your lips stay there for a few more seconds.

His skin was warm underneath your touch, and when you opened your eyes, Satoru was gazing up at you with stars twinkling in the vast galaxy he called his eyes. You smiled at his reaction, watching as he reached a palm out to caress that spot your lips had landed.“For what?”

“For everything,” you crumbled,“You’re not a bad person, Satoru, I know that,” with shuddered breaths, tears sprung at the back of your eyes again. “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I just need time to adjust to…well, all of this.” Your voice cracked at the last sentence and you were crying before you knew it, face hidden behind your palms in fear he’d look at you differently. In his eyes, you were always his stoic secretary who didn’t even bat an eye when people gave you backlash after Satoru hired you despite the lack of a college degree.

This all felt new – to cry, to trust, to rely on someone – and there was a flurry of emotions you couldn’t quite place yet.

Scooping you into his arms, Satoru patted your back as your cries grew louder. “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to rush into anything at all.”

In the harsh world of conglomerates where the laws of business blurred thinner and thinner with each day, it was hard to believe that not rushing into anything would be possible. It was always a flurry of hurried phone calls, frantic preparations for emergency meetings, anxiety over presenting new proposals and hoping that your superiors would sign your documents so you could go about your way. Time was as imperative as money was to them, but Satoru had proved he could be beyond that.

From the moment you met him, he never treated time as if it was something that slipped through his fingertips. He enjoyed every second he had of his life, and perhaps that was why you hated him so much in the first place.

You thought he took everything for granted, when in reality, all he did was bask in the little things life offered.

This much, at least, you trusted him with. If he said there would be no need to rush and you could both take it slow, he meant it. Around him, time felt more like a secret whisper than a treasure you both had to seize to protect. The night drifted off until it was already midnight and the crew was ushering all visitors out. You and Satoru made it home safely and quietly, hands linked together as if it was the most natural thing ever. No rush, you kept telling yourself, and you plopped down on the couch heavily as you let your muscles relax from such a long, eventful day.

You stayed there for a solid minute or so when you felt warm hands take your heels off. Opening your eyes, Satoru kneeled before you, his fingers expertly rubbing and pushing against the sore muscles of your feet. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Your feet must be tired from all that walking,” he mumbled, looking up briefly to meet your eyes and tease your shoulder back. “Lean back for me. I’ll take care of you.”

Judging by the sentiment behind his smile, you figured it wouldn’t be harmful to enjoy this at least once. You’ve never gotten foot massages before but his hands kneading yours felt heavenly. You knew from experience beforehand that Satoru was quite godly when it came to the skills and magic his fingers brought, though this one was on a different level, and you were sinking deeper into the couch from the bliss. He was right; you were tired, and if having your boss massage you like this every night after dragging you wherever he pleased, then you wouldn’t complain.

The ringing of your phone made you sit up abruptly, surprising Satoru whose head you almost knocked into. “Sorry,” you croaked out sheepishly, “It’s my dad. I need to take this.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“Uh, no, you’re fine.”

Satoru gestured to your foot as you took the call, mouthing, “Should I continue?”

“Yes, please,” you answered back, palm pressed over the mic before you answered. “Hey, Dad!” Your father greeted you back with much enthusiasm, his energy heard even by Satoru who sent you small smiles and curious glances every now and then. A part of you wanted to ask if he was fine kneeling on the floor like that, but his knees were on the fur carpet anyway that it shouldn’t hurt him. He extended your leg and trailed up your calves, pulling a soft moan from you when he kneaded the flesh and rid it of its knots. His ministrations distracted you until you were nodding absentmindedly to your Dad every now and then, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Then the call ended, and his last words kept ringing back into your head ominously. Satoru took quick notice of this as he tapped your knee, bringing your attention back to him. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I...” you started, helplessly fumbling around Satoru. “My dad is in Tokyo. He said he wants to have dinner with me.”

“You don’t look particularly happy about that. Do you not want to meet your father?”

“I do but...”

“But?”

“I have to tell him about this,” you shivered, refracting your legs back to the couch until his touch disappeared from your skin. For a moment, you had the urge to crawl back to his heat, but you were restless, agitated. “About us. He’s going to want to meet you and I don’t want to hide the pregnancy from him either,” Satoru remained unmoving as you rambled, and you hid your face behind your arms again as you remembered the rules you asked him to follow. “Listen, I’m sorry if I sound unfair right now, I know I said I didn’t want anyone else knowing—”

Warm lips brushed over your knuckles, large hands peeling your wrists to reveal your face. “Hey, it’s fine. He’s family and you can tell him. It’s not like your Dad would ruin your image or something like you expected to happen.”

“He won’t but...” you frowned, “My dad isn’t going to like this. I can’t guarantee he’ll be civil the whole time, especially towards you.”

“You told him about me?”

“A few years ago, yeah, when I still couldn’t tolerate you.”

“So you can tolerate me now?”

“Only a little bit,” you corrected, pushing his hands away as you opened your phone to check your schedule. It was mostly Satoru’s schedule, truth be told, but you were free for the most part tomorrow. Satoru could just longue back in his office while you clocked out early to meet your dad. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. On second thought, he doesn’t have to know at all. I’m only a few weeks in and it’s not like he’ll notice—”

“Y/N,” Satoru interrupted you, rudely snatching his phone from your shaking fingers. You would’ve scolded him had he not sounded so worried. “I did promise I would take responsibility for you, right? I want to meet your dad and introduce myself properly. As a father-to-be, I think I can somewhat understand that he might react strongly to this, but I also need to reassure him you’re in safe hands,” taking your hand in his, Satoru leaned into your palm, the smile he wore way too charming than what your heart could handle. “As long as you’re okay with it, I would like to meet him.”

“I’m sorry if he does something stupid.”

“Don’t be,” he reassured with a chuckle. “I’m sure everything will go well.”

It didn’t go well. Your father wasn’t throwing a fit or causing a scene like you originally feared, but the current situation wasn’t any better either. He looked like he was on the verge of tearing Satoru’s head apart, his grip on the bread knife so tight his knuckles flashed white. Your father was the literal definition of unpredictable and out of nervousness, you held Satoru’s hand under the table for comfort.

In complete opposition of yours, Satoru handled it with class and composure. His head was ducked down in respect, making sure to be curt and precise in counters to your father’s harsh accusations.

“I’m really sorry for everything, Sir.”

“Did you ruin my daughter’s life?”

Satoru finally tilted his head back up to look your father in the eye, both your hands turning cold and sweaty in between the seats. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you ruined my daughter’s life by getting her pregnant.”

“I would never intend for that to happen, Sir,” Satoru straightened up. From your perspective, he looked every bit the man parents would want their children to be with – handsome, elegant, educated, polite, respectful and well-off – but your father was no ordinary parent. He sized Satoru up like a predator hunting his prey even as the latter acted cool about it. “Granted, it was an accident and neither of us are prepared for this, but I promise I’ll take care of her. I take responsibility as the father and you have nothing to worry about.”

Your dad slammed his palms down on the table, the loud smack catching the attention of nearby tables. “How dare you tell me I have nothing to worry about?”

“Dad, please don’t do this.”

“No, he needs to know,” he snapped. Unable to help it, you groaned inwardly and scooted closer to Satoru, knowing where this was leading. “I lost her mother right after she was born; raised her by myself when I was barely out from high school. Rich men like you may never understand the struggles of taking care of a baby all by yourself, but I did everything I could to make sure she grew up well. My daughter had a happy, comfortable life. When she told me she wanted to follow her dreams in Tokyo, I supported her, and then you go take everything away from her because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? You dare defile her like that?”

“Dad!” you roared, clutching Satoru’s hand who’d gone limp. “It was equally my responsibility as it is his! I wanted this; we both got carried away but we’re doing our best, so please stop being difficult to us.”

“You wanted this?” he laughed dryly, “A child with this man you kept moaning to me about; the same man who went to clubs every night while he left you all by yourself to work, to clean up his mess from him? You wanted him?”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth, nails sinking down onto your thigh. Satoru remained silent between you both, although you could feel his burning gaze penetrating through the back of your skull. “It’s both our mistake. But this child...we don’t see it as that. We like to view it as a blessing. It may be true we harbour no affection for one another, but we want to be good parents. That’s all you need to know and I find no reason to explain myself to you. If you have nothing else to say, you can go back home. I’ll pay for your ride,” slamming down a few bills his way, you glared at your father, who shrunk back at the anger radiating off of you. “You’re not welcome here, Dad. Just go back home.”

“I’m just worried for you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I never said you were,” he sighed, rubbing the sides of his temples. “But he just took all your opportunities away from you! What about your dreams? What about your plan of having your own career once you have enough experience? What about—”

“Are you implying that because I’m pregnant, suddenly I’m not qualified to fulfil my goals?”

“Sir,” Satoru cut you off, releasing your hands as he leaned forwards on the table, becoming more and more like the CEO he was trained to be – all authority and gentle command that won the hearts of multiple investors. “I assure you that I won’t be holding your daughter back from the things she wants to achieve. As her co-parent, I’m perfectly capable of supporting her in the dreams she wishes to achieve. I’ve worked with her for years; I know she can reach for the stars if she wanted.”

Your mind blanked.

“Young man, don’t talk to me as if you know my daughter better than I do,” your father scorned, “I’m not questioning your capability to support her, but what about your credibility? How can you assure me you’ll really be there for her? How can you assure me you won’t leave my daughter stranded in the middle of nowhere? How can you assure me you can protect her from the harsh criticism of society? Money can’t provide nor does it solve anything,” your father copied his gesture by leaning forward, but it was to poke Satoru’s chest. “From what I’ve heard about you, I suppose you understand perfectly well why I don’t trust you.”

“Sir, I do plan on marrying your daughter and to give her the life she deserves,” Satoru confessed, effectively stealing from you the ability to speak as he glimpsed your way. “If she lets me.”

“You’ll marry her? Be faithful to her as your wife and have a family? Are you sure you can do that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m highly confident I can. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then that’s all I need to know,” your father leaned back in your seat, arms crossed against his chest and a stern expression on his face. “And if I find out you hurt or make my daughter cry in any way, I’ll beat up that pretty face of yours. I have two more sons that’re willing to do the same, if you don’t watch your actions.”

Satoru beamed at your father’s ‘approval.’ “I’ll face any consequence if I fall short on my duties, Sir, but I assure you, it will never have come to that.”

“So we’ve come to an agreement?”

The two men linked and shook hands across the table, completely disregarding the fact you were right beside him. You were beyond appalled, but mostly hurt that you’d been reduced to this way. And they were unaware of it, too, sickening and satisfied yet tense smiles were masked on their faces as they decided your future.

You stood up and left the restaurant.

You kept walking as fast as you could in the cold night, hands shoved into the coat of your pockets. Thousands of pin needles pricked at your heart and your skin the more you replayed the memory in your head. How stupid were you to think that Satoru would be different? And marriage? Was he serious? It all made you sick to the core to the point you wanted to throw up and disappear, until a heavy set of footsteps echoed behind you and tugged your wrist.

“Y/N, wait!” Satoru panted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong with you? You just up and left—”

“Seriously, Satoru, you’re asking me that?” your face fell flat at his cluelessness, “What’s wrong with you? You men are sickening; planning my entire future like that right in front of me as if I don’t have a say in what I want. None of you asked if I’m okay with this. You really went ahead deciding we’ll get married when I told you already, I don’t want to marry you and I never will!”

Satoru brushed a hand over his hair, a hand on his hip. You could tell his patience was being tested – after being verbally harassed by your father and now with you pushing back in the same heat, it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. Surprisingly enough, however, his voice remained levelled as he sighed. “What did you expect me to do back there? Tell your father that we’re just going to be roommates and raise a child together as if we’re not already family?” he defended, words slow and pronounced with a hint of hurt behind them. “I respect you and I truly do want to be with you, that’s why I wanted us to get married.”

“You respect me?” you laughed incredulously, “Are you hearing yourself right now? No person respects another by deciding what happens to my life without my consent!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, okay? I apologize for it and I acknowledge my mistake that I didn’t give you much of a choice. Me being cornered and pressured isn’t a good excuse, but I wasn’t lying when I said I want to take care of you and—”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to be with me?” you demanded, “Why do you want to take care of me so badly? How did you even take this so well? You weren’t even that angry when I told you I was pregnant.”

Satoru paled. “Was I supposed to be? Should I have pushed you away and kicked you out my life? Is that what you wanted me to do, or is that what you expected from me, considering you’ve made it extremely clear I’m nothing but your airheaded boss and a man who always wants his dick wet, right?” the sting of his words pricked you both – you with your guilt, and him with his pride crushed. But he didn’t let on, didn’t waver and didn’t match your anger as his chest shook with impatience. “I’m trying to be good to you; I want to be good for you and the baby because despite what you think of me, I’m not the devil the tabloids make me out to be. I sleep around, yeah, but I wouldn’t go so far to turn someone away especially when I know I’m supposed to be there.”

“Satoru, if you’re only doing this out of obligation, you can be a good father without marrying me. Marriage is not a requirement; I don’t care what people say that I got pregnant without getting married. That’s the least of my concern, I just want the baby to grow up healthy but I don’t want to be involved with you.”

With how stunned Satoru looked, one would’ve thought you slapped him right in the face. That mere sight of seeing your boss tear his walls down in front of you almost made you feel bad, but you had to be strong.

You had to be firm with what you stood for.

“I really don’t want to be with you, Satoru. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” his voice cracked, begging and pleading as he stood before you, looking every bit of a man lost in uncharted territory. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. One moment, you’re telling me you want me to be a good father, and then the next you’re pushing me away. People are so sure that I’m a man who can never settle down because they believe I have commitment issues, but I’m telling you I can commit to you right now,” he held your hand, rubbing some of his warmth at your comparably cold ones. You didn’t fail to notice that he was trembling, but what about what you couldn’t decipher. “Are you really sure I’m the one here who isn’t capable of that? What are you so scared of that you can’t trust me?”

“Because you’re you! Because you’re a fucking asshole who’s been treating me like I’m an overworking machine and always expects me to undo your shit for you! Because you make me sick and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t know what love means!” Exploded. You exploded. “I regret everything that happened between us that night. No, in fact, I regret ever meeting you at all.”

Satoru took a step back.

All the light and joy that fit so perfectly with him had now disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he demurred, “I’m sorry that I’d been so repulsive that you’ve felt miserable for all this time. I’m sorry I haven’t been a decent boss and I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

“Gojo, stop. Stop doing that; stop apologizing!”

“Then tell me what you want me to do,” he barked desperately. “Because I can’t read your mind and I just want to be good for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? I don’t want you to be good to me, I don’t want you to care about me. Be there for the baby, but don’t involve yourself too much in my personal life. Stop asking me to marry you because you and I would never work out. We’re impossible, okay?”

“How do you know we’ll never work out when we haven’t even tried?” he pushed, “You never even gave me a chance.”

“You’re not worth that chance.”

If someone could receive an award for effortlessly trampling over someone repeatedly, you would’ve been crowned winner a long time ago. You had no idea what came over you as you spat all those hurtful words to Satoru, but did your words bear no truth? The fact that he no longer defended himself meant he also knew that he wasn’t worth it – that he wasn’t someone to be trusted. It wasn’t that you were completely unfair too; of course you considered it. Weeks of living under the same roof as him and you most definitely considered it. Say you did get married and became a real family – what then? It wasn’t a marriage out of love, but rather out of responsibility and obligation.

As much as you loved your child, you couldn’t imagine throwing away your future and living miserable for the rest of your life like that.

A life built on lies wasn’t a life worth living.

“I would never hurt you.”

Your heart cracked. After everything you said, after all your efforts to keep him away from your own safety, after all the hurtful things you’ve done to him, and he was still apologizing? Why did he have to make it so hard to let go? You were tired, so tired that you could no longer refrain your lip from quivering as tears caked your face.

“Gojo, please, don’t—”

“So if me stepping away from your life is what would really make you happy, then I’ll respect it. But there’s one thing I have to ask,” Satoru swiped a thumb under your eye to catch the tear. His smile was forlorn, his touch cold and words melancholic. “Do you want the baby? Do you...want to keep the baby and be a mother? You don’t have to do anything for me, I just want to know if the mother of my child even wants to be one. And please be honest, because everything you say right now are words that I’ll mark seriously.”

The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

“No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want to be a mother,” you admitted, hands trailing over your belly. It felt like you were betraying your own child, but you hadn’t planned this. “I’m too young, Satoru, I-I’m not ready for this. With you there beside me or not, I really don’t want this.”

“Then,” he cleared his throat, turning his head to the side to catch a moment. You swore you saw his eyes shine under the city lights with tears, but it was gone so soon that you might’ve just fooled yourself with it. Once he deemed himself ready to talk, Satoru took a deep breath. “Do I have your consent that once the baby is born...it’ll be under my care? Would you prefer to reach your own dreams, then? You’ll never have to be a part of the Gojo family if it’s really not what you want, even though I could support you as much as you need me to.”

Your eyes widened at his proposition. “You’ll take care of our baby?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can I...can I visit them, at least, once in a while?” It was more than just your heart that broke that night. There was no telling whether you’d hurt yourself in the long run with this decision. It was no easy choice to make – to actively pursue your dreams somewhere else more than being a mother. You wanted to do your best, of course you did, but it wasn’t that easy. Gojo didn’t have to tell you for you to understand that once you married him, you’d be expected to run the business with him and be involved in his family and their dramas. Now that wasn’t a life you wanted.

“You’re free to visit them whenever,” he promised, voice fading even lower into the background. “So is this it? We’ll just be living under the same roof until the baby is born and once they’re here...”

“We’ll part ways.”

“We’ll part ways,” he nodded in agreement, sniffling for a brief second before fixing his tie. The Gojo Satoru you got to know for a few weeks had now disappeared. Not even the goofy boss you spent seven years with could be found in the coldness of his eyes, almost as if he’d put up such impenetrable walls around him and nothing could pass through. The sudden shift in aura made your heart clench as he offered his hand to shake. “Okay. Let’s stay professional until then?”

“Yeah, Sir, I can do that,” your hands shook as you enclosed it around his, but now all the warmth had disappeared – from his eyes, his touch, his soul. It hurt, but this was necessary. It was what felt right. “Thank you – for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for you and the baby,” Satoru proclaimed, perplexing you both when he suddenly pulled you in his arms. Just like that, the dam broke, and you were staining his precious suit before you could stop it. His arms rubbed up and down your back the longer he held you there, almost like a final moment to lean on one another before you had to say goodbye eventually. Beneath your palm, his heart beat exuberantly loud, so much so that you might’ve heard the prayers it whispered. “Stop crying now. The baby might feel sad too. We’ll both be alright – we just have to get through this.”

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[phoenixyfriend]

Uncle Ben and Little Luke

AKA we combine several types of time travel for maximum Soft Chaos, let’s go

EDIT NOW THAT I’VE WRITTEN THIS UP: jfc this ended up much angstier than initially intended uhhhhhhhhhh sorry

So a common enough thing I’ve seen in time travel fics is characters getting de-aged when tossed back physically, to neither the age they should be in that time, nor the age they were from the time they left, but whatever is most convenient. This is usually de-aging OT Obi-Wan into his TCW self, for reasons relating to, chiefly, removing the damage of Tatooine absolutely destroying his body alongside PTSD-driven alcoholism, but also because fic writers are horny, and Ewan McGregor playing a late-thirties negotiator is on average more appealing to people than Alec Guinness playing a vaguely feral desert hermit.

So, here’s how it plays out:

We take Luke and Ben from some point in the OT. There are a variety of options depending on how angsty we want it to be. My first instinct is ‘right after Owen and Beru die’ but I want to have that sweet angst where Luke knows that his dad is Vader and that Obi-Wan was trying to convince him to kill his own father without telling him that.

We’ll go with shortly after Bespin, and then they end up significantly before TPM. The Obi-Wan of the timeline proper is, eh, let’s say eighteen. Not really ready to be a knight, but old enough that we don’t have to worry about “if we go save Shmi, do we somehow wipe out Anakin?” which is absolutely a worry. Anakin is a toddler, and is in no place to be evil, on account of being literally two years old. He can’t even explode people with his brain yet.

Now, Ben finds himself mid-thirties, as is traditional. He’s not upset at this, because his joints hurt so much less than they used to! His knees aren’t exactly teenage-perfect, but by the Force are they better than they were in the years before he died! His hair has color! He doesn’t have arthritis! And, goodness, no physical withdrawal symptoms! The psychological aspect is still there, but nonetheless, he’s in much better shape than he last remembers being.

Luke looks like he’s about six. He was recently twenty-two. This is not an upgrade. Ben keeps having to carry him. He can’t see over the counter when they enter a bar for information. He can’t enter the bar in the first place. He’s very annoyed by all of this.

Ben is not annoyed. Ben is having a lot of emotions, actually, but annoyance isn’t one of them. He didn’t get to help raise Luke the way he might have if Anakin hadn’t lost his shit, okay, he sees a small Luke and he wants to hug him and cry.

Luke would like to be able to purchase a speeder part without the lady at the stall asking him if he needs his “dad’s” permission.

Once they figure out when and where they are, they need to decide where and how to leave. There are general shenanigans to gamble their way into enough money to hire a ship. They are in the ass end of nowhere, but definitely not Tatooine. There appears to be a jungle. There appears to be a significant variety of man-eating creatures. There appears to be a temple to the Force of questionable origin. None of this is actually helpful, except for the moment they find a “baby’s first lightsaber” in the temple.

Luke only has one hand and, being a six-year-old, his body is growing too fast for him to bother with getting a wired-in prosthesis the way he could as an adult. He can get a more basic prosthesis, but nothing that attaches to the neurons. He’ll outgrow it too fast.

He’s tiny and he’s not used to doing things with just one hand. He uses the Force to do what one hand can't, and every time someone tries to tell him he's misusing the Force he whaps them with the empty sleeve.

So, you know, they find out what year it is. Ben has a breakdown. Luke is upset that he left behind his friends. Ben admits to him that Leia was his twin. Luke stares in horror because dude, she kissed him, you couldn’t have mentioned this earlier???

Ben points out that Beru and Owen were keeping Luke away from him for nineteen years, and then they had about three days of awkward travel to find Leia in the first place, and then Ben died. He didn’t have a whole lot of time to figure out how to tell him.

(This sparks an argument that lasts several days. All onlookers assume that Ben’s son is throwing a tantrum. He doesn’t correct them, even though this is a very valid reason to be upset, because the truth is much harder to explain.)

Sooooo they travel. Mostly, Ben plays Sabacc, cleans house, and pays their way towards Coruscant. Luke still really wants to learn to be a Proper Jedi, even though Ben is pretty sure that Luke would have... a lot of difference of opinion with the Temple, but sure. Coruscant. They can at least stop by, and see Qui-Gon, and Mace, and Quinlan, and Bant, and everyone else that’s still alive and not tragically deceased in the horror following the start of the Clone Wars and then the birth of the Empire, and Ben can have a nice sob over all his dead friends being alive again.

Ben is only barely holding it together while Luke is in the room with him at any given point. But it’s fine! It’s fine. He’s fine. All of his loved ones have come back to life! It’s great! HE’S FINE.

He is not fine.

Luke is also grieving all the people who haven’t been born yet, but he’s... significantly more okay than Ben is.

The closer they get to the Core, the more often people just assume Ben is Luke’s father, and then look shocked and uncomfortable when Luke flatly calls him by his name, and they just... compromise. This is the point at which Luke starts calling him “Uncle Ben.”

Ben cries in his bunk later that night. Luke overhears it and wonders how the HELL Ben is more unstable now, when there’s a chance to fix things and no Vader or Empire trying to kill or capture both of them, and all his friends are alive.

(Luke will later learn a lot about PTSD and realize this is actually a fairly normal situation, to process significant events and emotions only after gaining safety or catharsis.)

(Twenty years on a ball of sand with an alcohol addiction and debilitating fear of the man you raised as your own brother is not, in fact, safe or cathartic.)

At any rate, they’ve settled into that pattern by the time they reach the Inner Rim. The Inner Rim is the part of the galaxy at which they’ve collected enough money (and mental stability) to travel a little better, and to take a few more risks.

Risks like “manipulate people with those baby blues.”

Ben tells Luke that he’s a menace, after he pouts so cutely that he gets a free scarf added on to a purchase that Ben makes. Luke responds that Ben has no room to talk, since he flirted a free breakfast out of that one inn owner.

Also, Luke is currently physically six. That is objectively a situation that sucks. He deserves to use it for all it’s worth if he’s stuck like this.

“You know, if you keep wearing all-black and looking longingly at the velvet cape and Space Chanel boots, the temple is going to worry that you’re a darksider.”

“Uncle Ben... you told me, yesterday, that I sparkle so brightly in the Force that it’s almost blinding.”

“Yes, but the gloves--”

They don’t agree on this, but Ben relents. He does actually understand good fashion, unfortunately, and he’s not unaware of how much Leia taught Luke about such things.

Luke’s about forty years ahead of the curve, of course, but Skywalkers are prone to such things. It’s usually in regards to technology, granted, but...

They get to Coruscant. Ben is very obviously a Jedi. He knows all the right words and walks like a Soresu master and feels warm and comforting in the Force. They let him in with minimal questions. They note down “my first padawan left the order to have a child, but died shortly after; I consider Luke here to be my nephew, and have raised him as such,” and move on.

Luke is vaguely annoyed because he already had an uncle (and aunt) that raised him, but he admits that a person can have more than one uncle. He can live with this. Ben was more family to Anakin than Owen was, in some ways, so it’s kind of true. Luke is even working on feeling more childish affection for Ben instead of the complicated mess of emotions that come from being lied to about some very large and important subjects, and then seeing the person saying those lies have regular emotional breakdowns due to something as small as Luke saying he likes the curve of the hull on that freighter.

(Apparently he sounds just like his father did as a child. This is almost heartwarming.)

The thing is! The thing. The thing is, they almost make it to the Halls of Healing to get looked over for weird viruses, or Outer Rim Parasites, or whatever the hells needs to be happening. They almost make it without Ben having a flashback to dead younglings or brainwashed troopers or the declaration of a Sith Empire. They almost make it without incident.

Then Ben sees Qui-Gon, and freezes, and does not move again.

Luke cannot get him to restart.

People are staring.

They haven’t even made it to Medical, Uncle Ben, come on.

Young, local Obi-Wan comes over and asks if there’s something he can do to help. Or maybe this “Ben” knows Qui-Gon? Master Jinn doesn’t recognize Ben, but maybe Luke knows more?

Luke does know more, but what Luke actually says is “he probably needs a mind healer.”

(Ben will not appreciate this.)

(Ben is unfortunately standing in the middle of the hallway and completely unresponsive, and is unable to argue with this assertion.)

(Ben is pretty much proving this assertion entirely correct, actually.)

Obi-Wan is helpful, if a little bitchy in the manner of most late-teens individuals, and offers to help get Uncle Ben down to the Halls of Healing. It involves Obi-Wan gently pushing on Ben’s shoulders, and Qui-Gon offering to carry Luke so he can be in Ben’s sights (because Ben is a Mystery, and Qui-Gon is quite fond of those, so he wants to stay involved). Ben kind of just... shuffles on down.

There are medical tests. They ask about how Luke lost his hand. He refuses to talk about it. They ask how Ben got all his scars. Luke says he doesn’t know. They ask if he knows why Ben looks like he’s been through a war. Luke says it’s because he probably was.

They check for foreign viruses. They find evidence of thus-far-unpatented vaccinations. They ask Luke if he knows what he’s vaccinated for.

“How would I know? I’m six.”

They agree that this is a good excuse.

(It is not. He’s lying. They do not know this.)

They do some more tests. They find a lot of questionable medical bullshit in Ben’s body. Most of this is from the clone wars, but they don’t know this. Someone realizes they haven’t gotten a ping back from the Shadow Network regarding “do we have permission to pull the medical file of a Jedi that isn’t in the normal database? We’re assuming you know who he is, since we don’t.”

The Shadow Network does not know who Ben is.

The healers, of course, go “huh, that’s weird, but maybe the name he gave his nephew was fake. We can’t exactly ask ‘Ben’ for more details right now. We already had to sedate him. Let’s check the DNA!”

The DNA pulls up as Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The padawan who brought this guy in two hours ago.

“Huh, that’s weird. Let’s call in Kenobi and ask if he knows what’s going on.”

Obi-Wan absolutely does not know what’s going on.

They ask Luke.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, lying through his teeth and not even pretending otherwise.

“You’re not a very good liar,” teenage Obi-Wan tells him.

“I’m not trying to be,” Luke says. “Can you get Master Yoda? I feel like we’re going to need him.”

They normally wouldn’t get Yoda on the request of a six-year-old, but they also normally don’t have a catatonic thirty-something Jedi who looks like he’s been through a war popping up in the medical database as the pimply teenage padawan that broke his pinky trying to do a Badass Ataru Flip last week.

Or... whatever Luke i... is... oh dear.

“Young one,” Qui-Gon asks, while people whisper-shout behind him, not realizing he’s cutting the Correlian Knot and just asking the kid himself. “Do you know why your midichlorian count is so high? It’s almost unheard of.”

“Uncle Ben said my dad was the Chosen One,” Luke says, because he is capable of being a little shit and is actually really eager to let Ben deal with some of the fallout. He feels for the man, really, but he’s also tired of being the one to field every single question.

Also, the expressions that pass on Qui-Gon’s face are hilarious.

(Luke may or may not be more affected by his six-year-old brain than he would like to admit.)

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon says, sounding more than a little strangled about it.

It takes another three hours for Ben to wake up.

He listens to the questions. He hears what they say his ‘nephew’ said. He looks at Luke.

“Is this revenge for not telling you about Leia?”

“It’s not revenge,” Luke does not lie. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s pretty easy to explain.”

“It’s not my secret.”

“This is revenge for the Leia thing.”

“No,” Luke says. “Revenge for the Leia thing was when I ate a live frog in front of you.”

This is the point at which someone interrupts and points out that they appear to be stalling.

“Oh, he is,” Luke tells them. He gestures at Ben. “I can’t tell you more, because it’s more his story than mine.”

“I’m afraid, Master, that I am very likely to have an emotional breakdown if I allow myself to consider the reality of this situation for longer than the fraction of a second I already have,” Ben reports, full of false cheer. “Suffice to say, I am far from stable and have only held out this far for Luke’s sake.”

“Can you explain why you have my DNA?” Obi-Wan asks, as the person who’s most concerningly involved in this situation.

“You can,” Ben says, smiling like there is absolutely nothing wrong in the slightest, ever. “I’m you, from the future. I actually died and spent a few years dead before coming back. I’m not sure why I’m younger than I was when I died, but I appreciate being able to put on my shoes without my knees attempting to mutiny.”

“He needs a mind healer,” Luke reiterates, in case the strained grin hasn’t made it clear. “So do I, but not as much.”

“I have felt literally every person in this Temple save for Luke and Yoda die,” Ben reports, looking a shade more manic than a few seconds earlier. “It’s very overwhelming to feel you all being alive again. I may be approaching a mental breakdown, and I’ve been rather strictly advised against using alcohol to treat my traumas again.”

Luke kicks him in the thigh. It’s not a very hard kick, because he is very small, and he does actually like Ben. “I’m not letting you turn into an old drunk again.”

After several seconds of silence, a healer quietly suggests that everyone clear the room, and asks if someone could fetch Master Yoda as the youngling requested.

(THIS IS ALMOST THREE THOUSAND WORDS. I started it less than two hours ago. Why am I like this.)

[ragnarachael]

Out For Revenge: The Revengers Headlining Tour — Chapter One

Paring: Guitarist!Loki x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,350

Summary: Ever since that first gig at the pub, you've been following The Revengers—as well as getting closer with Loki, of course—and they've gotten big. Big enough to where they've landed a small recording deal and secured a headlining tour after their first album takes the rock scene by storm.

When Loki drops in at your job, as he does almost every day now, he invites you to the celebratory party for the big news. That same night, you and Loki further your growing relationship.

Warnings: helen and issac are best wingmen, 10/10. helen and issac roast u for being a shy babe so like. if u can’t handle roasts from friends,, maybe turn away? idk?

Notes: fic twoooooo! now, i am unsure when the next chapter will come out. i have most of the major bits written and am slowly adding to it, but i’ve been stumped and working like crazy and dealing with a lotta shit, in general. so. hopefully all your lovely comments will motivate me to actually work on it more and more!! also, we’ve just hit 2.1k???? holy shit??? thank you so much??????

Tag List (if you want to be tagged in stuff like this or any future works, join my taglist here!): @mushroomlupin @miniminwriting @mariahlaufeyson @lam-ila​ @a-lonely-gray-couch​ @sineads-art​ @rosaline-black​ @lokis-little-love​ @lokis-tigress​ @radicallyred​ 

F E E D B A C K! | A O 3  L I N K! | T A G L I S T  L I N K | WANNA READ THE WHOLE SERIES? CLICK HERE!

Ever since that night at the pub, you’ve been making it to shows as often as you can, hanging out with Loki and the rest of his bandmates. Between going to the shows, working, and sleeping, you make time to glance at The Revengers instagram page after you’ve spent a decent time away from the Pub, work picking up in hours again.

And that’s how you learned that today is a big deal for The Revengers.

Over the course of a few months, after knowing them for what seems like years, they’ve finally booked a headlining tour. Sure, it’s starting small, not really going to many places around the area at first, but it’s still a headlining tour. You haven’t been able to stop buzzing while you’re working your morning shift at work.

They were lucky enough to have Tony Stark—the Tony Stark of Stark Industries, let it be known—prance right into Queen’s Pub and listen to them play before he was giving them a one-off recording deal for the album they’d finished and performed for their time slot that night. The album sold insanely well within the first two months of them being out in the world, and The Revengers were suddenly offered a small headlining tour around this general area.

You were told this on the Tuesday you came into Queen’s Pub for a drink—it had been a rough week and no one quite made your new favorite drink like Brian did, and he gushed all about it as you had a round or two. In such a small time frame of three months, The Revengers have basically made a name and home for themselves. And you couldn’t be more proud.

But, ironically enough, within those three—technically four, since going to see TR live, and your first not-date-date—you still haven’t had the time to let yourself come to terms that you’ve got a massive crush on their guitarist. Nor have you worked the courage up to give him your number, and you’ve been seeing this guy every Saturday, as well as nearly every day at your own job. Granted, you talk to him so much and see him so often you didn’t really see much of a point in giving the number to him. But, if Helen knew how you viewed this whole…thing, she would smack you upside the head and give Loki your number for you.

Loki’s been coming in more frequently by himself. He always did before, but now this was almost everyday just to sit and talk with you. At times he barely even ordered anything, he just kept you company with your conveniently timed breaks. Once you were starting to notice a pattern, you figured Lisa as well as the rest of your team are definitely working against you.

Or maybe with you. You wouldn’t know. You haven’t really dated anyone properly before—just a single person in an online, long distance relationship that never worked out—and here you are, mid-twenties, crushing on this smoking hot guitarist that you met through serving. You’ve known him for quite a few months, had quite the few not-date-date’s, and you still haven’t tried to make a move. You just had no idea how to.

“Hey!” you greet him cheerfully as he sits at his normal booth. “The usual?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, yes please,” Loki replies, smiling at you as his hands play with a few of the rings on his fingers, and you try not to let your mind twist and turn to see just what else they could be doing in certain places right now. “Did you hear the news?”

“What news?” you question. You feel like you’re faking being innocent as you’re writing down his order on your server’s pad, trying not to give yourself away knowing that his band is starting to get in the big leagues.

“The Revengers news. C’mon,” Loki teases smoothly, falling back against the backrest of the booth. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been keeping tabs!”

“I’ve been working to meet rent!” you reply, giggling breathlessly as you pause to look up at him from your pad. “Some days I can barely breathe properly, Loki.”

What you’re telling him isn’t particularly wrong, however, he always ends up finding you after their gigs and chastises you for coming on a work night as you both end up with a few drinks in your systems. You chalk all of that up to Brian, since the bastard keeps you with stories of his early years. If he didn’t keep you talking about his band and his tour days, Loki wouldn’t have seen you at the shows.

Come to think of it, maybe you should thank Brian.

You take this moment as he shakes his head at your reply to see his attire for the day. He’s wearing a tight black shirt, and there’s a jacket tossed next to him. How does he make a jacket piled next to him look so neat? Good lord—

He sighs dramatically, sitting up straight again. “The Revengers have officially booked a headlining tour with Stark Studios.”

You immediately snap out of your...haze and address the good news as if you didn’t see most of what he just told you this morning on their Instagram account.

“Holy shit,” you breathe. “That’s so sick! Congratulations!”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Loki bashfully replies. You duck back behind your pad to finish writing his order before quickly reading it back to him, trying to avoid having him see your growing reaction to his words. Maybe one day here soon you’d tell him Brian’s told you everything about their deal. But not today.

Once you’ve made sure his order is right, you take a second to converse a little more about the day and the new deal TR’s just landed before you’re off to go put in the small order slip. Helen gives you a gentle bump with a smile when she notices you, and you greet her after shouting to get Evan’s attention.

The day stays calm for a while, you get Loki’s food in almost a record time, you and Helen crack jokes while you both slack off a bit to talk with Loki until Lisa is playfully chastising you and shooing you all off to go and do your jobs before talking to Loki herself.

And that’s when rush decided to kick up, of course.

The lunch rush is an hour and a half early, which you don’t understand—you never understand why the rushes happen like this. You’re running around as if your head’s been cut off, taking orders what feels like every five seconds while also checking on your other guests when you’re walking by.

And unfortunately, you can’t pay attention to Loki.

You miss seeing him out. You’re wishing you could have just had one last round of conversation with him so he could end up trying to forcefully shove your usual cash tip in the tip pocket of your apron for the second time this week. It really shouldn’t make you as sad as it does, knowing that you missed him like this. You’re chanting inside your head that he’s just a friend at this point, nothing more. A friend with a slowly rising and successful band.

If you think too hard about it you may not be able to wrap your head around it.

Just as you swing back into the kitchen to collect another order, Helen is calling your name.

“What!” you shout. “I’m busy!”

“No duh! We’re all busy,” she quips dramatically, smoothly taking over what you’re doing. “Check your boy toy’s table. Now. Shoo.”

You give Helen a look as she gives you a final shove before you’re turning out of the kitchen, walking through some of the booths to see Loki’s table.

His dishes were stacked like they usually were, and his receipt was covering some cash. You knew that was your tip, which made your face heat up slightly. You always made a point to never count it out until you were home, considering it was usually a few tens and twenties. You sigh, reaching for the receipt and sliding it to you over the table top, only to catch the colorful ink from one of your pens you gave Loki to sign his bill on the back of the receipt paper.

You’re careful to flip it over, trying to ignore the cash tip.

I know it’s super short notice, but we’re having a celebration for The Revengers tonight. Text me if you want to come? Loki xx

Oh. Oh shit.

It’s a real number, too. Not like anything you’ve been given prior as a joke. It feels like it’s been a little too long since you’ve been staring at the receipt paper and ignoring the cash tip, and you’re quick to just fold it all together to pocket it in your work apron and clear off the table of the booth.

You have Loki Odinson’s phone number. You. It absolutely feels like you’re dreaming. You also find yourself laughing, just a little bit. After how many of TR’s shows you two talk at, how many not-date-dates at the pub, you finally have his number. Albeit, entirely under the circumstance of figuring out a party address.

But hey, getting a number is getting a number, right?

As you carry the dishes to the back of the house, you mentally start crafting your text to Loki. What the hell would you even say?

Hey! Thanks for the tip!

No. Nope. That’s weird.

We FINALLY remembered to swap numbers!

No. You didn’t do shit on your end. He was the one that did. Maybe just tell him it’s you, and you’d love to go? Maybe ask if there’s a dress code, or a BYOB situation going on—

“So,” Helen asks excitedly. “What did he write?”

“You noticed he wrote something?” You question over some of the clashing noises of your coworkers.

“Who else in this hell hole has a green pen? Of course I saw he wrote something!”

You sigh, smiling to yourself before you’re passing dishes to another coworker that has a bigger pile than yourself, trying to stay out of people’s way. “There’s a party for TR tonight.”

Helen gasps, nearly throwing her serving tray with another round of food over her shoulder.

“No way. And you’re invited.”

“Well, obviously—“

“That’s so exciting! Oh my fucking god—“

“Language, Vawn!” Issac shouts dramatically, coming in with his tray in hand as he hangs another ticket in the serving window for Evan and the rest of his team. “Get out there with the food, we can scream about this after we close up!”

“Issac!” You exclaim, whining the last part of his name slightly. “Shut up!”

“I will when you will.”

Issac’s out before you can huff and puff more. Helen sighs and pats you on the shoulder before following suit.

Once you’re alone in the back of house, Evan calling orders again after what feels like you’ve been shoved into a movie that’s just been put on pause, you’re back shifting into work mode.

You can feel your blush rising to your cheeks as you start looking at the food, piling it onto a new tray to carry out as you just think of what all of this means for you and Loki’s relationship. Tonight could possibly mean getting out of the weird grey area you’re in, and move forward to the dating range.

As scared as you are, you’ve never been more ready for something in your life. All this flirting and seeing him almost every Saturday has you losing your god damn mind. Your subconscious hasn’t helped either, most of your dreams involving you and Loki in some romantic scenario.

“Yeah, it’s about time,” you mutter aloud, quickly moving around everyone in the back to get out on the floor and drop off the platter full of food.

The rush lasts a little longer than it should. Hell, the rest of the day lasts longer than it should. All you can think about is Loki and his number on the receipt that is neatly tucked near your small pen supply in your apron.

Thankfully, perhaps even mercifully, the restaurant finally closes for the night after your last table. It was a group of teenagers and they were honestly hilarious, until it came to the form of payment which gave everyone a headache trying to figure it out.

“Is it just me or is he getting hotter?” Helen asks as the two of you start cleaning tables and putting chairs up. You squint slightly at the hardwood of the table you’re cleaning before looking up and over and your friend.

“Who?”

“Loki, you idiot,” she hisses back, foot gently kicking at you from the side she’s working on. You laugh, scooting deeper into the booth you’re cleaning so she can’t swipe at you again.

“Well, in my personal opinion, he’s always been hot.”

“Mhm, I know,” Helen replies smugly. “Did you figure out what to text him? Have you even texted him?”

You take a breath and do a quick sweep with your wet rag on the booth’s table top. “No. I don’t know. I keep making it awkward in my head, so like—“

“Oh my god.” Helen throws her head back and groans, finishing her table. “Give me your phone, we’re crafting one right now.”

“What?!” You exclaim, still sitting in the booth. “Helen, we still have to close—“

“Shut up and give her the phone!” Isaac shouts from the back. “Lisa said you can leave early, just do it! He’ll reply fast as hell if he’s into you!”

You whine loudly and fall back into the seat you’re kneeling on. Helen slides into the seat across from you, holding her hands out and wiggling her fingers. “C’mon babe, just give in.”

“You’re all terrible.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Worst coworkers I could have ever asked for. How dare you?” You’re speaking as you pull your phone from your back pocket and sliding it over to Helen who immediately punches your passcode in. “I should change that.”

“You’d give it to me again anyways,” Helen replies instantly. “Have you put the number in yet? Or do I need to do it too?”

“I can do that,” you huff, getting slightly defensive. “Just don’t know what to say. I can do the rest, Hel.”

“From the looks of it, you can’t. Scoot over,” Isaac says again, closer to you now. You jump slightly before sighing and moving to let him in. It’s silent among the three of you before your brain catches up with what Issac said.

“Wait, hold on. Lisa said I can leave earlier? You told Lisa about this—”

“Yeah,” he replies instantly, cutting you off as if it was obvious information to share. “We can hold it down without you too, by the way. Literally Helen and I will survive while you go get some—“

“Isaac! It’s not like she’s going to get railed—“

“The text!” you exclaim. “Figure out the text first, try to pry my other personal details out of me later.”

Issac and Helen laugh before all attention is directed to your phone. You still can’t believe Issac told your boss you got Loki’s number. You utter a few curse words under your breath before Helen is humming in thought.

“Okay,” Helen begins finally. “how’s about you just have a simple ‘hey! I’d love to come to the party!! Just drop the address and I’ll be there ASAP.’” Helen waves your phone around as she speaks. “Sound nice?”

“Mm,” Isaac replies. “I think you could spice it up.”

“How the fuck can you spice up accepting a party invite?” You question, deciding to finally toss your rag in front of you. “I think that’s just fine.”

“I think you should be flirty about it.”

Helen blinks over at Issac. “Literally, we have to make it believable, not like I’m texting him.”

Silence falls over the three of you before Isaac groans. “Fuck. You’re right.”

“Is this a roast?” You question between your friends. “I think this is a roast. First you tell Lisa—”

“Of course it is! You wouldn’t flirt right out the gate. You’d probably send the text that I just said aloud.” Helen is typing on your phone as she finishes speaking. “I’ll write it out, see what you think. Then tweak how you want and send it. Okay?”

“Okay,” you reply with a small pout. “Sometimes I can be flirty—“

“No, no I doubt it. In person?” Isaac questions as he turns to look at you in your shared seat. “Yeah, maybe. Over text? You’d back out after typing it.”

You blink, looking at Isaac as Helen hums, nails tapping against your screen.

“You guys are really coming for my throat, huh?”

“We speak only the truth,” Helen says softly before passing the phone to you. “See if you like. Tweak what you don’t, yeah? We’ll be cleaning.”

You take your phone back as Helen grabs your rag and tosses it at Isaac, the both of you trying not to laugh as the rag almost hits Isaac in the face. You laugh to yourself as they go back to doing your closing tasks before you look down at your phone screen to read the text Helen crafted.

Hey! Sorry for getting back to you so late, I’d love to come to the party tonight. Just text me the address and I’ll get there as soon as I can!!

You read through the text several times. Helen really has you pegged, and you aren’t mad about it at all. Your free hand fishes into your apron’s pocket to find the receipt that Loki wrote his number down on, placing it on the table—writing up so you can read the number off and put in your phone.

You take one last breath, Loki’s number in the contact bar, and your message ready to be sent.

You can do this.

After a few more calming breaths, you press the send button, making sure the text delivers all the way before you busy yourself on your phone to properly add Loki’s contact. You lock your phone and smile widely to yourself as you start to slide out of the booth.

Hopefully, Loki replies sometime soon and you can skip out closing up with Helen and Isaac. You’re not sure if you could focus on closing while you wait for a text back.

And you’re thankful Loki seems to get that message. By the time you’re in the back to actually help closing up, you check your phone one last time before you can see two texts on your home screen. You’re quick to unlock your phone and read them before running out.

Hey! It’s all good! Here’s the address, just get here whenever you can, sweetheart. Brunn plans on dragging it out tonight

Be sure to wear something comfortable, btw. I don’t think there’ll be enough room to sit around 😅

You’re not holding back the giddy smile that’s rushing onto your face as you reread the texts Loki’s sent before you’re speeding to the locker room to grab your bag.

“Did he text?!” Helen shouts from the kitchen window, Evan grunting from the noise. “He must’ve!”

“He did!” You exclaim, bag slung over your shoulder as you type back on your phone. “I’m gonna dash. Tell Lisa I said thank you!”

“Yes!” Helen cheers loudly, throwing her hands up in the air in the kitchen.

“Could ya tone it down, Helen?” Evan huffs. You don’t catch the rest of the interaction before you’re waving goodbye to Issac. On your way out you actually find Lisa yourself, shouting over to her with a thank you and telling her to have a good night.

Lisa simply shouts a you’re welcome, hun! back, and gives you two thumbs up with a wide smile before you’re headed out into the night to your car to rush home and put on better clothes.

[aries-writingblog]

Polarized

Summary: Steve and YN were complete polar opposites. Always at each other’s throats, no matter the topic, an argument was sure to break out. What happens when America’s Golden Boy and the Homicidal Agent get locked together- which will break first?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Enhanced Reader

Word Count: 6633

Warnings: lots of arguing, language, mentions of death, violence

AN: The reader in this fic has powers and they’re kind of inspired by those of The Seance from The Umbrella Academy. I wanted to write something with those powers bc I adore his character in the comics and I also wanted to write a female character who was kind of darker and more coarse. Mainly because I personally don’t really see a lot of female characters written like that so I tried my best.

Also I know I haven’t written something fluffy in a long time but it will be returning with the next post. Thanks for reading! GIF is not my own credit to original creator.

“LN, are sectors 7 and 19 clear?” Steve paused, glancing down the hallway. He pressed his back against the wall, just in case, as he took a moment. Listening for a response. When none came, Steve repeated the phrase. He cursed under his breath.

Of course she would ignore him. YN never did anything for the greater good ever. If it meant that she would get to annoy Steve, the woman would do anything. Or in this case, nothing.

Peeling himself away from the chilling concrete, Steve started walking again. Shield pressing into his forearms as he stalked down the hall. If she wouldn’t respond, he would just have to carry on his portion of their mission. Do his part and catch up with her later.

He pushed the door open quietly, slipping into the control room. It was empty- eerily, quiet. Something felt wrong… nothing in Steve’s life had ever been this simple. Never this easy. Especially not with YN on a mission. It created a knot of paranoid anxiety in his chest, lungs and heart pressed uncomfortably against his sternum.

“LN- are the sectors clear?” He repeated, a creeping irritation lying just under his skin. Out of reach and boiling over at the same time. He couldn’t tell if she was doing it on purpose or if something was really wrong.

It was the exact reason he hated interacting with her. She was always up to something- a double edged sword. Every time he figured her out, she switched. A new persona rapidly overtaking the old one. Giving Steve a severe case of whiplash. She did it just to play with him.

Steve sighed, anger bursting from his chest in a huff. She managed to press his buttons halfway across a damn warehouse facility. His eyes landed on the massive control panels before him, monitors above it.

Fine, he thought. If you won’t answer me, I’ll find out myself.

His fingers fumbled slightly, his first attempt at deciphering the board unsuccessful. A couple more twists and buttons, he found the live feed. Steve scanned through the channels, squinting in concentration as the view finally came into focus.

What he saw made his stomach drop six feet. Vertigo plagued his brain as he gazed into the glass.

YN was standing with her back to the camera but he knew it was her. She looked like no one else and Steve despised the fact that he knew the pattern of her figure by heart. She stuck out like a sore thumb to him.

She wasn’t the only thing that stuck out in the scene. Bloody, mass mutilation strewn across the floor around her.

Before her, one man remained standing. They were so close, he didn’t quite understand what was happening. Her hands were pixelated and blurred but he saw her reach for her abdomen, right at her hip. YN’s body lurched as she yanked on something.

A knife. It had been lodged in her vest covering her abdomen. Confusion crashed over him, watching as YN lunged forward, burying the blade into the man’s neck. Up to the hilt. He turned away, grimacing as she ripped the blade up further. He felt bile gathering in his throat, threatening to lurch out.

Steve Rogers had seen his fair share of violence. But this… it was out of hand. It was brutal and unnecessary. The man went flying into the wall, head smacking against the concrete. Joining his comrades in their violent disarray.

There was a click on the unit in his ear, the silence being replaced with a dull static noise. Overtaking his panting breaths.

“All clear, Captain.” Steve turned slowly back to the monitor. Only to see YN staring into his eyes, her fuzzy figure sending a knowing glare into the lens.

“Then get out.”

“I haven’t gotten to the data storage, yet.” She argued. He huffed, irritated from her constant abrasion on his patience. No matter what he told her, she did what she wanted. Steve didn’t even know why he still tried.

“I’ll take care of it- I want you out of this building, on that jet, waiting. You’ve done enough.” He hissed, watching her reaction on the camera. YN shifted her weight, hand on her hip. He could almost hear the scoff, see the frown on her lips.

“That’s too damn bad- I’m closer. I’ll take care of this.” She responded, her voice urgent.

“No you won’t. Stand down.” Steve demanded, jaw ticking as rage built up. Threatening to spill over the comm unit. He watched as Yn’s hand flew up to her ear again, ripping the unit from behind her ear. Her eyes came back to the camera, meeting his glare as the unit was dropped. Her heavy boot crushing it under her heel before she walked off, out of the angle. “Are you fucking joking?”

~~~~~~

Steve wanted to put her head through a wall. Anger was bubbling in his chest, lighting his lungs on fire. Adrenaline pumped through his body, his hands were trembling with it. He’d had enough. Enough of her games and violent displays, enough of her irritating comebacks, and enough of her leering presence.

YN leaned back into the jump seat , watching him with curiosity. Mind reeling as Steve’s face slowly turned red. Jaw ticking. Oh, he was pissed.

And she liked it.

“What is it with you?” He seethed, brushing a hand through his sandy hair. YN cocked an eyebrow, deciding it would be best to let him wear himself down by pacing. “You’re… homicidal and sporadic- a loose cannon. How the fuck were you ever cleared for field missions?”

“Lucky mistake.” YN shrugged, fully aware she was doing nothing but egging him on. For some deeply twisted reason, she enjoyed watching the well put together captain have a meltdown. She enjoyed causing that reaction.

Steve halted in his pacing, heavy gaze locked on her figure.He hated that she was good at her job. She was the best of the best- top agent at SHEILD before joining the Avengers. But she only got there because she was brutal, heartless. It was what everyone whispered when she passed through a room.

Well, either that or her abilities. Everything about her screamed unnatural and dangerous. YN wasn’t supposed to exist.

And Steve hated the division in his brain. He hated she had two, equally devouring, pulls on him. One warning him to stay away, another telling him to be curious- to figure her out. Guide her to the correct path, even. Her claws were deep into his subconscious and he couldn’t shake her. No matter what he did. It didn’t matter because her every move was ingrained into his being.

YN cocked an eyebrow, watching the Captain begin to pace again. Clearly distressed, enraged, by her. He wanted to tell her off, probably wanted to throw her in a cell and never let her out. But he wouldn’t. He never did.

Every single mission they had been on was the same. They would show up, Steve commanding her to a station, she would ignore him, YN would do something gut wrenchingly horrible, Steve would find out, scold her, repeat.

But she never knew why the Captain was so angry with her. She knew he was uneasy whenever she happened to be in his vicinity. Everyone was. YN wasn’t someone people wanted to be in a room with for anything. Of course, partially her own fault; she was pushy and violent, owning up to the facts. But the thing that made most people wary of her was her unnatural abilities.

YN spent most of her days talking with the dead. And if she wasn’t communicating, she was channeling. Possession. Or she was levitating through the hallways of the Compound. Just to petrify new recruits. She was typically a menace.

And Steve Rogers was her handler. She wasn’t allowed to go on solo missions or any mission that involved someone other than Steve. He didn’t trust her and she gave him every reason not to.

“You are the most irritating, pushy, self centered person I’ve ever met.” He scolded her, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

“It’s my kink in life.” YN responded coolly, her gaze level. Indignant rage burned his throat. Steve’s hands reached out, almost wrapping around her throat but he stopped himself. Backing away and taking a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, YN had a small smile on her lips. Her head tilted. Waiting for him to snap, for his morals to fragment.

“You don’t have to…” He paused, staring at her. Her eyes were hardened underneath all that nonchalant mirth. Waiting for him to yell, scream obscenities at her. Fault her for her actions. Maybe he had been going about this all wrong.

No one ever did well with people yelling at them. It only created more of a divisive atmosphere. Steve had been approaching the unruly agent with a steel grip, wrangling her under his control. It hadn’t worked so far, probably never would.

Steve knelt down, their faces leveling. YN’s eyes widened, eyebrows raising as she leaned back further. For once, she caught off guard. He wanted to revel in that feeling, the look on her face. But he knew it would do no good, she would only become defensive again.

“I know that what Hydra did wasn’t fair, not to you, not to anybody. But it doesn’t mean you have to sink to their level of savagery.”

YN’s face warmed, her skin on fire as her jaw tightened. Anger beginning to flood her system. It was no surprise the Captain had access to her files. Even less of a surprise that he read them. But the nerve he had to drop it into a conversation- simplifying her life into two measly sentences.

“Fuck you, Rogers.” YN spat, her voice shaking. Seething rage began seeping into her veins. Running rampant across her body. She stood up, forcing Steve to look up to her. Confusion in his eyes, brows tugged downward. “You don’t get to throw that shit back into my own face. I do what I do because I can, not because I’m fucked up. Don’t make me into some damsel you can save. I’m not fuel for your stupid god complex.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” He snapped, rising to his feet. He loomed over her, staring down his nose. Broad shoulders casting a shadow over her body. YN returned the glare at full force, electricity crackling between the two.

Just as she opened her mouth to spit back at him, a quiet beeping alerted the passengers of the jet landing. The noise ripped the pair from their heated argument, forcing them each to take a step back. To breathe. Steve cast a glare back over his shoulder before turning, walking toward the flight deck to begin landing protocols.

YN inhaled through her nose, eyes closing as she recomposed herself. She hated he did that- caught her off guard with the faux understanding shit. Crawling under her skin. Exposing her nerves, leaving a residual ache in her muscles. A shiver ran down her spine, eyes opening again.

They landed on an old woman, her wiry gray hair pulled back into a bun. Thick skirts over her body, shawl draped across her shoulders. Her skin was leathery, hands folded before her. Dark eyes seemingly piercing Yn’s soul.

“What do you want?” YN snapped, her hands resting on her hips. The woman began to speak, a low murmur of words that became a whine in her ear. She winced, trying to block out the buzz. Regain her control. “Great… thanks a lot, Rogers.”

~~~~~~

“You’ve got to do something. I can’t manage her anymore.” Steve insisted, leaning over the conference table. Maria Hill ran a hand down her face, sighing before she finished jotting down last minute details. She was at the Compound once or twice a month, checking in on the team for Fury. Overseeing the occasional psych evaluation. Luckily for Steve, she was there the day after the mission from hell. “You saw what she did.”

“Unfortunately, LN is our best agent. It’s why she’s on the team. Her abilities are a rarity- they can be helpful when harnessed correctly.” Hill slid her papers into a folder, lacing her fingers over it. “You’re the Captain of this team, Rogers. You should be able to handle its members- be agile enough to pull them together. To harness that potential.”

Steve’s brows lifted, glancing around the empty conference room. He chuckled lowly, shaking his head before smiling sarcastically.

“You’ve never worked with her, then.” He assured the brunette, yanking a desk chair out. Flopping down into the plush seat. “She’s insubordinate- won’t listen. Stubborn and pushy. She should’ve never been cleared for field work.”

Maria rolled her eyes, fed up with the pouting of a century old soldier. But she was also exhausted of signing off on YN’s mission reports after she saw the brutalization the woman exhibited. And the complaints that arose from her partners.

“I will speak to LN about mission etiquette.” Hill promised, eyes level with Steve’s. The door swung open, revealing a pair of assassins- fresh from the gym, ready for the conference meeting.

Natasha nodded a quiet hello to Maria, taking a seat across from Bucky who sat beside his friend. He had already heard an earful from Steve, as well, about YN and their supposedly disastrous mission. It was all the blonde spoke about when he burst into Bucky’s apartment. Grumbling under his breath about the woman.

He himself tended to steer clear of her anyways. She had an attitude that rivaled his own. Bucky knew that they would only be gasoline to a flame if they spent more than five seconds together. He was mildly surprised Steve hadn’t spontaneously combust yet.

As the clock began to countdown, winding to the set meeting time, more people began trickling into the room. Sam and Tony finding seats just as Clint, Wanda and Vision made their way into main space. Bucky could feel the pressure of Steve’s grip on his arm chair as he scanned the room. Every face accounted for except one. YN’s.

Steve scowled deeper, fingers tapping the glass table anxiously. If she was late, he might just throw her off the roof. His jaw was clenched so tight, his teeth threatening to crack. The door swung open one last time, revealing the aggravation- the wiggle in Steve’s brain. The pain in his side.

YN sidled in at the last moment, her mind far from the room. She was barefoot, sweatpants and a thick hoodie over her body. She was not in the mood for any of this regulation crap- a headache banging against her skull.

“You were almost late.” Steve snipped, flaring at her. YN sighed, rolling her head over her shoulders. Her gaze landed on the Captain, eyes dull and irritated. Her face was tired, shoulders sagging.

“Oh, I’m sorry- were you just being possessed by a chatty spirit?” She snapped, eyes narrowed. “Next time you are, let me know how long it takes until you can break away. Then I’ll improve my timeliness.”

“You should be aware of deadlines anyways. We can’t stop a whole day schedule just because you can’t control yourself.” He replied coolly, watching as Yn’s eyes lit up. Rage flaming in her irises, flickering under her skin. Heating her face.

“Then don’t.” YN spat, shoving his chair back. Steve’s face turned upward, leering at her from his position. Natasha turned to Bucky, her head tilting. Bucky sighed, leaning his elbows on the table.

“Welcome to World War Three.” Natasha commented.

“You know what your problem is?” Steve asked, pushing her back as he stood up. Getting in her face.

“Oh, please enlighten me.”

“You’re insubordinate, you’ve never thought about another person a day in your life- selfish and insubordinate.” He hissed. YN’s face stretched into one of mock surprise, hand coming up to her chest.

“Wow- what an observation!”

“Hill!” Steve shouted, gesturing to the woman before him. Maria sighed, taking a deep inhale as she turned to YN.

“You’re meant to follow orders from a higher rank. In your situation, Rogers is a Captain-“

“Who made this man a captain?” YN interrupted, face scrunching in confusion. Steve scoffed, lifting his upper lip in annoyed disgust.

“-therefore you follow his order.” Hill finished, speaking over the pair. Eyes narrowed as YN sent a scathing glare toward the agent.

“If the bar is that low, anyone could be a Captain- hell, his is just an honorary title. He was a circus monkey for Christ’s sake.” She hissed, spinning on her heel. Slowly stalking toward her blonde prey. Chest to chest. “Because everything you’ve got came from a bottle, lab rat.”

“You’re one to talk,” Steve spat, closing the gap between them. Chest to heaving chest, heat rising between their angered bodies.

“Tread lightly.” She warned, an animalistic growl vibrating her throat. Steve didn’t back down, didn’t think twice. The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. Before he could realize they were wrong.

“You were poked and prodded more than I was, no wonder your brain is so screwed up.”

“That’s enough!” Maria shouted, shoving her way between the two brooding thunder storms. Elbowing them away from each other like juveniles fighting on a schoolyard. “Both of you are now on probationary suspension. No missions, no SHIELD work, nothing. If you so much as want to go to the park, you run it by me.”

“We’re being grounded?” YN clarified, the lethal tone in her voice turning on Hill. The brunette never flinched, just reorganizing her papers neatly. Her shoulders as steady as her glare. “That’s bullshit!”

“And It’s your fault.” Steve clarified, Yn’s attention swinging at him full speed. “If you could just follow orders-“

“And be a good little bitch- I know. You tell me every four fucking hours.” She interrupted, hands connecting with his chest and shoving him back. The strength behind her assault made him grunt, forcing him to take a step back physically. Steve growled, wanting to lash out. Shove her back. But he wouldn’t. It wouldn’t solve anything. “Why don’t you get off your high horse and stop acting like you’re better than me?”

“I never said that-“

“You don’t have to say it-“

Maria grit her teeth, staring at the bickering pair. She reached behind her, slipping her handcuffs from her belt. Just as YN swung at Steve again, Maria caught her wrist. Promptly snapping the cuff shut before snatching Steve’s wrist before either of them could catch on.

“Until you both stop acting like children, you’re grounded yes. And until you learn to get along, these will stay on indefinitely.” Maria pushed away from the pair, gathering her folders. “The rest of you: mission schedules are being revised- I’ll have a new copy sent by tomorrow.”

Her thunderous footsteps were the only noise, as she exited the room. A stifling silence fell over the group. Wary and unsure of the next step. Second hand embarrassment running through them. Averting eyes from the fierce, outraged Avengers in the center of the room.

“Well…” Tony grinned, breaking into the quiet comprehension of the team. He pushed his chair back, gesturing to the now attached pair. “This is gonna be fun. Anyone else up for day drinking? You’re gonna need liquor to drown out their arguments.”

“Suck a dick, Stark.” YN snapped, yanking on the cuffs that dangled between their thighs. Scowling down at them. Steve returned the pull, metal chaffing against her skin. He stared down at her, meeting the resentful glare with one of his own.

“Always lovely to speak with you, LN.” He responded, nodding his head to her. Another grin split his face as he met Steve’s expression. “Beautiful day, isn’t it Cap?”

Tony was going to enjoy every excruciating moment that Steve Rogers was attached to the woman he loathed. Anything to annoy the fossil was at the top of his to do list- it’s why most days, he and YN got along fantastically.

“Make sure you choke on it, too, Tony.” Steve smiled. Tony only grinned even bigger, clapping his shoulder as he passed. Bucky sent his friend a quiet glance of reassurance as he passed. Steve cringed as he thought back to the words he shouted at YN. Bucky must’ve thought Steve was just holding those words back- they could’ve easily been applied to the battered man as well.

Soon, everyone had filtered back out of the conference room, avoiding the two rage filled figures standing together in the center. YN scowled down at the metal links, a surging migraine beginning to set up behind her eyes.

“What now?” Steve asked. “Do we try to break these or…?”

“Probably not gonna break. It’s Hill’s cuffs.” She responded, pursing her lips. “How much do you like your right hand?”

~~~~~~

“Don’t use that hand to unzip your pants, you idiot!” YN shouted, her hand yanking away from Steve. He grunted, his shoulder being pulled harshly against his will.

“It’s my right hand- I’m right handed! I can’t magically change my dominant hand.” He grumbled, fingers fumbling against the clasp of his belt. YN whined, rolling her eyes.

“Do not touch my hand to your dick, Rogers. Or I swear I’ll kill you in your sleep.” She threatened, cautiously inching her hand back inside the bathroom.

“Trust me, I want you nowhere near any part of me.” Steve responded, a mutter under his breath.

YN huffed, leaning her back against the doorframe. It had been three hours since Maria cuffed them and this was the first time one of them had to use the bathroom. They had already had several issues so far. Including deciding which of them led the group, writing with three hands, and texting.

It left her wondering vaguely when the woman intended on removing the cuffs. If she ever would. Eventually they would have to be separated- they couldn’t stay like this forever. Right?

“You know if you moved your fingers, I could actually wash my hands a lot faster.” Steve complained, flicking her knuckles sharply. YN jerked her hand, water splashing up onto Steve’s clothes. “That was on purpose.”

“No shit. If I had to make and eat a sandwich with one hand, you can wash your hands around mine.” She replied, peeking into the bathroom to splash more water up. Steve growled, smacking her hand away.

“I have to get these off by morning. I’ll lose my fucking mind if I have to sleep beside you.” He wiped his hands off, shoving her out of the way as he exited. YN scowled deeper, a crease forming on her forehead.

“Wow- as if I would ever let you sleep in my bed.” She cringed, the mental picture causing her stomach to roll violently. Steve stopped to stare down at her.

“I’m sleeping in my bed.” He clarified. YN snorted, holding up their conjoined wrists.

“News flash, Captain Dumbass: we’re sleeping in the same bed. I don’t give a shit where it is but it’s not mine.” She turned around, tugging him along as she marched off. “I’d never get the stench of super soldier out of the sheets.”

“Cute.” Steve muttered, falling into step beside her. “Real cute.”

~~~~~~

“Come on, soldier- you can run faster than that!” YN shouted, lounging back as Steve growled. He swung to hit her but she ducked, laughing manically.

They were the only two up at five thirty in the morning, jogging around the park. Well, Steve was jogging. YN was levitating at his side. Laid out with only her wrist moving, as Steve pumped his arms.

They had originally attempted to run together, but it quickly fell apart. Steve ran too fast, YN ran too slow. Their arms weren’t in sync, swinging with reckless abandon between their bodies. Feet stumbling into the other’s. So she gave in, hovering a few feet off the ground so he could get his jog in. Of course she grumbled about having to take her shoes off to allow him to workout but she did it anyways. The connected wrists were still an issue but it was much easier when Steve had control.

It was an experience, not unlike their first night being conjoined. After several more screaming matches, the pair had been exhausted and ready to collapse. Steve had taken a shower that morning, before the incident. But YN had demanded she get a shower- refusing to go anywhere until she did. So he gave in.

The whole experience was a disaster. With trying to figure out how to undress and get re- clothed, then his fingers grazing her upper thigh. Even the thought of her being naked so close to him made his body burn, face turning red with embarrassment.

“When can we stop?” YN asked, lifting her head to meet Steve’s eyes. He grunted, pushing himself at a faster pace. Forcing her to concentrate on moving faster.

“I’m almost done.” He panted, legs pumping harder as the finish line came into view. YN hummed, keeping up with his new pace easily.

He hadn’t been expecting it but, Steve didn’t mind waking up to someone else in his bed. They didn’t do anything- well, bickered about blankets and then set up a wall of pillows between them, but other than that. Normal night. He woke first- bearing witness to the gleam of her soft skin as the morning sunlight filtered through his curtains. Falling upon her skin graciously. She wasn’t all that bad asleep- she almost seemed peaceful.

But then she woke up, immediately snapping at him for staring at her like a creep. Steve regretfully had to accept that accusation because he kind of had been.

Steve slowed down his pace, bringing them to a halt. YN’s feet touched down, socked feet soaking up the dew off the grass. He propped his hands on his hips, gasping and gulped down mouthfuls of air. YN’s nose scrunched as her hand hit his hip as well, still uncomfortable with the thought of touching him. Her fingers curling into her palm.

“Thank you for this, by the way.” Steve’s voice was broken by his panting breaths. YN lifted an eyebrow, eyes cutting to look at him. “For waking up and running- even though you just… kinda… floated.”

“Please, don’t start being nice to me.” She responded, eyes narrowed at the bulking soldier beside her. “If you want to do something, take a shower.”

Steve laughed, an actual, from his belly, laugh. His left hand coming up, pawing at his chest. The sound pulled an involuntary half smile- the corner of her lips twitching.

“Alright. Fair enough.” He responded, residual smile lingering over his lips. YN had never seen him laugh before- not a real laugh. He was always so annoyed around her, granted she was an asshole most of her time.

As they stood together, Steve catching his breath and observing the quiet landscape, YN noticed happy looked good on him. That smile didn’t make him look so angry.

“You want breakfast?” Steve offered, swinging their wrists between their thighs as they started walking. YN shrugged, allowing him to do so.

“Nah. Breakfast makes me nauseous.” She admitted, her stomach queasy just from the mention. “But I’ll act out at a lunch.” Steve snorted, grinning at the ground.

“Deal.”

~~~~~~

YN settled into her space on the couch, snuggling deeper into the pillowy seat as Steve flopped down beside her. He was sitting much too close but they didn’t have much of a choice, seeing as their cuffs were still intact.

Steve sighed, flicking through the channels of the television, leaning into his seat comfortably. His eyes flicked back and forth, jumping between her features and the screen.

"What do you typically watch?

"You're asking my opinion on something?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow. "I thought I was a terrible person- that you never needed my opinion."

"That... why do you always bring up the negative comments I say?" Steve clicked through more channels, mindlessly scrolling as she shifted further into the cushions. He heard her scoff, saw her rolling her eyes as she scowled.

"Because you have never said one nice thing to me, like, ever. All I have for reference is negative comments."

"I have too said nice things to you before." Steve defended, lips pulling back. YN lifted her eyebrows, daring him to argue further. He stopped, ranging back through their spotty relationship. "Alright, okay, fine then: You’re a great person to have on a mission team."

“You hate having me on missions.

“Because you never follow my order." YN’s head fell back onto the couch, staring up into the ceiling. Here we go again, she thought.

“Your order is the easy way out.” YN replied, simmering anger just under her skin. Barely out of reach. She was growing sick and tired of this same, stupid conversation with him. It was the only thing he brought up around her- her inability to follow.

“My order keeps people safe- keeps people alive.” Steve corrected her, shifting on their shared seat to stare at her. “That’s the goal, always the goal. We are the ones people look to for help.”

“Some people aren’t good people.” YN snapped, lips curling in anger. Steve’s jaw clenched as she stared him down. Refusing to back away. “And the world could always do with a few less of them. What’s the problem?”

Steve’s hands came up, wiping down his face in exasperation. YN had to resist the urge to slap his face as her hand swung up with his. His free hand swept through his sandy blonde hair.

“Every time you take a life, it weighs on your soul. Erodes your being, until you vanish.” He defined, gesturing broadly with his hand toward her. “Just ask Bucky.”

YN’s hands slammed down on her thighs, a vicious smile taking over her features. A throaty laugh burst from her throat. A sudden pang spiked behind her eyes, but she ignored it- too fed up with his self righteous preaching.

“Not the same thing!” She shouted, foot kicking out against his side. Steve growled at the hit, swatting at her. “Bucky is different. He had a soul to begin with and it was ripped out of him. How about you don’t equate trauma? People are different.”

Steve leaned back, watching her simmering anger begin to build. His own fury bubbling in his gut, bursting through his chest. She had a point- he had to give her that. Guilt surged in his veins as Bucky’s face flashed before him- hurt evident as he left the conference room. The words he had shouted at YN in a fit of anger ringing in his mind.

"Okay how about this then: You’re an Avenger now. Which means there is more of a public view on you now. And one day, people will see you do something like kill someone and you’re gonna be in a lot of trouble- good people or bad people. It won’t matter. They’ll twist it so much, you won’t recognize yourself.”

“I don’t give a damn what people think!” She shouted, rising on her knees to stare him down. Faces so close Steve felt her breath. Another sharp prickle shot between her eyes, forcing her to wince. Whispered words filtered through the air, flickered shadows stretching into her peripheral. “If they want to make me a villain so be it. Not all of us can be perfect, with a clean slate. Some of us have to get dirty so you can go home the Golden Boy.”

“That’s not true- you know it isn’t true.” He insisted, staring her down. Eyes flickering between hers. YN opened her mouth again to interrupt him but another intrusive pain fired off, her face morphing into a grimace. Whispers became louder. Shadows more prominent.

She bit down on her cheek, eyes closing tightly as she backed away. YN groaned, leaning back into the couch. Stinging pain erupting behind her eyes. A whisper of a shadow writhing in the corner of the room. Steve sent a side eye glance to her, as if sensing her discomfort. Her mouth pulled as she shifted uncomfortably.

“What’s wrong with you?” Steve asked, just a tinge of concern in his voice. YN didn’t respond, the lights too bright, sounds too loud. It was all she could do to stay conscious. Steve furrowed his eyebrows, watching carefully.

He had only been around her once when she spoke with a spirit- it was a process he didn’t care to repeat. But this… this didn’t seem to follow that pattern. It was unfamiliar to what he remembered. Instead of concentration, her face was contorted in pain- discomfort.

The pressure that had been building in her skull throbbed harder. Her chest tightening, breaths coming in gasps. Throat closing tighter. Her muscles slackened, the pain forcing her down off the couch and onto her knees. YN groaned, both hands pressed to her forehead. A buzz setting off in her brain.

“YN?” She could barely hear Steve’s voice, he sounded as if he were underwater. Sluggish and delayed. Peeking between her fingers, YN could see humanoid shapes flitting around the room.

“No- no.” She moaned, teeth grinding together. Her skin felt like it was alight with fire- she wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or the amount of spirits beginning to contact her. Beginning to take form around her. All reaching out, forming connections, speaking over one another.

“You’ve gotta breathe, YN.” Steve ordered, kneeling in front of her. Another broken groan sounded from her chest, muffled by her curled up body. His hands were uncertain- gently landing on her shoulders.

Her quiet whimpers and groans of pain were the only noise he could hear. The room was quiet- eerily so considering the painful panic in her expression. YN’s fingers began pressing into her scalp, nails digging into her skin. Steve cursed, awkwardly maneuvering his hands under hers to pry her nails away from her skin. The cuff linking their wrists together made it difficult to slide his fingers under her left hand but he managed.

“YN, eyes on me. Please, focus.” Steve implored, tilting her face to meet his eyes. YN’s eyes shifted from over his shoulder to him directly. “There you go. Talk to me- tell me what’s happening.”

“Too much- too many people.” She stammered, eyes beginning to slide away from his again. Steve jerked her head, forcing her eyes back to his face.

“Come on, focus.” He nodded, eyes almost as wide as hers. “What can I do- how do I help you?”

YN whined again, her eyes snapping closed tightly. Steve panicked, dropping from his knees, he sat down and slid closer to her body. He sat her between his thighs, pulling her head to his chest. Resting his chin on top, free hand running along her spine.

Steve quietly shushed her, brushing his fingertips along her back soothingly. Trying to calm her. YN surprised him- instead of shoving him away, she curled into his chest. The warmth radiating from his body melting her against him.

It took a long while for the whispers to fade- the hands grabbing at her to finally dissipate. YN slowly regained control, blocking the invaders from her mind. Slowing her heartbeat. The grasp around her throat loosening. Steve felt a long exhale of her breath against his neck, shivering at the warm feeling.

She pulled her head away, eyes glimmering as she stared into his eyes. She was so close Steve could feel her breath against his face. Her lips were so close- her body pressed to his. YN’s eyes laced with thankful vulnerability. She was exposed and he protected her.

“You okay?” Steve asked, keeping his voice quiet. Low and somber, calm. She hummed, the sound cracking. Eyes downcast.

“Don’t go soft on me- I’m fine.” She grouched, shoving away from his chest. Steve’s eyes followed her nonetheless as she held a hand down to him, offering a way up. He accepted it, standing closely to her side. Concern lacing the icy blues, mouth pulled into a frown. YN returned the expression, scoffing. Lip raised in disgust. “You never cared about me before- nothing’s changed.”

“I never said I didn’t care for you.”

“Got a funny way of showing it then.” She retorted, turning her face away from his view.

Steve sighed, reaching for some sort of reassurance, a condolence. Something to convince her otherwise. But the words refused to form. Confusion rattling his brain- synapses melting as they fired too fast. Leaving his mind blank as he stared at her back.

“It’s late- I’m going to bed.” YN informed him, tugging Steve’s body along behind her. She kept marching forward, not daring to look back. “Do whatever you want- just keep it down.”

Her head still ached, only this time, it longed for sleep. It was always like that after a bad episode. Her body was exhausted from the amount of connections spirits made so haphazardly. Usually, YN would be able to control the connection. Monitor it closely so it didn’t wear her energy down. But when so many bombarded her at once it was hard to fend them all away. Especially when her mind was being pulled away from her concentration- like one of their infamous arguments. Or in this case, he had distracted her with a conversation. Allowing her mind to be flooded and overrun.

When they got to the bedroom, YN collapsed on the bed. Spots dancing before her eyes, blotting out portions of the room. Steve watched her carefully, ensuring she didn’t hurt herself. He was still concerned- he had never seen her in so much pain before. Not even when she had been shot in the thigh on a mission. It dawned on him just how little control she actually held over her powers, how easily they could turn against her.

It wasn’t long after they arrived that YN fell unconscious. Steve pursed his lips, gently pulling the blankets over her body. It was slightly difficult with one hand but he managed to do it without disturbing her sleep. He quietly pulled a book from his bedside drawer, leaning back against the headboard.

He tried to focus for what felt like hours- the words swimming off the page the more he glared at them. But no matter what, Steve’s eyes would drift back over to the woman lying beside him. Tucked into the sheets of his bed, snoozing away. Her fingers had absentmindedly tangled with his, practically holding hands.

His eyes trailed down the slope of her nose, admiring the slant of her cheekbones. Eyes flickering behind closed lids- a scene he was not privy to playing out before her. While visions floated through her consciousness, words strung through his ears.

“You never cared about me before- nothing’s changed.”

The realization hit him like a truck. Barreling through his body- jolting his consciousness.

He did care for her. Genuinely, deeply. Steve didn’t know what he would do if she wasn’t around. YN was an integral part of his life now, someone he knew would always be there, for better or worse. He used to think she was just a pain in his ass but somewhere… she became more. How much more he wasn’t sure- the memories were muddy. Colors blurred as he looked back, an attempt to determine exact time was futile.

Steve gazed down at her, exhaling sharply.

“Fuck.”

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

gave away my trust for pennies

this fic is dedicated to the lovely @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas. happy birthday bestie!

this fic is a continuation of the latest snippet. as a warning, this got a bit darker than I intended. I see this fic as an escalation of how I've written Charles' behavior in the past, and he is undoubtedly Bad in this fic. A lot of it is told from Alastair's perspective as the one being abused. Please be safe! It does have a positive/hopeful ending.

content warnings: toxic relationship, emotional abuse, gaslighting, physical abuse, coerced sex

the fic title is from the song tears of gold by faouzia!

Masterlist | Read on AO3

Alastair was a bit surprised when it was not Charles who opened the door. In Paris, he was always very careful that he was the one to greet him.

Christopher grinned at him. “Oh, hullo, Alastair, you must be here to see Charles. I think he’s upstairs in his study.” In the few days that Alastair had frequented the Fairchild home last summer, Christopher had been a bit too distracted, or dying, to be around much, but over the past week, they’d become a bit more acquainted. At first, Alastair was worried about Christopher knowing, about him figuring out what he and Charles were, but Charles insisted he was too oblivious to notice. Alastair was doubtful that was the case, but he suspected that Kit just did not care. He seemed far more interested in Alastair’s love of history and his affinity for mathematics than whatever he and Charles were doing behind closed doors.

Alastair nodded and hung his coat beside the door. “Thank you, Christopher. How have you been?”

“I’m quite well, actually. I’m making great progress on that fire-message technology I was telling you about. Your advice was very helpful. In fact, it would be incredible if you had a few minutes and could come down to the lab and help me and Tom.”

Alastair felt the wind knock out of him at the mention of Thomas’ name. Of course he was here. It made sense; he was Christopher’s cousin. He knew from last summer that he typically spent quite a bit of time with him in the lab. And yet the idea of him here, in this house, just downstairs, was disorienting.

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to follow Christopher downstairs and avoid Thomas’ gaze and forget that there was anyone who actually lived in this house. He doubted that Charles would like that much, though. “Sorry, but I’m already running late. Perhaps next time.”

Christopher smiled politely and returned to the lab as Alastair made his way to Charles’ study. He knocked on the door gently before letting himself in.

Charles looked up in surprise. “Alastair! What are you doing here?”

Alastair ignored the pit of disappointment that fell through him. “I told you I was coming over today.”

He smiled warmly, in the way that always seemed to make Alastair’s worries melt away. “Of course. I- I must have lost track of the time.”

“What are you working on?”

“Oh, it’s just… Well, I’ve been trying to do more research on everything that happened… I just can’t get rid of this idea that it isn’t really over.”

In the week since Charles had nearly died, and he’d been plagued by nightmares ever since. He insisted that he was fine and rejected Alastair’s offers to stay with him as he slept, but he seemed to spend every waking moment going through the details of each case. Alastair understood, he was the same way, he needed knowledge to feel in control of the situation. For some reason, his father’s murder was the exception to the rule, but if it was to help Charles, he would do anything. “Perhaps I could help?” he asked.

“I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not; I’m offering. I’ve done some research of my own, you know, of similar patterns of crime. Even before you were hurt and before my- before Elias died, I had been researching Shadowworld and mundane crimes, in hopes that I could find something that would help.”

Charles laughed dismissively. “And how exactly would that help?”

Alastair gritted his teeth. “I don’t know, Charles. Perhaps it would make more sense if I explained.”

He scoffed. “Why do you always have to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Act so passive aggressive. I was only asking a question! Go ahead, explain.”

“No, you were right, it’s silly, forget I said anything.”

“I never said that, Alastair. Don’t put words in my mouth. I don’t understand why you came here just to pick a fight with me. You know how difficult it’s been for me since I was attacked.”

Alastair wanted to scream. He wanted to demand to know why he seemed to be hurting so badly but scoffed at any attempt he made to help. He wanted to go through the stack of papers in front of Charles and pull out the sheet that described Alastair’s father’s dead body and tell him that he wasn’t the only one losing sleep over what happened. He wanted to demand to know why Charles changed the subject every time he tried to talk about Elias, even before he died. Especially before he died. He wanted to laugh and cry and ask him how it was so easy for Charles to make him feel this bad.

Alastair didn’t scream. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t cry. He simply sat down. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be here if you would like any help or want to take a break.” It was easier this way.

He took out the book he was reading and they continued in silence for a long while.

“Would you like something to eat?” Charles asked after a couple of hours had passed. “We could get something from the kitchen.”

Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t eaten in a while. He often forgot to eat when he was busy or upset or got lost in a good book, which were the three moods he typically cycled through, much to Risa’s dismay. “That sounds nice.”

When they arrived in the kitchen, it seemed as though Thomas and Christopher had the same idea.

“Oh!” Christopher exclaimed. “I was just about to come and tell you there’s food ready.”

Charles didn’t say anything in response, only picked up two plates and began serving them food.

“How are the fire-messages coming?” Alastair asked, attempting to make polite conversation.

“They still seem to be spontaneously combusting on occasion, but we’re working on it.”

“It’s nice that you and Charles are friends again,” Thomas commented with the most innocent face he could muster. “I know how close you were in Paris.”

Charles dropped the fork he was holding and it hit the table with a clatter. He turned sharply and left the room.

Alastair felt panic wash over him. “Yeah,” he said softly, quickly finishing gathering their dinner and returning upstairs, none of them saying a word more until he was gone.

He brought the food to the study, but Charles wasn’t there. He put the plates down and left to find him. He spotted him from the corridor and froze. He was so angry. He charged towards him, but Alastair couldn’t move. Charles grabbed his arm tight enough to make him flinch and pulled him back towards the study.

“Let go of me!” Alastair said, but Charles only held him tighter.

When they got back to the study, Charles slammed the door so hard it made Alastair jump, and before he could get his balance back, Charles shoved him into the wall. He reached out to steady himself, accidentally knocking over a small vase on a nearby shelf. He flinched at the sound. Had Christopher and Thomas heard? This wasn’t a townhouse, though. This was a large manor, though smaller than Cirenworth, but he could remember many nights his father threw liquor bottles at the wall behind him while Cordelia slept peacefully a wing away.

“What in Raziel’s name was that about, Alastair? Did you tell him?”

“What? Of course not! I would never!”

“If you didn’t, then how does he know?”

“He doesn’t know anything! He said we were friends, Charles! Everyone knows that we were friends in Paris!”

“That’s not what he meant and you know it.”

“Charles, please, I didn’t say anything to him, I promise,” Alastair begged. He tried to conceal how frightened he was.

“It must have been your sister, then. Raziel, I told you you couldn’t trust her! This is all your fault!” He turned away, running his fingers through his hair in distress.

“I’m sorry,” Alastair said before he could stop himself. He needed to calm him down. “If he does know, he won’t tell anyone. None of them will. It’ll be okay, no one will find out. We’ll just be a bit more careful. It’ll be alright.”

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Charles refused to make eye contact.

“No- No, of course it’s not. I don’t want anything you don’t want. I was idealistic, hopeful for the future, but - Charles, I’m a Persian man from a disgraced family, I’m enough of an outcast already, you know this. I don’t want our affair to be discovered any more than you do.” I just want you to look at me.

“Promise me. Promise me, Alastair, you won’t talk to Thomas anymore. He already knows too much. Promise me you won’t tell your sister we’re seeing each other again,” he demanded.

Alastair hated it when Charles told him what to do, and was historically not very committed to keeping these promises, but perhaps this was one he felt he could answer honestly. “I promise. I promise, Charles, I won’t.”

After a long period of silence, Charles finally spoke, “Alright. You’re right.” He looked at the broken vase on the ground and shook his head. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry, you just showed up so unexpectedly, and then Thomas- and you know how stressed I’ve been recently. I didn’t mean to get so angry with you. It will never happen again.”

“It’s alright,” Alastair assured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “I know, it’s alright. Maybe you should try to get some rest, darling. I’ll clean this up.”

Charles nodded and left for his bedroom.

Alastair picked up the larger pieces of the vase and swept the rest up in a few papers, like muscle memory from his childhood. He couldn’t shake the guilt that came to him so easily these days, sticking like layers of paint coloring his body and soul. He couldn’t stop replaying the image of Charles leaving, still not looking at him, clearly so upset.

With the vase picked up, he scanned the room. Their food sat cold and uneaten. He considered bringing the plates down for someone to clean them, but he couldn’t bear the possibility of running into Christopher or Thomas again. It would be someone else’s problem tomorrow. He turned off the lights and blew out the couple of candles Charles still liked to keep and headed towards the bedroom.

When he got there, Charles was waiting for him. He pulled Alastair close and kissed him deeply. They continued for several minutes until Charles reached to undo Alastair’s belt.

Alastair caught Charles’ hand in his. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said softly.

Charles frowned. “Please, please, Alastair, I want you. I need this.”

Charles’ hand was a paintbrush, covering him in another layer of guilt, and he knew that Charles would get his way. “I don’t-”

“Please, I need a distraction. You need to make it up to me, for earlier.”

Alastair swallowed and resigned. “Alright.”

***

When Alastair woke in Charles’ bed, it was still night. Charles was shaking him. “Alastair, you need to go. Before anyone sees you.”

Charles’ bed was so warm, and the night was so cold. “I could stay a little longer.”

“No, you need to go before anyone notices. Please don’t test me tonight.” Charles’ voice was so cold, so harsh, it chilled Alastair’s blood while making his heart race.

“Okay, okay,” he told him while hurrying to redress himself. He hesitated as he left. “Sweet dreams, ātashé del-am.” Fire of my heart. Charles didn’t respond.

Alastair raced into the night, nearly forgetting his glamour rune, trying to steady his heart and mind. He stopped at a small park near the Fairchild home and sat down on a bench, trying to push the prior night out of his mind.

***

By the time Thomas finally left the lab, it was late into the night. He hadn’t intended to stay so long, but they’d lost track of time. Christopher was staying in the guest room, but since everything that happened, Thomas’ parents worried if he wasn’t back home by morning.

He wasn’t quite ready to go home yet, though. He went the long way around.

The park was empty, as it usually was at this hour, but one person sat on a bench, looking down into his shaking hands. Even in the dark, he thought he recognized that silhouette. “Alastair?”

He put his hands down to stop them from shaking. “Leave me alone.” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been crying.

“You’re upset. Did something happen?” He sat down beside him.

“Yes, Thomas. I spent a single night with someone and he can’t seem to leave it in the bloody past!”

“I- Do you mean what I said earlier? I didn’t mean anything-”

“Bullshit, Thomas. Your silly little letter before the Townsend’s musicale didn’t mean anything, either, did it? You wanted me to feel guilty.”

Thomas bit his lip. Of course, Alastair has always seen through him. Always. “Fine. Fine, yes, you’re right, of course you’re right, I’m sorry. I wanted you to feel guilty because you broke my heart, you walked away from me and directly towards another man, and it still hurts. I still miss you as much as I did that very first night. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, all the while, you’re with him, and I hate it. How did you move on so easily? Did I mean so little?” Thomas could feel his heart breaking, just as it did, over and over.

“No- I- I don’t know. I don’t-” He put his head in his hands, repeating one phrase over and over, like a mantra. Nemidanam. I don’t know.

“Alastair,” he said, and he reached for Alastair’s arm, trying to get him to look up at him, but when he touched him, he tensed, as if in pain. It was brief, but it was there. “Are you hurt?”

He felt so stupid for feeling so jealous, for not seeing what was right in front of him.

***

Alastair tried to shake off the pain when Thomas touched him, but he must have not been fast enough. He hadn’t even realized that Charles had grabbed him that hard.

“Are you hurt?”

He felt panic rising in his chest. “What? No, why would you think that?”

“You just flinched.”

“Maybe because you grabbed me!”

“I didn’t- Just let me see, please.” He pulled his witchlight out.

He should just tell Thomas to piss off and quit harassing him, he knew, but instead he reached for his sleeve. He doubted there would be much of anything there, anyways. His skin rarely bruised. When he pulled his sleeve back though, he could see in the witchlight what he couldn’t while getting dressed in Charles’ dark bedroom: the dark discoloration wrapping around his lower arm. He pulled his sleeve back down just as quickly, not daring to look at Thomas.

“Alastair, did he- did he do that?” His voice was a pained whisper.

Alastair spoke slowly. “I didn’t… He didn’t mean… It was… He’s never… He’d never… I shouldn't've… He’s just… He said… This was…” I didn’t realize that was there. He didn’t mean to hurt me. It was an accident. He’s never hurt me before. He’d never hurt me intentionally. I shouldn’t have instigated him. He’s just going through a hard time. He said it wouldn’t happen again. This was my fault. All of the words got caught in his throat. And then he started to laugh.

He laughed, and he said, finally, “My whole life, I’ve been terrified of becoming my father. I thought it was inevitable, and so I never thought too hard about all of the times Risa said, ‘Esfandiyar, to khili shabieh mahdarat hasti.’” You’re too much like your mother. As his mother had once defended Elias, he now defended Charles. He always thought that turning into his father was his worst nightmare, but now he could feel all the resentment he’d held for his mother, for her refusing to leave, even when he hurt them. Perhaps there was more than one nightmare, after all.

“You don’t have to be,” Thomas said softly. “You can change the story; you can change the ending.” He’d forgotten that he spoke Persian. “Please, tell me what I can do to help.”

He didn’t want help. He didn’t want to think about any of this. He wanted to be someone else, anyone else, anywhere else. He looked up at Thomas and pulled him into a kiss.

Thomas pulled away immediately. Of course he did. Why would he want him now? He didn’t know why he’d done that. The guilt was a wave now, crashing over him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, I- We can’t do this right now, Alastair. You were right; it’s not the right time.”

“I believe I told you that we would never work, actually.”

“Maybe. I don’t- I don’t know. Maybe we won’t. Maybe we’ll be better as friends than lovers. All I know is that this is not the time for us to find out.”

“Friends?”

“It seems like you’re missing a few.”

“And how would your other friends feel about that?”

“My other friends can mind their own bloody business. They don’t control me or my life or who I choose to spend my time with. I care about you, Alastair, I really do,” his voice broke as he spoke. “I want you to be happy. I want you to be safe. I don’t want anyone to hurt you, which I know is hypocritical because I have, too - me and my friends. And don’t tell me it was deserved, because we both know that it went beyond just what happened when we were schoolboys.”

Alastair’s voice shook. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Thomas.”

“Tell me you’ll be my friend.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll try.”

Thomas pulled out his stele. “May I?”

Alastair pulled his sleeve back up, past the bruise. Thomas’ touch was gentle as he traced the healing rune. It was a welcome difference from the night before. They both watched as the majority of the mark disappeared.

He pulled his sleeve back down as Thomas asked, “What are you going to do now?”

“I should probably go home,” he said lightly. “After, I don’t know… In the past, Charles hasn’t taken too happily to me leaving him.” He thought for a moment. “It’s ironic, you know, what you said. About me walking away from you and towards him. Because when I left him, I walked directly to you.” His voice barely more than a whisper.

“The engagement party,” Thomas realized. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m sorry, too. I wish there was a world where we could have just been together, where I wasn’t… who I am, where it wouldn’t have been so messy.”

Thomas’ fingers brushed up against his cheek as he pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. “I don’t mind, Alastair. I never anticipated this being easy. It’s not something you ever need to apologize for. Will you let me walk you home?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. You spent more than enough time making sure that I got home safe.”

Alastair sighed but agreed.

They walked in silence for the most part, and when they did speak, Charles was never mentioned. It almost felt normal. When they arrived at his door, Thomas took his hand and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

“Do you do that to all of your friends?” he teased. Even in the dark, he could see the blush rise to Thomas’ cheeks. “Good night, Thomas,” he said, letting himself in.

“Sweet dreams, Alastair.”

Thanks so much for reading! I know that got a little dark, but I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought!

Taglist: @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @awayfrmhome @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial  @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @thefoxandthefound @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in  @fortheloveofthecarstairs @life-through-the-eyes-of @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @hidethebreakables @shadowhunting-hooligans @melanielocke  @kiwichaeng @lightwoodsimp  @yozinha-z @ipromiseiwillwrite @skirtsandsweaters @goodoldfashionednerd @wagnerthedragon @americann-idiot @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas @jianming @jxmesfarrow

[cocobeanncteez]

Ateez Hongjoong: Tame (Final Part)

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, mafia au.

Pairing: Mafia!Hongjoong x OC (written in 2nd person)

Word Count: 17k in total, 2.2k in this part. (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Warnings for all parts combined: Mafia themes such as torture, abuse, violence, human auctions, murder, drugs, guns. Mentions of rape, human trafficking, sex slavery, organ trafficking, unprotected sex, pulling out, facesitting.

“What are you guys up to?” you questioned, plopping down on the couch beside Wooyoung. Yunho, Jongho, and San were seated on the opposite couch.

“Just talking about one of our hostages who we will kill tonight,” Yunho replied while playing with a rubik's cube.

“What did they do?” you asked.

“He tried to sabotage our latest drug deal with a secret dealer from Russia. We didn’t know how he found out about it, but he spilled the beans on his gang,” San answered. “So we don’t need him anymore.”

“Well… rest in peace, I guess,” you remarked, making Wooyoung snort.

“Would’ve been better if we killed Yang Daeyoung instead.”

You turned to look at him. “Who exactly is he? I’ve heard his name a few times, but I’ve never gotten the opportunity to ask.”

Jongho gently cleared his throat. “He’s the man who raped and murdered Hongjoong’s sister. Him and three of his men. He wasn’t from a very powerful gang or anything, but he does his work extremely well. He wanted to take us down, and he used Hongjoong’s sister as bait to trap him. Hongjoong refused to give up on Ateez. By the time we managed to track Hongjoong, the damage was already done.” You felt your heart break; you couldn’t even imagine what your boyfriend had to go through.

“Where is Yang Daeyoung now?” you asked.

“Rotting in our torture chamber as we speak.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What?! Why haven’t you killed him yet?”

“We are looking for his child,” Hongjoong replied, joining the conversation. “The man has over five trillion won kept in a secret bank account. He also has information, good and bad, on every mafia gang and the corrupted politicians and locals involved. That’s why all gangs are still on the lookout for him even though we captured him eight months ago. He has a secret place somewhere in the world and only his child can access his possessions as he used iris pattern recognition. He has covered up everything though. We can’t find shit on any of his family members.”

“No amount of threatening or torturing works on him. We even told him that we’ll find his child and torture them,” Jongho added. “But he won’t reveal anything to us.”

“Maybe I can try?” you suggested. You did learn how to torture someone for information, but it wasn’t something you really enjoyed.

“Your chances are extremely low,” Wooyoung remarked.

“I’m aware of that. But even a little information could be helpful, right?”

“Go ahead then, sweetheart,” Hongjoong said with a smirk. “I’d love to see my girl torture that filthy bastard.”

You pecked his lips. “Then let’s go now, shall we?”

You made your way to the torture room, Hongjoong, Jongho, and Wooyoung following you. Seonghwa joined you after finishing his work in the interrogation room, satisfied with how much information he was able to obtain. Jongho entered a passcode for one of the rooms, letting everyone inside.

The room was pretty dark and looked like a jail cell. You saw a plate of untouched food on the floor. There was a chair in the middle of the room and a cot at the end of the room where Yang Daeyoung was sleeping, his back facing you all, long chains attached from his hands to a pipe.

Wooyoung moved to the sleeping form, giving the man a kick on his back to wake him up. “Get up, fucker.”

Yang Daeyoung groaned in pain before sitting up, looking at the faces of everyone in the room. As soon as you made eye contact with the man, your heart dropped to your stomach.

His eyes widened. “Kiah?! What are you doing here?!”

The boys immediately turned to look at you. You weren’t able to utter a word due to how shocked you were at seeing your own father there. His hair was quite long and he had a long beard and moustache. There were a few scars on his face and arms.

“How do you know her?” Hongjoong interrogated.

“Run from here, Kiah! They’re gonna kill you,” your father yelled at you.

“Do you know him?” Seonghwa asked you, but you weren’t able to answer. You felt sick. You felt terribly sick that it was your father who raped and murdered your lover's sister.

Tears rolled down your eyes when you glanced at your boyfriend. How could you ever face him now?

“Kiah!” your father yelled, tugging hard on the chains, grabbing your attention. “Get out of here! They’re gonna torture you in front my eyes! They said they will find you and torture you!”

Hongjoong looked at you with an emotionless expression, finally understanding the situation. “You’re his daughter?” You couldn’t respond.

“Are you this bastard's daughter?!” he yelled at you. Before you could answer him, he rushed out of the room. You couldn’t help but cry, burying your face in your hands, feeling your heart ache.

Your father glared at you angrily. “Why are you involved with Ateez?! What is wrong with—"

“Shut up!” you shouted, cutting him off. “You’re fucking pathetic! How could you r-rape someone when you have a daughter?! How could you lie to me all these years that you’re a cop, when you’re nothing but a heartless monster!” you sobbed loudly, collapsing onto the floor. You felt someone kneel beside you, wrapping their arms around you.

“Get away from her, Park Seonghwa!” your father spat.

Seonghwa turned to glare at him. “Shut it,” he said, before helping you stand up, taking you to your room.

You blankly stared at the window of your room from your bed, watching the horizon darker as night was approaching. It has been four days since you last saw Hongjoong. You felt nothing but emptiness and agony. You didn’t know if he was at the mansion or if he went somewhere as you haven’t left your room at all ever since Seonghwa brought you to it. The girls tried to make you eat, but you barely had the appetite to.

You sighed, forcing yourself to get out of bed to take a shower even though you were going to crawl right back into it.

Stripping out of your clothes and entering the shower, you pushed the tap, letting the warm water soak you. Closing your eyes, you could feel a dull ache in your chest when you began to think of Hongjoong. A sob got stuck in your throat, but escaped a few seconds later. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You sat down, hugging your propped up knees. Your sobs got louder, and your throat was aching, tears mixing with the water running down your face.

After spending a few minutes crying until you couldn’t anymore, you finally washed your body and your hair.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around your body and another one for your hair. You exited the bathroom after putting some clothes on, having no strength to dry your hair with a blow-dryer. You stopped in your tracks when you noticed a figure seated on your bed.

“I'm sorry…” Hongjoong apologized, getting off your bed and moving towards you. He stood in front of you with a pained expression on his beautiful face. You wondered how long he was waiting for you and you really hoped he didn’t hear you cry. Even if he didn’t, he could still tell you were crying as your red, puffy eyes gave it away.

“F-For what?” you stuttered, voice shaky.

Hongjoong sighed, looking down at his feet.  “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have left you alone when you were going through much worse. It was a shock for you too…”

Your eyes filled with tears. “I understand why you did it. It’s okay…”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not okay, baby. I’m ashamed of how I acted. You didn’t deserve that.”

You blinked, causing the tears brimming at your eyes to slide down your cheeks. Hongjoong reached up to cup your cheeks, gently wiping your tears away with his thumbs. He placed a gentle, lingering kiss on your forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head in his hold. You pulled away from him, taking a deep breath. “Hongjoong, I-I think it’s best if we end things.” His eyes widened, heart aching due to your words. He opened his mouth to say something, but you spoke before he could. “I’m the daughter of the man who raped and murdered your sister, Hongjoong. I-I can’t…” you paused, sobs taking over. “I can’t live with that fact. I can’t look at you without thinking about it.”

“I don’t care, Kiah,” he reached out to hold your hands, his own eyes filling with tears. “I love you. Do you understand? I fucking love you. Yes, I was furious when I found out that you were the daughter of that bastard, but you shouldn’t have to suffer because of him. You didn’t even know what he does for a living. It’s not your problem.”

You sniffled. “You don’t h-hate me?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Baby…” he sighed, pulling you into a hug, his own tears rolling down his beautiful face. “I could never hate you. Never. You’re the love of my life. Fuck, I can’t even live without you. These past four days… I felt like I was gonna go insane if I didn’t see you, but I had to give you some space.” You didn’t know what to say.

“There's no me without you,” he continued, gently pushing you away so that he could see your face. “So please… never try to break up with me again. I’d rather die than live without you,” he cried. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest while you both cried together. Hongjoong placed soft kisses onto your head, trying to calm himself and you down.

When your sobs stopped, he gently pushed you away so that he could look at your face. He cupped your cheek, titling your head back before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his own in a soft kiss.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against you. “I love you,” he murmured.

You smile slightly. “I love you more.”

Epilogue

 “Oh my god! We’re finally here!” Jiwoo squealed, running on the cooling sand. Ateez managed to find out the location of your father's secret hideout in Fiji with the help of Yeosang who used your iris pattern to track the computer. Ateez managed to receive all your father’s possessions and now you all had flown across Fiji for a mini vacation.

“Jiwoo's dream destination is Fiji and now we’re here,” San said, watching his girlfriend with love and adoration. You chuckled, watching San run after Jiwoo to join her little hyper session.

“We’re gonna go rest for a while,” Seonghwa stated, holding Aeji's hand.

Wooyoung smirked. “I know what that means,” he said, earning a smack on his head from the older man before the couple went to their beach house in the chain of houses.

Hongjoong took your hand in his, intertwining it. “We’re gonna rest too. See you all for dinner,” he said, dragging you along to your little beach house.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, sandals leaving prints on the sand, observing the various hues of orange, red, blue, and purple in the beautiful sky as the sun was setting. Hongjoong let go of your hand when you reached your beach house, pausing in his tracks. You gave him a questioning look, wondering why he wasn’t going inside.

He cleared his throat, moving his hands to wrap around your waist. “You’re the only one who could tame my temper, as the boys always say," he started, making you giggle. “The only one who could make my heart beat so fast. I’ve never wanted anything more in life than to be with you. You aren’t just my girlfriend, you’re my best friend and the love of my life. But now I’d like to change that,” he reached into his pocket, taking out a small velvet box.

Hongjoong got down on one knee, and you gasped, realizing what was about to happen. “I’d like to be upgraded from your boyfriend to your fiancé.” You chuckle at that and he opened the box, revealing a beautiful oval-shaped diamond ring.

“Moon Kiah, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“Yes!” you squealed, face beaming with happiness. Hongjoong took your hand in his, sliding the ring onto your finger. He got up and you pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. When you pulled away, he grinned before placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you. Thank you for bringing light to my life.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I love you too, Joong. So much.” Hongjoong chuckled, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

You couldn’t wait for this new chapter in your life, spending it with Hongjoong by your side for the rest of eternity.

[bbangsoonie]

good for nothing

member: juyeon genre: angst (royal au) word count: 4,635 synopsis: despite being the first born and the kingdom’s princess, you lived your whole life in the shadow of the crown prince born to a concubine. in your plot for revenge, a fool in love comes along your path. warning(s): violence

kingdom masterlist

Princess Y/n. You were the first born of the king and queen, educated beyond societal standards for girls, and incredibly beautiful. Yet, you were disregarded and looked down on since the moment you were born. Your brother, who was born to a concubine, was the crown prince and received much greater respect. The reason? You were a girl. A good-for-nothing girl as your father called you on multiple occasions.

The king was ashamed to have his first born be a daughter. He also felt threatened by your rejection of the status quo. Because of this, he grabbed every opportunity to make you submit to him.

You were exceptionally smart but no one cared to notice. Your desire to learn was ignored and you were forced to embroider butterfly patterns instead. At a young age, you realized your place. You knew your designated fate was to be a political pawn meant to be married off at a beautiful age. To protect the royal family that never considered you as one of their own, you were to marry a complete stranger one day.

However, just because you realized your place didn’t mean you accepted it. You defied the rules at every chance you saw. You remained a headache for the king, but a small enough headache to avoid his wrath.

Unbeknownst to him, you were well versed with the dirty politics of the country. Ever since you were a little girl, you would eavesdrop into the ministers’ conversations and manipulate the eunuchs to take a peak at written grievances sent to the king. You knew about the starving peasants he ignored and the bribes he received. As you grew older, you became hungry for power. When it became apparent that the king was blocking any hope for you, you were determined to take as many people down with you. You refused to suffer alone.

The king always berated you for being greedy. Greedy for education. Greedy for acknowledgement. Greedy for a life that was more than just being a good wife. He reminded you again and again that you would never have a voice in official affairs.

Every time you left his chamber after another lecture, you made sure to humiliate the embarrassment the kingdom called the crown prince. You would outshine him one way or another. Whether it be pointing out his grammar mistakes in front of the scholars or exposing his secret palace escapes to the queen, you would dampen his mood for the day. It was the only thing that gave you a speck of joy.

There was also only one thing that gave you something to look forward to. For years, you had been conspiring against the royal family. You despised the royal family and its classist, sexist, and pretentious values. You planned on getting rid of it once and for all. The kingdom deserved a leader that would rule benevolently. Slowly but surely, you gained the loyalty of several ministers. Soon enough, you would be able to execute the meticulous coup d'état.

But until then, you had to continue to be nothing but the king’s puppet. Which included meeting your fiancé. You were introduced a week ago and wedding preparations were already in full swing.

The man you would be forced to wed, Lee Juyeon, was the first son of the Chief State Councillor. You didn’t like him the moment you saw him. He was a pretty face that grew up with his father’s full love and support. He was both elegant and masculine; he was the definition of perfect and you hated it. A person had to have flaws to be likeable.

For some crazy reason you couldn’t wrap your mind around, Juyeon was infatuated with you. He visited the palace every day just to have you decline his request for a meeting. He was persistent.

Unfortunately for you, he was also crafty. He figured out that announcing his arrival to the king was an effective way to see your face. The king was delighted to see the Chief State Councillor’s son head over heels for his daughter and thus, to your annoyance, daily meetings were arranged for you two.

“Tell me, Lord Lee, what about me is worthy of your obsession?” you asked.

You were sitting at one of the gardens within the palace walls. He had insisted on the location because of its romantic beauty.

“Then tell me, Your Highness, what about me is not to your liking?” he grinned.

“Do you wish to hear the answer of the princess or the answer of Y/n?” you raised a brow, making him laugh.

“You amuse me, Princess Y/n,” he turned his head to look at the pond.

You sighed, wondering how long you had until you could return to your residence. The man next to you was oblivious to your feelings as he rambled on about the dates he wanted to take you on. He caught your attention when he mentioned sneaking you out of the palace for half a day.

“You would really risk taking me outside of the palace?” you perked up.

He was excited to see you finally engaged in the conversation and nodded profusely. He promised to set up an elaborate plan for a smooth date. Grudgingly, you accepted his offer. Your wish to see the village overwhelmed your wish to avoid your soon-to-be consort.

The next day, a court lady secretly found you to notify you of his plans. To evade the eyes of palace maids, you were to escape through a path not commonly used. She helped you scale the wall and you froze when you saw Juyeon on the other side. You sat on top of the wall and he extended his hand for support. With a tight smile, you held his hand and jumped down.

He pulled the veil over your face to keep your identity hidden, blushing when his hand slightly brushed your cheek. He hopped onto the horse and gestured for you to do the same. Hesitantly, you held his hand again to climb on.

Using the excuse of maintaining balance, he urged you to hold on tightly. You weren’t left with an option when he sped up, prompting you to instinctively hug his waist. You didn’t have to see his face to know that he was smiling like a fool.

At last, you finally arrived at the village. Fascinated at the change in environment, you looked like a child surrounded by toys. Chuckling, Juyeon admired the view in front of him. In his eyes, you were prettier than any flower and sweeter than any candy. Feeling his gaze on you, you cleared your throat and began walking.

There was so much to look at. He caught you staring at the rows of yeot and purchased the confectionery without you asking. You immediately popped one into your mouth and he laughed when your cheeks expanded to resemble a squirrel.

“Are you teasing me?” you frowned.

“No, I am appreciating your adorable and lovely appearance,” he answered as he handed you the bag holding the rest of the yeot. His words didn’t fluster you. You simply rolled your eyes and resumed walking.

His long legs were quick to catch up with you. Enjoying your presence, he watched as you fawned over little trinkets. It was a new side of you that he had never seen.

Stopping at an accessory shop, you scanned the norigaes displayed on the table. One of them caught your eye and you held it up for a closer look. It was a beautiful pale pink color that perfectly matched your current hanbok.

“It seems a norigae is better at capturing your heart than I am,” Juyeon pouted.

“Perhaps it is prettier than you,” you shrugged.

“Is this an implication that I am pretty? To a certain extent?” he beamed.

“How do my words become that?” you exclaimed.

With another laugh, he took the accessory from your grasp and went to pay for it. You blinked at the sudden sight of his back, noticing for the first time how broad his shoulders were. When he came back to your side, he held the norigae in front of you but pulled it back when you reached out for it. He pointed at the bag of yeot and opened his mouth. Baffled, you turned around to walk away.

He caught your wrist and spun you back around. He bent down and your face stopped an inch away from his. His usual shy self was gone and he had a confident smirk on his lips.

“Does your heart not sway even at a close distance like this?” he asked. This time, he caught you off guard. When you finally came back to your senses, you hurriedly shoved a piece of yeot into his mouth and stormed off.

“Y/n, you make me laugh too hard and too much!” you heard his voice call out, making you blush crimson with embarrassment.

With your upcoming wedding looming over your head, it became increasingly difficult to communicate with the ministers. There were too many eyes to be wary of. Juyeon, of course, was one of them.

As you spent more time with him, you realized how sentimental he was. He brought you small, meaningful gifts and loved to tell you about the meanings behind each flower.

“Did you know that the plum blossom is one of the indications of spring's arrival?” he asked one day. “They can bloom as early as late March.”

“I think it is quite obvious that it is spring,” you commented, pointing at the variety of flowers surrounding you.

“My personal favorite flower is the rose of sharon,” he continued. “It is nicknamed the “immortal flower” and means “eternal blossom that never fades” because of its resilience. It regrows despite harsh conditions and even after it is damaged. Amazing, isn’t it?”

You hummed, looking for the flower he was talking about.

“I used to hope that our kingdom would take after the flower. We have survived through many tragedies and I hope that we will survive through anything else that tries to beat us down,” his words pricked you for some reason. Would your rebellion be seen as a tragedy or as a heroic deed?

“Now, I like to think that our love will be like the rose of sharon. My love for you will never fade and I will continue to pine after you despite your harsh words. Even if you hurt me, my feelings will transcend time,” he smiled. “The flower does not bloom until July. My wish is to go see them with you. Would you bless me with your presence when the time comes?”

You observed his lovestruck expression and couldn’t bring yourself to say no. Again, you were at a loss trying to understand why he was so besotted with you. His childlike innocence was almost pure to a fault in a place like the palace.

“I shall consider it if you teach me how to swing a sword,” you proposed.

He couldn’t hide both his shock and happiness. He was confused as to why you wanted to ever hold a weapon but glad that you were slowly opening up to him. Without a second thought, he agreed to your proposition.

Juyeon was full of bliss at the thought of spending more time with you. Teaching you swordsmanship would allow him to be intimate with you and he was thrilled. At your first secret lesson, his heart raced at your proximity as he guided your hands on how to properly wield the blade.

A week passed by and you quickly improved each day. Eventually, you became skilled enough to land a fake jab. Seeing your proud smile, he grinned as well.

“I guess I should be on edge now. If I annoy my princess one too many times, my life will literally be at your hands,” he joked.

“Do you regret training me?” you smirked.

“Ah, was this all a part of your plan?” he pretended to gasp. “Either to kill me off or to threaten me to obedience?”

Not finding his joke funny, you blankly stared at him. Noticing the sudden chill in the atmosphere, he awkwardly laughed.

“Do not worry, Your Highness. I will always do as you say. You do not need a sword to make me behave.” he smiled.

You hated to admit it but he had grown on you. His constant attempts to tear down your wall had finally made a crack. You had to stop before he became your weakness.

For the first time in a while, you were summoned to the king’s chamber. Expecting another reprimand, you dreaded the walk there. To your surprise, however, you were greeted with a smile he hadn’t given you in years. It kind of freaked you out.

“You called for me, Your Majesty?” you bowed.

“I hear you have been getting along wonderfully with the Chief State Councillor’s son. Finally, you are fulfilling your duty as this kingdom’s princess,” he commended.

What a back-handed compliment. You wanted to roll your eyes at his passive aggressiveness. Holding back your urges, you politely smiled instead.

“I just wanted to let you know that I will be in a hurry to complete your wedding. I need the Chief State Councillor’s support to find a suitable wife for the crown prince,” he announced.

“Is my marriage merely a way for the crown prince to find a wife with a powerful family?” you shot back.

Your question turned the mood scarily sour. You felt his anger rise as he chastised you for your impudence and disrespect.

“The crown prince is the future leader of our kingdom. He is more than deserving of the immense care, thought, and effort that goes into picking his consort. His consort will be this kingdom’s queen and will be the one to bear the next king. You are nothing but a useless girl who will belong to a different family.”

“I am still a member of the royal family, am I not?”

“You are just a good-for-nothing girl that will leave this palace soon,” he spat. “Now leave. You are dismissed.”

On your way out, you ran into the crown prince who looked at you in a way you found to be offensive. You paused your steps and turned around.

“I wish you fertility, Crown Prince. After all, the kingdom relies on your performance to produce an heir to the throne,” you said, lacing your words with venom. “I would imagine you would hate having to adopt a nephew.”

You could tell you had gotten under his skin yet again and left satisfied. You loathed and condemned your family with a burning passion. You couldn’t wait for the day it would all come to a bitter end.

While you were brooding, you didn’t notice Juyeon sneaking up on you. When you finally saw him, you nearly jumped. Your hand reached out to cover your heart, trying to calm it down. Sheepishly, he apologized for startling you.

Trying to keep you from walking away from him, he held onto the hem of your sleeve. Your heart softened at the gentle manner he treated you with. Ignoring your instincts, you let him cling onto you. Instead of making you turn around to face him, he walked in front of you.

“Will you accompany me to the garden today as well?” he asked earnestly.

Knowing that the court ladies were watching, you reluctantly accepted his invitation once again. This time, he surprised you with a bag filled with yeot. He looked so proud of himself for remembering your love for the sweet treat that it made you laugh. As a reward, he grabbed a piece for himself. Unaware of the smudge it left on the corner of his lips, he was conscious of your gaze and tried to look attractive.

“Worry not, Your Highness. You will get to look at this face every day and every night once we marry,” he assured.

Despite his wise exterior, he had a goofy side to him. He was pure and innocent—everything you weren’t. You could see why the king favored him so much.

“I do not understand why you are so eager to become my consort,” you suddenly blurted. “You know that it is just a flashy title that does not award you with much privileges. It is an empty position; you cannot hold office without a special order from the king. Do you simply see yourself as a stepping stone for your father to bring honor to your family?”

“Is my love for you an acceptable response?” he asked after some thought.

“Is it truly worth your dangerous status as the princess’s husband and king’s son-in-law? The royal family has many enemies,” you warned.

“I will be the one to protect you from such enemies,” he declared.

Was he naive or has his affection for you blinded him?

“Princess Y/n,” he said solemnly as he held your hand. “I promise to love and protect you for as long as my heart beats. No, even after it ceases to beat, I will still yearn for you. I will not demand or expect you to do the same. Even if your feelings for me are not as strong as my feelings for you, I will not blame you. But will you please give me the chance to try to win you over?”

His confession triggered an alarm in your head. He was never supposed to fall for you this hard and you were never supposed to allow him to. He had no idea how cunning and conniving you really were. Only the people in the palace knew how cold-hearted you could be. You had to be in order to survive.

You refused to give him a reply and pulled your hand away. His face fell but he forced himself to smile again. In an attempt to break the tension, he made a random comment on the weather.

After you two parted, you decided to speed things up to initiate the revolt. Once you joined hands in marriage, Juyeon would inevitably end up a target as well. If you wanted to spare him, you needed to overthrow the corrupted royal family before he became a part of it.

It was officially the day before the insurrection. To be honest, you weren’t really nervous. This was what you had been anticipating your entire life.

Yet why did you have a moment of weakness when you saw Juyeon that afternoon? He approached you with that boyish smile that did wonders to your normally rational mind. Feeling what you believed was pity, you wanted to leave him with a pleasant memory.

So you ended up convincing him to sneak you out of the palace again. This time, you were a lot more enthusiastic. You wanted to try all the pastries and insisted that he taste them too.

“You seemed to have a lot on your mind these days,” he carefully pointed out. “Has the problem that has been bothering you been resolved now?”

“It will soon,” you eluded.

You stared at the man in front of you, observing his features. He was, without a doubt, good looking. You could see why all the court ladies, palace maids, and girls of the village were so smitten with him. But you still didn’t get why he chose you to fawn over. Maybe it was because of the lack of affection you grew up with but something about having someone care for you was unsettling.

You had suitors court you before but none of them were as devoted as Juyeon. He always came off as genuine. Perhaps his sincerity was what made you lower your guard.

“I promise to lavish you with such outings if that is what makes you happy,” he proclaimed, almost making you laugh.

“Why do you make so many vows?” you inquired.

“I am a man who keeps his word and you are the only one I give it to,” he grinned. You wondered how happy he had to be to smile so often. You rarely had reasons to be smiling.

He glanced down at the table and examined the rows of binyeos. Holding one up, he held the hair pin against your hair.

“May I gift you this binyeo?” he asked.

You pursed your lips, feeling just a tad bit of guilt. You were used to being showered with extravagance but with Juyeon, it was different. There was an emotional value attached to each present.

“Only if you promise me one other thing,” you negotiated.

“Of course. I will do anything you ask of me,” he responded.

“Promise me that you will not visit the palace tomorrow,” you said sternly. He looked at you with curiosity.

“Tomorrow is… a day of mourning for me. I do not wish to see you until the day after,” you lied.

“This is the first time you have expressed your desire to see me,” he lit up at your last sentence. “I will prepare a magnificent date for when I see you over-morrow.”

You almost felt sorry for his naiveté. And you almost—just almost—felt sorry for deceiving him.

The fateful day arrived at last. You stood, taking one last glimpse at your reflection. Subconsciously, your hand reached out to touch the binyeo in your hair.

The roars of the royal guards and the clanks of combat rumbled throughout the palace. With a determined look, you left your chamber. The sword in your clenched fist dragged across the ground as you made your way to the throne hall.

When you finally busted through the door, the king sat as if he had been waiting for you.

“I should have known that this was your doing,” he scowled. “Was your luxurious life as a princess not enough for you? Could you not fight the temptation of avarice?”

“Nothing about my life was ever comfortable,” you corrected. “I always had to play along to match your mood in order to avoid being married off to an old man just out of your spite. You tried to drill your toxic mentality in me because my individuality terrified you. You made it a point to constantly tear me down. So I made it a point to see your demise.”

“You have always been this sly ever since you were a little girl. I knew I would regret your birth the moment I saw your eyes. And I was right. You are nothing but a vile bitch.”

“For the longest time, I thought I was deserving of your hatred. But I came to the realization that you simply belittled me just for being a girl. Do not forget, Your Majesty, that the womb inside me is the same as the one that bore you the crown prince.”

Mockingly, you approached the throne. It was incredible how that one seat gave its owner immense power.

“Speaking of which, why is it that only men carry on the family name?” you questioned. “Do you not realize that women are the ones who carry on the precious bloodline you always speak of? It is the body of women that conceive and grow another human inside them. It is the body of women that suffer through labor to deliver you children and nurture them to good health. The only thing you do is spread your seeds like a fruit. And then blame women for your own infertility.”

“All throughout history, it has been men who carried on the royal bloodline. What makes you think that you are worthy of special treatment?”

“Bloodline, bloodline, bloodline,” you rolled your eyes in irritation. “Do not fool yourself. It is not blood you care about but name. Men may carry on the nameline but we are the ones who give you the royal blood pumping in your veins.”

You sloppily lifted the sword to the king’s neck, smirking.

“I knew you would be the one to bring my downfall,” he glared.

“Well, how does it feel to have all your fears come true, my king?” you taunted. “You were always afraid that I would either surpass you or ruin you. Now, I will be the one to end this damned bloodline. This good-for-nothing girl will take back the royal blood that was given to you by a woman.”

With that, you slashed his neck. Blood splattered across the wall and on your face. You grimaced, wiping away the warm liquid. You were surprisingly calm in front of such a gruesome sight. That was, until Juyeon came bursting through the door.

After he had parted from you the day before, he could not get you out of his mind. Something about your eyes had been melancholic. Your words sounded like a foreshadow and it left him feeling disturbed. So he broke his promise and went to the palace to see you again. He was alarmed to see the chaos ensuing and immediately searched for you. However, he never expected the situation he stumbled into.

“P-Princess Y/n,” he stuttered, making you aim the weapon at yourself. You never intended or wanted him to witness this.

“Do not come any closer,” you warned.

“Your Highness, please. Put the sword down,” he begged.

“I cannot,” you gulped. “This is how it must end.”

“We-we can run away. Together. We can leave everything behind and I will keep you safe,” he said as he tried his best to stay calm.

You wanted to both laugh and cry. Your life was a suicidal mission. You knew from the beginning that you would not be able to survive. If you failed, you would be executed for treason. If you succeeded, you would be executed to officially end the royal bloodline.

You had to admit, you slightly wavered at one point. Juyeon’s promise to make you happy was enticing. To someone who never strayed close to emotions before, he was like a miracle. He made you feel all sorts of things that you were glad to have experienced.

“I apologize, Lord Lee,” you sadly smiled before you stabbed the blade into your stomach.

“No!” he screamed as he ran to your side.

You slowly fell to the ground with Juyeon’s arms wrapped around your body. His hands shook above the wound as he cried, knowing that he couldn’t take it out without ensuring your death. He never thought that what he taught you would be used against yourself. If he had known that this was what you planned on using your skills for, he never would have taken your offer.

“I am afraid I will not be able to go see the rose of sharons with you,” you said as a tear escaped your eyes.

Your vision began to cloud and you felt the life in you leave with every breath you took. You didn’t even realize that your hand was gripping his clothes, crinkling it. Another tear rolled down your cheek as your head fell back, your neck unable to support it any longer.

He desperately clung onto you, holding your head in his bloodied hands.

“I will bring the flowers to you,” he affirmed.

“Another promise,” you chuckled.

“This one I will be sure to keep,” he stated as his own tears fell to your face.

Next to the weapon embedded in you was the norigae he bought you the first time you escaped the palace together. He looked up to see that you were wearing the binyeo he bought you as well. He sobbed, holding onto you tighter.

“I hope to be reborn as a rose of sharon. That way, I can come see you every spring,” you whispered before you closed your eyes for the last time.

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