#Yes I know that how she reacted was natural- grief and all- but still

[billygoat26]

Hahahaaaaa I missed people on the simp list- (me realizing this as I fangirl over moon knight peeps)

[sarilolla]

Ooh! How about Clay being the third and last to arrive before Branch dies? And Viva reuniting with Poppy that way and her reaction to Branch's death and his brothers' grief considering she knows what it's like to essentially lose a sibling?

And JD arriving too late? How would he react upon realizing his controlling nature essentially sealed his baby brother's fate?

Ooof ouch, that hurts- Ofc I will write that >:)

Hanahaki Branch au (slight spoilers/alternative ending to not finished fic)

***

Life in Putt Putt Village was calm yet vigilant. Being co-leader meant Clay did many tasks around the golf course, and he for one excelled at the “boring” tasks. Life was calm, until it wasn’t.

The golf course was made by Bergens once upon a time, and there was always a possibility that one day they would show up. The Trolls in the village were quiet as a couple came through the doors, commenting on the eeriness of the place. Viva led the attack, tying them up, which seemed to surprise them, but they didn't directly fight back. The *Trolls* with them argued against their capture though.

After a few very tense moments, they got to talking. The group insisted they were friends with the Bergens, who were the young king and queen, and it was very hard to believe.

Two of the Trolls were speaking together, and Clay and Viva froze upon hearing two names.

"Told you we should have brought Poppy with us. She would know how to convince these Trolls about at least listening to us," the short yellow one said, and the glitter Troll shook his head.

"You know she wouldn't have left Branch behind in his condition."

"Fair enough."

"Wait, wait, wait, what?"

And the explanation came. Something about Poppy and Branch saving the world twice, but that Branch was sick, and had been for a long time. Clay wanted to scream when he heard which illness he had. Hanahaki. He had read a book about it when he was younger, a tragic love story, but to think his baby brother had it? That was worse than every sad book he had ever read combined and tripled. He had to go!

Reluctantly, they let the Bergens go, and tentatively, Viva and Bridget bonded over Poppy. Clay just wanted to get to Branch. People were out looking for the rest of his brothers, and even if he had been angry with them once, he would face them for Branch.

The trip from Putt Putt to Pop Village felt like it took years, even if it was only a few hours. Clay was too focused on where he was supposed to get to his baby brother, he barely noticed Viva reuniting with her dad. It was teary, and he was happy for her.

When he got to the bunker, a pink Troll with fuschia hair left, and she resembled Viva a lot. It had to be Poppy. Her eyes lit up stepping off the elevator, and from what Clay had learned, Branch had built the bunker himself. It was very impressive.

"Clay?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Poppy. Branch is on the lowest floor. Someone will point you the way to his door. Floyd and Bruce are there too."

He nodded, not questioning the name, and headed down as quickly as possible, not missing her little mantra of "There's still hope.".

A purple aquatic-looking Troll with pink hair was sitting down in what looked like a living room, comforted by a shorter Troll with wings and pink hair, who pointed him to a door. Walking up to it while wringing his hands, he took a deep breath before knocking, and a voice he could recognize anywhere told him to come in.

Three of his brothers were inside, and all looked happy to see him. His focus was however immediately on the one in the bed, who was blinking at him sleepily. Branch was an adult, but he looked so small like this. It didn't feel right. Branch was their bright, happy baby brother. Not... not this.

Closing the door, he rushed over to Branch's side as Floyd gave him the space to do so. Both middle and youngest brothers were looking at each other, and Clay wanted to squish that too-tired look out of his face.

"Hey, Bittie B."

Branch wrinkled his nose at that, and Spruce chuckled.

"He insists it's Branch now. Made the mistake myself."

"Oh."

"And, by the way, it's Bruce now. Changed my name a few years back."

"Very fancy, I like it."

It was so nice being back with his brothers. He had thought they were dead a long time, but no, here three of them were.

"Clay..."

Branch said, and Clay's attention snapped back to him. The way his voice was so small and fragile made his heart hurt.

"I'm here, B."

"Love you."

His breath caught in his throat, before he nodded, "I love you too."

With the confession, Branch's breathing cleared a bit, and the collective relief in the room was palpable. It still wasn't clear, it was still stuttering, and the realization that they needed John Dory to come soon hit hard.

"Tell me what you did outside the tree," Branch asked him, and he looked at the other two.

"He asked the same of us," Floyd shrugged, and Bruce nodded, "Tell us what you've been up to Clay."

"Well, first off, I'm now a licensed CPA, and..."

He talked about his travels, finding the Putt Putt Trolls, being co-leader, and everything else he could think about. None of his brothers seemed judgemental that he had stopped being "The Fun One", but more... proud of who he was now.

Poppy returned after a while, holding Viva's hand. Both looked both happy and sad, and Bruce gave up his spot on Branch's side for Poppy. The two youngest looked at each other, Poppy brushing his chin carefully just to check on him, earning a soft hum.

Viva stood slightly to the side, before Clay looked at her, offering a spot beside him. Floyd was once again holding Branch's hand, and Viva took Clay's as Branch's breathing became weird again. His eyes slipped shut, and Clay looked between Branch's face, and the hands that still held onto Floyd and Poppy.

They were getting slack, and his breath was getting unnoticeable except for the weak stuttering to it. Holding onto that slightly raspy sound as the only proper sign Branch was alive, wasn’t fun. This wasn’t something either Fun-Clay or Serious-Clay could handle, not really.

Viva’s paw slipped into his when the sound stopped. The entire room was silent.

Branch wasn’t alive anymore. He wasn’t with them anymore. He was gone. Viva held his hand, but also held onto Poppy as she started sobbing. Floyd moved around the bed to sit between his older brothers, leaning into Bruce’s side as Clay clutched his hand.

They hadn’t saved their baby brother.

—

Far enough away that it was a problem, an increasingly greying Troll sat behind the wheel of his most trustworthy companion.

“We’ll get there in time. We have to get there in time. I can’t…”

John’s voice broke off, his mutterings barely heard by the other two Trolls inside Rhonda. He never thought he would see those two leaders work together, but they had, to find him. So he could help save his baby brother.

His brothers were probably already there, and John Dory had to make it there in time. Tell his baby brother he loves him. Tell all his brothers he loved them. Apologize for being a massive jerk when they were younger. If he hadn’t, maybe they would have stuck together. Branch would know he was loved. He wouldn’t die.

Suddenly, a small *ping* made its way into his ears. Pulling out the small hug time bracelet, he looked at the now open flower.

It had belonged to Branch. He had fastened it himself around his tiny wrist on the youngest first birthday. John had found it when he visited the destroyed remains of their home.

The forget-me-not shone so innocently, and yet… John knew it hadn’t pinged him for hug time.

***

*bonks you* Did you guys know that if any of the brothers got Hanahaki for Branch, our beloved boy would be the Forget-me-not? Little baby boy who loves his brothers above all is the flower meaning “Don’t forget me”? Isn’t that just swell?

Also, headcanon that hug time bracelets are given on the first birthday by a family member. They're not actually made of the different flowers, but they're modeled after them. And as mentioned in the main fic, Branch lost his at one point before or during the escape.

So yeah, Bridget, Gristle and the Snack Pack finding Clay, Viva, and the Putt Putts, while not specified here, it's Delta and Barb who finds John. I mentioned in this ficlet that Country and Rock had interacted with the oldest brother, so they set off to find him. I don't know why I decided to add that Synth and Dante Crescendo sitting there keeping watch of Branch, I haven't watched much of Trollstopia at all, but it just felt right. (Also, Clay never interacted with other genres, and neither have any other Putt Putt, so he doesn't know they're Techno and Classical)

So, yeah, that was another dose of angst. Alternative endings counter: 7. Alternative endings were Branch dies: 6

[icequeenlila]

A Son for a Son

After Neteyam's death, Lo'ak keeps praying to Eywa to take his life for his brother's. He knows his efforts are in vain, until one night he is heard. A life for a life. A son for a son. Only it is so much more than that. Or: A Lo'ak centered fic that also brings back Neteyam. It's basically how everyone would react to Lo'ak's sacrifice. There's gonna be a happy ending, but first everyone must suffer. (We live for the Angst!)

Chapter 1: Yes, Sir

Life went on and Lo’ak kept telling himself that it should have been him. The bullet should have hit him. He should have been the one to die.

But he didn't.

And the very thought of that, kept him awake at night.

It's been months. Neteyam had long been sent back to Eywa. His mother was still visiting Spirit Tree every day. She tried so hard but her grief was strong and visible to all of the kids.

His father kept himself occupied, helping out around the village or taking Tuk on trips through the water to get her mind off her brother's loss for a while.

Kiri often wandered off alone, exploring the island, connecting with nature. Most times she wouldn't even want Spider to join her. She wasn't allowed to connect to Spirit Tree. She knew it could kill her, but it meant she would never be able to visit Neteyam like their parents did. Kiri and their father had a huge fight about it, before she had to swear to stay away from it. She wasn't even allowed to enter the cove of the ancestors. They didn't talk for days after that.

Lo’ak never went there with his parents. He didn't dare to. He blamed himself, and he knew his father did too.

“You've done enough.”

His father's voice still haunted him. Lo’ak didn't even dare to look him in the eye anymore. He was too ashamed.

Still, he went to visit Spirit Tree. He did it late at night, after making sure he was alone there. But he wouldn't seek out Neteyam. He was afraid to face his brother, even in the afterlife. Scared to hear the very words, he kept repeating inside his head again and again and again, out of Neteyam's mouth: "It's your fault."

So, instead of seeking out Neteyam, Lo’ak prayed to Eywa.

“Take me”, he told her inside his mind. “Take my life and give him back!”

He knew it was pointless. Eywa couldn't make them switch places. It was not her way. Lo’ak knew that.

But it was the only thing that somehow gave him the smallest amount of peace. At least he tried. He knew it was in vain, but at least he tried to bring his brother back. To pay for the damage he's caused.

Lo’ak kept coming to the cove whenever he found the opportunity to do so. He lay on his mat, pretending to sleep until late in the night, waiting for his family to fall asleep. He would make sure they wouldn't wake up to notice his absence, slipping out of their marui and right into the water as to not be seen by anybody.

This kept on for months. And nothing ever happened. Of course, it didn't.

But this small spark of stupid hope, as impossible as it seemed, was the one thing that kept Lo’ak from collapsing under this massive guilt he felt.

Neteyam was gone. He was gone and he would never return to his family, and Lo’ak knew that. But he would pay for the rest of his life. He would keep praying to Eywa and it would kill him time and time again.

He would spend his life praying to take his brother's place.

“I won't connect to it, I promise!”, Kiri said, her eyes big and her ears twitching. “Just please let me go. Everyone is going to Spirit Tree.” She looked at her father with a mixed expression. Her eyes were pleading, but her mouth was curved in a stoic way. She looked almost desperate.

Lo’ak sat at the fire place, helping his mother with the food. He watched the both of them out the corner of his eye.

His father's tail flicked in annoyance. “Kiri, I told you it's too dangerous”, he half growled. His shoulders were hunched but drawn tight, his jaw stiff and visible underneath blue skin.

Kiri brought up her hands, balling them into fists while groaning in frustration. “But I said, I promise not to connect myself!” She was actually screaming now, her eyes drawn to slits and her teeth bare. “I just want to be there! I want to feel somewhat close to him!” Her eyes were filling with tears now, her tail flicking around in frustration.

“Dad, please”, she pleaded, the tears winning over now, her hands falling and arms wrapping around herself.

Lo’ak felt a sting inside his chest at the sight of his sister.

Your fault, his father's voice flashed through his head. He hissed quietly at himself, biting the inside of his cheek to calm down.

His mother noticed, mustering his face in silence.

She was silent all the time now.

Another flash of guilt run through Lo’ak as he realized he'd upset his mum. He flicked a quick look at her, before narrowing his ears and lowering his head, concentrating on cutting the fruit she had given him.

Your fault, he hissed inside his mind. Keep it together!

He felt a warm hand caressing his neck, startling him. He looked up again to find his mother looking at him with a tired smile on her lips.

She smiled at him in a try of comfort. Guilt flaring up again. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve her affection, the way she looked at him. Warm. Lovingly. But he also couldn't bring himself to pull away.

His mother's hand wandered over his temple, towards the strands of hair that were always hanging into his face. With gentle fingers, she brushed them behind his ear, her thumb running softly over his cheekbone like she'd done when he'd been still a child.

Lo’ak bit himself again to fight the tingle he suddenly felt in his eyes. He felt so undeserving of her affection, but still he craved it like air underwater.

“Kiri, please”, his father's voice caught his attention again. “I only want to keep you safe.”

“But-“

“Ma Jake”, his mother finally spoke, her voice soft. Weak almost.

Both of them shut up immediately. In fact, his mother had grown so silent that they were all shocked to hear her speak.

“Yes”, his father replied, his eyes big and awaiting her words.

“We should let Kiri go”, she said, her hand slipping from Lo’ak's cheek. He looked down at the fruit again, fighting the coldness that suddenly spread inside him.

He heard his father's sigh. “You know what happened last time.”

“I said, I won't do it again!”

His mum stood up, leaving Lo’ak's side. Leaving him alone.

Shut up, he told himself.

“She misses her brother, Jake.” He watched his mother reaching out for his father's shoulder. “She promised to stay away. Put some trust into your daughter.”

Jake's lips pressed into a tight line, but his mate's voice alone was enough to make him reconsider his point.

Kiri noticed the conflict on her father's face, her ears twitching in excitement, her eyes jumping between her parents.

“Jake.” Neytiri reached for his cheek.

Lo’ak averted his eyes immediately, crossing gaze with his sister who wrinkled her nose in mild disgust. It actually caused him to grin a bit, and Kiri returned it, hiding her smile behind five fingers.

“Let her go”, their mother continued. “She is with Lo’ak and the others.” There was a small pause, his father still seemed skeptic. “Jake, let her mourn her brother.”

The smile vanished from both of the siblings faces. Kiri slung her arms around herself again, and Lo’ak lowered his head, pretending to cut the already shredded fruit.

There was a tired sigh coming from his father. “Good”, he said reluctantly. “You can go, Kiri.”

“Thank you!” It practically burst out of her. “Get up, skxawng!”, she called at Lo’ak. “Let's go!”

She was out the door in no time, leaving Lo’ak alone with his parents.

His father blinked in confusion, not having anticipated for his daughter to bolt like that.

Lo’ak stood up, keeping his head down. He tried to slip past his parents, without looking at them, which is why he nearly jumped when he got held back by a strong hand around his arm.

“Hey, wait a second”, his father said, gently pulling on him

Lo’ak let himself be dragged back, keeping his eyes on the floor. He felt his heart beat faster in his chest and he tried to fight it with the breathing technique he'd learned from Tsireya. He focused on his center and took deep but quiet breaths from there.

It wasn't like he was afraid of his father, it was just … Lo’ak didn't know.

Every time he looked at his dad it was like shame and guilt constricted his lungs.

“Look at me, Lo’ak”, his father demanded.

Lo’ak took one last deep breath and forced himself to face his father. He looked up at him, meeting his dad's eyes. He wasn't scared of him but this sting in his chest felt a hell of a lot like fear.

“I want you to look after your sisters”, Jake said, his voice calm but full of authority.

“Yes, Sir”, Lo’ak answered, fighting against the urge to look away.

There was no anger in his father's eyes, there never really was. But Lo’ak thought he could see disappointment in them. He could be imagining that though.

But who wouldn't be disappointed in a son like him?

Usually it would have been Neteyam to get the task of looking after his younger siblings. Lo’ak couldn't fill the whole his brother had left.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself!

“Don't stay out too long”, his father continued, his fingers still wrapped around his son's arm.

“Yes, Sir”, Lo’ak repeated, because he didn't know what else to say. It took him everything to hold his father's gaze.

His dad let go of him, his eyes studying his son's face. For a moment Lo’ak thought to see worry in them. Worry for him.

He looked away.

“Can I go now?”

His father hesitated, like there was something else he wanted to say. But in the end, he didn't.

“Yes”, he said, taking a step back. “Be safe.”

“Yes, Sir”, Lo’ak said one last time before turning around.

He left without looking back.

Jake watched his son walk away. Lo’ak's shoulders were hunched, his eyes on the ground. His tail hung lifeless from the small of his back.

Jake kept his eyes on his son until he saw him disappear behind a marui. He was still lost in thought, staring into midair when he felt Neytiri reach out for him from behind.

“You are too hard on him”, she said, her voice calm, weak almost. His wife had lost a lot of her fire since they've lost Neteyam.

Jake let out a heavy sigh, turning to face her. “I know”, he said, meeting her eyes. “I just don't know how to talk to him.” He took her hand and she immediately stepped closer. “Or what to tell him.”

Neytiri looked up to him with tired eyes. She took his hand in both of hers. “Lo’ak blames himself for …” She paused, her hands gripping tight. Jake pressed back to give her strength.

His mate gave him a sad smile before continuing.

“He blames himself for Neteyam's death”, she finally said.

“I know”, Jake said.

And he did. He remembered the broken look on Lo’ak's face, the tremble in his voice.

“You've done enough.”

Jake had regretted those words as soon as they had slipped. He'd just lost his son. He didn't want to lose another. It had all happened so fast, and he hadn't even been allowed to grieve.

It wasn't an excuse, Jake knew that. He'd tried to talk to his son, but Lo’ak seemed so far away.

“You need to talk to him”, Neytiri repeated his own thoughts, her voice still soft. But in her eyes Jake saw some of her old fire. “He needs you, Jake. He needs to hear from you that it was not his fault.”

She put both her hands over his heart, fixing him with big, wake eyes. “Because your word matters most to him.”

Jake felt his chest tighten at her words. Deep down, he knew she was right. That's what made it all so much worse.

Neytiri didn't know about the words he uttered that fatefull night.

Her eyes pierced right into him. He loved her so damn much.

“I'll talk to him when they return”, he said, putting a hand over broth of hers. “I promise I will, and I'll try my best.”

He could see her ears twitch in a pleased way, and she gave him another tired smile. “Good”, she said.

Jake wondered if he would ever see her smile as vibrantly as before. Back when their life still had been good, before they had to leave their home behind. He wondered if he would see her happy again. Her and the kids.

After giving Neytiri his promise, he offered to help with the food. A smirk flashed over her face. It was brief but it was there.

“You can hunt, Jake Sully”, she said, turning for the fire place. “But you cannot cook.”

He actually laughed at that, following her to sit down next to her at the fire. “That's because my teacher never taught me right.”

Her eyes grew big at that, her pupils widening and her mouth falling open in offense. She swatted at him, more playful than vicious.

Jake ducked, chuckling at her attack. And his heart bloomed when he heard her giggling.

“Skxawng”, she said, a smile on her lips.

“You love me like that.”

He ended up listening to her lecture on how to fold seaweed around fish the correct way. He listened intently, happy to see his wife in a lighter mood for the moment.

In the back of his mind, Jake kept thinking about what he was going to tell his son once he returned. He knew he had to apologize for his words, and he would. He would.

But how was he supposed to explain himself, without making Lo’ak hurt even more?

Maybe he didn't need to. What use was an explanation for his behavior? Lo’ak didn't need that. All he needed was to hear Jake's apology and the reassurance that his brother's death wasn't his fault.

Or at least Jake hoped so.

He kept forming sentences inside his head, scratching them again and starting over. All while trying to keep that small smile on Neytiri's face.

Little did he know, that his efforts would be in vain.

Lo'ak wouldn't come back home.

+

Link to the fic

Have a nice week!✨

[dreamer213]

Broken Machines: Between The Shadows

Chapter 13: Jazztassic Throwdown

The rest of that day seemed to go by so quickly after that. Ciel didn’t say much after she finally stopped crying, but they managed to finish the exam. They re-exchange contact information because Penny leaves. She had never known how Ciel reacted to her presumed death, not even an inkling until now. It was surreal watching the recognition, pain, and joy erupt from Ciel in succession like that. She had never been so emotional in front of Penny before but seeing it made her feel oddly happy but also guilty. All that time she had been carrying all that grief for absolutely no reason. Logical she knows this isn’t either of their faults, her survival was miraculous and unexpected! And it seems the ripper effect it caused was still making new waves or rather Penny was realizing there were more out there than she ever thought there could be.

She vents a very curated version of her woes to Whitley later that night. Explaining how Ciel used to look after her and thought her injury had been fatal only to now realize she was alive and well. How she had cried a lot when she realized Penny was okay and couldn’t stop for a long time.

Penny: I’ve never seen her like that before, it felt strange in a good way. Like seeing how sad she was made me realize how much she genuinely cared for and missed me.

She says with a conflicted smile. Whitley doesn’t respond immediately as if he needed a second to absorb the knowledge that someone could react this way was a little too foreign for him to understand. After too long of a pause Penny gets a little worried but just as she’s about to ask if he’s okay Whitley perks up again.

Whitley: Sorry got a little lost in thought. But it’s great that you two could reunite after all that… I’m glad you have someone looking out for you like that.

His voice is chipper but there’s a tinge of sadness underlying the tone. Penny does not like this, but she gets it, Whitley has no one to look after him or miss him the way Ciel did for Penny so hearing about this must be disheartening, not that he would tell her that. But before he can change the subject Penny pulls out the concert tickets.

Penny: I also got these!

She waves the tickets in the camera view. Earlier she had debated with herself on who to bring with her but at this moment there was no contest.

Was it primarily because she turned to putty whenever her boyfriend was even a little too sad for her liking? Yes, but that was the nature of the beast that is being a doting girlfriend.

Almost two weeks later Whitley had hit a lucky streak, Jacques would be away the night of the concert into the following morning, and quite a few staff members had taken the night off, so he’d have no trouble sneaking out. Cut to the Saturday of the show, Jacques has already left the building and Whitley is sitting at his desk blazing through a mountain of paperwork, a passionate glint in his eyes as he slashes through form after form.

Whitley: Just a few more...just a few more.

He chants in his head, trying to keep his spirits up as he closes in on the last of his work for the week! If he could get this done, then there’d be nothing stopping him from enjoying the night ahead! Even if his wrist begins to ache and his lower back goes numb from lack of motion he presses on.

Whitley: Just one more!

He chants inwardly as he feverishly looks over the last document in his pile and files it out.

Whitley: Done!

He slams the paper onto the pile and shoots up from his desk! Streaking out as his body readjusts out of its sitting position. There was still a lot of prep to do before he went out but the rush of finishing this avalanche of documents had given him a second wind.

Whitley: Let’s not waste any time.

He straightened up his stack of paperwork before stepping toward his bathroom. Couldn’t go out on an evening date without freshening up first.

Down in Mantle Penny is also getting ready for the concert. She had done some research beforehand and prepped quite a bit in the lid up to the night off. She’s stocked up on water, tissues, and hand sanitizer, had their ride to show figured out, and picked out an outfit fit for the weather and venue. Now the troublesome part was doing her hair and makeup.

You see, Team FNKI is a neo-jazz/swing band. Their music was very vibrant and poppy, just like the bandmate's aesthetics. Their stage setup was usually bright with neon lights, they wore dust-infused costumes and used their semblances during their solos in fantastical displays of rhythm and power. Thus, their fan base would come dressed in one or both sides of the band’s aesthetic. Some came in bright streetwear, some in classy jazz club attire, or a mix of both.

Penny didn’t have much that matched either comfortably, but after looking through some old and new clothes she managed to pull together something fitting. She found a pair of her old stockings with glowing green stripes, borrowed some glowing power button pins from her dad, and got some thick black satin ribbon to upstyle her chosen outfit. Turning the pins into earrings, helping her dad make a heart-shaped pin to add to the bow of her headband, and lacing the ribbon through the sleeves of her pink cardigan were great after-work crafts. It was so much fun doing metal working with her dad and calling Ciel for advice on the sleeves since hers were what inspired her.

All said and done her concert ensemble was perfect! For Penny's taste at least. But then there was the makeup. She’d asked around for some ideas, she’d actually had to beg Octavia not to send her a year’s worth of cosmetics and had figured out a pretty good image to go for.

After getting partially dressed before washing and towel drying her face, Penny grabs out her newly purchased cosmetics container. Her selection was vested or luxurious, the most expensive thing she had in there was a palette gifted by Octavia months ago, but it had all the essentials. Brushes, lipstick, gloss, eyeshadows, liners, blush and nail polish of various were all present in limited amounts. But that was fine, she had enough for her needs and whims.

Penny: Alright let's get started!

She chirps to herself, propping up a small mirror on her bedroom floor and sitting down with her makeup case. Gathering her materials and looking herself dead on in the mirror, Penny begins her private beauty session. Starting with the most detailed intense work, Penny applies some sparkle-filled black eyeshadow to both her eyelids but only three-quarters of them. Then she goes in with an equally shimmery blush pink to cover the rest. Next is lipstick, first a hot pink on the top lip and outlining the bottom lip then fill in the rest with a softer pink. Lastly, a touch of blush and it's done! It’s not professional but still bright and poppy like she wanted it.

But it’s not over yet! Now it’s hair time!

Getting her whole head an initial brush before sectioning off two long strands from right behind her ears, Penny swoops the hair to one side and ties the section into a side ponytail. Brushing it out again, she rolls the ponytail into a bun and then secures it with a rubber band and bobby pins. Once it’s in place she adds an assortment of hairpins she’d picked up while shopping for supplies. Or rather the contents of a box of hair accessories for little girls she saw in the shop window of a tween accessory shop on the way home.

Hey, who said robots were immune to impulse buying?

She puts a total of four pins in, a treble cleft, a blue flower, a white butterfly, and a smiling kitty.

But that wasn’t her only find at that techno-colored store. To top off her look Penny pulls out the finishing touch, neon glow-in-the-dark nail polish!

Using the two-coat method from the nail kit’s instruction packet Penny applies a nice layer of green polish, lets it dry, and then adds a coat of clear setting polish. When her nails are fully dried Penny jumps up off the floor and runs to turn off her bedroom lights. As the darkness engulfs the room her nails shine a bright neon green, eliciting a chorus of excited giggles from the enamored android. She flickers the lights on and off a few times before setting down and putting on the rest of her outfit practically shaking with excitement.

She’d be dressed to the nines before long, no doubt to the delight of her performing friends and her lovely date.

In fact, said date was getting ready himself, dawning a periwinkle plaid pair of slacks with a white long-sleeve dress shirt with the matching plaid vest and long black coat to make his tie and gloves. It’s a damper look and though his gray face mask breaks the aesthetic a little his fake horn-rimmed glasses and light blue cap more than make up for that. As he applies some lip balm and sprays a little cologne on his shirt Mary stands by his bedside in wait. Since Jacques was only going to be out for the night and the probability of him staying long enough to force his intended mark to allow him to stay the night out of hospitality up in the air Whitley needed a lookout.

Whitley: My scroll will be on vibrate, if Father calls you know what to do.

He remarks, putting the cologne bottle down and walking to the door.

Mary: Yes, Young Master.

That’s all that’s said between them before Whitley leaves, Mary does as she was told and holds onto Whitley’s usual scroll before leaving for the kitchen. The manor was abnormally quiet and empty, and she had been given free rein to get a little snack from the main house kitchen. By the time Whitley’s out of the manor Mary’s poured herself a glass of wine and made a mini charcuterie board, things are looking quite lovely but somewhere in the pit of her stomach Mary can feel a pip of dread forming. This night would not end so peacefully.

But this dread had not reached Whitley as he journeyed to their usual meeting spot. Throughout his cab and train ride, he can feel himself smiling behind his mask. He’d never been to a causal concert so this would be a special treat, made even sweeter by the fact that he’d be sharing it with Penny. Vacating the train car as the doors opened Whirlpool couldn’t wait to partake in the exciting night they had ahead of them.

Upon exiting the station, it doesn’t take Whitley more than five seconds to spot Penny waiting for him. The light glow of her accessories made her easy to spot.

Now to some, the first thing they would have noticed about her outfit was how the flow of her black skirt and the tightness of her glowing stockings contoured her legs perfectly and made the uncovered part of her thighs look ever the more supple. Others would have noted how her makeup paired with the LED light of her earrings made her face glow in this almost fantastical way. And a few immediately acknowledged the way her open cardigan hung on her frame made her look extremely huggable.

But being her detail-oriented boyfriend, Whitley Schnee notices all three almost completely at once and springs over to her.

Being used to the way they’ve grown to greet each other Penny embraces him with open arms. She lets him get in close and rests his head on her shoulder as they take each other in but pulls away only a few seconds later when she feels a peck against her neck right above her chocker.

Penny: Ah!

She yelps while pulling back, left hand clasping over the spot Whitley just kissed feeling the remnants of chapstick sticking to her skin. Her shocked gaze is met with Whitley’s teasing smirk as he stares proudly at the little mark he’s left on.

Penny: W-w-what was that for?!!!

She stutters, face flushed with surprise and cheeks puffed in annoyance.

Whitley: Nothing really, I saw something sweet and wanted a taste.

He teases, pinky finger still hooked onto the center of his mask leaving his charming smile in full view to her. He lends in close bringing his lips right over her left ear.

Whitley: You look incredible, twinkling like a little star in the night. Then again, when don’t you? You’re always so brilliant, too brilliant to ever miss.

He whispers, voice playful but earnest. Penny can feel her heart pounding and her head going fuzzy again. If she had any less self-control, she would have kissed the smug look right off his face for being so damn enchanting!

But she couldn’t.

Her lipstick wouldn’t be enough to cover up her taste.

Penny: You look good too.

She replies, her tone a bit dour compared to her earlier spunk and shock. Whitley notes the difference immediately and backs off, instead offering her his arm.

Whitley: Shall we?

He says with a soft smile, the gesture soothes Penny’s nerves, and she clings to him as they go hail a taxi. The ride to the venue is uneventful aside from Penny’s excited bouncing in her seat as they draw closer to the club. Whitley’s unsurprised by her giddiness, she’d been gushing about this group since she’d got the tickets, and from her word and his own personal research Whitley could understand why. The concept of huntsmen musicians using all their talents to put on an amazing show was interesting. Seeing people with physical capabilities and powers far beyond the average person could be a dazzling spectacle. And tonight, he’d get to enjoy that spectacle, maybe even find some inspiration.

Penny: We’re here!

Penny cries as the taxi comes to a stop in front of the night's venue, the Obsidian Inn one of Mantle’s best jazz clubs. The building is dark with illuminated windows, the architecture less modern and more stylish as the front appears covered with pillars with music notes covered into them. It’s almost hard to see as the building is already swamped with people both inside and out. Venders, other concert-goers, and passers-by leave the street clogged up to the point there’s barely a few inches of free space for people to move around each other. Settling up the driver and getting out of the cab, Penny and Whitley hold hands tightly as they try to weave their way through the crowd. But the closer they get the more Whirlpool can feel eyes staring at them, heads turning to guck as they pass, and some stopping in their tracks.

This was not good, so far Whitley had been able to fly under the radar whenever he was in Mantle but it seems that his luck had run out.

Whitley: Just great. This is what I get for dressing up while sneaking out. Damn it.

He curses to himself, shuffling a little faster to try and escape the crowd as soon as possible but he’s stopped by the tug of Penny’s hand on his. Looking behind him, he sees that she’s stopped or rather had been stopped by a girl holding her scroll out and asking for a picture. The girl was about their age and seemed to be awestruck by the huntress in front of her and looking around she wasn’t the only one. Those gazes Whitley had felt earlier were all pointed at Penny, the beloved local heroine Penny.

Now Whitley knew she was well-liked when she’d run into fans during their last two dates, but this was far more intense than either of those times. It seems the sight of the protector out in causal clothing held a central appeal with the public and made her easier to approach.

Whitley: Who would have thought she was this level of celebrity?

Whitley mused, looking on as part of the crowd diverted to swarm Penny for selfies. Said star quickly growing overwhelmed by the attention but far too flattered to turn them away, still, she couldn’t leave her date hanging. Pulling her hand away from his, Penny fishes out one of the tickets from her purse and holds it out to Whitley.

Penny: Go ahead and find our seats, I’ll join you when I’m done with…. all this.

She gestures to the mini crowd forming around her. Whitley nods, whispering a soft “Good luck” before taking his ticket and heading inside. The bounce at the door checks his ticket and lists out the club’s rules of no fighting, underage drinking, drug use, and so on before letting Whitley in. The interior of the club is just as cool and campy as the exterior, the floors are velvet, lights are low aside from the neon trim highlighting the stage and bar area. The seating areas are mostly booths lined against the wall and around the sunken dance floor in front of the stage, with signs set on top of the tables with numbers marking the seating. According to his ticket Whitley and Penny’s table was closest to the stage. Sitting down at the edge of the booth Whitley looks around and takes in his surroundings. It’s a nice club, very chic but casual the usual jazz club feel. As he glances around Whitley notices s familiar face among the sea of people making their way to their seats.

Jemma: Remind me again why the hell you dragged me out here?

Julia: Because I finally got time off and tickets to a good live show, and thought my baby sis could use a night off from studying herself to death.

Jemma: Well, you thought wrong.

Sue: Aw come on Jem Jam lighten up! It’s not every day you get to see a band live like this! Especially not one like FNKI!

Jemma: If you say so.

Yes, there were three familiar faces among the crowd, two of which were far more familiar than the third.

Whitley: Oh crap.

Whitley turns his gaze away and lowers his head, trying not to be noticed as the three women pass by. Unfortunately, Sue starts taking pictures of the club, flailing around to get good shot of the venue. Being over-excited, she accidentally loses her grip on the device, and it slips from her hands and onto the floor. Where it lands right next to Whitley’s feet. He reaches down to try to pick it up and hand it to her before she gets too close, but Sue swiftly dives down in scope up her beloved scroll and their hands touch.

Sue: I got it, I got it! My bad! Thanks, dud-

Sue pauses as she stares into the all-too-familiar pair of blue eyes, one belonging to the young master she served. Her gaze is frozen on him, but his eyes start to drift behind her. Not knowing what to do she follows his gaze and realizes he’s looking at her fluffy upright-in-stock with every strand of fur standing on end tail.

Sue: Oooh no, oh fuck! No!

Sue immediately breaks into a cold sweat as her shock quickly turns into panic at the realization that her job is in danger. Master Jacques was not a fan of fanus in the slightest and Whitley, kind as he was, was still his son. One word and her dreams would come crashing down around her and there was nothing she could do about it.

Tears form in the cracks of her eyes Sue opens her mouth to plead with him, but Whitley grips her hand and holds up a gloved finger to stop her. His eyes looked at her with an intense glint the likes of which she’d never seen before.

Whitley: Listen carefully because I’m not going to repeat myself.

He whispers, his voice is cold as frosting ice, tone sharp like a dagger.

Whitley: You didn’t see me here; I didn’t see you and this never happened. Understand?

He commands with no room for negotiation. Sue nods frantically in the affirmative, Whitley nods back and lets her hand go before shooing her away to which Sue scurries to her feet and runs over to her table, sitting in the seat that best blocks Jemma and Julia from seeing him.

Once he’s sure Sue’s gotten the message, Whitley sits back and relaxes a little. He moves to the more shaded side of the booth and takes off his coat before checking his scroll. There are no warnings or messages from Mary yet, so he just scrolls through his notes of leads and possible weaknesses in Jacques's corruption. The list predates the device it’s currently on and seems to grow every week. With the greedy tyrant’s hunger for power pointed elsewhere for the first time since he swindled his way into the Schnee family, Whitley had more opportunities to see the cracks from his position as the loyal dog.

Some of it was pretty tame but hard to unearth, other things were wretched that Whitley had a hard time stomaching the knowledge that it was happening.

Whitley: Disgusting.

He glares at his scroll, turning it off and setting it down a few inches away from him as if the knowledge contained in it made it too foul to be held anymore. Not more than a moment later Penny walks up with an apologetic look on her face as she approaches.

Penny: Sorry I took so long! I tried to be quick but more people wanted a picture with me than I thought.

She apologizes, and Whitley’s mood immediately perks back up.

Whitley: Don’t worry, it’s not your fault that the public adores you. And who can blame them? Having someone so formidable but adorable guarding your city would make anyone a little patriotic.

And just like he’s got her blushing again in about ten seconds, the soft glow of her flustered face lighting his stress by leaps and bounds.

Penny: Stop it, we’re a public venue! Other people might hear you.

She huffs before pulping down into the booth and sliding over to sit right next to him. Before Whitley can throw out a comeback the lights go out. the stage currents open but no lights come on, but the silhouette of four people with their instruments cut through the darkness. Suddenly the soft beat of drums and voices sweeps through the club from the stage sound system.

Flynt: Evening, everybody. It’s been a while.

The crowd cheers loudly as Flynt speaks to them, leaning against the wall from stage left while holding his horn.

Flynt: I know you missed us, but me and my crew’ve been busy. World’s been a mess and we’ve been out in the streets fighting the good fight for this little glimmer stone on the continental popsicle we call home!

The crowd cheers grow louder, some howler out “Whoa! MANTLE!” as Flynt continues.

Flynt: But tonight, we gonna forget all that. Tonight, we jammin. Tonight! We bring the house down!

With that spotlights cut on, revealing all of team FNKI dressed to the nines and already jamming out the intro to one of their more famous songs. Flynt saunters away from the sideline snapping to the beat and right on cue he hits his part and activates his killer quartet amplifying the sound with gusts from the trumpets.

The party’s truly on as the band plays in perfect harmony and swing. The set is electrifying with every song performed being full of passion and energy. At a certain point, there’s a bit of a switch-up to who’s leading the charge as five songs in Ivori’s bass seem to take over the melody for the sixth. The song is exquisite, matching his velvety aura as the notes seem to bounce off walls into a revolving melody that makes perfect use of the acoustics. This pattern of playing hard together then letting one bandmate take the spotlight persists throughout the show. Kobalt’s drum solo is a heavy hit combo, Flynt's use of his copies layers his sound beautifully and wraps the whole club in his tunes.

And then there’s Neon.

Neon Katt was dressed a bit differently from her friends. Fishnet gloves, a white rainbow heart patterned tube top dress with a ruffled skirt at the bottom with black shirts underneath, one fishnet stocking, one bunched up neon blue sock, glow stick ringlets on every limb, and her trademark skates were parred for the course with her but seemed too causal for what she was doing. Until the last song fades out and instead of starting in with another FNKI goes silent and Neon rolls out from behind her DJ booth, dawning a headset as she skates her way to center stage.

Under the spotlight, Neon turns away from the audience and then puts one hand on her hips and the other in the air. She puts down a finger and the crowd shouts out.

Audience: 5!

She puts down another.

Audience: 4!

And another.

Audience: 3!

It keeps going until-

Audience: 2…… 1!

When the crowd cries one the DJ booth roars to life with sound and Neon backflips off the stage onto the dance floor! When her wheels hit the ground rolls into a round around the dance floor until she gets to the center-right as the interlude stops and her first verse starts as her bandmates come in on the track.

Neon: We’re all born, with a dream, we wanna make, come true-oh! ~

She sings, tail bouncing to the beat as she starts to dance.

Neon: The best will climb to the top like me, the rest will end up like you! ~

She winks and throws a peace sign to the crowd as on the note for “you!” the song, “Neon Rainbow” is super hit pitch and poppy, matching Neon to a t! It’s clear this is her song, from her singing to the dancing and her overly stage presence, this was her very own personal anthem! This only solidifies when during the lines, “I’m cool like the rain and I’m hot like the sun!” where she pulls off two of the glow stick accessories and ignites them, revealing the accessories to be small dust canisters, ice, and fire respectively which she twists around for the rest of the chorus. Then she throws them into the air only to catch them with her tail as she starts to roll up to the isles. She skates up, down, and around the closest rows of tables, bringing the performance straight to the audience much to the fans’ delight.

Right in the third verse, Neon replaces a line with a call for a call and response!

Neon: Come on sing it with me now~

Her fans comply and come in with the next lyric.

Audience: Just think of happy things, you’ll see in no time! ~

Neon: Fun every day! ~

Audience: The clouds roll away! ~

Neon: Try it you’ll see! ~

Audience: Just be more me! ~

Neon: Woah!

At that moment Neon activates her semblance and glides back to the dance floor as the techno instrument plays. She zips around the floor in the haze of her rainbow, building momentum until she can’t even be seen beyond the mass of color. Until she jumps up into the air with a flip, when she lands it’s time for the last chorus!

Neon: Listen, girlfriend, can’t you see~ I’m all of the things, that you’ll never be! ~

Sticks come back for cool like the rain and hot like the sun and stay for the last line-

Neon: I’m a neon rainbow! ~ You’re no fun! ~

The instrument comes back for the last time and Neon dances it out til the end. By the end, she’s fabulously sweaty under the spotlight as the crowd goes wild. Looking over to the front row she spots Penny cheering her heart out absolutely overwhelmed by the spectacular performance! Neon puffs up her chest and with a mischievous glint in her she rolls straight up to her.

Penny: Huh?

Penny looks at her bewildered but doesn’t get a chance to ask any questions as the music picks back up. This distracts her long enough for Neon to take advantage and pull her up from her seat and onto the dance floor!

Neon: Time to boogie! Everybody, get on this dance floor!

The audience goes nuts and people start pouring onto the dance floor, leaving Penny and Neon to get swept up in the fray! Whitley immediately goes after them, catching the rhythm of the music and dancing his way through the sea of people. It’s a little tricky at first, he’s not used to dancing so close to people at such a high tempo but once he gets the rhythm down Whitley weaves his way through to the back where he finds Penny being twirled around by Neon. The two redheads are engaged in a very one-sided swing dance when Penny catches sight of Whitley. Her smile of relief draws Neon’s attention, and in an act of complete spontaneity spins Penny around fast then launches her in Whitley's direction!

By some miracle of quick reflexes and muscle memory Whitley manages to take hold of Penny’s hand before the spinning knocks her off balance and swings her into a dip. Her momentum coming in was pretty high, so he had to pull her lower than he ever had but they pulled it off without her falling. For a moment they lock gazes, Penny’s eyes twinkling with amazement and excitement. In a bid of playfulness, Whitley pulls her back, presses their bodies together shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest, and faces less than an inch away from each other.

Whitley: Shall we?

He says with a wink, Penny pauses for a second and gives an enthusiastic nod in agreement. It’s a far cry from the last time they danced together, much more casual, with spins, dips, and sways being more frequent to match the fast pace of the best. Their steps are lighter, and though they may not be as skilled as the more experienced fans they have a blast, nonetheless. They end up dancing for most of the night, only stopping when the heat of the dance floor gets too stuffy. Once they retreat back to their booth Whitley offers to get them some drinks to help them cool off.

Whitley: Got any preferences? Water, juice, soda?

Penny: Oh! Cam you see if they have root beer!

Whitley blinks at the odd suggestion but nods in agreement before sauntering off to the bar. While he’s gone, Penny checks herself in a small compact mirror she’s put in her purse. All that dance right up against him and the rest of the people on the dance floor meant sweat was flying all over the place. Luckily, it’s not too bad no stains on her clothes from bumping into people, and her makeup was as pretty as when she applied it. Putting away her compact Penny looked up at the stage happily, there was something so magical about seeing her friends in their element outside of hunting Grimm. They looked so…different but in a good way, more carefree if that was even possible.

While she gazed, Neon made eye contact and shot her cheeky “we’re sooo talking about this later” wink. Penny tenses and looks away, unnerved by what the brash car girl might have planned for her later.

At the bar, Whitley places his order, asking for Penny’s root beer first only to be told by the bartender that they don’t really sell it with their other soft drinks.

Whitley: What do you mind you don’t serve it?

Bartender: It means we don’t serve it.

Whitley: Then why do you have it?

Bartender: Look it’s not that we don’t, the brand we got just ain’t the kind you serve straight.

Whitley: Well, how do you serve it then?

The bartender picks up a pint and pulls out a tub of vanilla ice cream from the mini-fridge next to the ice maker. He grabs a scoop and fills the pint halfway with ice cream, pulls out the nozzle for the keg of root beer, and fills up the rest of the glass. Give it a good stir with a metal straw then gives it a whippet of whipped cream before stabbing a milkshake straw through it, even throwing in a tiny cherry on top before pushing it toward a stunned Whitley. A root beer float, an old-fashioned drink that was synonymous with youthful fun and hijinx. It was a drink for teens, something sweet to wash away the bitterness of a hard day learning in school, or a celebratory treat after a successful night mischief.

How perfectly on theme.

Whitley eyes the glass pint with an amused smirk then asks the bartender one last question.

Whitley: Is this all you have or are there other flavors?

After fifteen or so minutes Whitley returns with two ice cream floats, root beer for Penny, and orange cream for himself. He sets them down and scoots back into the booth with Penny who’s staring at the drinks with mouth-watering delight.

This was unreal! Penny had always wanted to try having root beer this was ever since Dad gave her a sip from his can while she was still getting used to her new senses. The illustration of it on that soda can was burned into her memory as another small want in her well of wishes. And now it was right in front of her!

Penny: How did you…

Whitley: Luck of the draw, it’s the only way they serve old fashion soda here, and I had a feeling you’d like it.

Penny squeals, she grasps the glass pint with both hands and looks at the drink with a beaming smile.

Penny: Thank you! I can’t wait taste it!

She squeals with glee before taking a big sip. It's cold, creamy and so sweet! The rougher taste of the root beer gives the overly sugary drink a real punch! Whitley watches her enjoy her beverage for a while before taking a sip of his own. It’s so citrusy and sugary wit a creamy texture that made it easier suck down. It was far more surgery than anything he’d ever tasted before, to the point his teeth itch a little.

The calorie intake on this alone would blow his diet straight to hell! Which is why it tastes all the more sweeter to Whitley as he keeps sipping. After all, this was a night of freedom and rebellion with his lady love, so all the rules be damned, diet included!

They spend the rest of the concert sipping their drinks and enjoying the music. It’s past midnight when the sect finally raps up with a bang of protectants, illuminating the stage in rainbow-coated bang!

Flynt: That’s all y’all, we out!

Neon: Love you peeps!

Kobalt: Keep it real!

Ivori: We’ll be back soon so look out for us on the scene!

Flynt: Good night, everybody!

The audience gives a final rearing cheer as Team FNKI has their current call and leaves the stage. Much of the crowd starts to leave while others stay as the club starts playing their usual selection. Penny and Whitley are about to make their exit when Neon glides in.

Neon: Heyyo Penny Pop! You enjoy the show!

She beams at them, standing right in the middle of their path and blocking the easiest route out.

Penny: Hello Neon. Yes, we really enjoyed the show. You and the rest of Team FNKI were amazing!

Neon: Aw, thanks, girl! Glad you had fun. But uh, I got say you really surprised me. Didn’t think you had it in you to pull something like this!

Penny: Huh? What are you talking about?

Penny cocks her head; she’s got no clue what Neon’s talking about. But it becomes clear when the cat girl rolls over to Whitley’s side and grabs onto his shoulders.

Neon: Nothing just that, You Brought A Date Without Telling Me!

The redhead faunus clasps Whitley’s masked face and smushes his cheeks.

Neon: I mean look at him! So classy, tall, and even smells good! Even with his face is all covered up, you can still tell he’s a total hottie!

Penny: Neon!

Penny protests, not that Neon was saying anything untrue but it’s completely inappropriate for her coworker to be talking about her boyfriend like that!

Neon: What? It’s true! Look at those strong shoulders.

Penny: Regardless! You shouldn’t say things like that about someone else’s boyfriend!

The moment the words leave her mouth Penny throws her hands over her mouth as she realizes what she’s just done. Neon looks at her dumbstruck then at Whitley then back a Penny before repeating her last word.

Neon: Boyfriend? He’s your-You have a boyfriend?!

Neon points out, looking totally mystified while Penny begins to fidget as she struggles to find a way out of this.

Penny: That’s-I-It’s not…..

Penny can’t find the right words to say, she couldn’t deny it outright because of her tell and she couldn’t deny it non-verbally because she’d already confirmed it with her first statement. Whitley’s about to cut into the conflict but Neon lets him go and turns tail toward the way she came.

Neon: I gotta tell the guys, they’re gonna flip!

She exclaims before dashing off to a backstage door. Fearing their secret is about to be exposed, Whitley and Penny quickly get their things together and chase after her. They rush the door behind her only to find she’s already caught up with her teammates and is about to spread the news!

Neon: Guys, you are not gonna believe this, Penny has a-

Penny: Neon Katt!!!

Penny shouts, interpreting the playful party girl just in time. She and Whitley stand opposite the rest of Team FNKI while Neon stands in the middle, an incoming confrontation looming over them as young lovers try to smooth the situation over.

Penny: Neon, I need you to not do what you’re about to do.

Neon: Why not? It’s good news!

Penny: Please! The situation is very, very complicated, and I rather keep it private! Please just don’t-

Neon: Don’’t what?! What’s so complicated about you having a boyfriend?

And just like that the cat’s out of the bag straight from another cat’s mouth. Penny visibly deflates while Whitley facepalms, all that planning, secrecy, and effort down the drain in one night because of a nosy friend. Said friend seems completely unaware of what she’s just done while her teammates gaze at the pair in stunned shock as they take in the news.

Kobalt: Get out! Are you serious?!

Ivori: No, freaking, way! I knew something was going on, you had a happy little glow to you but for the life of me I could not place it. Now I see where it was coming from!

The two men gush, absolutely endeared to their younger co-worker's budding relationship. Except for Flynt, who looks down at the couple from his shade with a usually harsh look of suspicion while the rest of his team continues their fawning.

Neon: Right? Now all those weird texts make sense. You were fishing for dating advice, weren’t you?

Kobalt: What text? What are you talking about-

Ivori: -O. M. Double G, No! That would mean-you two have been together for that long?! Really?!

Neon looks at Ivori with a raised eyebrow until her mind backtracks enough to realize that what she’d just discovered was not a new thing. The gears in her head were practical steaming for all to see as the cat girl looked down at her hands and counted with her fingers, double-checking a few times to make sure she got it right.

Neon: That was almost like three months ago!

Kobalt: Seriously? Penny had a boyfriend for three months and nobody knew. No way?!

Ivori: This is just too cute, I gotta know how this went down.

The three, now brimming with curiosity, come together and bombarded the couple with a rapid fire of questions, mostly directed at Penny. Said girl doesn’t know how to handle the mess of prying queries but amidst the chaos, Flynt strides around his crew and squares up with Whitley. Standing right in front of him a looking down at him with shade-covered eyes.

Flynt: So, you’re Penny’s boyfriend huh?

Flynt asks, his usual playful mannerisms coming off more threatening tone then mildly smug. Whitley just nods yes in response, not speaking as he can tell just hearing his voice might set Flynt off.

Why?

Because Whitley knew good and well this man had an issue with him. More accurately he had issues with his father, Jacques.

Flynt immediately proves his point as his suspicious stare twists into a hateful glare.

Flynt: I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. How ‘bout you open your mouth and speak up-

All of a sudden, he reaches down and rips the mask right off of Whitley’s face!

Flynt: -Whitley Schnee!

Flynt’s voice drips with venom, the others look on in horror as he grabs the teen by his collar and gets in his face. The shock only lasts a second before Neon and Kobalt rush to pull him off, screaming at him to knock it off and unhand the kid while trying to pull back. But Flynt stands strong, anger keeping him firmly planted in place like a still burning hot lava stone as he breaks into a tirade.

Flynt: You got a whole lot of nerve waltzing into my show, in my city with one of my friends Schnee! Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize your sorry ass or were you trying to piss me off?!

He smears, Neon, and Kobalt are still trying to get him to stop but there’s no getting through to him.

Kobalt: Dude, stop! This ain’t the time or the place!

Neon: What the hell, Flynt! What’s gotten into you?! Knock it off!

Flynt: BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!

The shout stops both of them in their tracks.

Flynt: This got nothing to do with you so back the fuck up!

Neither seemed to know what to do, they’d never seen him rage like this before. Flynt is about to go off again but a stinging pain in his arm stops him. Looking down at his arm Flynt catches sight of Penny’s hand gripping his forearm. Looking over at her, Penny’s gaze is sharp and pointed, a stare usually reserved for grimm and the worst of criminals.

Penny: Flynt Coal, release Whitley immediately, or I will make you release him.

She commands, pressing her thumb into his wrist hard, a silent threat to obey or risk losing the limb. Flynt relents and lets go, rubbing his wrist with his unharmed hand to soothe it. Penny’s gaze doesn’t waiver though, it stays firmly locked in Flynt.

Penny: Now, explain to me why you just assaulted a civilian!

She orders, anger ripe in her voice. Flynt grits his teeth at her demand and Penny continues to glare at him in wait for her answer. The atmosphere is unbearably tense as the two usually calm huntsmen stare daggers at each other when Whitley finally speaks up.

Whitley: It’s nothing personal to me, just family ties. My father screwed over his, devastated the poor man’s long-standing dust business to make way for his monopoly.

This exclamation pulls everyone’s attention to Whitley, Flynt stammering a little at his honesty as Whitley continues.

Whitley: It’s a shame really, how big corporations bulldoze over locate businesses. Especially when it’s spearheaded by a megalomaniac with a moral code lower than most casinos.

He tilts his glasses, swagger just as prim and proper as always, as he looks Flynt directly in the eyes.

Whitley: Really, who could blame the family, in this case, the son, of one of those poor unfortunate souls for getting a little volatile when confronted with the spawn of the person he hates most? And at his own concert no less! Honestly, anyone would have lost their cool over this. Isn’t that, Flynt Coal?

He extends a hand to him, face fixed into his usual business smile. The message he was sending Flynt was clear, he had no ill will toward him in regard to their fathers’ conflict. He wasn’t here for anything more than a date with his girlfriend and any external conflict was just a coincidence. It reminded Flynt of how he came at Weiss but instead of dancing around it in a fight like she had, Whitley was upfront. No dental or pretense, just straight facts. He knew the score, knew what his family name had become, and wasn’t gonna pretend they had any leg to stand when it came to morality.

That’s gutsy, Flynt could respect that.

He grips Whitley’s hand and gives it a firm shake.

Flynt: Yeah, my bad.

He relents, the atmosphere calms as the two come to a silent trust.

Ivori: Okay! Now that that’s settled-

Ivori finally steps up, striding up from the shadows and grabbing everyone’s attention. He plants himself strategically between Whitley, Flynt, and Penny, making the two lovers back up to one side and the band to the other as he prattles on.

Ivori: -Why don’t you two tell us your story?

He gestures to Penny and Whitley.

Ivori: We’d love to hear how this all came about.

He inquiries, voice soft and soothing as the texture of his last name's sake. The couple exchange glances, Penny looks anxious, so Whitley gets in close and whispers to her.

Whitley: Do you trust them?

He asks, Penny pauses to think for a moment. Flynt, Neon, Ivori, and Kobalt had always been friendly to her and never let her down be it as friends or on missions. Neon, despite being the cause of this, had been her closest confidant when her crush had started and had been there when her heart was shattered. All that said this was still a very sensitive situation, one that could ruin them all if it got out. She looks over to Whitley and then at her comrades.

Penny: Flynt Coal, Neon Katt, Ivori Lace and Kobalt Co.

She addresses all of them with a firm tone and all four freeze, shocked as Penny had never called them out at once before.

Penny: What I am about to tell you is very personal information. Information that could be a detriment to the safety of myself, Whitley, and any other parties involved if not handled carefully.

She takes Whitley’s hand in hers and clasps it protectively.

Penny: I need to know none of you will ever let this leak, that this information will stay between the four of you and no one else.

Her voice is tense but unyielding, and the carefree bunch knows she's being painfully serious. The team look amongst each other and nod in the affirmative. There is an unusual air of seriousness around the group as they recognize the gravity of their circumstances, and return Penny’s determined gaze with equal resolve.

Flynt: We won’t tell a soul, I promise you.

Flynt responds with utmost sincerity eliciting a respectful nod from the female android. With one last glance to Whitley, who gives her a reassuring nod, Penny takes a deep breath before proceeding.

Penny: Okay, we’ll tell you.

Penny and Whitley take their time explaining how they met, fell in love, and began their secret relationship. It’s quite the story, a tale all four huntsmen become completely enthralled in, as they learn of the many trials, twists, and turns the couple faced in their quest of love. By the end, Flynt looks absolutely ashamed of himself, Neon is starting to whimper through tears, Ivori is dabbing at his misty eyes with a handkerchief, mascara tear stains ruining his foundation be damned, and Kobalt is facing away from everyone with his head pressed against the wall so no one can see him sobbing into his arm.

Whitley: We hope you understand why we had to be so careful.

Penny: We just wanted to be together, despite the risk. I know it sounds foolish and selfish but when I hear he snuck out all the way to Mantle to just to find me, I.. I just couldn’t hide my feelings anymore; I couldn’t turn him away.

Penny muses while staring lovingly at Whitley, who in turn cups her cheeks and gazes at her with the same admiration.

Whitley: And I couldn’t spend any day without you, the loneliness would have killed me.

Penny: No, it wouldn’t have.

Whitley: Yes, but honesty is a life without love even worth living?

He jests and she laughs, their usual brand of sarcasm and honesty bouncing off each other in perfect harmony. But the loving atmosphere is soon broken by Flynt.

Flynt: Alright! I think we get the gist of it! You two fell in love, but his daddy wasn’t about to let that happen, so you started sneaking around behind his back! That about it?!

He declares in a slightly flustered tone, his earlier ire replaced with awkwardness. He obviously feels terrible for the way he acted and is floundering to backtrack his attitude. Luckily Neon cuts in before he can spiral any worse.

Neon: That was the sweetest, saddest, most heartbreaking thing I ever heard! I can’t believe you hid your epic love story from me!

She whines, her tears bouncing with every word before her face settles into a pout.

Penny: Sorry, but you have a tendency to gossip, and I couldn't risk this becoming known.

Neon: I can keep a secret!

Penny: Would you have if I told you from the start?

Neon: Uh, well uhh…probably not.

Penny: And that’s why I didn’t tell you.

Neon: But still! If you’d told what the deal was from the start I could have-

The hum of loud vibration breaks the conversation, its Whitley’s scroll going off.

Whitley: Excuse me.

He steps away and pulls out the device to check his messages. It’s from Mary, apparently, Jacques had called for a driver, the unlucky duck being poor Godfrey, to come to get him early.

Mary: [I was roaming the halls and could hear him shouting on the line at Godfrey. Poor man looked like he was going to cry.]

She texted, Whitley grimaces as he reads the text then sighs, turning back to the group with a disgruntled look on his face.

Whitley: Apologizes but it looks like my night on the town is over.

Penny: What?!

She asks a little shaken with worry, this was the first Whitley had ever had to leave a date early. Whitley pats her shoulder softly before reaching down to pick up his discarded mask as he explains.

Whitley: Father’s coming home and in likely foul mood. I need to get back before him to batten down the hatches for the incoming tantrum.

He states, dusting off mask before dawning it again. Penny wants to protest but backdowns before uttering a word. This was the deal they made, the only way they could be together, she couldn’t act spoiled when things didn’t go her way. Knowing how much this must disappoint her Whitley pulls down his mask and gives Penny a soft kiss on the forehead.

Whitley: Sorry, Penny. I can make it back on my own you enjoy the rest of the night with your friends. I’ll call you when I get back.

Penny: No, I’d rather go with you to the station.

Whitley: You sure?

Penny: Yeah, this was fun, but I don’t want to stay without you. Besides I promised to be there whenever you come to and from Atlas.

Whitley: But it’s late.

Penny: Yes, and my promise did not come with time restrictions.

Whitley: Oh you!

He squished her cheeks, gods she just couldn’t help being so adorably earnest, could she? While the two lovebirds fawn at each other and attempt to figure out their transportation plan Flynt steps in to offer a helping hand.

Flynt: ‘Ey if you need a lift home, we can help you with that.

He stated, wrapping an arm around Kobalt’s shoulder and pulling him forward.

Flynt: Koco’s a damn good getaway driver with a mean set of wheels. He can get you up top in a hot minute. Right Koco?

Kobalt: Yeah! Just gimme an address and I’ll get you there no problem!

He exclaims chest puffed up with pride. Penny and Whitley share questioning glances, it would be easier to get a direct ride home for both and cut their commute time down considerably. It was a genuine kind offer so what would be the harm in taking it?

In the alley behind the jazz club, Kobalt walks the pair to a large van. The vehicle has a heavy coat of black paint decorated with blue hot rod flames and neon strip lights. It was clearly meant to be a cargo vehicle but had clearly been modded for speed in the most brazen ways possible. As if its owner had tried to convert it into a race car but couldn't find its humble origin.

Kobalt: Alright kiddies meet your lift for the night. This is my ride, my baby Blue Blaze!

Kobalt beams, proud to show off his beloved car. Meanwhile, the young couple have some reservations about this mode of transport.

Whitley: …. Wow.

Kobalt: I know right? Ain’t she a beauty?!

Penny: Isn’t this a standard-issue all-terrain delivery van?

Kobalt: Yeah! My old man knows a guy who runs a shipping yard, sold me one of his old vans for cheap.

Whitley: Is it even street-legal?

Kobalt: Of course! She’s old but still runs like a dream!

Whitley: Is it insured?

Kobalt: Well, yeah……mostly, for like most stuff. Come on! Don’t you have somewhere to be?

Whitley pauses, contemplating whether or not this is a really good idea, but time is of the essence, so he relents. They get in, Whitley and Penny in the back and Kobalt in the driver seat, everyone buckles u, Whitley gives him the address and they take off into the night. The drive is actually quite smooth as Kobalt takes his own route through Mantle’s streets, navigating like only a true city native can. Everything is fine and dandy until it’s time to go up.

Now most far-traveling vehicles that went to and from Atlas to Mantle and into the tundra had to be built with three modes to be driven. First was standard street mode, second was heavy terrain for trekking on the ice of the snow climate, and lastly, to reach Atlas was flight mode. Every road vehicle that traveled between the cities had a street and flight mode. Blue Blaze was no different.

As they’re driving Kobalt turns into a take-off road, a road that was little more than a public runaway for flying vehicles. Cars are spaced further apart than on other roads to accommodate flight gear, needed momentum, and clear passage. There was no turning or passing in the lanes only moving forward and into the sky. Once on the road, Kobalt engages the flight mode, and the van shifts, the windows and doors tighten shut, and the wings and thrusters emerge from their place in the thick undercarriage. Kobalt speeds up, going with the flow of traffic, a fiat that necessitated Atlas and Mantle driver’s licenses class B and above to have the hardest driver’s proficiency test of all four kingdoms. The van shifts and hops as it starts to gain some air.

Whitley, having never flown in such a small craft, starts to get nervous. His stomach drops as he second guesses if this damn thing can even make it off the ground! Penny, seeing his uneasiness, reaches out and holds his hand, clasping it gently and giving him as sweet smile when he looks up once he feels her touch. This distracts him as take off is emanate.

Kobalt: Hold on tight! We’re going up!!!

Kobalt howlers, the moment he feels that all the wheels are on the ground he guns the thrusters and they take off from the runway road into the sky!

Whitley grabs onto Penny tight as he feels the break of the sound barrier closer than ever before! His body pushed back into the seat from the force of the lift-off makes him flinch and close his eyes tight!

He doesn’t open them again until the ride smooths out. When they hit a coursing altitude and the turbulence has calmed down Whitley takes a peek and finds Penny still holding his hand calmly. She was completely unbothered by the lightness under their feet and the hum of air rushing around the outside of the van. Looking past her and out the window Whitley sees something incredible.

From the angle they were ascending, he could see the city Mantle below, parts of the underside of Altas, the tundra around both, and the starry sky. It was an alien experience, seeing the place he’d lived in all his life from this point of view. He could see some of the inner workings of the structures that were usually unseen in the higher metropolis and the totality of the lower city. All the lights, towers, and buildings of the grounded city and the maze-like layout of its streets. And the mountains, being above one would never know just how enormous and intimidating they really were. But here as they go up Whitley can see just how massive the tundra surrounding the territory was as even the smaller of them were as tall as Mantle’s highest building and the largest could easily press at the bottom of Atlas if not pierce through it. The darkness of the night sky only heightens the depth of the world around him, stars twinkling in the distance further than anyone could ever reach.

For a moment Whitley truly understands how small he is compared to the grandness of the frozen kingdom and how little he has really seen of any part of the world he was born in, even in his own birthplace.

The majesty of it has him so encapsulated Whitley continues to stare out the window until it’s time for the landing.

The jolt of the van bucking back onto solid ground breaks him from his trance, his grip on Penny’s hand tightening as he jolts back back to reality from the shift in gravity. Penny doesn’t mind it and holds onto him as the van zips onto Atlas’s streets. The van weaves and rolls through back streets and shortcuts Whitley had never been down before, Kobalt commanding the vehicle with surprising expertise. It was oddly thrilling, like being in a scene out of a coming-of-age movie.

A getaway driver is making great time to get the male lead home after a night of mischief, the female lead coming along out of gentle concern and sweet stubbornness. The outlandishness of it all was enough to make Whitley grin!

Had he ever had this much fun in one night before?

Whitley: Is this what they call the thrill of youth? I could get used to it.

He muses, his nerves fully relaxed as they continue on towards the manor. When they’re just about forty yards from the monument estate Whitley gets up from his seat and taps Kobalt’s shoulder.

Whitley: Pull over here, I’ll walk the rest of the way.

Kobalt nods and parks the van. When the vehicle comes to a complete stop Whitley unbuckles his seatbelt, rushing to get out. But turns around before his feet can touch the ground and plants a quick kiss on Penny’s cheek.

Whitley: I’ll call you tomorrow, Good night my sweet.

He whispers, playfully winking before hopping out of the van and making a dash for the manor. Penny closes the van door behind him and watches him from the window. Instead of walking through the front door Whitley seemingly disappears into the estate after running out of her field of view.

Confused at where he’s gone, Penny texts Whitley to see if he’s made it in alright and replies yes. She asks how and he replays cheekily with-

Whitley: [That’s my little secret. At least, for now]

Penny giggles at the message and writes back a good night before giving the all-clear to head back.

She can’t help but smile, this night had been amazing in so many ways. Even though their relationship was discovered the news was received positively by most. Sure there were some bumps here and there and some loose ends to tie up with her friends, Neon was definitely going to bug her about this for the next week at the least, but overall this had been the best outcome.

So on their way back into the city and Penny spots a familiar white limousine, she doesn’t feel the nervousness she normally would.

A bastard businessman would be coming home to a perfectly quiet house, his heir “sleeping” peacefully in his bed just as he had expected.

The perfect crime without a trace of evidence.

At least for the act they thought would be the end of them.

[finitefall]

What do you think of Khal Drogo? As someone who relates to and projects onto Daenerys more than any other fictional character, I have really complex feelings about him. I relate to Dany so much that I feel what she feels as I read. I felt her fear of him at first, then her love, and her grief. But as a 24 year old woman now, I cannot help but feel revulsion in my gut about a man older than I am bedding a girl of her age. I know that we can assume taking wives that young was acceptable for the Dothraki but it still twists my gut that he felt attracted to her. I also question the nature of their love. She certainly loved him, but was it a love born out of Stockholm syndrome? Of survival? Did she come to love him because if she didn’t, she would’ve gone mad? And did he truly love her? He was gentle when they consummated their marriage but then continued to bed her even when she cried. Did he simply love her as the mother of his unborn child? Would he have loved her had she not conceived? There’s also the matter that he declared that he wanted to rape the wives of Westerosi knights and enslave their children, which are things that are obviously condemnable, things that Dany herself is not okay with. What do you think?

Hi nonnie! I totally understand relating to Dany, so first of all there's nothing wrong with feeling her love and grief for Drogo. It just means Dany's chapters are very well-written, and Dany is herself a very-well written character. You can feel what she's feeling when you're reading and still know that Drogo raped her. If some people come at you for this, ignore them.

He did rape her even the first time. Some will argue that she said yes in the end, but she said no before. She was sold to him, she spent the whole chapter fearing what would happen, and she didn't have a choice. What would have happened if she hadn't finally said yes, one time? He would have let it go? Of course not. I also have to talk about the reactions someone’s body can have, as it’s used to say Drogo didn’t rape Dany as much as her finally saying “yes”. It happens more often than people think it does. A man can be raped by a woman, for example, and his body will react to make it possible. I’m trying to not be too graphic here, but it’s important. Well, a woman’s body can also have a reaction that people will consider as consent, when it’s not. This belongs in the list of the very long reasons why a victim of rape or sexual assault will not consider themselves as a victim, or will not dare to go to the police nowadays.

Another thing: when I say Dany was sold to Drogo, I'm not just talking about an arranged marriage which benefits both parties, like it happens in Westeros. First, the Dothraki culture is very different (for example, Drogo could have shared her), and Illyrio made profit of this wedding, which means she was traded. She was a slave, not just a woman in an arranged marriage. She knows what it's like, and that's why she's fighting slavery afterwards.

Basically, Dany didn't have a choice during her marriage to Drogo. Never. Yes, she cried. Yes, she was afraid. Yes, he raped her more than once, because she didn't consent. And saying yes once (although I’ve talked about how this “yes” doesn’t mean it wasn’t rape) doesn’t mean you consent for the next times. While the concept of marital rape didn't exist in those times, we know what it was:

“Yet every night, some time before the dawn, Drogo would come to her tent and wake her in the dark, to ride her as relentlessly as he rode his stallion. He always took her from behind, Dothraki fashion, for which Dany was grateful; that way her lord husband could not see the tears that wet her face, and she could use her pillow to muffle her cries of pain.”

Daenerys III, A Game of Thrones

She thinks about suicide as the only way out:

“Day followed day, and night followed night, until Dany knew she could not endure a moment longer. She would kill herself rather than go on, she decided one night.”

Daenerys III, A Game of Thrones

She made the best of her situation though, to survive. What's interesting in Dany's chapters is that she blames her brother Viserys. I'm not saying she's wrong, but she's not blaming Drogo. Why? Because after adapting to the Dothraki culture, Dany felt safe with Drogo, loved even. It's called being an unreliable narrator, and as we read Dany's chapters in the first book, we can start thinking she's with a man she loves and who loves her. It's not the case: she's his slave. It’s only when Dany stops showing weakness that he seems to care about her. But Drogo also had a powerful impact on her. Dany starts to make decisions and come into power after her marriage to Drogo. She starts to stand up to her abusive brother after her marriage to Drogo. So her own feelings towards Drogo are still very confused:

“Do you know what it is like to be sold, squire? I do. My brother sold me to Khal Drogo for the promise of a golden crown. Well, Drogo crowned him in gold, though not as he had wished, and I... my sun-and-stars made a queen of me, but if he had been a different man, it might have been much otherwise. Do you think I have forgotten how it felt to be afraid?”

Daenerys II, A Storm of Swords

This is just one example, but while Dany is against slavery and does realize she was Drogo’s possession, in her mind Drogo was good to her.

No, I don't believe Drogo ever loved Dany. The nicest things he says about her is when she's carrying his son. But it's very hard to guess what Drogo is thinking, as we don't have his POV. In fact, a huge issue with GRRM is that he doesn’t give any backstory to Drogo or any Dothraki. We do have a backstory or a POV for characters who are abusers and/or rapists, but they’re white. Without knowing anything about Drogo besides Dany’s thoughts, it’s easy to either romantize him or villainize him more than the others.

In the Dothraki culture, for Drogo, there’s literally nothing wrong with what he said he would do to get the throne for his son (again, it’s not for Dany). She’s not okay with it, because as much as she adapted to the Dothraki culture to survive, she’s against rape and slavery. She put a stop to the rape and enslaving of the Lhazareen women because she believes it to be wrong, despite having come to value aspects of the Dothraki culture.

“Princess”, he said, “you have a gentle heart, but you do not understand. This is how it has always been. Those men have shed blood for the khal. Now they claim their reward.”

Daenerys VII, A Game of Thrones

When Jorah tells her this, he’s stating a fact. Is there even a word for rape in Dothraki? They don’t understand why Dany says she wants no rape, she’s even being told that those riders do honor to those women. Why am I going there, after explaining that Drogo didn’t love Dany, that she was raped many times, that she was a slave? Because you asked me what I thought of Drogo, not just his relationship with Daenerys. And the answer is: I don’t know, because I don’t know him, only what he did to Daenerys.

[artimisi]

As the umbrella goes tip-tap-tip-tap, rain pellets beat off it continuously

Despite its gentle nature, I can hear the sound of rain pattering on my umbrella all too loudly. The rain was not gentle today, and it made sure I knew.

A simple sound, rain is. But today, the rain thundered on in my head, any other sounds completely drowned out by the water.

Can someone tell me why is it so loud, everywhere all at once I hear my name? The silence filling the empty darkness eating away at the corners of my vision. Every time I try to reach out, I find myself in the same place, as if my mind is constantly looping.

“Elliot”

I'm so far away, why is it so close by? One hand after another is grabbing at me. Every time I feel their grip on me tighten, they pull me along with them minute after minute while I repeatedly scream, "Help!" Why does it seem like no one is concerned? My throat feels as though it is being scratched by glass throughout. The sensation of blood and its warm, coppery taste, which drips from my tongue from a trickle to a torrent of it, why... Why do I feel deserted, just like a child who has lost his mother?

“ELLIOT!!!”

I suddenly find myself back in reality, which had previously felt vibrant and exhilarating but now feels drab and lifeless. "Elliot, do you have any closing remarks?" ... ”Huh?”

“Do you want to say something Elliott before she leaves?” Concern can be heard in Renèe's inquiries.

"Yes," I say. My mother, ah, uh, Even when circumstances were difficult, Eleanor Witt proved to be a good mother, finding a solution. Rain was a common occurrence when I was a child. Each individual pellet would strike the home harder and harder as it continued to rain down on it. Thunder in particular has never really been to my taste in rain. She always made me a cup of hot chocolate and brought me a cover when those occasions arose, and we would sit there and chat.

“Regarding her feelings, where she believes my father is, and whether or not my brothers are still alive.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’ve never really cherished her. I never really realized how time moves all too fast. One minute they're here, the next dead, sometimes I wish I was there to say goodbye to her.”

This is really it. The last time I’ll ever see you face to face is the last time I can talk to you.... The last time I can say I love you.

That room is silent out of respect. The same quietness started to seem a little too quiet, as if everyone was staring at him. This time, he didn't want everyone looking at him; instead, he wanted to vanish and be left alone. After a calming but uneasy silence, he started speaking with a hint of grief in his voice.

It was a great honor to have you all attend my mother's funeral, so yeah, umm... I just wanted to say thanks. I know she would be very grateful for y’all coming out.”

Out of nowhere a cold but familiar touch grazes my skin. Giving me goosebumps all over, including the back of my neck where my hair stands up.

Upon closer inspection, it is Renèe, her ghostly appearance in the sun contrasting with her jet black hair and eyes like wisteria.

"I hope you feel better soon, Elliot. I too have lost a loved one, but don't lose yourself, okay?" She pats his back and disappears before he can react.

Large family and friend groups mysteriously disappear from the room like ants. One by one, they vanish until there is ultimately just one left.

A 5'9 Asian man with a faded bald head and a good head of hair stands nearby. Over his ear, face, and hands were implants.

If you pay careful attention, you can see him solving a Rubix cube. Upon reflection, I realize I've never truly seen him without it.

"Well well well if isn't the terrifying loner Mr. Kim. So... This doesn't seem to be your kind of scene, whatever brought you here. Or "Wait, did you come see little ol' me?"

He tries to bat his eyelashes like a puppy.

friendliness: +0

“Witt, don't become too egotistical now. I merely come to offer your mother my sympathies. It was too crowded for me to show my respect.”

When you first hear his thick, calming Korean accent, it can turn off a lot of people. Although something about it makes me feel better, reminds me of the sounds a gentle wave washing against the shore makes… well something like that.

“With the passing of your mother, I wanted to know if you are taking a break from the games.”

“I'll be fine, Crippy, I'm the biggest Mirage the trickster The best apex legend you've ever heard of, Witt, I'm serious. Maybe it's too soon to jump back into the games after a loss like that.” "Recovering from it can be difficult."

He puts in the sincerest way he could still having a sweet but bitter delivery.

“That's accurate. "I-I ah-I understand,"

“I was curious as to what led you to decide that you cared. This is from the man who nearly tried to break my arm, right? Witt I'm just looking out for you, all right?

My face has a perplexed but grateful expression. Of all the legends to reach out, it just had to be you.

“You see Witt. I shouldn't have made the trip here. I merely wanted to help a little, but it seems you are in charge of that.”

”Cryp-“

He leaves the room abruptly but quietly before Elliott has a chance to speak. As he leaves his wake, there is an enormous amount of exhaustion and annoyance in the air. causing the atmosphere I'm in to seem stuffy or so it feels.

“I guess I'm the only remaining Witt, huh?”

[married-to-google-translater]

How would yanderes Tanjiro and Uzui plus his waifus react to the reader being extremely mad and irritated about something and she kind of ignores them

I just do Tengen and Tanjiro this time. Officially, the requests are closed but this request gave me a fun idea that I want to implement.

Yandere Tanjiro Kamado

Yes, you were really angry with Tanjiro.

You have many reasons to be angry.

However, he had kidnapped you.

But the reason is that Tanjiro refused to kidnap your pet as well.

You had a little red panda as a pet.

You really missed it.

Tanjiro understands your grief.

At the same time, however, he fears that you will ignore him because of your pet.

(Essential fear. I'd rather spend time with a pet than a kidnapper.)

"Y/N I know you miss your pet but I think it’s happier to be free. If you want to hug something me and Nezuko are at your disposal."

You still ignore Tanjiro.

He's sad about that.

Do you know what time it is?

Now that it's time to use Nezuko as a spy so she can find a way to make you feel better.

Tanjiro's shock is great when he finds that you also ignore Nezuko.

( I don't know how you can do that. Could you please stop breaking the laws of nature? )

Apparently there is always an option to find that panda.

It will take a long time.

But in the end, Tanjiro succeeds.

he is happy to see your smile for a long time.

"Y / N see what I have for you. Is this a real panda? It still smelled a little bit of you. Are you happy now? * hugs you * It's wonderful that you're noticing me again."

Yandere Tengen Uzui

He ate your rice ball.

First he kidnapped you, prevented you from leaving and now he is stealing food.

That's the limit.

You can’t yell at him or knock his hand off so instead you stop talking.

Tengen calls you childish.

"Hey dear it was just one rice ball. Do not be mad. Come hug."

You just ignored him.

No new rice ball no attention from you.

Food had always been important to you.

Your family wasn’t terribly wealthy and that’s why food had to be spared sometimes.

Because of this, you hated everything above all when people “borrowed” your food even though they had their own.

Tengen would be confused by your reaction.

How seriously you took this thing amazed him.

He decided to look at how long you could ignore him.

Tengen cycled this for four days.

After that, he began to become desperate.

He will start giving you more food.

"Y / N see I have a gift for you. Aren't you angry anymore? Your flameboyant husband is getting you in a better mood."

However, Tengen makes a new rule that is disrespectful to ignore him.

You can’t be disrespectful to your husband.

isn't it so?

[coco-goat-milk]

hi!! can you do a kanao!reader (demon slayer) x Childe, Kazuha, and Zhongli (separately), I’d prefer the reader to use a coin and then stop using it after getting into a relationship, emotionless kinda but then starting to warm up, !!IF ITS OK WITH YOU!! and also have the same backstory as her, of course, you don’t have to do the last part since it’s really dark- you don’t have to do this request tho! :D

Kanao! reader x Childe, Kazuha, Zhongli

Pronounce: she/him/they,, pronounce isn't mentioned! so I won't mention it either!

Warning: slight spoilers for Kanao’s past (and Kazuha and Zhongli), violence and cursing (it's just a little bit nothing very bad or anything! and if i forgot anything please remind me!)

A/n: Moshi moshi~ dear, ofc i'll do your request! And if you check out my rules page you will see all the characters i write for and if i write for those characters that means that i also write for the characters their past! I hope this is okay and what you wanted! If it's not just tell me and I will try again hun!

Childe

First time meeting:

He was very curious about you when he first saw you.

When he approached you, you just kept smiling, while tried to start a conversation with you.

Keyword: tried

You just kept staring intently at him with a smile, ngl he got kind of scared.

But the moment you pulled out a coin and flipped it into the air, he was so confused, huhh???

When the coin landed on your palm and you smiled at him, he waited patiently for you to answer him.

But what you did next is something he really didn't expect.

“Sayonara” You smiled at him and ran away leaving Childe in a confused daze.

After that he would keep searching for you, and try to make conversation.

When you two get together:

You would slowly try to have a conversation without the use of your coin. (but Childe luckily didn't try to push you)

“Childe…”

“Yes love!”

“Do..you..like rocks?”

“???”

He will be very patient with you, and even though he still teases you and flirts with you, he knows when to stop.

If you decide to tell him about your past and about your dead sister who decided to take care of you, he will first of all feel a lot of grief and anger. Not anger towards you but towards the people who treated you like shit.

He will let you take your time, while he teaches the people who treated you badly a..few lessons.

This bastard is very clingy while you are...not. So he likes to cling onto you like a koala bear, and you just let it be.

He flirts a lot with you but you don't respond most of the time, but when you flirt back he will be shook and flustered.

If he has seen you fighting, he will want to spar with you.

Masochist.

You usually just spend time together eating or sparring.

It's a cute relationship while he supports you all the way!

Kazuha

First time meeting:

He just wanted some peace and quiet in nature, maybe reciting some haiku.

But as he got to the clearing he saw a person calmly sitting there with butterflies flying around (her/him/them), he just stood there shocked.

As you turned your head around your eyes met, and it felt as if there was an invisible connection with each other.

After that day you often meet him at the exact same place, sometimes he tells you haiku’s or you two just sit in a comfortable silence with butterflies surrounding you two.

When you two are together in a relationship:

You both are very calm people and you don’t talk that much but his calming presence, makes you use your coin less.

“Kazuha can you...can you..”

“Take your time Y/n”

“Can you tell me a haiku about butterflies..?”

He is very happy that you try to talk without the coin, but of course he is curious why you don't talk without your coin. He won't push you for answers though.

If you tell him about your past and your dead sister, he can relate to you losing your loved one.

If you want to he will comfort you, he is actually very amazed by your mental strength and compliments you for it.

He wrote a haiku about his admiration for you.

You are really bad at comforting him but he takes great comfort in your presence.

You didn't really know what to do with physical affection, but it's okay because he eases you into it.

Usually hand holding or kisses on the cheek.

If he told you about his past and how he is a wanted criminal, you will become quite protective over him.

If he saw how you defeated your enemies, he would be amazed and proud of you.

Has several haikus about you, and he usually tells you about them before bed time.

Ughhhhh him telling you about all his love and adoration for you in the most poetic way and before bed time!?!?! SIGN ME UP 🤲

It's a very wholesome and sweet relationship, with you both being closeted simps for each other.

Zhongli

First time meeting:

You basically became Zhongli’s assistant, he found your company very comforting and nice.

He was certainly very curious about you and why you only answered with your coin.

He talked...a lot.. like a lot, you just let him talk because you had high respect for the man.

And his voice is just *chef’s kiss*

When you two get together:

In your relationship he is the one who talks the most, and you just listen with a smile on your face.

He knows you don't really make decisions without your coin, but actually it's just you who already made a decision but didn't want to embarrass yourself.

He cares a lot for you, so when you tell him about your past;

He will have order! *summons giant rock*/j

No but seriously he will comfort you with his words if needed, he will brew you some tea.

He has been through some hard stuff as well so he isn't that bad at comforting.

He knows you're not very cuddly or anything but he lets it be, so he is very surprised when you hold his arm out of nowhere.

“And so- oh…” You just wrapped your hand around his arm like you had done it so many times, his gentle smile widens even more.

“Ah okay as i was saying-!”

When he tells you that he is a god, you don't react that much. you already knew.

He is actually kind of glad and surprised that that was your only reaction.

With physical affection it's usually him holding your hands or your hand wrapped around his arm.

You are basically his mom; when he is going out and forgot his Mora for the hundredth time, you will come to the rescue with a bag of Mora.

Things like that are your way of showing you care, and of course you are not using your coin with him anymore.

When he sees you fighting he is very curious and proud, he will want to ask questions about your fighting styles over a cup of tea.

Aww such a sweet relationship, even though he is a god y'all don't care; just living in the moment!

[missmeganlee]

Problems that Need to Be Addressed in YR s2

I was thinking about all the unresolved problems s1 left us with and decided to make a list cause there is a lot

Wilhelm and Simon's relationship, both as friends and as romantic interests (I mean obviously lol)

- There's a lot of trust that needs to be rebuilt before anything can happen

The drug problem and how it affects:

1. Simon; they're his dad's medication and he was the one who dealt them

2. Alex; unfairly thrown under the bus by The Society, we're all sensing a revenge plot

3. August; he also sold the drugs, and his dependence/growing dependency on them

4. Wilhelm; he did take drugs from the party at The Palace and as far as we know he till has them either in his room or in his jacket pocket

Felice's relationship with her mother and how that has affected how she sees herself. The fandom has talked about how we'd love to see Felice's natural hair and I agree, but I also think there's a possibility that Felice could have some disordered eating/a potential eating disorder because:

1. In episode 1 she says she's not hungry and doesn't go to dinner with Maddie

2. Also in episode 1 when she's throwing up at the party the camera pans to the ground where she's thrown up and shows a piece of food. There's a reason they decided to show that. Felice also told Sara not to tell anyone that she threw up. Yes it could be that she was just embarrassed, but it could also be something else.

3. In episode 5 she mentions in passing to Sara how obsessed her mother is with her image and how she needs to have the right clothes, post the right pictures, lose weight/be a certain weight (not sure what the exact wording was), etc. for a person of Felice's status.

The August and Sara situation. I have so many questions. Is August actually going to help Sara become a boarder even though Wille knows he leaked the video? Why did August even kiss Sara back in episode 6? What was his motive behind that? Also how is Felice going to react if when she finds out?

Simon still has no idea who leaked the video but the two people closest to him do and haven't told him. (gonna make a separate post just about this because I have a lot of thoughts)

The whole Mickie situation

1. Again he's connected to the drugs 2. Is he still going to try to build a relationship with Simon and Sara 3. Sara probably holds a lot of resentment towards Simon cause he saw Mickie behind her back

August's standing within The Society. Ever since Wille stepped up in ep. 5 and basically took authority in the group they never showed August hanging out with the members (and Nils) afterwards. Did the group turn their backs on August cause of his money problems? Or maybe it was August putting the distance between himself and them because he's ashamed of his money problems/ashamed that he's the one who leaked the video

Wille's grief

Baby boy wasn't given any time by his mother to be able to properly grieve his brother

[eligaxy]

Wind

☆ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 : Venti x gn!Reader

☆𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 : near death experience, you’re confused asf about everything, bad writing cause i suck, spoilers for the we will be reunited quest!! And also for venti’s backstory, venti is serious for once (yes it’s a legitimate warning🤚)

☆𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 : Some angst, some fluff? Idk bye🤨

☆𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 : "It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask." (2.8k words)

♪𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 : i’m an idiot simp, i did this in one sitting and half asleep, english isnt my first language BLA BLA IM SORRY FOR MY POOR WRITING BUT HAVE THIS

basically you don’t know if you can trust venti or not, head says no, heart screams yes

Also, I was listening to stormterror’s lair ost while writing it, just because its fucking amazing, you might wanna listen to it too

I’m nervous to post this?/&:! This is the second fic i’ve ever finished in my whole life

i love venti and he’s hot in his god outfit i don’t make the rules

KAY ENJOY <3

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

Saying you were exhausted would have been an understatement. After reuniting with your sibling, you had been frantically searching for clues about khaenri'ah and ways to Inazuma. With no luck, you couldn't find any traces of Dainsleif or of your twin. The ruins had been sealed and you had no idea what happened to the inverted statue or the corpse you had found there. Desperately, you clung into every little information you had, you would have turned every rock on this archon damned continent if you had to, which is what led you into those ruins near Guilli plains.

Walking along the destroyed buildings your eyes caught sight of a dandelion and you froze. You missed them so much, why couldn't they go back home with you? All you ever wanted was to be by their side why, why were they running away from you?

You remembered your travels, the moments you shared together, their protectiveness over you, the fondness in their eyes when you smiled at them. You remember the times you got hurt and healed one another with your now missing powers. You remember sleeping by their side and being grateful to the universe to let you keep your ray of sunshine everywhere with you. How ironic.

What had they meant 'once you reach the end of your journey' ? What does that even mean? Stupid twin, if they knew you were here the whole time, why hadn't they come to you? Why were they always leaving just when they were within your grasp? Why? Did they know how much you missed them and how much your heart broke when you finally saw them? Did they?

You only realized you were crying when a small gust of wind had your wet cheek react to the cold, breaking your train of thought. Wind.

The wind is everywhere, you think, free as a bird, always accompanying every citizen of this world, never truly alone. With this in mind, you resumed your exploring, slower this time.

A sigh escaped your mouth. You didn't want to admit it, but the wind did comfort you a little. Almost as if he was here. God of freedom and of the breeze, he was more a singer than a protector and you couldn't bear to think about him. Was it true? What Dain said... Did he destroy this nation? Was he the cause of the scenery that still haunted your nightmares up until 500 years later? Your brain simply couldn't accept that Venti, your Venti, you catch yourself thinking, could have made such an act of wrath. He was the epitome of freedom, why would he take the very thing he based all of his existence on from mere mortals? Barbatos simply couldn't be afraid of being overpowered, he didn't even care about power. All he wanted was freedom and happiness for his people. Surley this couldn't be right?

But then again, who were you to deny the wipe out of an entire nation? The gods did it. They were afraid that Celestia would be overthrown by the pride of humankind, the destruction of khaenri'ah by divine beings was a fact. There was no misunderstanding about this. That was the one thing you were sure of. So why did you feel like crying even more now?

The mere thought of a gentle soul such as Venti committing innocent people to an eternity of suffering didn't sit right with you. Even when his dearest friend Dvalin had turned against him, he didn't try to stop him, didn't even ask the dragon to save him. He healed and helped him, gave him a choice.

'What is freedom if demanded of you by a god?' was the same person that asked this question the same one who committed mass murder? Genocide?

Did the little wine-lover bard you had grown fond of destroy all hopes and light your kin had?

You remember that night when he freed Stanley from his burden, freed his and his friends' spirits. You had marveled at his action, in that instant he was a god, and he definitely hadn't struck you as a murderer. You remember that look of silent pain and grief in his eyes when he sang the tales of the nameless bard he had taken the appearance of. You knew he trusted you enough to share his story, something so personal, you could almost feel the war that took down the tyrant of Mond. Oh how much you cherished that evening, treating him to some well deserved dandelion wine afterwards, his favorite, and asking him to sing you more about the time where was nothing but the spirit of a breeze.

Your heart broke a little, remembering his rosy cheeks and drunk smile, you wish you could talk to him, ask him what happened. What did he do, was he really as dangerous as you had been told? If so, then why did you feel so good around him? Why did you feel like you could give hi-

You stopped walking upon seeing a ruin guard up ahead in the distance. You're so stupid, you think. Feeling this way is not gonna get you anywhere, especially with how the bard had been missing for a few weeks now. Ever since you had last seen your sibling.

Where was he, where was he wandering off to? You walk towards the disabled ruin guard, not really paying any mind to it, still thinking about the god you longed to meet with. If you could see him, what would you even say? Would he even answer your questions? Why did your stomach feel so light and funny when you thought about seeing him, why aren't you angrier?

You're almost at the killing machine's level now, so lost in your thought you don't notice the five other similar robots hidden behind a wall next to it. You notice them only when it's too late and you've already turned them on while thinking about examining them and collecting their serial numbers. When you hear the familiar tick of the mechanism turning on, you internally panic and think about running away only to calm down moments later and think to yourself that you can simply beat it and take what you came here for. Even if you are emotionally and physically tired, you can manage, you think.

That was before hearing five other consecutive ticks right after it, and all around you.

Turning around, your gaze falls upon the small army of field tillers. Fuck.

Paimon wasn't with you today, you had asked for some time alone which she hesitantly accepted, so you couldn't ask her to go fetch help. You would have been worried if you had all your capacities but with the state you were in, you were wondering how you were going to survive this fight. You were alone, none of your companions with you, and deeply weakened by the busy day you had and the few hours of sleep you had managed to steal away from the night. Was it today you would meet your doom, with all your questions and uncertainties unanswered?

You tried your best to fight with the strength you had left, but quickly grew desperate after what felt like hours of efforts to swing your blade and being able to only take one monster down out of the six. It didn't help that you got injured along the way, their blows becoming harder and harder to dodge. After being thrown on the grown for the third time, you understood you had at least two broken ribs and that your shaking legs would soon fail you as well.

Fear crept upon you, you would die here today, alone. Alone. You couldn't talk to your sibling after all, couldn't understand. You didn't even get to talk to him one last time. Him... You would die without the knowledge of the truth about your bard. You would die alone. You didn't want that, you couldn't look death straight in the eye.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

-

In Mondstadt, there was a musician, a weird singer everyone had heard about at least once. He lived off of his songs and was mostly known for having a great story-telling and being an alcoholic.

The number of people who knew the true nature of his identity were few and he was perfectly content with that. He didn't wish to be a god anymore, his gnosis had been taken away anyway and it's not like he had any power over the city of wind nowadays. Even if his people still worshipped him as Barbatos, it didn't sit right with him to be called a god anymore. It actually never did, he thinks to himself with a smile, he never really took any responsibilities that came with the divine title which is why he was so weak today. But it didn't matter to him, his smile turns into a soft giggle.

Sitting on a mill that was once born from his steps he looks fondly over the city he founded. Even if they were godless, the citizens were still thriving and free. He cared oh so very deeply about the place even if he rarely, if not never, showed the affection within his heart. He remembers the day he grew strong enough to dispel the storms over his actual Mondstadt, and made the weather gentle enough so that there was no need for fireplaces. Nowadays, he loves watching birds nest into the chimney tops and seeing them found their own home. It gave him a sense of belonging like no other, not above his people, but walking among them and watching them nest into this cocoon he created. He was proud of what happened to his land and would do it all over again if he had to.

Especially since it led to him meeting you. This thought doesn't catch him off guard, you often roamed around in his mind after all, and it's not like he didn't write at least three songs about you and your feat, your smile, your courage...

Ah there he goes again, rambling about you in a whisper. He turns around to the statue of him his people erected in his honor, chuckling at how they never made the connection with his signature braids. His, but not really his, since he had stolen this form from someone who was much more deserving of this power than him. Seeing his friend being honored with the statues of the seven around the land made him happy, he hoped that it was a good enough thank you gift in return for everything that the bard whom he couldn't even remember the name of anymore did for him.

Upon gazing at the statue, he remembered telling you of his long gone friend. It was the first time he had talked about him to someone else, he didn't even mention it to Venessa, she who made him believe in himself again. He could ask himself why, but he simply knew that you had something different, more than meets the eye. Perhaps it was because you weren't from Teyvat, or perhaps it was just you being as simple as your natural self but he was simply and utterly captivated by your being. You inspired him to no end, at first he thought it was because he had never met someone like you and he loved new things! But as time grew and he got to know you, he understood quickly the meaning and depth of his passions. He thought of it with a light chuckle, content with your presence alone. He really did need and want you around.

So why did he purposely avoid you like the plague?

The wind had brought to his ears that you had met with Dainsleif.

And your twin.

His first reaction was to search for you, talk to you, he wanted to be here to know what happened! You had searched so long, he couldn't contain himself, still listening to what the wind told him, he started running with excitement but... But wait, Dainsleif was... He told you what?

Oh.

So you heard about Khaenri'ah. He had stopped dead in his tracks and turned back, only sending a warm current of wind your way, hugging you from afar.

He wasn't ready to talk about this yet, not ready to face you and absolutely not ready to answer your questions. He was a coward, he thought, running away like that but what else could he do, really. It was only natural for him to be as uncatchable as air.

A sorry excuse to avoid the fact that even if his past had marvelous story like the one of the nameless bard, it also had its share of darkness, something he wasn't ready to dive back into. Especially not now when your arrival has been shaking this world up like it hasn't been since at least 500 years.

But oh, how he longed to see your face or to hear your voice. So he asked a breeze to report to him what you were up to, and where you were. Just in case! he tells himself, what if you needed help ehe? But he knows you're competent and you won't need the help of a weakling coward like him anytime soon. Or so he thought.

Because when the breeze only gives him a few words back, his blood runs cold.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

-

As you murmured these words in your desperate state, not really for anyone but yourself as a last resort, a prayer of some sort, you tried to stand by leaning yourself on your sword and failing miserably. You didn't dare look up as you heard the loud footsteps of the metal giants coming your way. It was over, and you barely managed to accept it.

As you rested your forehead against the cold handle of your sword, you closed your eyes, tears starting to make their ways out of your closed eyelids. All you could feel was remorse.

A soft breeze moved your hair slightly and your chest felt like a black hole had taken place where your heart used to be, regretting to not have been able to meet him under the tree at Windrise one last time.

The breeze quickly grew stronger, until it felt unnatural and you looked up from the ground, only to close your eyes again immediately when you realized the wind was too powerful for you to keep them open. If you had struggled to see though, you would have been blinded by the white light that soon illuminated the whole ruins. You didn't have enough time to register the situation when you felt a hand being laid atop your shoulder, snaking around your collarbones and pulling you back into... nothing? Another arm circled your weak form and a voice you immediately recognized said

"I've dealt with things worse than you, now crumble."

You realized that if you couldn't feel a chest behind you while still being embraced by his arms, it was because he was floating above you, and not standing behind you. A look in his direction confirmed your suspicions but what stunned you wasn't the fact that he was flying, but the attire he wore. Barely covering his body, a white set made of materials that seemed like clouds and liquid gold contrasted perfectly with his regular green clothes. His hair was glowing green and his eyes that were focused on the ruin guards up ahead had a marvelous shine that you had never seen before. He had that same aura he did the night he freed Stanley, but there was also something different about the way his hands gripped you a little too tightly or the way his voice sounded.

"Venti.." You muttered his name, relief and affection flooding you all at once, in his presence you felt as if nothing bad could happen to you. How foolish could you be, just a few hours ago you were speculating wether or not he had wiped out an entire civilisation and now here you were, being saved by him and feeling safer than you had in months.

"Close your eyes, I don't want give you a headache" he said, slowly floating legs first towards the ground. His unusually serious voice surprised you (and him) but you did as he told you. Letting go of your sword and leaning back into him, you let him deal with the monsters ahead of you.

"It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask."

Being protected by a god really didn't feel that bad. Especially when you were in love with said god.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Thank you so much for reading whatever this is until the end :’)

Don’t hesitate to comment or reblog, tysm <3

Ps: venti loves u and so do i do pls take care of urself mwah

[anonymousfiction211]

Handcuffed together: 8 The party

The party

Today was the day that Steve finally woke up. When you heard the news your ran to the medbay, you had to see for yourself. Steve smiled brightly when he saw you and you engulfed him in a big hug. He grunted, still in pain and you loosened your grip.

‘Sorry’ you apologised. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Like I have a hang-over, something I haven’t had in a very long time’ he smiled to himself. ‘I will be ok, (Y/N)’ he said. ‘Thanks for saving me’

‘Ehm.. actually, Loki did most of the work’ you admitted.

Steve frowned ‘Loki can do that?’

‘Yep, he’s teaching me currently’ you said.

Steve just laughed. ‘What’s so funny?’ you asked a bit wary.

‘To think a few weeks back we had to handcuff the two of you together, and now you are constantly with each other and he is even teaching you. It’s funny’ he said. ‘Are you sure there is nothing more to it?’

You hoped your face didn’t look as red as you think it looked. ‘Yes, just friends’ you replied a bit nervously.

‘I heard something else from Natasha’ he said.

‘What did you hear from her?’ you asked.

‘Apparently, Loki was quite cross with his brother the last mission. Hate to have missed that, I never knew Loki could be boyfriend material’ he answered.

Right before you could reply, the devil himself walked in. ‘Captain’ he nodded curtly.

‘Loki’ Steve said back as curtly as Loki.

‘How are you?’ Loki asked.

‘Great, thanks for helping me’ he said.

You saw for a quick second the surprise on Loki’s face. He wasn’t used to being thanked.

‘You’re welcome’ he replied hesitantly. Then he turned his attention to you. ‘You’re late’ he said.

‘Well, Steve was waking up. So, I think that is a good excuse’ you replied.

Before Loki could reply, Steve intervened. ‘Oh, don’t let me keep her from you. Go, (Y/N). I will see you tonight, Tony is already planning a big party’ he said while rolling his eyes. Loki looked very pleased, you rolled your eyes but followed the God to the training room.

Later that night

To say that Tony was throwing a big party, was quite the understatement. There were more people in the tower than you ever saw. The music was barely audible over the loud conversations, and alcohol was flowing freely. You had a blast, partying, and dancing with the rest of the team. Even Loki seemed to have a good time, mostly talking to people. He did scare a few of them, but that was to be expected from the God of Mischief. Halfway through the night, the party finally seemed to come to an end. Most of the team was sitting on the couch. Bruce went to bead early and Clint didn’t attend the party.  You and Tony were quite intoxicated. You noticed Loki watching you like a hawk. You actually wanted to sit on his lap, but you didn’t know if you were ready for everyone to know. Whatever you could call what you and he were doing. Even tough, most of the team knew that something was up already, thanks to Loki.

The sound of the alarm and the red warning lights had everybody on high alert in an instance.

‘J.A.R.V.I.S., what is going on?’ Tony yelled to the AI.

‘There are some unknown individuals down in the lab, sire’ the AI replied.

‘Shit, that can’t be good. Right, ehm.. everyone who can still function properly, split up. We will cover every entrance to the lab and trap them there’ Tony yelled.

Even tough Tony gave the command, he was clearly to drunk to actually put on his suit. The only people who were capable were Thor, Loki, Steve, and Natasha. Steve had ordered the rest to stay put and the four of them went downstairs to the lab. So, you were left on the couch with Tony. The alarm didn’t stop and you heard explosions. After a while, the doors of the room you were sitting in burst open. Loki was quickly advancing at you, and you immediately noticed that something was off. Before you could react he grabbed you by the throat and lifted you into the air. You panicked, you couldn’t breathe anymore and no matter how much you struggled against his grip, he was too strong for you.

It took a moment for Tony to react. He sprinted towards Loki, in an attempt to tackle him. But Loki just slapped Tony out of the way and he went flying across the room. You tried to plead but didn’t have a voice anymore. Thor finally burst through the doors and flew at Loki. You fell down on the ground hard but didn’t care. You were gasping for air and tried to stay conscious. Natasha was by your side in a second and Steve went to help Thor.

‘Are you okay?’ Natasha asked

‘Y- yeah, but what?’ you barely could make audible.

Before she could answer you saw Loki in your eyeline again. He advanced towards you. You saw Steve and Thor both on the ground grunting. Natasha stood up, putting her body between you and Loki, but he pushed her away hard. The only thing you could do, was cower in fear. Suddenly Thor’s hammer slammed into Loki’s head and he fell down. To your relief he was unconscious. It took a moment for the whole team to get up and walk towards you and Loki. Thor extended his hand and helped you to your feet. He pulled you close and you hold onto him for dear life. You couldn’t help but starting to cry.

‘It’s okay. When he wakes up he will be normal again’ Thor whispered while stroking your hair.

‘WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?’ Tony yelled to Thor.

‘We don’t exactly know. But they got to him, it wasn’t his fault’ Steve said quickly.

‘What do you mean they got to him?’ Tony wanted to know.

‘I don’t exactly know. But when we split up, Loki found the creatures first. They talked to him, there was some weird energy surrounding him. Then he stormed of to here and the creatures just disappeared’ Thor explained. You could feel his voice vibrating through his body.

‘Did you recognize them or heard anything?’ Steve asked.

Thor just shook his head. Everybody’s attention switched when Loki started to groan and grab his head. He slowly sat up right, while everybody watched him intently. He blinked a few time and scanned his surroundings. He looked a bit disoriented. Suddenly, he looked at you with horror. You looked away and tightened your grip on Thor, to your relief he did the same.

‘I think you have some explaining to do’ Natasha said.

‘You’re not going to attack again?’ Tony asked.

‘No’ Loki replied, you could tell he was struggling. ‘I- I’m so sorry. I don’t know where to start’ he said. ‘I need to leave’

He quickly got to his feet, but swayed a little. Getting hit in the head with Mjölnir had his effect on him. Thor grabbed your arms and guided you towards Steve. You put your arms around him and Steve let you. Thor walked towards Loki. ‘You’re not leaving, sit down’ he sat strictly. He pushed Loki backwards and he fell onto the couch.

‘I need to leave’ Loki said desperately. He got up right, but Thor pushed him back down. You could tell he was exhausted and didn’t have much strength at the moment.

‘Tell us what happened if you need to leave afterwards you can’ Natasha said.

‘That’s a lie’ Loki replied.

It was silent for a long time. Everybody was looking at Loki, wating for him to speak. Loki was visibly struggling to find the words, that was rare. ‘Alright. It’s quite a long story’ he said.

‘We have all the time we need’ Tony replied.

‘You actually don’t, but anyway.. there is someone out there who is collecting all the infinity stones. And his minions were looking for the sceptre’ he said.

When he didn’t continue Thor asked ‘Who?’

‘He is named Thanos’ Loki replied.

‘What happened down there between you and them?’ Natasha asked.

Loki gritted his teeth. ‘They.. they put me in a trance’ he said.

‘Why did you attack, (Y/N)?’ she went on.

‘It’s complicated’ he replied.

‘Try me’ she quipped back.

Loki looked away, ashamed. ‘My first intention wasn’t to come here and play the hero’ he said.

‘I KNEW IT!’ Tony exclaimed! ‘I knew we shouldn’t trust you’

‘Shut up, Stark’ Thor boomed. ‘Loki?’ he asked.

‘Look, I convinced Odin to let me come here to ‘redeem’ myself for my actions. I was planning on escaping and starting over elsewhere… but Thanos contacted me and gave me another chance. So, I was stuck here’ he explained.

‘Another chance? At what?’ Natasha asked.

‘Collecting the mindstone, after that the Tesseract from Asgard’ he said.

‘I’m not buying it. How could they manipulate you so easily?’ Tony asked sceptically.

‘Once you’ve been under mindcontrol for a while, it’s easier to control the same person again’ Loki said.

‘When were YOU under mindcontrol?’ Tony snorted.

‘New York’ Loki said, still gritting his teeth.

‘Bullshit, we won’ Tony said.

‘I intentionally lost, there is a difference’ Loki said angrily.

‘Alright, why do you need to leave then?’ Natasha asked. ‘And don’t you dare lie to us’ she added.

‘To speak the truth, my first intention was to grab the stones and kill you in the process. Thor would grief too much to notice the attack on Asgard and after that I would be free’ he said, still not being able to look at the team. After a pause he continued. ‘But.. I didn’t expect.. I mean, I hadn’t planned on. You know, not wanting to kill you all.. so, I thought my best chance was to help you and if Thanos came defeat him’ he said.

‘We will circle back to the killing us part, but the latter sounds like reasonable? What changed?’ Natasha inquired further.

‘I’m okay with Thanos killing me. But today they told me they wouldn’t. They would use me to kill her and then keep me alive until I die naturally, should I fail’ he said while fumbling his hands.

You just stared in shock at Loki, but he wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze. ‘So, I need to leave’ he said then. Everyone stayed silent.

‘No’ you whispered, breaking the silence. You felt everyone’s eyes on you but couldn’t care less. The only eyes you stared into were Loki’s. A mix of horror, pain, hurt, hope and love danced over his face. He was trying hard to hold back tears, it shocked you to see the always so dominant and in control man reduced to this. You slowly walked towards him and to your surprise he backed away on the couch.

‘Don’t’ he whispered, his voice croaking a little.

You ignored him. You sat beside him on the couch and put your arms around him. He didn’t react for a minute. But then he put his arms around you, pulled you close and hang onto you for dear life.

The moment was ruined when Steve started to speak ‘All right, ehm. This is a lot. And still a bit vague. Maybe, we should go to bed and Loki, tomorrow you tell us everything. Every detail, only the truth. After that we will come up with a plan’

Loki let go of you and looked at Steve ‘The truth is, it would be easier for me to leave. That would fix all your problems’ he said.

‘You’re part of the team, and we look out for each other. So, the answer is no. And if you even think about leaving I will personally track you down and put you behind bars again, just to keep you here’ Natasha replied.

Loki cocked an eyebrow, surprised by this reaction. Most of the team just nodded, Tony however looked at the ground. ‘When you decided not to kill us anymore, your highness’ Natasha answered his silent question when he kept looking at her. Adding a bit of humour to lighten the mood.

Tags: @delightfulheartdream​ @the-best-phineas​ @theaudacitytowrite​ @l0nelyasian​ @ragweed98​

[guardianspirits13]

I wanna talk about Natsuo Todoroki for a second here.

tw// mentions of abuse, self harm, and suicide

Natsuo visibly has the most emotional trauma out of anyone else in his family (Touya not included), and I really wanna talk about why that is.

For starters, we haven't seen him really smile since he was introduced in chapter 187. He's introduced as having a friendly, easygoing persona and it's easy to imagine this is how most people outside of his family know him. However, every time we see him appear since then, another layer of his trauma is revealed and expanded upon, and it cuts DEEP.

I think the main reason that Natsuo still seems so vulnerable compared to the rest of his family is different than what you'd assume. Fuyumi and Shouto both spend a lot of time around Endeavor, and have been in close proximity to his (relatively recent) decision to atone. They have seen his growth firsthand and come to terms with it. Rei has obviously taken a very different path to healing- not entirely voluntarily- but she has been working with doctors and therapists for years to change and recover and reconnect with herself and her children. Natsuo is off at college, and takes every opportunity he can to avoid Endeavor. He (understandably) wants nothing to do with him, and shows stagnant resistance to his attempts to atone.

The reason why Natsuo can't move on from the past is because his trauma didn't come from Endeavor. It came from Touya.

Now initially we were led to believe that it was simply Touya's untimely death that still bothers Natsuo, and it makes sense seeing how Endeavor drove him to the edge. Losing his best friend and brother as a young kid without parents to support him or any therapist to speak of can absolutely been the source of persistent emotional damage, but the more and more we learn about Touya's situation, the more evident it becomes that Natsuo's trauma is much much deeper than even grief.

Touya, as we know, was driven by an ambition instilled in him by his father and experienced extreme rejection sensitivity when those ambitions were no longer realistic. Touya's relationship with his parents could be described as insecure attachment, a psychological term primarily regarding how kids react and respond to their parents and other close relationships. As he was raised, Touya learned to equate his potential to be a hero with his personal worth and similarly confounded attention with love. The difference being, of course, that love is unconditional, but even attention was being continually directed away from him as a punishment for continuing to train and burn himself so he could once again become worthy in his fathers' eyes.

This is where Natsuo comes in. At first it was assumed that all of the Todoroki children were born out of Endeavor's strong-willed desire to have a child that could surpass All Might, but we learned that this isn't exactly the case. I'd argue that it was narratively poetic on Horikoshi's part once this was expanded upon. Fuyumi was born to support and encourage her brother, and that is the exact role she plays 23 years later, keeping her family together.

Natsuo's case is even more intersting.

It was bad enough if Natsuo was only born for the potential of his quirk, but it's even more sinister that the sole intent behind his birth was to discourage Touya from his ambitions. I'd say it was to replace him, but it was more to promote the idea that Touya was expendable than to raise aonther kid with the same ideals but the potential to actually achieve it, although that was definitely a secondary motivation.

The parallelism in this is how much Natsuo's life revolves around Touya. He was born because of Touya, he looked up to and took care of Touya as a kid, and the absence of Touya in the present continues to drive him and his decisions in life (but more on that later).

I continue to pray that we will eventually get more solid backstory on Natsuo and Touya's relationship as kids and where it cut off, wether on a bad note or not, but there are a few things we know for certain. One, Touya was mentally ill. Yes, he was rejected by his parents but he seems to have been particularly vulnerable to this compared to any of his siblings since he was the first of them and thus relied only on his parents for validation in his early years. He shows early signs of a variety of different mental disorders, particularly BPD, which I have previously written a whole analysis for on its own. Touya is shown self-harming both by the very nature of his quirk and even by very directly ripping his hair out. He was incredibly self-destructive.

This is why it is so much more concerning to me that Natsuo, who was AT LEAST four years younger than him, was his primary source of comfort. Natsuo was too young to have known anything more than 'my big brother is sad that daddy won't train him anymore' and he obviously wasn't equipped in any way to handle Touya's severe mental illness. Touya most definitely needed professional treaatment as his forms of coping were abnormal even for the neglect and rejection that he experienced. Natsuo comforted Touya through breakdown after breakdown, and more than that Touya relied on him and came to him voluntarily for support. Natsuo was the best option he had, and he took full advantage of that. The main source of Natsuo's trauma was Touya's reliance on him.

Not to say at all that this was in any way Touya's fault- he was mentally ill and desperately in need of some form of comfort to keep him sane; it was almost a survival method at this point since neither of his parents really acknowleged him at all anymore. Touya's instability hurt Natsuo more than parental neglect ever did, but it was the neglect that enabled it and striped Touya of the supportive atmosphere he would have needed at this point not only to prevent but to heal from the mental damage he had already suffered.

Natsuo dealt with this for years and you can see how much it hurt him to see Touya in so much pain, not only from Endeavor's rejection but from his own self harm as well. For Natuso to know that his brotherly love would never be the same as having loving parents; would neve be enough- but at least it was something so he continued to love and care about his brother for little in return- is indicative of the kind of character he is.

(Edit: After the events of chapter 302 we know that Natsuo's relationship with Touya wasn't perfect. I will elaborate more on this in a different post, but I just wanted to clarify that although we were shown a very high-tension scene between them, it is implied that this was a regular occurrence that Natsuo was usually more receptive too but tired out of, in addition to Touya's spiraling mental health. It fit with the natrative to show the tension Touya was feeling with his family from all directions, but Natsu and Touya clearly had a stronger relationship up to and before this point, evidenced by their sharing a room and playing together regularly.)

He is incredibly selfless, and it's interesting to note how many of his positive qualities as an adult stem from negative experiences as a kid. He never really felt love from his parents, so he relied on Touya (and likely also Fuyumi) for that as well. If he grew up learning he had to give love in order to recieve it back, it absolutely influenced who he became in the future, a solid example of this being the responsibility he feels to reach out and have a relationship with Shouto and further regrets that he wasn't able to help his abuse in the past either. Another aspect of his character that intruigues me is how gentle he is. Personality-wise he seems about as opposite as he could be from the awkward, stoic, emotionally-stunted person that is Endeavor.

There are a couple of reasons for this, beyond what I've already discussed.

One, he had little to no contact with elements of toxic masculinity growing up, especially not from Endeavor.

Two, most of the influence he did have growing up was from Fuyumi, who is established to have endlessly cared for him since he was a literal baby.

Three, he grew up in a household where almost everyone around him was in much more literal, immediate pain than he was so he developed a very strong sense of empathy that might also have been tied to early survivor's guilt.

Now I have one important distinction to make, and that's the temptation to label him as a 'softboy' or something of the like after seeing him caring for his family and more pointedly, watching him break down in tears during chapter 252. While there is absolutely nothing wrong with men being soft or vulnerable (on the contrary it's actually so so important and relevant that Hori is writing characters like this in a mainstream shounen manga but that's an essay for another time), it is unfair to label him as such based on a moment when his trauma is being exposed.

Because his truama stems from such a young age, there is a blurry line between just being born with more emotional intelligence and the situation he was in fostering those traits. You know, the classic nature/nurture thing. My point being, it's important to tread carefully when discussing the nature of his personality to avoid invalidating his trauma; I have no doubt that he is very strong for having survived these things, and the moments we see of him onscreen are definitely among his most vulnerable.

Another thing that people less familiar with Natsuo's character might assume is that he is hot-headed and argumentative. I thought that at first too- after all, he doesn't seem to shy away from yelling at Endeavor when given the opportunity. However, this doesn't seem to be the case at all.

The first real scene we see him in with Endeavor, the man walks into the room and Natsuo decides he can't handle it and goes to leave. However, Endeavor happens to be blocking the doorway. Endeavor physically stops him and provokes him to his face, asking him to say whatever is on him mind. While Natsuo is notably not confrontational, Endeavor is. I think it's fair to say that he felt at least uneasy at this gesture. Natsuo is very honest with his feelings, and it's obvious that he's pissed at the audacity of Endeavor to be so oblivious to his own son. This is presumably one of the first real interactions they've ever really had, and at this point Natsuo has been dealing with trauma (caused by Endeavor!) on his own for years, and Endeavor seems completely oblivious to his pain and dismmisive to the rest of the family's as well.

Again during the internship arc Natsuo tries to get along with Endeavor and this time he actually gives it a fleeting chance. Tensions are high, however, and the conversation very quickly becomes uncomfortable, at which point he leaves. It is continually implied that Natsuo is uncomfortable being around Endeavor because his very presence brings up painful thoughts and memories of a time when sharing the same space as him was a warning to run and hide. This is later directly confirmed by Natsuo as he says that every time he looks at Endeavor's face he remembers Touya and the pain he was in.

I feel like an important side note is that we have never seen Natsuo outside the context of his family, which is understandable, as the role he plays in the story directly relates to them. However, if you take a look at Shouto, even though his experiences have shaped him to become who he is, he definitely acts differently when Endeavor's not in the vicinity.

Back to Touya's death, it would be very rare that someone would mourn a death for an entire decade without finding closure unless there are other factors preventing it, and uncomfortably this seems to be the same thing for both Natsuo and Endeavor: guilt.

This is getting incredibly long already, but it's important to note that Natsuo probably felt an incredible responsibility to take care of Touya and protect him because of his empathetic nature. His love was never going to be the same as having loving parents. His encouragement was never going to be the same as having support from Endeavor. Even further than then neglect and abandonement, it was not being able to save Touya that really made Natsuo feel worthless.

He seems to try and remedy this inability to save Touya and diminish his guilt by doing everything he can to be better. He reaches out to Shouto to be a better brother, he consistently pushes his limits to entertain Fuyumi's notion of a happy family, and he's working hard towards a degree rhat will allow him to help people like Touya (and Rei) because he failed to do so in the past.

His bio mildly implies that he didn't have much of a direction he was heading in after high school, but Fuyumi's encouragement led him to seek out his current college career. This goes back to Natsuo's 'purpose' in a sense revolving arount Touya, from his birth to his relationship with him to his death, after which he lost his direction. They were always rather inseperable, so naturally their seperation hit Natsuo hard. He lost his direction in life so when Fuyumi encouraged him to rediscover it, he thought of helping people, because that's ultimately what he was born to do.

Thank you so, so much for reading this if you made it to the end! I clearly have a lot of thoughts on this. Let me know what you think about it as well, and hopefully we'll get more info on this soon in the manga :)

[aion-rsa]

Doctor Who: Perfect 10? How Fandom Forgets the Dark Side of David Tennant’s Doctor

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As recently as September 2020 David Tennant topped a Radio Times poll of favourite Doctors. He beat Tom Baker in a 2006 Doctor Who Magazine poll, and was voted the best TV character of the 21st Century by the readers of Digital Spy. He was the Doctor during one of Doctor Who‘s critical and commercial peaks, bringing in consistently high ratings and a Christmas day audience of 13.31 million for ‘Voyage of the Damned’, and 12.27 million for his final episode, ‘The End of Time – Part Two’. He is the only other Doctor who challenges Tom Baker in terms of associated iconography, even being part of the Christmas idents on BBC One as his final episodes were broadcast. Put simply, the Tenth Doctor is ‘My Doctor’ for a huge swathe of people and David Tennant in a brown coat will be the image they think of when Doctor Who is mentioned.

In articles to accompany these fan polls, Tennant’s Doctor is described as ‘amiable’ in contrast to his predecessor Christopher Eccleston’s dark take on the character. Ten is ‘down-to-earth’, ‘romantic’, ‘sweeter’, ‘more light-hearted’ and the Doctor you’d most want to invite you on board the TARDIS. That’s interesting in some respects, because the Tenth Doctor is very much a Jekyll and Hyde character. He’s handsome, he’s charismatic, and travelling with him can be addictively fun, but he is also casually cruel, harshly dismissive, and lacking in self-awareness. His ego wants feeding, and once fed, can have destructive results.

That tension in the character isn’t due to bad writing or acting. Quite the contrary. Most Doctors have an element of unpleasantness to their behaviour. Ever since the First Doctor kidnapped Ian and Barbara, the character has been moving away from the entitled snob we met him as, but can never escape it completely.

Six and Twelve were both written to be especially abrasive, then soften as time went on (with Colin Baker having to do this through Big Finish audio plays rather than on telly). A significant difference between Twelve and Ten, though, is that Twelve questions himself more. Ten, to the very end, seems to believe his own hype.

The Tenth Doctor’s duality is apparent from his first full appearance in 2005’s ‘The Christmas Invasion’. Having quoted The Lion King and fearlessly ambled through the Sycorax ship in a dressing gown, he seems the picture of bonhomie, that lighter and amiable character shining through. Then he kills their leader. True, it was in self-defence, but it was lethal force that may not have been necessary. Then he immediately topples the British Prime Minister for a not dissimilar act of aggression. Immediately we see the Tenth Doctor’s potential for violence and moral grey areas. He’s still the same man who considered braining someone with a rock in ‘An Unearthly Child’. 

Teamed with Rose Tyler, a companion of similar status to Tennant’s Doctor, they blazed their way through time and space with a level of confidence that bordered on entitlement, and a love that manifested itself negatively on the people surrounding them. The most obvious example in Series 2 is ‘Tooth and Claw’, where Russell T. Davies has them react to horror and carnage in the manner of excited tourists who’ve just seen a celebrity. This aloof detachment results in Queen Victoria establishing the Torchwood institute that will eventually split them apart. We see their blinkers on again in ‘Rise of the Cybermen’, when they take Mickey for granted. Rose and the Doctor skip along the dividing line between romance and hubris.

Then, in a Christmassy romp where the Doctor is grieving the loss of Rose, he commits genocide and Donna Noble sucker punches him with ‘I think you need somebody to stop you’. Well-meaning as this statement is, the Doctor treats it as a reason to reduce his next companion to a function rather than a person. Martha Jones is there to stop the Doctor, as far as he’s concerned. She’s a rebound companion. Martha is in love with him, and though he respects her, she’s also something of a prop.

This is the series in which the Doctor becomes human in order to escape the Family of Blood (adapted from a book in which he becomes human in order to understand his companion’s grief, not realising anyone is after him), and is culpable for all the death that follows in his wake. Martha puts up with a position as a servant and with regular racist abuse on her travels with this man, before finally realising at the end of the series that she needs to get out of the relationship. For a rebound companion, Martha withstands a hell of a lot, mostly caused by the Doctor’s failings. 

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Series 4 develops the Doctor further, putting the Tenth’s Doctor’s flaws in the foreground more clearly. Donna is now travelling with him, and simply calls him out on his behaviour more than Rose or Martha did. Nonetheless the Doctor ploughs on, and in ‘Midnight’ we see him reduced to desperate and ugly pleas about how clever he is when he’s put in a situation he can’t talk himself out of.

Rose has also become more Doctor-like while trapped in another reality, and brutally tells Donna that she’s going to have to die in order to return to the original timeline (just as the Doctor tells Donna she’s going to have to lose her memories of travelling with him in order to live her previous life, even as she clearly asks him not to – and how long did the Doctor know he would have to do this for? It’s not like he’s surprised when Donna starts glitching). Tied into this is the Doctor’s belief in his own legend. In ‘The Doctor’s Daughter’ he holds a gun to Cobb’s head, then withdraws it and asks that they start a society based on the morals of his actions. You know, like a well-adjusted person does.

What’s interesting here is that despite presenting himself as ‘a man who never would’, the Doctor is a man who absolutely would. We’ve seen him do it. Even the Tenth Doctor, so keen to live up to the absolute moral ideals he espouses, killed the Sycorax leader and the Krillitanes, drove the Cybermen to die of despair, brought the Family of Blood to a quiet village and then disposed of them personally. But Tennant doesn’t play this as a useful lie, he plays it as something the Doctor absolutely believes in that moment, that he is a man who would not kill even as his daughter lies dead. It’s why his picking up a gun in ‘The End of Time’ has such impact. And it makes some sense that the Tenth Doctor would reject violence following a predecessor who regenerated after refusing to commit another double-genocide.

In the series finale ‘Journey’s End‘, Davros accuses the Doctor of turning his friends into weapons. This is because the Doctor’s friends have used weapons against the Daleks who – and I can’t stress this enough – are about to kill everyone in the entire universe. Fighting back against them seems pretty rational. Also – and again I can’t stress this enough – the Daleks are bad. Like, really bad. You won’t believe just how mindbogglingly bad they are. The Doctor has tried to destroy them several times by this point. Here, there isn’t the complication of double-genocide, and instead the very real threat of absolutely everyone in the universe dying. This accusation, that the Doctor turns people into weapons, should absolutely not land.

And yet, with the Tenth Doctor, it does. This is a huge distinction between him and the First Doctor, who had to persuade pacifists to fight for him in ‘The Daleks’.

In ‘The Sontaran Strategem’ Martha compares the Doctor to fire. It’s so blunt it almost seems not worth saying, but it’s the perfect analogy (especially for a show where fire is a huge part of the very first story). Yes, fire shines in dark places, yes it can be a beacon, but despite it being very much fire’s entire deal, people can forget that it burns. And fire has that mythical connection of being stolen from the gods and brought to humanity. The Time Lord Victorious concept fits the Tenth Doctor so well. Of all the Doctors, he’s the most ready to believe in himself as a semi-mythic figure.

Even when regenerating there’s a balance between hero and legend: the Tenth Doctor does ultimately save Wilfred Mott, but only after pointing out passionately how big a sacrifice he’s making. And then he goes to get his reward by meeting all his friends, only to glare at them from a distance. His last words are ‘I don’t want to go’, which works well as clearly being a poignant moment for the actor as well, but in the context of Doctor Who as a whole it renders Ten anomalous: no one else went this unwillingly. And yet, in interviews Russell T. Davies said it was important to end the story with ‘the Doctor as people have loved him: funny, the bright spark, the hero, the enthusiast’.

It’s fascinating then, that this is the Doctor who has been taken to heart by so many viewers because there’s such an extreme contrast between his good-natured front, his stated beliefs, and his actions. He clearly loves Rose and Donna, but leaves them with a compromised version of happiness. They go on extraordinary journeys only to end up somewhere that leaves them less than who they want to be, with Russell T. Davies being more brutally honest than Steven Moffat, who nearly always goes the romance route. Davies once said to Mark Lawson that he liked writing happy endings ‘because in the real world they don’t exist’, but his endings tend towards the bittersweet: Mickey and Martha end up together but this feels like they’re leftovers from the Doctor and Rose’s relationship. The Tenth Doctor doesn’t, as Nine does, go with a smile, but holding back tears.

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It’s a testament to how well written the Tenth Doctor is that the character has this light and shade, and with David Tennant’s immense likeability he can appeal to a wider audience as a result. It’s not surprise he wins all these polls, but I can’t help but feel that if the Doctor arrived and invited me on board the TARDIS, I’d want it to be anyone but Ten.

The post Doctor Who: Perfect 10? How Fandom Forgets the Dark Side of David Tennant’s Doctor appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[067supremacy]

WARNING! Mentions of death, loss, and grief 

Your one and only - Jill Valentine

I'm sorry in advance 💔

Rain and tears mingle on your face, salty tracks blending into the fresh sky-fallen trickles. Only the pinkness of your eyes gives any clue to your sadness, and in this city, who will look closely enough to tell. There is a heaviness to your woolen coat that was absent when you left the hospital.

The rain beats down on you like a drum; the sheer force, combined with your ultimate sadness, was tiring. The massive sign covered in graffiti signaled that you had just entered the local park. Seems a good enough place as any to have a breakdown.

The children play park came in to view, and that's when the memories of your childhood spiked; it was this exact play park you met the love of your life, Jill. Better times and Better memories.

Yesterday was so simple, you picked up the expensive ring you could barely afford, you got Jills' favorite flowers, her go-to snacks. And even had her favorite movie ready to play. Jill always said she wanted subtle, so a proposal in the apartment you now shared together seemed perfect. Little did you know that shortly after midnight, you would get a call.

A call you hoped would never come, a call you couldn't imagine would ever come. The sound of a man's voice, easily mid-'50s, said with nothing but sorrow, the two words you never wanted to hear. "I'm sorry,"

The rest of the call was a blur; you couldn't even remember hanging up. But you had one destination, and that was the Raccoon City Hospital.

It was fairly routine for people with Jills' skill set, a possible kidnap and hostage situation. You didn't know the details, and quite frankly, you didn't care for them, but the man who was responsible for that crime had just taken the life of your one and only.

Your mind was in denial; she would be fine. Sitting up in the hospital bed with a slight cut, anxiously awaiting your arrival.

This was far from the case. The sad smile the doctor offered you; told you everything you needed to know. She was gone—your Jill. The sight you entered on was sickening. Multiple bullet wounds scattered her chest and stomach, tubes, and wires were surrounding her body. Her face was pale white, but her neck under was stained crimson red.

The overwhelming urge to release the contents of your stomach was stopped, for you had to be strong at this moment. The tears you tried so hard to keep back were eventually released—a downpour, similar to the one outside.

It was almost as if mother nature had taken your soul as a reference to how the weather would be. At first, the flood gates opened, and as you stroked her cold, bloodless cheek, the rain got heavier and heavier.

Your tears of sadness soon became anger. When the anger crept up, you could hear the light rumble of impending thunder, followed by the deadly strike of lightning.

The devil himself would have been shaking at your fury, begging for endless mercy.

She was right in front of you, even in death, she was angelic. You took this opportunity to let everything out. Your agonizing wails of pain echoed through the empty hospital hallways; patients, doctors, and nurses could all hear your life unfolding. This is genuine pain.

As preparations for Jills' body were put into place, you kissed her hand one last time. The last time. Your heart was officially broken; no amount of time would heal this fracture on your being. The second you exited the hospital room, you felt nothing.

A man you knew to be Jills' partner, Chris, was standing by the door. He, too, looked distraught, his tall, overpowering demeanor was gone. Replaced by utter sadness, he avoided eye contact as he caught your attention.

"I'm so sorry, I-I tried my best, but- "

You shook your head in response. You knew Chris would take this hard; Jill was his partner after all.

"Don't do that to yourself, she wouldn't let you," That was all you could manage; it was blunt but to the point.

"In the event of one of our- this is for you, I promised I would give it to you,"

Chris held out a small envelope, which you took before aimlessly walking through the silent corridor.

With those thoughts pushed aside, you looked down at the wrinkled envelope; it was slightly water damaged, so you hoped whatever was inside was still intact.

You took a seat by the playground; it was covered from rain by a small canopy. As you open the envelope, you take a deep breath when you realize it's a letter, and the handwriting is unmistakable. It was Jill who wrote this.

"So, I'm not good with this sort of thing. I hope that you never have to read this.

Anyway, Hi, babe. If you receive this letter then, well. I'm gone.

I want to start off by saying that I'm sorry. I know how you will react to this; you will be upset at first, but that will turn to anger; it will be with others at first, but soon the anger will be with yourself. Please don't let it consume you; I know you won't fight it, which is why I will personally come back and throw it out of you. (Drawn smiley face) when my light goes out, and it's my time to settle down, just know that my main concern will be you. Always you.

Secondly, I love you. I dedicated everything I have to you, but it still feels like it isn't enough. When I get home tonight, I will be sure to tell you ten times over just how much I love you.

Finally, since you probably/hopefully won't see this, I should tell you that I may have plans to get you a puppy for your birthday. You won't stop talking about it and well if it makes you smile. It will make me smile. Also want to add that I'm still waiting for you to propose; stop teasing me with it and ask the question already! The answer is always yes.

You're the one I can't live without.

This fact is true, I have no doubt.

I love the way you smile at me.

I love the way together we're free.

Your one and only, Jill."

Everything about this letter was crushing. She was waiting for you to propose. God was playing a sick game right now; he had no respect for your life. Everything that you wanted was supposed to happen tonight. You would finally spend the rest of your life with her until the powers beyond took it all away.

The tears continued to fall, and the rain had yet to die down. Looking out at the busy street beyond the park, the neon glow of high street shops surrounded by water droplets, created the aesthetic of a lifetime. You began to see her face in the rain; you could make out every single detail that made her so unique. As a flash of lightning temporarily blinded your vision, by the time it was back. Her face was gone.

There was no doubt that tonight would forever be remembered, just not in the way you hoped. The night you were to ask Jill for her hand in marriage was the same night you lost her forever.

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Five

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 5 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: mentions of male masturbation and boners (lol); strong language; references to suicide, murder, and drug smuggling; abusive parental relationship; mentions of child death in a second flashback; dry humping (smut); 18+ only please!

Word Count: 16,500+

A/N: damn that chapter warning list was a trip to write down lmao

~

Westview, 2023, 1:32 pm

     An uncomfortable silence spread throughout the parked vehicle, daring either of you to take the first step. No one commented on the glares boring into your soul as you drove through the town or how heavily the three of you got patted down by the authorities right outside the state line. You figured it was completely justified - still a little insulting to a bunch of Avengers who literally saved the world three weeks ago. 

With a loud gulp, Bucky was the first to kick open his door and get out of the car. You glanced at Steve from the driver’s seat, biting your lip with a slight quiver as you went over the speech you practiced earlier today. Simple enough, and not too damning. 

Steve’s leg bounced rapidly a few more times before he too kicked open his door, leaving you in silence. You pulled the car keys from the ignition and took in a deep breath. Your legs were numb, the anxiety washing over you in uneven cycles. It was now or never. 

“Wanda, it’s us…”

Her grief seemed to emit from every crack in the sidewalk, every weak beg escaping the townspeople’s throats, every sound from the inanimate objects her powers had continued to turn from gray to red… to green… back to gray. She was crouched on the property, weeds brushing against her black pants and leaving their mark, mascara smudged with each new wet streak. 

Bucky unzipped his jacket, eyes wandering over the deserted plot of land as Wanda tried to control her sobs. She had already caused enough damage, both physical and psychological, the possibility of more government involvement looming over your heads. He carefully walked toward her and wrapped his jacket over her shoulders, all be damned as he held her and began to tear up himself.

“Wanda, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll get through this,” Steve sighed, still keeping a respectable distance from her in case she were to run. But you knew her better - she was all out of fight. One fight after another and yet she still lost her love. 

“I did something really bad,” she sobbed, eyes locked on the spot where Vision had just disappeared. Again.

“No, you didn’t know what you were doing,” Steve declared, shocked by the unexpected scoff from Bucky. 

“Save it, Steve. She may not have known in the beginning but she does now. She still did it.”

No one dared correct Bucky or argue with that logic because if anyone knew about causing harm with absolutely no intention, it was obviously him. Taking responsibility - that was the best course of action. 

Once you heard of a radioactive disturbance in a small town just outside the state, the team almost retired completely. So soon after defeating Thanos, so soon after Tony’s death, so soon after Natasha’s death - the team left it up to the proper authorities this time around. 

But the second you watched the broadcast of Wanda’s fantasies, the sitcom her powers were conjuring, her giving birth to her children… all you could do was wait until she opened the barrier. 

“I still did it,” Wanda said, her upper body beginning to rock back and forth as her fingertips brightened with red tendrils of magical grief. 

You shut your eyes and willed yourself not to cry. You had done so much crying these past few years and you were oh, so tired. You couldn’t possibly take another beating. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Bucky spoke, gently turning Wanda’s face and placing both his hands on her cheeks, mindful of the metal appendage he had forgotten to cover with his glove. “You already did it. It can’t be undone. But you can come with us and grieve properly.”

Wanda reached up and placed her hands over his, tears spilling from her eyes faster now. 

“Let us help you grieve.”

This wasn’t an unexpected goodbye. Wanda knew that. She had just voluntarily given up her husband and children - anyone would crumble from that sort of devastation. But now she had been given a proper goodbye, a somewhat proper closure, and the chance to accept it. “Okay.”

You and Steve remained frozen in place even after Bucky helped Wanda stand. Almost as quickly as you thought it, your feet had a mind of their own. You stood next to Steve, taking in the weed infested, rectangular plot of land - the remnants of Wanda’s fantasy still fresh and creating a tiny, refreshing tingle in the middle of your chest. You looked over at Steve and smiled sadly when you saw him inspecting the area as well. 

“They would have had a beautiful life together.”

Steve’s breath hitched as you finished your declaration, looking over at you and nodding slightly. 

“If I had the chance, I would have wanted a nice house with some decent air conditioning. Some weird, front yard garden where I could plant random flowers. A dog that dug them up and acted like it didn’t do it.”

You giggled, thumbnail between your incisors to try and disguise the wider grin forming. Steve kept speaking. 

“Maybe a kid or two. Never actually checked if I could even have kids after the serum.”

You dropped your hand from your face, your attention completely on him now. 

Steve sighed and kicked a rock over to the other side of the property. “I would have wanted a giant, king-sized bed. With ‘his’ and ‘hers’ towels. And every once in a while we would accidentally use the other one’s toothbrush, a secret we would take to the grave.”

Steve wasn’t even looking over at you as he said this. It was like a one-sided confession, rhetorical, not needing an immediate response or expression in return. And you couldn’t believe he was just saying this in front of you - you of all people - the same person who rolled their eyes whenever Steve struggled to comprehend a modern topic or argued with him when he was in one of his moods. He had been distant the last few weeks after returning the stones, only ever noticing you when other people were around to carry a conversation. 

The tingles in your chest were starting to disappear as the plot of land gave its last few magical rumbles. 

“Steve?”

Steve bowed his head, hands in his pockets and breath steady. “Yes, they would have been very happy together.”

You stared at the back of his head as he slowly walked back to the car.  

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

     The amount of times you reminded yourself to wake up early as you were drifting off to sleep last night was perhaps more than the number of sheep you had ever counted in your life. A quick reminder here and there as your mind got clogged with pointless information, the number eight behind your eyelids all throughout the night. 

And you did it. In the early hours of the morning, knowing Steve would wake naturally in about twenty minutes, you tip-toed out of bed to use the bathroom. Acting completely normal in case he did in fact hear you before your grand plan - an easy escape route if he decided to repeat his horrible morning ritual on you. But he was such an old man, getting older, losing that serum’s boost. This Steve, Steve who refused to call any movie made after 1945 ‘old’ because he literally didn’t get the chance to see them premiere - yeah, this Steve, was passed out like he had been hit by a truck. 

Bladder empty and teeth brushed, you quietly opened the bathroom door and peeked through. He still lay there on his back, wrapped tightly in his blanket, breathing steadily, and face completely unprotected. 

Could you die? Probably. Would this payback be absolutely satisfying? Hell yeah. 

You grabbed the biggest of your pillows and fisted the corner tightly, twisting it a couple times for a better grip. You signed the cross quickly before lifting the pillow above your head and bringing it down to Steve’s face. 

Steve’s eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up, “WHAT?”

His eyes flew around the room rapidly until they landed on you, angry and challenging.

“Payback!” you yelled, lifting the pillow high again for a second hit. But he reacted quicker, grabbing a pillow himself and swinging it toward you. It slammed you in the torso and practically sent you flying. You landed at the edge of your bed, mouth open in shock and racks of laughter bubbling deep within your chest. You stood quickly and hit him repeatedly, trying your best to also block his counterattack. 

He reached for your hip and pulled you in his bed, rolling the two of you over so he was straddling your hips. He brought the pillow down several more times before accepting your plea of surrender. 

You threw the pillow back to your bed and pouted, “Not a fair fight!”

Steve scoffed, “You caught me off guard! You had all the advantages!”

You shuffled beneath him and froze, hips stuck in a lifted position as you were too embarrassed to move them back down. “Jesus, Steve! How do you even sleep on your stomach with that thing?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows as he inspected your face and body, looking down at the two of you before he noticed the way he was pressing into your inner thigh. He scrambled off you, a blush spreading from his cheeks and all the way down his chest. He cupped himself and turned away, quickly shuffling for his suitcase and pulling whatever clothes his flustered hands grabbed. He was also repeatedly apologizing. 

“Steve, it’s okay. It just… startled me, is all.”

Steve cleared his throat a couple times before pacing around the room in search of his toiletries. 

You just sat back on your elbows, watching him scurry like a chicken with its head cut off. It was rather amusing. 

“I’m gonna - gonna, take a shower. Uh, I’m sorry again.”

You smirked at the super soldier, “Steve, I’m not mad. It isn’t like I’m new to that kind of thing.”

Steve blushed harder, “But I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

You shrugged your shoulders and dipped lower into his sheets, grabbing and lifting them higher. You snuggled deeper, “Still.”

Steve could feel the speed at which the world rotated and he shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned against it, breathing deeply until he had all his inhibitions back. 

He didn’t know what was more embarrassing - reacting the way he did or you seeing him react the way he did. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t seen each other in awkward situations, some borderline lewd. There were plenty of missions that involved heavy flirting with the targets, undercover work in depraved settings, missions where nasty magic was involved and concocted a multitude of inappropriate visions. Hell, everyone had already seen each other naked. It was completely normal, a trustworthy environment, and sometimes necessary. 

As much as he wanted to give into the feeling and award himself some proper alone time, he refused to act upon it. He would regret it later once the stress pushed down harder than usual, but it just wasn’t appropriate in his right mind to masturbate with you in the other room. 

Why did he have to be such a good and honorable man?

He busied himself with washing his hair and scrubbing away any evidence of sleep from his face. Steve liked sleeping on his stomach, face smooshed in the pillows and arms extended to his sides. It allowed for more comfortable movement, more ways to stretch his hips, just overall comfort for his massive shoulders. Less pressure on the lungs, too. And unlike the enthusiastic yet almost mean accusation that he couldn’t possibly enjoy that position because of his… well, his dick, Steve would choose that position over sleeping on his back any day. But that morning, his body had decided to betray him in more ways than one. One, he was open to attack because he was on his back. And two, whatever dream he was having caused his morning wood to seem larger this morning.

He had washed up quickly, more time spent out of the shower where he fixed his hair and combed his beard. He thought about shaving it for the rehearsal dinner or wedding, but it gave him a more rugged look - like he was all tough and no funny business. As ridiculous as it sounded, the beard allowed him to lean into the criminal act easier, build a fake personality that already had your father eating out of his hand. 

Opening the bathroom door and having to face the music, Steve was almost certain you would continue to tease him. But you were already munching on the breakfast you had ordered, shoveling hash browns in your mouth as you swiped the mouse through pages and pages of intel. You didn’t even look up as he crossed the room to grab a pair of pants he had forgotten to pick up during his quick escape. That settled his nerves almost instantly and he was dressed and settled next to you soon after.

You worked in silent cooperation for a long while, handing each other files and passing phone calls like you had during every other mission before. Except now it was more comfortable, pleasant, and kind - the soft sounds from the television in the corner, the humming of the desktop, the soft hums of recognition whenever you two showed each other something. You didn’t even bother with what happened in the morning, if it really was anything at all, because you honestly found it normal. You were more focused on the conversation you had last night. 

Steve had offered to kill your father if you seriously couldn’t. Just thinking about his offer caused your stomach to turn. Because yes, you wanted him dead. You wanted to snap his neck in ten different places and feed him to scavengers. You wanted to steal his business from under him and tear it apart, bit by bit, and keep him alive long enough to see you do it. You wanted to see the look in his eyes when you revealed that you double-crossed him. And as the day inched closer, the overwhelming feeling of shame pushed down on your shoulders and swallowed your mind. Once your father was dead, you and Steve would never find true peace. His men would always follow you, probably take you down at the local coffee shop you and Peter frequented. 

The thought of dying in front of Peter caused a lump to form in your throat. No, you wouldn’t do that to your friends. You couldn’t do this to Steve. 

But you had to. Because even though your life will never be yours after this mission, you had to save the countless others your father was sure to touch and ruin. 

But was your life ever truly yours?

Steve’s voice pulled you from your clouded mind. 

“Huh?” 

“I asked if you wanted the last piece of fruit.” 

You looked at Steve then at the small piece of watermelon in the bowl, then back at Steve. He had a pen in between his teeth, one eyebrow cocked, and slightly puffy eyes due to the beer heavy sleep he had last night. You looked away as quickly as you could and stared back at the fruit, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

Ridiculous, you thought. Just looking at Steve had flustered you, squeezing your stomach in pleasurable pulses you hadn’t felt since high school. “No, no. You can have it,” you said, hoping your voice wouldn’t crack. 

Ridiculous. 

Steve watched you with a funny smile but he took your word and scooped up the last piece for himself. 

No, you thought again, this man will not give me freaking butterflies. 

It wasn’t like it was odd. Steve had you flustered countless times before, but it was never quite as tingly as it was now. You suddenly wanted to facetime Wanda and rant about these weird feelings; you wanted to curl in on yourself and squeal; you wanted to -

    “He’s what?”

You sat on your knees and leaned over the back of the couch, chin resting on your folded arms as you watched Steve pace around the common room. He was tugging at his dress shirt repeatedly, desperately trying to attach cufflinks without additional help. Sam sat right beside you, in the same position, snickering each time Steve cursed under his breath. 

“He’s nervous,” Bucky smirked, arm holding out Steve’s tie for the past five minutes. Steve had paced beside him various times already, completely oblivious. 

Steve groaned and readjusted his collar, snapping his head toward the three of you. “I’m not nervous.”

“You’re sweating buckets, man,” Sam pointed out, one of his hands discreetly opening up his camera and switching to video. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” 

Bucky threw his head back and cackled, choosing to grab Steve and steady him to finally put that damn tie around his neck. “Same old, Steve. Can’t accept that a dame would ever possibly like you back.”

“Hey, Steve don’t worry about it,” you started, shooting Steve a sympathetic look. Steve glanced back at you, expression swiftly changing due to your kind tone. “... when I was in high school,-”

Steve released a loud grunt, rolling his eyes and stepping away from Bucky’s hands. 

Sam rolled over and clutched his stomach as he laughed, pulling you into him. The two of you shook from your laughs together. 

“Guys,” Bucky warned, reaching for Steve in a ‘grabby’ motion. “Give him a break.”

Steve reluctantly stood beside Bucky again, head tilted upward as he tried wrapping the tie back around his neck. 

None of you heard the entrance of Thor and his brother, too busy with bullying, laughter, or moderating. 

“Did we miss all the fun?”

You shot up from the ground, kicking Sam away as you rushed across the floor and stumbled over the rug. “Thor!”

You rushed into his arms and he gripped you tightly, swinging you around and loud laughter matching yours. 

“Now, why wasn’t I greeted in a similar manner?” Loki questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You pulled your face from Thor’s shoulder, “Oh, you want this too?”

You jumped back onto the floor and were about to jump into Loki’s arms, but he held his own out, stopping you. “It’s too late. It’s not the same.”

“Piss baby,” you quipped, rushing behind Thor for protection when Loki’s mouth dropped in surprise. 

“Can everyone stop what they’re doing real quick and tell Steve his date is going to go well tonight?”

You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s favor, but he just raised his eyebrows, challenging you to disobey the order. 

“The Captain has a date? Are they okay?”

Loki and you shared a comical gasp. 

Steve gaped, “Now, what in the world does that mean, Thor?”

Thor raised his hands in defense, “I’m just asking if she truly knows what she’s getting herself into! Don’t try and tell me she has no idea who you are.”

Steve was back to groaning nonstop. Bucky threw his hands up in the air, “I ask one thing of you guys. One thing.”

You stomped over to Steve and ripped the half-tied tie from his neck and smoothed down his collar. You patted down his shoulders and the front of his shirt, and gripped his shoulders to straighten his back. 

“Now,” you smiled up at him. The breath caught in your throat for a second, the blue of his eyes shining under the ceiling lights and the pink of his cheeks spreading slowly. You let out a tiny sigh, heart fluttering faintly from the small grin he was giving you. He looked so innocent, a renaissance subject created from light oils, signs of true aging showing in his forehead. “Whatever date you got planned, she’s gonna love it.”

Steve relished in the feeling of your palms pressed against his chest for a few moments before he nodded at your declaration. He stepped back and smoothed down his shirt. “Wish me luck?”

A chorus of ‘good luck’s sounded as Steve found his keys and shared a goodnight hug with Sam and Bucky. They both jokingly reminded him to use protection. 

You watched Steve leave, a newfound bounce in his step as he walked away. Your words had been so simple, so cliche, and yet he had dropped any visible nerves as he walked out the door. You weren’t the best motivational speaker, that was for sure, but the proof of at least an ounce of motivation was there. Maybe your words held a hidden meaning. Maybe.

You thought about him picking up this random woman, wine and dining her, kissing her cheek as he said his goodbyes at the end of the night. It was somewhat adorable to think about, but also weird.

Before you could dive more into the strange feeling, Thor’s voice sounded. 

“Should we order pizza or chinese?”

It’s like that snapped you from your trance, because next thing you knew you were back to your playful self, sprinting across the room and into Loki’s arms. 

     You cherished the slight, pleasant churn of your stomach as you watched him happily munch on the fruit. 

Okay, it was normal to have a tiny crush on your mission partner. God knows how many times you wanted to jump Thor’s bones whenever you were undercover together. A crush was normal, completely natural and expected. 

Except you had never gotten so much sane joy from a simple question of whether you wanted the last piece of fruit. 

You blinked a few times and shook off any trace of overthinking devils, grabbing at random files to occupy your mind for a while. After about fifteen more minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke.

“So, we think Ramirez is gonna get straight up murdered?”

Steve snorted, filing through a pile of papers Torres had delivered this morning. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”

“But it’s just a theory at this point. We can’t just go in guns blazing without enough proof.”

“And if there is proof? Do we protect him? The original mission was to arrest all four men.”

You groaned, “I don’t know. He’s never done me wrong.”

“Personal feelings aside, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

Steve squinted at you with a playful smile. “You’d rather just arrest the bad ones, huh?”

“Obviously what Ramirez is doing is illegal and it’s horrific to think of what might be happening behind the scenes on his side, but either he’s serious or he’s been putting on this good guy act for his whole life.”

“Leaning towards the first option?”

Shrugging, you leaned toward your computer screen and scrolled through the massive list of emails. “It’s what my gut tells me, but ehh.”

There was one random email from Maribel, but random only meant coded. Reading it over a couple times, humming to yourself in concentration, you finally cracked the code she was trying to send. 

“Maribel says Ramirez acquired some land in Mexico… lots of it.”

Steve looked up from the files, “Any significance?”

“It’s probably for growing the products.”

Steve quickly typed key words that would alert him of any new transactions in the past few months.  “Who’s on the title?”

“Just him. And his oldest daughter. My father must know, right?”

Steve leaned back in his chair, releasing a heavy sigh as he thought about what this could mean. “Ramirez acquiring more land means more of Ramirez’s product. A three-way partnership would be split unevenly if he utilizes the land.”

“Make sure Bucky alerts us of any business my father might have with realtors authorized to work in that area.”

It functioned like this for another hour, the two of you sharing bits of information every ten minutes or so. 

“Torres sent us an update on White.”

You rubbed at your strained eyes, “What does he say?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, “That he’s been in the country for much longer than his passport says.”

You stood from your seat and rushed to look at the same screen Steve was reading from. “He traveling under a fake name?”

“Customs says he returned to Germany,” Steve stated, highlighting a paragraph on the screen for you to easily read. “Four weeks ago.”

It was your turn to snort out a laugh, “Oh, he’s so setting up an alibi.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “Looks like it.”

You slapped his shoulder lightly, voice raising an octave. “Look at us! Piecing together the puzzle!”

“We still got a few more pieces to attach before you go getting all cocky.”

You chuckled and decided to take a break. You speed walked over to your bed and plopped down, the mountain of pillows already relieving your tense muscles. “Hey, has my sister’s plane landed yet?”

Steve glanced at you quickly before pulling up Bucky’s morning emails. “Uh, landed about an hour ago.”

“She at the estate?”

He shrugged, “Torres hasn’t sent an update. Just her profile, hold up.”

You waved him off, a nonverbal way of telling him you seriously couldn’t care less. “I haven’t spoken to her since I joined you guys. You don’t gotta give me her origin story.”

“That long?” Steve questioned. 

You placed a pillow beneath your head, body horizontal and facing Steve. “We were never that close. I’ve got tons of half-siblings. Most of them were adults when I was born, anyway.”

With just a few words exchanged, Steve realized he had just stepped through your metaphorical door of reminiscing. So he stood to lay in his own bed, the simple action of giving you attention enough to keep you talking, he hoped. “Were you alone a lot? Growing up, I mean.”

You watched as Steve also placed a pillow beneath his head, “There were always kids around. Kids of the maids, cousins, neighbors.”

“A full house, sounds like.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, a small smile forming as you thought about old friends. “I remember this one time, we all ran into Ramirez when we were trying to get to one of the playrooms. But he grabbed me quickly and told me to not go in there.”

“Was it a threat?”

You grinned at his protective tone, “No, it was a warning. There were some really bad men in the other room. It was me and a few other girls. He told us to run back to my room and lock the door until he came to get us.”

Steve couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Ramirez joined the drug game. Sure, the function and presence of cartels had changed drastically over the last forty years, but it didn’t explain why he remained involved. In the eighties, the drug game was highly televised and spoken about, but the cartel violence was not as strong. Nowadays, and not even you could give a proper explanation, the violence was astronomical and basically advertised as something to expect when visiting certain countries. This was the mob game now, freaking Al Capone or the goddamn Godfather, absolutely meant to frighten whoever dare join or leave. For Ramirez to still be one of the big players even with that many internal changes, to be a good person in the middle of such hell, didn’t make any sense. 

“He protected you.”

You clutched the pillow closer to your chest, the memory a good one even if it was weird. “Oh, yeah. Those guys he was warning us about were no angels.”

Steve gave an awkward smile, “I feel like I know more about your childhood than you know mine.”

“I’m all ears if you wanna tell me about little, asthmatic Steve Rogers.”

He raised his index finger at you, “Hey, I was more than just my asthma.”

“Oh, excuse me. I totally forgot about your scoliosis.” 

The pillow under his head was now flying across the small distance to your face. You shrieked and sent it back. 

“Stop bullying!” Steve laughed.

You shielded your face in case he decided to continue the pillow war. “What? I’ve got my health problems, too! I just don’t have the serum to help me out.”

But he didn’t throw it again. He repositioned himself on his back and placed both hands beneath his head, gracing the ceiling with a grin. “I remember this one time, Bucky and I were around eleven-years old, and I had this really bad asthma attack. Bucky just freaked out. I was choking and he was just holding me, screaming for help -”

You blinked, “This is really depressing, what are you-”

“-and! Bucky threw himself into a full-blown panic attack. So we were both choking on air, but I was starting to laugh at him freaking out, which only made him choke harder. We ended up throwing up.”

You were silent at the end of his short story, mouth open in a wide smile. “I don’t know what else to say other than that was one of the greatest stories I’ve ever heard.”

Steve rolled over, a literal twinkle in his eye. “See? Don’t interrupt me before I get to the good parts.”

This simple moment catapulted the realization that Steve hasn’t spoken to you this much in two years, to the front of your mind. In these past four days, you had spoken like you had never stopped, like it was never awkward, like you two seriously didn’t need another person in the room to simply converse about what you wanted for breakfast. Yet here you were, more words exchanged in the past four days than you ever thought possible. 

After the fallout, you didn’t say one full sentence to him for seven months. Seven months. He hadn’t attempted a conversation with you either, but you actively avoided him like he was infected. Hell, he even moved out of the compound and into his own apartment to get away from you for most of the day. After your forced reconciliation, the awkward apologies, you still didn’t force any open conversation. But it was easier, lighter, and most conversations involved mission information. 

Talking this much now was so easy, so simple, like you didn’t need to force the comfort - there was already full comfort, a sense of community with this man. 

He was so different from when he insulted you while you were packing, annoyed by the fact that you pried too much. And now you were prying into his childhood and him yours without a lick of annoyance on either side. 

“We both had eventful childhoods, didn’t we?”

“What, with both of us in the middle of a war?” Steve asked, a genuine look on his face.

“Guess our wars never really left us, huh?”

There was a knock at the door. You weren’t expecting Torres again today. Steve muttered ‘room service, maybe’ under his breath as you went to open it. You were startled to find Scott standing outside, two massive suitcases in his hand. 

“Oh my god, I forgot you were arriving today!”

Scott scoffed, “Am I not as important as your other friends?”

You laughed and helped him inside, “Stop! You’re one of my favorite bugs!”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’ll leave right now if you two decide to pile on me instead of each other.” Scott placed one of the suitcases near the door but the other at the edge of your bed. 

“We’ll be nice,” Steve promised, standing to greet Scott with a hug. 

“You better. Catch me up, please?” 

The suitcase contained your outfits for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. Whoever was in charge of costumes definitely went all out, hoping their work would make the big fight the most fashionable. Steve was given a perfectly tailored suit, navy blue and velvet. It was lined with vibranium, inside pockets covered with it. That would certainly be handy if you were forced to walk through metal detectors - vibranium couldn’t be detected. His suit for the rehearsal dinner was a lot simpler, the custom black and white aesthetic, but still protected with vibranium. 

Your clothes were certainly not styled to match Steve’s, giving you a sense of individuality. It was perfect really - it would allow you to leave Steve’s side, if necessary, when the mission called for you to split up. Your rehearsal dinner outfit was two parts: a black, velvet long-sleeved shirt, slight turtleneck, and gold cuffs. It was joined by a long gold skirt, high-waisted, the front shorter than the back and sides more curled than ruffled. You would have to wear tights underneath, but it was beautiful. Vibranium was also stitched in for added protection. Your dress for the actual wedding, however, was a total knockout. Red, spaghetti strap, tight on top but loose once it reached your hips, a long slit on the left side. They were even kind enough to give you a pair of heels to match. 

Yeah, Steve was Captain America and his appearance will shock the guests, but your attire will definitely be the second topic in gossip. 

Scott was filing through the same papers you and Steve had reviewed earlier, a bowl of potato chips at his side. And it was peaceful - you and Steve even had the chance to nap. 

“So, you’re gonna see Jackeline at the rehearsal dinner?”

You wiped the remnants of your nap from your face and groaned as you stretched, “She’ll probably be busy tomorrow when we go for breakfast, so yeah.”

Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes practically attached to the computer screen. “And… she’s the one getting married?”

His tone started to worry Steve, “Yes, Scott. You good?”

Scott piled a handful of potato chips in his mouth, finger clicking the mouse every few seconds. His eyes were now wide, blinks forgotten. “Jackeline Vega. Jackeline.”

Steve ignored him now, “Hey, why isn’t your last name Vega?”

As much as you wanted to share about how and why you changed your last name, Scott’s demeanor interested you more. “Changed it when I became an American citizen - Scott, what’s up?”

He let out a tiny squeak, swallowing his snack quickly. “And she’s your father’s favorite?”

You rolled your eyes, “Mmm.”

Scott released a huge huff of air, shoulders falling as he raised his voice and turned the monitor to face you. “Think he knows anything about this?”

The photograph was blurry because it was enhanced, but you could still make out the face of a sister you hadn’t seen in years. Older, still with teenage features obviously, and tossed on what looked like a church alter-

Steve's eyes widened, “Is she…?”

Scott finished his sentence for him, “Fucking a priest?”

You covered your mouth in shock, “Oh my god, she’s fucking a priest!”

Bent on the literal church altar, skirt bunched around her hips, head thrown back in ecstasy and face in full view. And the damned priest, in between her legs and under the eyes of god. 

“That’s why I asked!”

Steve clutched at his chest, head thrown back as he howled, “I think you were wrong about your sister.”

Now your eyes were glued to the screen, “Oh, I was fuck all from correct!”

Scott cleared his throat, “Is the priest… her fiance?”

Steve came down from his laugh attack, “I highly doubt that, Scott.”

“This is actually really damning evidence.”

You grinned at Scott, “For what? Painting her out to look like the most sinful whore? I might just congratulate her.”

Steve stared at you, judging almost. “For fucking a priest?”

“For proving me wrong. She’s not so innocent after all,” you responded, cheeks strained from how wide you were smiling. 

“Clearly. This is… actually badass,” Scott admitted, turning the monitor back to him.

You teased, singing your next words. “Don’t let the Lord and Savior hear that.”

Steve glared, “Y/N.”

You leaned away from him, “What? Anyway, that’s gotta be one the worst sins to commit, right?”

Steve’s expression contorted from annoyance to disbelief. “We’ve literally killed people.”

“Pfft, but we’re not fucking priests. Right?”

Scott answered, nodding quicker than he needed to. “Right.”

“You’re literally asking that?”

You pressed your lips into a fine line and tilted your head at Steve. “Steve?”

He glared at you for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. “I’m not fucking any priests.”

Your response was immediate, “Alright! I gotta hand it to her, though. Who took the photo?”

Scott went back to fishing through the emails. “Some sleazy magazine that never got around to actually printing these out.”

“Someone paid them off. Or killed them.”

“I wonder who,” you replied sarcastically. 

Steve continued, “You honestly think he would support her doing that?”

You shrugged and scurried back over to your unmade bed. “Not my problem.”

Scott interjected, “Okay, okay. How’s tomorrow gonna work?”

Steve answered first, “Well, we’re driving out around eight.”

You hummed in agreement, reaching over to unplug your phone from the charger. “Scott, you’ll just ride on one of our backs as we walk through the estate.”

“I kind of want to ride Y/N’s back this time.”

You snorted, “Now that doesn’t sound sexual at all.”

He hid his face in his hands, “You know, I heard it once I said it.”

“Course you did.”

Steve jumped back into the conversation, Scott’s embarrassment seeming to grow under the weird tension. “Then you’ll hop off and plant the bugs wherever you feel like they’re needed.”

“Easy peasy!” you cheered. 

“Bucky and Sam gonna meet us Friday night?”

Steve nodded, “That’s what they said.” He looked over at you, scrolling through your phone and already smiling at something you found funny. He cleared his throat to get your attention. “You know they can be out here in under an hour if we seriously need them.”

You glanced over at Steve, his sincerity greatly appreciated. “I know. But all my faith is in Scott here.”

Scott moaned quietly, “Oh… no, let’s not put all the faith in me because I can’t handle that responsibility.”

You propped yourself up onto your elbows, “You saying I can’t trust you?”

“No, no! That’s not what I’m saying at all-!”

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at the man, a sheen of nervous sweat starting to form on his forehead. “Scott.” 

Scott lowered his hands from his chest, “O-oh. She’s messing with me, huh?”

You chuckled and laid back down. “You’re so easy.”

The easygoing atmosphere for the next few hours almost had you believing you were on vacation, away from the bad guys and space aliens for just a moment. Almost like you weren’t in the middle of a drug war, a mob business, the literal daughter of a king. Scott had that effect, his personality such a sweet refresher and such a contrast to every soul in the compound. 

Thor and Peter were also sweethearts and fun was always expected when they were around, but Scott had this different vibe. Maybe it was because he was relatively new, or that he had a child, or that he hadn’t suffered the same five years as everyone else did. Like he wasn’t yet tainted.  

“You guys mind if I run a job inside a job?”

Your head snapped up at Scott’s crazy question, “You stealing something?”

To run a job inside a job was risky. There was no exact plan to keep both missions balanced, to somehow rank the other more important. You prayed it wasn’t something insane. 

Scott chuckled under his breath, already grabbing his jacket and suitcase by the door. “No, I’m not stealing something. Hank needs me to speak to some guy he’s doing negotiations with about a space for a new lab headquarters.”

Steve tilted his head, “In Northern California?”

“Nah, the dude is vacationing out here for the time being. The lab will be in San Francisco again.”

You squinted at him, still cautious. “Where you meeting him?”

“Some nice Italian restaurant an hour out.”

Steve spoke before you did, similar thoughts running through his mind. “You check with Torres? We don’t know who might randomly show up there.”

Scott tried his best to reassure you, “Yeah, he said they’re following every car that leaves the premises and travels more than thirty minutes away. None of Ernesto’s men have been spotted further up north.”

You sighed. You didn’t want another member of your team to venture out in this area, let alone this goddamn state, without your eyes on them. You were protective, the proximity of your outside world with the one you had spent ten years building too suffocating of a reality. 

Still, you told Scott goodbye with a steady voice. “Then enjoy your dinner, Scott.”

His voice picked up again, that childish and upbeat feeling wrapping you around his finger. “You guys wanna come with? I’m sure you’re sick of icky hotel food.”

Steve waved him off, “It’s actually not that bad-”

“Breadsticks. Garlic pasta. More breadsticks.”

You laughed, “That sounds nice, Scott but we can stay here-”

“Three-cheese pastas.”

“Scott, you can try all you want but-”

“Unlimited breadsticks.”

You shared a look at Steve, puckering your lips at the suggestion. 

“.... We’ll sit far away from your table, okay?”

Scott opened the hotel door and started sprinting down the hallway. “I knew I could persuade you with that! C’mon!”

     California at night was a death trap. Potholes on every stretch of asphalt, construction halted for who knows how long, random opossums lingering in the shadows just waiting to get hit by tires. It was prettier during the day - less of a ‘lead me into this forest, yes, kill me’ vibe. 

You chilled in the backseat while Scott drove you guys to the restaurant. You had texted Bucky where you were planning to go, the message activating the group text chain. 

Peter: it’s Wednesday! Who died?

Wanda: she’s literally texting us

Peter: Y/N, you won???

Bucky: fuck do I owe the fucking spider money?

Peter: pay up dude

Y/N: tf Bucky? You bet against me?

      “You sure you two are good?”

The restaurant looked quiet considering it was a Wednesday night, but it was still crowded. There was a short line extending out the door and a… bouncer. You sucked in a breath and smacked Scott in the chest once you were out of the car. 

“Thought you said this was a restaurant?”

Scott rubbed his chest, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “Restaurant slash bar!”

“We eating with the Italian mob now? I can only handle one mob at a time, Scott.”

You nodded rapidly, pointing at Steve. “I agree with him!”

“Not every place has bad guys!”

You groaned and reluctantly stood at the back of line, pulling Steve’s hat lower on his forehead. It wasn’t like people couldn’t take one long, hard look at him and not know who he was, anyway. 

“Can you guys just… enjoy a night out?”

“While on a mission?”

“While living your long lives. God, Y/N, you getting old already?”

Your mouth dropped, “I’m twenty-six and I’m not complaining about a nice dinner, Scott.” You pointed at the bouncer. “I’m worried about the fact that our ID’s are gonna be checked.”

Scott’s mouth formed an ‘O’. “Yeah, that.”

“Next.”

You shot Steve a worried look but handed the bouncer your driver’s license. He just looked at the date of birth and moved you along. “Next.”

Scott handed him his, doing his best to smile proudly while the bouncer scanned him up and down. “Next.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard,” Scott joked, standing next to you in the far corner of the entrance. 

You rolled your eyes, “Wait.”

The bouncer took one look at Steve’s ID and gasped. Steve looked anywhere but the bouncer’s eyes, his bottom lip suffering the abuse of his incisors. 

“Cap-Captain?”

Steve gave a sheepish grin, lowering his cap further. “Uh, yeah.”

“Enjoying your day?”

You pinched your nose. 

“Would like it a lot more if you could lead us to a table with as much privacy as you can offer.”

You had to hand it to Steve for taking advantage of situations like this. 

The bouncer agreed immediately, speaking with the manager and promising discretion. The manager said it was no problem, that it was the least he could do for you guys after you brought his son back to him after those rough five years. 

The restaurant offered a somewhat real Italian setting, awarding their guests with as much real scenery and architecture it could. You could only compare it to the Venetian in Vegas as you had never actually been to Italy, but the live band and garlic smell was enough to transport you. 

The lights were low, older couples enjoying the food and wine, and there was a small bar near the back of the restaurant. It wasn’t really a place for some shady business, but years of experience let you know that wasn’t always the case. It was second nature to eye women reaching into their purses, only to pull out a pack of gum. Second nature to wince at the sound of a loud laugh cutting through the quiet atmosphere. 

As promised, you were led to a more private area of the restaurant, closer to the bar than to the band. 

“Go run the job, Scott. We’ll just be enjoying our unlimited breadsticks,” you said, letting out a heavy and relaxed sigh as you settled into the private booth. 

“That hat isn't really hiding those broad shoulders, Cap,” Scott laughed, slapping Steve on the back.

Steve slid into the same booth, ignoring the completely empty seat across from you. “Thanks, Scott. I’m aware.”

You tried to hide your blush as you squeezed deeper in your seat. Scott noticed though, side eyeing Steve who was none the wiser. “You know, I told him that he should have used those facial changing things SHIELD used to have.”

Steve grabbed the offered utensils and started unwrapping them from their napkins. 

“What are we if not superheroes who think a baseball cap and glasses hide our identities?” you teased, shooting Scott a quick wink. 

Steve answered almost triumphantly, “Uh, Superman?”

You giggled and grabbed the napkin he had unwrapped for you. “I’d argue Thor is more like Superman, but okay.”

“How am I not more like Superman? What-”

“Uh, guys? I see the dude so I’m gonna go. You two enjoy your meal,” Scott interrupted, running off to a booth located toward the middle of the restaurant. 

You sat for a few awkward moments before you squinted and looked at Steve, who was sitting to your left and way too close. “Are we annoying?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like,” you spoke with your hands, “you and I bicker a lot because we love to annoy each other but you think it gets on other people’s nerves?”

Steve chuckled, rubbing his shoulder with yours. “Do you really care if it does?”

That blush of yours was starting to feel warmer. “No, just wondering if you felt that way.”

He shrugged, “I quite like our relationship.”

“Oh,” you smiled, looking down at your lap.  “I quite liked it more a few years back but you know.” 

He immediately tensed, body leaning away from you as if you were burning him. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “Sorry, that was low.”

He sighed deeply, “No, I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

You took a risk and reached for his hand, squeezing gently. The kind gesture seemed to calm him, and he looked back at you. “I still shouldn’t have said it.”

He accepted that, and handed you the menu. 

The hotel food was grand, it did its job of filling you up and providing the necessary nutrients, but there was just something about the carbs in pasta and bread. It ignited the food critic inside you, because now you were cursing the hotel chef and dreading having to order breakfast in the morning. No, dinner. You were having breakfast with your father tomorrow. 

Scott was busy conducting his own business, bluetooth turned off but still glancing over his shoulder once in a while to check on you guys. Each time he did, he felt butterflies flutter in his breadstick-filled stomach. It was the first time he had seen the two of you so carefree, let alone with each other, and it was the most refreshing thing in the world. 

Steve was in the middle of telling another childhood story, his main plate already finished and practically licked clean. But the unlimited breadsticks were coming out by the pound, a new stick in each of your hands every five minutes. 

“I swear, she loved Bucky more than me!”

You covered your mouth and chewed, careful to not let anything through because of your giggle fit. “Steve! Your mother did not!”

Steve wiped at his under eye, clutching his chest as he continued explaining. “Bucky was always around and my mom would just linger every second she wasn’t working!”

“Bet she loved him.”

“See?”

“No, I mean she must have loved him like her own! Bucky was your best friend, your only friend. She probably thought of him like an angel sent from God!” you clarified. 

Steve smiled wider at your cheesy explanation. They were happy memories, joyful ones that he would often think about while writing or drawing. 

He continued with a soft confession. “I really wish I could see her again.”

You leaned your temple on your palm, “From everything you’ve shared with me, she sounds lovely.”

“She would have loved you.” The blush was back, and so was Steve’s, almost like those words were supposed to be kept in the back of his head. He cleared his throat. “God, she was so destroyed when Bucky first got his orders.”

“Was Bucky scared?”

“Scared? Absolutely fucking terrified. We talked about running away and changing our names so he didn’t have to go.”

The draft was such a horrible practice. The fact that men still had to enlist and hope no ‘necessary’ war was upon them. It was quite reassuring to know most of those men wouldn’t have to see battle today, they were given a choice, and there were agencies that managed people who could, like the Avengers. 

“Steve…”

Steve just hummed softly, “Life in the forties, am I right?

Your voice also got quieter. “Why didn’t you run away?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, swallowing the last of his bread. “We tried. Got all the way to the edge of town before Bucky’s dad wrung us both back to kick our asses.”

Almost out of instinct, you gripped his hand again. You rubbed soothing circles into his knuckles, knuckles that hadn’t seen hand-to-hand combat in so long. There wasn’t much danger in the world nowadays, just small missions here and there. It wasn’t like the team was itching for another alien invasion. But these periods of well needed rest were odd, periods where bruises completely healed up and little pockets of weight were gained. Steve’s knuckles were soft, only having seen the ends of paintbrushes for a long while. 

 “...Where’s your mother?”

His voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you had to repeat the question in your own head a couple times. 

“It’s not a happy story.”

There wasn’t much of a story anyway. 

“But is it a story you need to get off your chest?”

Steve didn’t want to push too hard. The long pause in your relationship definitely didn’t soften this blow, and it only added to the strings of resistance. If you decided not to tell Steve about this, Steve would have to accept it. If anything, this was one of the toughest questions to ask someone when all you’ve been doing is ignoring them for two years. 

“Not really much to get rid of.”

He nodded, only a slight hint of disappointment laced within his words. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Natasha was the only one with any knowledge of your mom. There was never an actual moment in which you freely spoke of her - inserting her likeness, her person, back into some alternate and fucked-up reality - you kept her legacy dead. It was obvious she hadn’t enjoyed this part of her life, no doubt it absolutely killed her to leave you trapped in it, so keeping her dead, even in conversation, was a favor. 

But one drunken night and you were showing Natasha the one photo you had of her, stuffed deep in your wallet and crinkled beyond repair. Her black hair to her shoulders, lip liner a darker shade than her lipstick, hands intertwined behind her back as she arched forward in a playful tilt, shooting the camera a smile that was stuck around the word she was saying as the candid was taken. There was no recorded voice but you had a record of her movement, frozen in time.     

Steve’s sincerity grasped you by the literal roots of your hair, because next thing you knew you were spilling the first thought you had. 

“She was twenty-three. Working as a real estate agent, very beautiful, and she was engaged. To an American.”

Steve chuckled around his champagne glass, “Was that bad?”

You grinned at that, like he was already fully and deeply invested in your story. “Not necessarily. But everyone knew she was taken.”

“And your father?”

“He wanted to buy some houses. Saw her, wanted her, tried persuading her into going on a date. Nothing really worked, she didn’t accept his money or gifts.”

Steve fumbled over his next words. “Did she eventually?”

“No, but her brother did. My father didn’t know it was her brother, so he thought she was accepting them. Got mad when she still refused his advances.”

He was digesting this little by little. Steve had heard horror stories of girls he grew up with, forced to marry at a young age when they were caught in a passionate moment with a man, or when they ended up pregnant. Bucky and his mother had always instructed him to treat women with respect, to never intentionally or accidentally ruin their reputation, to protect and use his voice to stand up for them. And although women weren’t getting frisky with him when he was all but ninety pounds at the ripe age of twenty, that didn’t stop Steve from exchanging a few words and punches with men who had no right.  “How did they end up together?”

You shrugged, reaching over for another breadstick. “No one knows. He invited her to a party one day and she didn’t come back for a whole week. Next thing her family knows she’s engaged to my father and no longer with the love of her life.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, her family had no choice but to accept that. Her poor fiance, though.” 

“Where is he now?”

Steve had this weird hope that the fiance may still be alive somewhere, waiting for your mother to find him. But that was just the hopeless romantic emerging. 

You sighed deeply, “My father told my mother he killed him. My mother believed him.”

“So, he’s still alive? He didn’t hurt him?”

“Apparently he’s still kicking, yeah. But my mom became severely depressed from that lie.”

The restaurant felt colder and the air became thinner. Steve didn’t want his next thought to be true. “She didn’t...?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, she found out he was alive.” Even if you weren’t witness to it, you could still imagine your mother charting the areas she would have to run and swim through to get away. Wasn’t like it was a heartfelt thought, but the mere fact that she had that much determination to risk her life for love, it was somewhat therapeutic to think about. Like it was genuinely satisfying to imagine her defying your father. Still, your face drooped as you gave Steve the sad conclusion. “She didn’t even make it across the border before he had her killed for betraying him.”

His face fell in time with yours, “Fuck.”

“She left me with Maribel’s mother. But my father found me and told me she had an accident. Didn’t find out the truth until I was thirteen.”

“I’m so sorry.”

You shoved his shoulder with yours, a light chuckle cutting through the sad moment. “Not like you had a hand in this, Steve. It’s just my life.”

You were used to Steve’s generosity, his ability to make any person feel a part of his family - you had been on the receiving end of his sincerity for the past week now. But as you held his gaze, his body seemingly towering over yours, your chest flushed with such warmness, a tranquil promise of safety. He leaned forward, breath hitting your cheeks, hand still gripping yours. 

“Not anymore. We’ll end this, Y/N. I promise you, we’ll end this.”

You took a risk and rested your forehead on his, his continuous promise still causing your stomach to twist pleasurably. “How’d we get so sad all of a sudden?” You pushed away and threw your arms in the air. “We need more breadsticks!”

Steve laughed loudly, the private booth still providing somewhat of a thin curtain to the other diners. “No, we need mints!”

Rolling your eyes, you blew your breath at Steve teasingly. “Weak.”

Steve groaned, “You and Scott are not getting into the car without chewing on a mint.”

“You got a thing against bad breath?”

“Take the mint.”

“I’m gonna fight you if you force the mint on me.”

He was reaching into his jacket and pulling the small case out. He winked at you. “I’ll win.”

He popped open the cap and held it out to you. He didn’t tip it though, as if he was waiting for you to extend your palm. Everything was silent for a minute, eyes challenging one another. 

He could easily lean in. He could easily just tilt his head a little to his left and capture your lips with his. Every damn molecule in his body was telling him to do it, every bubble from that champagne somehow giving him some extra courage. 

Your breath hitched slightly, and he leaned away. I’m such a coward, he thought.

You reacted swiftly, disguising the awkwardness. “You’re right, give me the mint. You should swallow like three.”

Steve snickered, “You ruined the moment.”

But you didn’t ruin the moment. And he just blamed you for it. Like he had already established - he was a coward. 

You grabbed the mints he offered and popped them into your mouth. “What moment? I didn’t see any moment.”

Okay, he could just lean in right now and hope the mint freshness in your mouth would mask the garlic in his. Yeah, he could just lean in and do what he’s been thinking of doing for the last day and a half-

“Hey, you guys finished? Getting dessert?”

Steve almost shot from his seat, “Jesus fucking christ, Scott!”

Scott slid into the seat across from you. “You scare easily. Let’s get dessert!” 

You were too flustered. Fine, okay. You’ll play along. If the gods want to reward you with this fun Steve, the Steve you were closest to years ago, then so be it. You’ll bite. And if he wants to resort back to his bitchy self, his hermit behavior, then you’ll fight him then. 

Scott ordered so much dessert. 

So much. 

The little moment you had with Steve was still fresh, you could sense he was thinking about it too, but you opted to simply enjoy the night out. You were here with two friends, protection was just a phone call away, and you were safe. 

Perhaps Scott had the same effect on Steve that he had on you. Absolutely demolished his ‘Captain’ self and released the guy who simply wanted to enjoy a mini road trip with his friends. 

     You were barely fifteen minutes into your ride home when Scott lowered the windows and turned the radio up high. 

“Woohoo!”

You screamed over the loud roar of the wind, “Scott, it’s fucking freezing!”

Scott yelled back, “We just had three desserts each! Your blood should be running warm!”

You blinked away the dryness, “Dude!”

Steve, surprisingly, agreed with Scott. “Enjoy it!”

Your mouth dropped open and you followed Steve’s movements as he turned the radio higher. 

The music blared and you were about to protest again, the air literally nipping at your sensitive cheeks, but the song that started was a non-skip. 

You would indulge in this childishness once. 

Once. 

You reached around the passenger seat and gripped Steve’s shoulders, shaking him in place. “Ah, California radio giving us the classics!”

Scott leaned over and turned it up higher. 

You swayed in your seat and sang along with Scott. “Bidi bidi bom bom!”

Scott pointed at you and recited the lyrics, “Bidi, bidi!”

Both of you sang, “Bom!”

Even with his eyes on the road, Scott was nailing some good dance moves in his seat. You both sang each lyric with your heart and soul, laughs escaping during the guitar breaks. 

Steve just enjoyed the show. He didn’t know the song, the melody a foreign one for him, but it must have been popular for both you and Scott to know it. He watched you sway in your seat, hands dancing and voice matching the volume of the radio. Just the other night, you had mentioned how you never sang anymore.

But here you were, singing through the most beautiful smile Steve had ever seen. 

He missed the sound of it. He missed hearing you sing in your room, no doubt you were dancing too since he usually heard your feet shuffling against your carpet. He missed the innocence you would casually portray, an invitation for anyone to befriend you. He missed teasing you lightly, and he regretted the roughness of his voice years later. He missed just walking into the common area and finding you there, cooking for yourself and anyone who wanted a plate - that plate usually for him. He missed you. 

You were right here, voice hitting those octaves Steve didn’t think he would ever hear again. You were right here, and he missed you. 

      Scott was staying in a separate room. The dessert and alcohol had run right through him, and he bid you goodnight after he threatened to plop down in your bed if you invited him in. 

The sound of Scott’s retreating footsteps seemed to suck all the air from the vents at once, whispering its song lovingly in your ear. It was both refreshing and terrifying to be left alone because now here you were, standing outside your hotel door with the super soldier you had gone to Hell and back with. 

You inwardly cringed, the tightness in your chest sending your childish ass back to sophomore year of college. A first date, the lost promise of another - a proper teenage reaction to a crush. But this man in front of you wouldn’t let you delete his number from your phone; he wouldn’t avoid eye contact in the dining hall; he wouldn’t sit at the back of the lecture hall just to keep a necessary distance. 

Granted, Elijah - poor, frightened Elijah - had seen you literally kidnap someone off the street under your father’s orders. This being before you went straight and moral, before you had met Fury, before SHIELD training. You were to blame for that sprouting relationship going south pretty quickly. So you avoided him, too - praying Ernesto or Seda could never track him. 

But Steve, beautiful Steve who reloaded your guns when you couldn’t, who jumped in front of stray bullets for you and those he loved, Steve who very quietly asked you for various salsa recipes when he was in the mood to cook. Here he was, eyes also watching Scott walk away, no doubt experiencing the same tight coil within his chest. He hadn’t run, he had worked and fought with and against you, and he wasn’t running away. 

No, Steve Rogers never ran. 

The low beep from the hotel lock snapped you from your thoughts. You sensed his hesitance because when your history was truly reviewed with the most unbiased of minds, there was absolutely no reason to overthink. Hell, when you ran through the halls of Thor’s Asgardian palace with Rocket tailing you, the first joke out your mouth was how Steve would probably instruct you to respect a place like that and speed walk. Your first thought when starting the pilot episode of a new show is to wait for Bucky… and Steve, who would pop the kernels over the stove and add real salt and butter. 

His first thought as he helped load people onto the planes in Sokovia was that your whiny ass better be on one of them. Or when Steve regrouped in the support circle, his first thought before he continued the discussion was that he really hoped you would walk through those doors and join - until one day you did. 

Whether the two of you recognized the severity of your unspoken feelings, they were there. Silent and at a gradual increase. Never rushed, not entirely obvious because of the temporary roadblocks of unnecessary separation. 

Steve was here in front of you, like he always was, and he was wearing the smallest nervous smile you had ever seen.  

And you were here in front of him, like you always were, and he could not entirely read the mixed emotions on your delicate face. 

You shuffled alongside your bed, stopping to shrug out of the heavy jacket you had on. “We should turn in early so we can be well-rested, in case we gotta fight tomorrow.”

Steve nodded in agreement but remained silent, hovering near the coffee table and monitors. Your back was facing him and he just watched you fumble with your boots and belt. It was like your back was on fire, bursting with fueled flames as you could literally feel his gaze boring into you. The overwhelming urge to simply snap and ask him what the hell he was looking at was strong, so in character, but you refrained. It was too intimate, too quiet, but before you could even ask him if he wanted the shower first, the warmth of his chest was near, inches away and calling. 

Your breath hitched, shoulders rising slightly and exactly what Steve needed to witness. It was awkward for him to just stand behind you with no actual intention of touching you first - no, he needed a proper signal. So Steve waited those few precious seconds more until you turned, sun-kissed by the California sun and hair no longer in tight curls, before he glanced down at your glossy lips. You followed his eyesight, all knowing in his intentions, and you glanced at his lips as well. 

A gesture of approval. 

Steve pulled you in, both hands settling on your cheeks, thumbs exploring the corners of your mouth. He watched them dance and how your mouth parted slightly in response. He looked back up, studying the small crease forming in between your eyebrows and the pinch of water filling the inside corners of your eyes.

His thumbs felt like a gentle sigh, a promise of a sweet caress in both the daytime and dead of night. Although all his focus was on you, his own features reacted to the moment. His lips were also parted, sweet breath with the scent of those classic tiramisu’s he had devoured, touching the tip of your nose and equally trembling lips. 

So goddamn intimate that you found yourself internally cursing those sitcoms Wanda had forced you to binge watch. Because the two love interests, albeit they had several months or years of growing tension, rushed into their first kiss for the sake of limited airtime. They didn’t prepare you for practically a ten-year build-up, a relationship that was both heavily work and friend related, the slowness of such a moment fans would most certainly be jumping out of their seats for. No, nothing could have prepared you for the warmth of Steve Rogers. 

Your Captain. 

You registered the soft feeling of his lips as they pressed against yours, overlapped only slightly. Eyes now fully closed in surprise and pleasure, you leaned into it more, hands placed on Steve’s rising chest. The squeeze of his hands cupping your cheeks caused your lips to pucker more, but you were relaxed in his desperate touch. He tilted his head a little to the left, your lips sliding against each other’s and noses bumping. Steve frowned in concentration, pouring whatever emotions he had felt throughout the last few years into this one kiss, and he knew he couldn’t possibly fully portray them. And almost as quickly as you thought about how sweet and innocent of a kiss this was, Steve’s tongue slowly peaked out from behind his teeth and greeted your bottom lip. 

His tongue traced over your bottom lip warmly, welcomed by yours as you followed his lead. God, you would always follow his lead. 

You tried to move in closer, but your elbows were already bent fully against him and his hips were only a few inches from your greedy ones. One tiny step forward and you would be completely flushed against him - but you chose to respect the distance Steve created. 

You let out a quiet whine, body shuddering as Steve applied more pressure. It was as if Steve had never heard such a sound - completely unexpected and causing him to pause momentarily. He leaned away a little, lips still barely kissing yours. He opened his eyes, gaze wandering from your flushed cheeks still squeezed between his palms and to your fluttering eyelids. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he debated leaning forward again, to be selfish for once and to pass forth the trophy for ‘waiting too long’. But as you opened your eyes, no trace of regret or hate swimming inside your irises, Steve froze. 

You were his friend. His friend who teased him about the paint streaks across his forehead, who followed his lead no matter how ridiculous the order. 

He didn’t want you to inspect him further as well, so he shut his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. It was only then that he felt you settle back down from your tippy-toes. 

You gulped loudly, throat dry and lips instantly craving him again. “Steve…”

Steve let go of your face and dragged his hands lightly down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He turned his head slightly, his breath now kissing your cheek. Although your cheeks were red, the absence of Steve’s palms made them cold. 

He took a small step back, hands straining to stay on your skin as he reluctantly pulled them away. The absence of any warmth finally woke you from that intense daze and you frowned at Steve as he pulled away altogether. The instinct to reach out was there, and you cursed yourself for being so clingy. 

“Steve?” you called again, voice hoarse but light enough to pinch at Steve’s fast beating heart. 

He looked up and locked eyes with your confused ones. Oh, you’re gonna hate him for this. 

He gave you a small and kind smile, one you had seen plenty of times when he was actually enjoying your company. He backed up to the door, gaze never leaving yours even as he reached for the handle and key card. 

And he wanted to bring his hands back to your face to rub away that wrinkle between your furrowing eyebrows. But he simply opened the door and left you standing near the edge of your bed, flushed with a deep sense of longing and growing confusion. 

Steve already knew the amount of heat he would receive from the moment gossip of the kiss spread. Whether he was first to tell or you were. Bucky’s going to kick his ass, for sure, no doubt about it. No matter his bond with Bucky, it could never excuse leaving you alone to unravel this situation. You had this hold over Bucky, a soft mutual understanding of mental torture, so this inevitable ass kicking would be justified. Plus, after years of being rejected over and over, mostly in the forties, Bucky might just kick his ass for simply being a dumbass. 

But Steve felt calm, an added relaxation due to the whiskey cooling in his hand. If there was anything Steve was an expert in, it was overthinking. You two had that in common - were you overthinking while absentmindedly watching TV? Overthinking while rubbing shampoo into your scalp? Overthinking while angrily stomping your way down to the hotel bar to hand his ass back over to him?

He let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t see you burst through the doors. 

      “Anyone wanna start?”

Steve glanced around the circle of familiar and new faces. The group varied each week. Some people would try, share their anecdotes about lost loved ones, only to never show up for another session. Others often attended and never spoke, but they kept returning. Steve didn’t judge their choices - he couldn’t. No matter how many mornings he wanted to crawl back under the sheets and binge eat packaged foods, he never could. He had been at this job for two years. There was both pain and satisfaction in what he did. Sam would be doing this if he were here. 

And he had to do this for Sam. 

“My divorce was finalized yesterday.”

Steve looked over at the man who spoke first, a long-time member of this particular support group, and grimaced at his confession. The man couldn’t have been more than thirty, no wrinkles or gray hair, and he was ending a two-year marriage. 

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

The man, Michael, shrugged sadly, “We still love each other, man. But seeing your newborn disintegrate in your arms does something to your soul that’s just… we both knew we needed to move on. Even if it was from each other.”

Steve squeezed the small, red stress ball in his hand and tried to offer more condolences and a kind smile, but it came out rather painful. He opted to stay silent in case Michael wanted to continue. Instead, another member decided to comment. 

It went like this for almost an hour with Steve adding in his empathetic words of wisdom whenever he saw appropriate. It was good for everyone to share so openly, to carry the conversation with minimal involvement from Steve. Steve had shared snippets of his story with the group awhile back, careful to not mention the gruesome specifics. He had let out as much as he was able, not as much as he would have liked, but his main job was to facilitate. Besides, Steve went to confession every month to talk to someone - anyone - even if he wasn’t necessarily Catholic. But that’s just the thing - no one knew who they were anymore. 

The sound of a scraping chair leg caught everyone’s attention, and they all turned to the entrance in search of the disruption. You paused in your movements, face scrunched in embarrassment. Opening one eye, you mouthed a quick apology and rushed to carry the chair to the circle. 

“I’m sorry I’m late. Subway was a bitch,” you muttered, your embarrassed smile growing wider. 

For over a year, Steve had subtly urged you to attend one of these meetings. He was witness to your nightmares, your destructive solo missions that even Friday had no records of, and your sudden breakdown last week. You were casually jogging around the outdoor track when you suddenly stopped and fell to your knees, broken sobs seeming to shake the trees around you. You were crouched for a good minute before Steve had seen you wipe your eyes and continue your jog. As if nothing happened. 

To see you here, whether to share or to listen, prompted the proud and erratic beating of Steve’s heart. 

“It’s completely fine. Time’s almost up but we still got time for you.”

You sent Steve a funny smile, amused by his professional tone. “Uh, yeah! A friend convinced me to come. He was pretty persuasive.”

Steve blushed, head tilting downward. 

You introduced yourself and let the group know you were also an Avenger. No one seemed shocked and you were suddenly grateful for this mixture of people. 

Steve sat and listened, his nerves settling. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you all,” you started, thumbs dancing in your lap. “And I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

Steve sat up straight, eyebrows scrunching as he listened intently. 

You sighed, wetting your lips briefly. “The day before the snap, I was supposed to die.”

You wanted to avoid Steve’s gaze until the right moment. You continued, “I went on a mission to Mexico. Alone, which was completely against protocol but hey, we broke a lot more rules than that.”

Steve cleared his throat which earned a chorus of chuckles from the group. 

“And I was technically on house arrest but I found out a way to temporarily disable that ankle monitor,” you added, grinning from the laughs you were receiving. 

“Anyway, all my potential backup was nonexistent. I had friends on the run,” you paused, glancing at Steve with a somber expression. “And other friends literally fighting another battle on their home planet somewhere in space. So, I went alone.”

“While I was bleeding out from a bullet my own father ordered, Tony was already up in space. Loki was already dead.”

You hoped no one commented on Loki’s role in your life. He wasn’t exactly a nice figure to suddenly name drop in New York, but he was important in your grief. 

It was slightly unnerving to be on display here, but you weren’t exactly planning on returning. You just needed to rant. 

“I stitched myself up the best I could in that quinjet - which I almost crashed,” you muttered, smirking at Steve. “Sorry, Cap.”

“This is the first time I've heard you flew. You’re not even authorized to fly,” Steve declared, face scrunched in confusion and astonishment. 

“That’s not important,” you teased. “But the stitches were messy work. Horrible criss-crosses.”

Steve was in a tiny state of shock. He had known what happened to you, but to hear you talk so casually about the day before the world went to shit - it just made it more real. 

You had mentioned before that you never dreamed about the snap, but about everything leading up to it. 

“I woke up, betrayed yet again by my own blood, and Steve was suddenly there after two years. We were gonna fight an outside threat.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed lightly, “I was still healing but I was on the battlefield. Stayed close to Nat most of the time.”

The group was heavily invested in your retelling. “I couldn’t fight him, obviously. But I did see him. I saw how he ripped that stone from my friend’s head.”

A few winces sounded around the circle. 

“I guess I feel immense guilt. Like, I could have done something more even though realistically, I couldn’t. Kinda feels like I sat back and watched my friend’s die.”

No one spoke, but it was obvious everyone had survivor’s guilt. 

“And now, I’m living with the pain of having all three of my best friends stripped from me while also celebrating the fact that the snap took my father.”

Shrugging, you gave your last sad smile to the group. “I feel guilty for what happened while also being grateful it took someone who deserved it.”

After a few seconds of silence, Steve spoke. “You’re here today to tell your story. No one has to agree or disagree with you. It’s your story. Tell it like it is.”

You chuckled, “I could easily bother Steve with this at the compound.” You smiled at the teenager clutching what looked like a stuffed animal in his lap. “But I had nothing else to do tonight. My only friends are gone.”

“You and Steve aren’t friends?”

This time it was Michael that spoke, his eyes bouncing from you to Steve. You turned to Steve for some kind of answer. Was it a yes? Were you more like coworkers than true friends? 

Steve’s eyes softened and his kind smile was back. 

You answered, “I guess. I did come here for him.”

Steve rolled his eyes and kept his light-hearted tone, “I’m really glad you did.” 

Steve backtracked, clearing his throat as he addressed the circle. “I’m really glad all of you did. Same time next week.”

You busied yourself with stacking the chairs and dusting off your pants. Once most of the group had left, Steve gathered his things and walked over to you. “You take the subway?”

Your head shot up at the sound of his voice, and you stacked the final chair high. “I did. You drive?”

Steve hummed in response, “Want a lift?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re not staying at your place tonight?”

“Nah, I haven’t seen Nat in a week. I should pay her a visit.”

He curled his jacket around your shoulders as you exited the building. You held it tightly, relishing in the comfort. The walk back to the car was quiet but not awkward. After such a heavy night, silence was most definitely needed. And just the comfort of being around someone you trusted added to the relaxation aspect of it all. 

Steve kicked a loose piece of gravel to the street. You watched him for a few seconds before you spoke, voice light and a puff of cold air escaping your lips. 

“Steve?” 

He turned to you and waited for you to continue speaking. 

“You know Sam would be so proud of you doing this, right?”

Steve watched the cold air leave his own lungs as well. He felt the weight of that statement pressing down on his shoulders as he looked up at the dark sky. “I know.”

     Steve knew he was utterly fucked, so fucked that any line that had been established was stepped over and kicked a thousand yards back. His mind was made up, he would not run, he would not succumb to some former mindset 2016 Steve would have fallen victim to. He was a new person, a completely different person than he was out of the ice and after the snap. He deserved to cross the line, he deserved whatever happiness was afforded to him - he deserved comfort in the arms of another after years of denying himself. 

He downed the rest of his drink with a loud gulp, mind made up, and headed back to your room. 

    It was best to just pretend it never happened… no? But did you want to pretend it never did? So many moments over the years where this could have happened, where either of you could have literally just said ‘fuck it’. As overthinking was a specialty, quite a useless skill, you thought about the countless fights you had. 

Red in the face, hands clenched until nails imprinted little crescents, absolutely seething at the mouth. Some of the things you would yell were vile, none at all honest but with the intent to cause pain for only a moment, and mumbled apologies later. You were literally enemies for these past two, long years. Enemies who had to be seated and scolded, tricked into accepting defeat and living as teammates once more. 

Perhaps one of those arguments could have been remedied by simply leaning in like you had tonight, by throwing each other against the wall, by pulling the roots of your hair as he tugged-

Nope. 

Nope. 

No matter how much tension you were now realizing you had for this man, tension that could literally be fucked out, wasn’t it too late to act on it? You couldn’t pinpoint the chance you maybe had and missed. 

Steve walked through the door in the middle of your rapid brainstorming. He just grinned sweetly and slipped into the bathroom. 

As simple as that. 

Now you couldn’t discern between the feelings of wanting to fight him or fuck him. Not being able to differentiate between them ignited a sour mood, and once he stepped out from the shower, you basically pushed him to the side to lock yourself in. 

Even the warm water hitting your body couldn’t alleviate the pressure of overthinking. You disregarded your hair tonight and instead just washed your body. As quick as you could jump back out and go to bed, the better.  

Sucking in a deep breath, you opened the door and shut off the bathroom light. Your eyes landed on Steve’s torso, shirtless and the only thing not covered by the white blanket. He hadn’t shaved his beard either, the length evident when he kissed you earlier. It felt wrong and right at the same time, a battle that you seriously did not want to deal with. To get involved with your mission partner was dangerous - not because Steve himself was dangerous, but because it was a giant distraction. A distraction that you couldn’t afford. 

But as he put down his book and lay it in his lap, looking up to look at you through hooded eyes, sleepy but alert, the ‘danger’ was nothing but enticing. 

You cleared your throat and padded down your pajama shorts absentmindedly, slinging your hair over one shoulder and focusing on plugging your charger into your phone. It was so silent besides your pitter-patter, and god, did Steve find that sound so relaxing, until you climbed into bed. Once your shuffling was done, the slight buzzing of Steve’s desk lamp drowned out all your other senses. And the longer it was heard, the more it sounded like a ticking clock. 

Steve shut the lamp off, the only light now illuminating your figure from outside. He studied your breathing, watching how every so often you would bring your hand up to scratch your cheek or move a stray hair. You looked so gentle, so inviting, so small. 

You were turned away from him and facing the wall, eyes shut as you listened to his movements. There was a small part of you that wanted to stay up all night talking, to lean on his shoulder and simply feel his warmth, to feel that beard against your cheek one more time. As quickly as those thoughts flashed through your mind did you scold yourself, that this was inappropriate and wrong and so dangerous. 

You felt a dip in your bed, heavy and unsure, a lift of your blankets, and it happened so quickly that you could have sworn you dreamt it. Steve wrapped his arm around you, his broad chest pressed tightly against your back and his lips attacked the skin just below your earlobe. Your breath hitched, eyes shot open, and your hands reached up to grip his wrist. Steve stilled. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, lips hovering over your blushing skin and breath practically blistering. You could feel him now, hard and pulsing against your ass and ready to move. You felt dizzy, overcome with such a rush of desire that you couldn’t help but stiffen in his tight grasp. 

“Don’t,” you choked out, feeling his body become rigid and his breath begin to quicken. 

“I’m sorry I-” he began to move away from you, voice no longer a whisper and tainted with panic. 

“No,” you pulled back, tilting your head up to lock eyes with him. You brought your arm up to grasp the back of his head, and you tugged it back to your neck. “Don’t stop.”

Yeah, he was utterly fucked. “Fuck,” he groaned, continuing the attack on your neck. But he gained momentum now, arm squeezing you against him tighter, and voice cracking as he moaned your name. 

“Steve, please do something.”

Your hands found their way back to his arm, gripping it tightly as he fumbled with the waistband of your shorts. He played with it, teasing in his actions, almost as punishment for the years you tormented him with your attitude. His lips pressed harder now, finding each patch of available skin on your neck and flushed cheek, and Steve has never felt so aroused in his life. He wasn’t even inside you, but the quick gasps he heard from you did plenty in aiding the rush of blood from his head to his stiffening cock. 

“Tell me what you want. Please, tell me and I’ll give it to you,” he moaned, the slightest experimental role of the hips causing you to whimper. 

“Touch me,” you practically sobbed, rolling your hips back against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt all of him.  

And just like that, he gave you what you asked for. He gripped your hip and shoved you closer to him, hot and ready and pressed firmly against you. He rolled his hips into you, little whimpers of his own touching your sensitive ear. He quickened his pace and he found it hard to think straight when the scrunch of pleasure all over your face, making you look so willing, was all he was focused on. He focused on the way you bit your lip, a bite and then a gasp, and then you were back to biting as if you were trying to restrain any higher moan. And even with only the moonlight illuminating the room, he could see the sun-kissed color of your skin and the bruising he was causing. He kept his mouth on you as he rocked himself against you, indulging in a few more selfish seconds of pleasure before becoming his generous self. 

He dipped his hand into your shorts and found the sweet nub that so desperately needed attention. His brain almost short circuited, the feeling of his fingers finally sliding into your wet lips making his throat dry. He drew little but skilled circles, each twirl of his index and middle finger in unison with the grind of his hips. Your mouth fell open by such pleasure, and you braced yourself by placing your left palm on the mattress and pressed down, nails scratching the cotton fabric and alerting Steve of your excitement. You pushed back against him, timed and in perfect harmony. 

You knew the room wasn’t on fire, but even if it was you didn’t think to check. 

“Keep talking to me, Y/N. Keep talking to me,” Steve begged, each rotation of his hips gaining pressure. His eagerness prompted you to reach back up and grab him by the hair, yanking his head to your tilted one and smashing his lips against yours. Steve gasped at the pleasant sting, somewhat surprised with himself that he liked that form of roughness. But who was he to judge his kinks when the tip of your nose was turning redder, the blush in your cheeks mixed with barely visible silver droplets of sweat, and a purple outline was beginning to form on your plump upper lip? 

The kiss was sloppy, uncoordinated, but still beneficial in getting Steve to rut against you even harder. 

He could so easily pull your shorts down and enter you, and if he was anything like he felt, then you knew it would sting. But you craved that sting and stretch, the thought of him inside you causing another gush of desire to leak from you. Steve dipped his finger deeper into you only to accumulate your juices and spread them higher. He went back to rubbing expertly, actions gaining speed to match your whimpers. 

“Fuck, Steve,” you moaned louder, and you swore you felt tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You pressed back harder, his hand rubbing and pressing down on your stomach simultaneously. Your head felt cloudy, the pleasure coursing through your veins and to the very tips of your toes. “Oh, my fuck.”

Steve paused his fingers to trail his hand back up your stomach and to your breasts, pulling your tank top down to spill them. The sounds leaving your throat set him on fire, desire pulsing everywhere - his head, his heart, his aching cock that was pressed so closely against you that he could feel you vibrating. He pinched your nipple and rolled it, closing his eyes in response to your dirty purrs. “Let me make you come, doll.”

“Wasn’t that the point?” you quipped, ass tilting at an angle that caused Steve to choke. He growled from the attitude he couldn’t believe you still fucking had during a moment like this and kissed you roughly, both your broken moans molding into one. His hand returned to your shorts. 

“Do that again,” he begged, hitching his leg up to rest on yours. The angle allowed him to drive his hips even harder. You maneuvered to provide the same tilt, grinning at the pleasurable cries that left your Captain’s mouth. 

“I think I’m gonna make you come first,” you chuckled and took his bottom lip between your teeth. You pulled lightly, concentration still in the circle of your hips. He looked back down at you, determination and undeniable lust in his eyes. He thrust his aching cock against you, sliding himself over your ass. He did it hard but slow, the pressure applied giving the head of his cock such a sweet squeeze as he bumped it against the curve of your lumbar spine. 

The heavy duvet was abandoned now, cold air from the hotel air conditioner failing in cooling you down at all. You both had a thin sheet of sweat on your clothed bodies, goosebumps standing proudly, and lips all plump and red from your harsh kissing. 

Steve held you so close, so tight, and his fingers were drawing such rushed and tiny circles that you swore his wrist had to be cramping up. But the sound of both your whimpers started to mesh together, alerting you of such a sweet climax up ahead. 

“Steve, fuck, fuck, ohh,” you mewled, voice now high pitched and yes, it turned Steve on incredibly but it also fueled you. Your pornographic moans ignited an even deeper desire within you, just the true fact that Steve was touching you, Steve was getting you to make these sounds, Steve is actually hearing these sounds, Steve is making the same exact sounds. 

 “I-, please, come for me,” Steve pleaded, cock twitching with each thrust as he neared his end. “Make me come.”

His begging, his equally high voice, his skilled fingers rubbing rapidly and the slight pain from that, his breath burning your neck, were all too powerful, their combinations causing the fire in your core to explode and make you see white in a flash, black dots later clouding your vision. Your nails dug into his moving arm, crescents branded into him. You clenched around nothing, walls fluttering and thighs shaking as they pressed around his hand and fingers. 

The inappropriate squelching sound of your juices spreading as your thighs clenched around his cramping fingers, the slide so sensual and dirty, had Steve rutting against you one, two, three more times before he came in hard but long spurts. His mouth hung open, breath still fanning your neck, and his eyes were so tightly shut that the force was enough to strain them. 

“Oh, fuuuck, yes, yes!” Steve groaned, his body taking longer than usual to recover. His orgasm was powerful, more powerful than when he got himself off in the shower or in the comfort of his bed at night, and he knew it was because you clouded his senses. Of course, there was an added benefit to getting off with someone else, aiding that person in the same endeavor, but because it was you, it made the climax even more forceful, more intense. The whole situation was both unexpected and calculated, gentle and rough, and Steve’s heart was beating so fast by the thought of what just occurred that he found himself wanting to spill into you all night long, and to apologize for overstepping an unspoken boundary. 

You could feel the wetness of both your own release and Steve’s, head still cloudy from such a sharp orgasm. You hummed in satisfaction, reaching your arm over once again to lift his head up by his hair. He hissed at the pull now, his body all fucked out and satisfied. “You good?”

Steve gave you a lazy smile, chest heaving in unison with yours. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m good.”

Steve scanned your face for any regret just in case your words held other meaning, but all he could see was your satisfied expression, cheeks still flushed pink, hair tangled, and pupils dilated. He hesitated for a second before he leaned down and connected your lips, molding his with yours slowly and chastely. You both sighed at the feeling, highs now lowering and the coldness from the air conditioner causing a different set of goosebumps to appear. Steve pulled away, giving you one last peck as if testing the waters, and rested his forehead against yours. You both relished your post-orgasm bliss for a few silent minutes before cleaning up. 

You shared playful shoves as you cleaned up. It was almost innocent, a huge contrast to the sinful activities you two had just committed, but there was a genuine feeling of understanding in the room. Your heart clenched at the simple sight of Steve washing his hands, eyes meeting his in the mirror, a soft look in his that startled you. 

You gave him a smile so as to not alert him of your reaction, and exited the bathroom to climb back into bed. You drew the heavy duvet back over your body and cuddled in it deeply, chin hidden underneath and back facing Steve’s bed. It was a few more minutes before Steve came back into the room, shutting the light off, and looking at your resting form. He wanted to climb back in with you and hold you innocently, to have the feeling of your warm back against his broad chest, gentle exhales tickling the arm that would wrap around you. But he just looked back and forth from your bed and his, and he decided to not push the boundary further. He hesitated with this decision, but climbed into his own bed, the feeling of his cold sheets making him immediately regret it. He shuffled silently, his body facing yours. 

You wanted to lay beside him too. But whether you were making a smart decision or an absurd, cowardly one, one thing was certain: you could no longer ignore the stacking of such emotions you had for this man. 

It almost angered you, how much you denied yourself of even a simple crush for literally ten years, and it made you mad at Steve, too. Because if he hadn’t pushed you away, then maybe you could have accepted this sooner. 

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

[confused-as-all-hell]

Nina Zenik's trade was love.

Her lips were the colour of teenage breakups, her eyelids dusted dreamy gold. Her kisses tasted like melting chocolate, and the touch of her bare hands was wildfire, burning, destruction. Within a cage of ribbon and bone, her heart wept for quiet.

Her smile could have set the world aflame.

Nina had ridden desire until her body gave out, had slept with infatuation in her bed, had risen to the prying hands of lust. She had never known gentle touches or warm butterfly lips; men and women both saw her body, saw an opportunity, a conquest.

She loved, my god, she loved.

But nobody had ever loved her.

Some tried; they took her to quaint little cafes and pretty sparkling monuments, but her laugh was too bright, her grin too wide, she was too much to be managed.

Her friends did their best to cheer her, and their kindness was often her lifeline, but Inej’s comforting hand never struck out, and Kaz’s vicious mind never bent towards anything but his studies, and Jesper was too busy with his boyfriend for more than a friendly hello.

Nina had never expected them to wage her wars, but some little, nagging part of her mind longed to be fought for.

So when she met Matthias Helvar, she hated him.

He was gentle, kind, waited on her opinion, halted before kissing her fingertips. His warmth, she thought with breathtaking terror, was just a ruse.

No person on the entire fucking Earth could romantically love her.

She knew that her giggles were just too raucous, and her body too curved, and her wit could have cleaved the moon. She knew she was too much, and she knew she wasn't enough.

When she was studying, when she was jesting, when she was laying on top of Matthias' broad frame, the vines crept in.

When she heard him sneer at a young woman, when she heard him degrade her, their, rights, those tangling vines nearly fucking strangled her.

For the first time in her life, Nina fell silent. The stars spun before her eyes. The ocean was in her ears. The hatred and bewilderment clouded her lungs.

When she mentioned it to Kaz, he only frowned. "Helvar isn't known for his humanity," he said fairly.

Nina didn’t shake. She didn’t sob. She didn’t bury her face in her hands and weep.

She was still Nina Zenik, and she would not lose her heart over a hateful boy.

She only turned to Kaz, seated at her desk, and Inej, cross-legged on the bed, and Jesper, sprawled on the floor.

And Nina did what she had forsworn eight years ago.

She begged.

They were good to her, her friends.

They worked quietly and quickly, abandoning their piles of homework to soothe her furious heart, ditching their responsibilities for her anger.

It was their love she clung to when red flashed before her eyes.

Yes, she cared for Matthias, more than she ever wanted to admit.

But she was proud to be a female, and prouder still to be a feminist. She refused to dissolve her values for a few hours of sex.

They worked through the dregs of night, and when the first wisps of sunlight spun around the stars, Nina at last sat back.

Later that day, Matthias Helvar was expelled.

She had been staring at his back during one of their lectures, silent silent silent, as Inej squeezed her hand tight.

When the announcement came, all she felt was a bitter surge of terror.

The look on his face, the misery and humiliation and awful bewilderment, it would fucking haunt Nina forever.

He turned to her, eyes full of hope. "I was with you that day," he said softly. "You know I didn't."

Matthias, bold and kind and gentle, the god of burnished gold, a saviour like none she had ever known. His kisses tasted of salvation, his laugh sounded of redemption.

And fuck if the pain on his face didn't break her damn heart.

I'm wrong I'm wrong I'm wrong.

For just a second, Nina wondered if she had acted too harshly. But the image of the girl, sobbing into into her hands, screaming she was worthless and awful and didn’t deserve to be called human….

“I am so sorry, Matthias,” Nina said softly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Months later, Nina still dreamt about the hopeless look in his eyes, the way he would pick her up and kiss her neck, how his kindness was her tether.

Did she love him?

Yes.

She loved him, simply, bitterly, indomitably.

It felt like dying.

It felt like waking up in the middle of the night, heart hammering, and trying to shift the veil of sleep from your gaze because something's wrong, something's out of place, and fuck if it isn't a boy with pretty blue eyes.

It felt like searching for your oblivion in someone else's body, and their hands are too wide, and their breath too rough, and the fury that lights your bones aflame is too fucking much.

Nina was no stranger to heartbreak. Many, many boys had shattered her courage, her wit, her pride; she had built it up again, a fortress of red silk and crimson anger.

But to break someone else's heart, to dream of a guileless laugh like rumbling thunder, to think of his coffee order whenever Inej asked her what she wanted for breakfast, it was nearly too much to bear.

She tried to heal herself.

She tried changing her perfume and restyling her hair, tried shedding the skin of a rash, reckless woman, and dressed in the suitable tones of a graceful lady.

But a quiet life did not suit Nina Zenik.

The roar in her head could have broken queens. The hum of adventure in her veins moaned for one more taste. The tide of kindly words and gentle smiles were unfamiliar in her mouth.

Her friends always did their best to extend a hand, and it was due to Kaz's ability to hack the school website that her grades remained polished. It was thanks to Inej's quiet that Nina could breathe for just a bare second. It was put down to Jesper's raucous laugh that she clung to life.

How stupid, she told herself, to cry over a boy.

But she knew there was no shame in crying over a boy. It was natural to mourn a relationship, a missed opportunity, and it didn't make her less.

What she really meant was: How stupid, to cry over an awful person.

Was Matthias awful?

That remark, that stupidly bitter remark, was terrible, yes. But she in her indomitable fury had reacted so harshly.

Worse men than twenty-three-year-old Matthias Helvar had learned better. Couldn't he?

For a second, hope lifted her heart on the wind.

The very next morning, she hurried out to the center where Matthias was doing his penance, and she begged to speak with him.

When he stalked out, tall and breathtakingly handsome, aurete hair brushed back and glacier eyes gentle... fuck if she didn't lose her damned mind.

"Nina," he whispered, so softly, as if her name was his salvation.  As if they were back in the safety of her bedroom, bare among the silk sheets, limbs intertwined as he gasped for her to keep going, not to stop.

"Hello," she said shakily.

"Nina, my love," he said again, his words heavy with sorrow. “My sweet garden flower.”

Her joy rose like a crashing wave, and for just one second, it felt like she might conquer the entire fucking world.

"Matthias," she said, her voice strangely airless.

He rushed towards her, fingers reaching, and she dared to close her eyes. His calloused palms brushed against her bare throat.

"My darling," he murmured into the hollow of her ear. "Oh, Nina, why would you come here tonight?"

"Am I unwelcome?"

He laughed, but it was injected with something akin to misery. "You were always welcome, Nina. I never turned you away from my door. My bed was yours. My hands, yours. The key to my dorms hung around this pretty neck. When have I ever denied you houseroom?"

"I thought you might hate me," she admitted, still trembling. The idea seemed ridiculous now.

"Hate you?" Matthias echoed, thumb grazing her pulse point, pressing down gently. "My fucking god, Nina, I have detested you since the very moment you said my name in that damned lecture hall."

Her heart stuttered.

"Every aspect of your pretty fucking face," he whispered, still soft as if he was kneeling for his confessional, "reviles me. Your laugh, your grin, those little melodies even the birds cannot mirror. The way you write your birthday cards. The way you sat by while I was convicted for a crime I did not commit."

He kissed the corner of her mouth, light as a butterfly's wings. "Oh, my darling, but you knew. Was I so terrible to you? Did I not sing you to sleep and hold your hand and bring your spring blossoms?"

She tried to croak his name, but he ghosted a finger across her lips.

"I loved you, Nina Zenik," he said. "I love you still. But send me to fucking hell if I wouldn't drive a blade through your heart." He pressed his mouth to her own again, so delicate, so careful. "I thought you cared for me."

But Nina was beyond responses. She was dashed on the rocks, laying on the stretcher, amid the ashes of her ancestors.

"No?" said Matthias gently. "Very well, my sweet love. Go to your grave in my arms, as I went to heaven in yours."

His fingers brushed her lips, grazed the swell of her breasts, closed around her throat.

When Nina woke the next morning, it was to her own unmade bed. Her neck was so swollen, peppered in bruises and markings in the shape of broad fingertips. She could barely speak.

She didn't know if she would have, even if given the choice.

The words within her, the lovely ebb and flow of their comfort, had washed away with the tide at last.

Within a few days, the markings on her skin had nearly been scrubbed away, and the gasping pressure of her larynx had eased up enough for her to cry.

She felt like an untethered ship, bound for no shore, alone on the ocean with no hope of salvation. No matter how loud her desperate screams, there was no lighthouse beacon shining through the storm, no gentle arms to welcome her home.

Her tears fell like raindrops, pattering into her morning tea and onto the silk of her pillows, rolling down her face and staining her clothes with salt.

Inej tried to soothe the grief, and her grace was often enough to hold the hurricane at bay. She slept in Nina's bed, hands outstretched as if beseeching forgotten gods, the set of her delicate face troubled.

Kaz worked hard to keep her grades high, and he seemed to take her desk as his own, working there until the latest hours of night whenever Inej ran late. He was always there, irate and dry perhaps, but there.

Jesper, newly engaged to bright-as-the-stars Wylan Van Eck, could be counted on for mindless chatter and familiar jests.

It helped, of course it did.

But nothing filled the hole in her armor, the pride Matthias had so aptly destroyed.

Some people had thought of Nina's rage as a monster, a beast slithering through the night, a serpent prone to striking first and thinking later.

But she had loved that fury, loved her pride. It gifted her a defense against sneers and remarks and hatred. It had given a little girl with happy eyes a purpose, eighteen years ago.

Nina blazed like fire, lovely and breathtaking, but so many forgot that her flames were not just pretty. They were scalding, awful, burning hot to the touch.

And she had been fucking stupid enough to think Matthias could withstand the inferno.

And she had been fucking stupid enough to think Matthias could withstand the inferno.

It was ten months before she saw him again.

Nina was leaning over the counter at a little cafe, doing her best to remember her friends' orders, touching her fingers one by one.

A laugh, like the demanding rumble of a hurricane, crested over the cafe.

Her heart fucking stopped.

Matthias was seated at a rickety table, arms tucked behind his head. He was grinning at a boy seated across from him, one of the number who had snickered at his remark over that weeping girl, all that time ago.

He glanced to the side, laughter on his soft rosy lips, and caught glimpse of her.

It was too late to smooth her straight dark hair, or wish she had worn a ball gown instead of ripped jeans and one of Jesper's T-shirts.

It was far too late to do anything but stroll up to his table and lean across the wood.

"Aerts," she said with a click of her tongue, indicating the other boy. "Darling, and I thought your sad little gang provided good company?"

"No complaints," Aerts said with a roguish smile. "You look pretty enough to whine in my ear, though, Zenik. You fancy a tumble?"

There was a shuffle, and a loud thud, as if Matthias had swung his foot into Aerts' shin.

"Fuck off," Matthias said jerkily to her.

"I'd much rather get off," Nina said dispassionately.

His ears turned red. "You've grown more petulant than ever."

"You didn't mind my whining," she said airily.

A hand flashed in the air; Kaz, waving her over impatiently.

Nina waved to signal her understanding before turning back to the boys. "How about it, Helvar? For the sake of nostalgia. I'm going home with somebody tonight, might as well be you."

Aerts didn't seem offended she'd turned him down. On the contrary, he grinned shiftily at his friend. "Go on. It'll be fun."

They barely made it to an alleyway before Matthias was kissing her.

The sex was quick and rough and furious, bruised lips and roaming hands, gasping moans and clever fingers. It was Nina with her head thrown back against the wall, eyes fluttering like the wings of a dove. It was Matthias bent down over her, whispering I hate you I hate you I hate you as though the words were his litany.

When he knelt before her, the sun was in his skin, his hair, the brush of his tongue.

And suddenly they were in their first year again, learning to love and lose and grieve and gift.

He bought earrings shaped like little stars for her because he had seen the way her eyes lit up.

She left a bouquet of white lilies on his bed because he had once mentioned they were his favourite.

He kissed the curves of her body because he had seen the disgust which others regarded them with.

She let him cry on her shoulder the anniversary of his sister's death because it hurt it hurt it hurt.

But just like in their first year, they parted.

He would always be the boy with some semblance of poison in his heart.

She would always be the girl who was simply too much for anyone to love.

And if they met, again and again, in thrift shops and opulent restaurants and beaches and nightclubs, they could pretend it away. They could smile, wave, sleep at night with the memory of a sweet laugh ringing in their ears.

Maybe one day, another day, a kinder day, they met again.

Maybe this time, Nina would ask him to heal the hatred in his blood.

Maybe this time, Matthias would tell her why he had hurt that girl.

Maybe they would love each other anew, a spring blossom eager to flower again, an old oak tree strong enough to outwait the storm.

But for now, the blossom will wither and die every winter, and the tree will go gently to the hurricane.

For now, it is Matthias, the king of ice, Nina, the queen of fire.

For now, love is simply not enough.