#and the wine is made at his home temple! family business of sorts

[greenieart]

Illustrated Wolf’s inventory! I think I missed a few items and some sizes are off, but I think you can learn a lot about a character based on the items they carry with them

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: and I told the world Summary: Padmé is pregnant, Anakin is the father,” Obi-Wan replied and held up his bottle of Serenno wine. Or, Obi-Wan and the realization that Anakin is going to be a father at an age Obi-Wan wasn't even a Knight. AN: More light fix-it verse! Tackling the anidala verse.

The Temple was eerily silent as Obi-Wan walked through its halls. Not many Jedi were on Coruscant right now and the number of nocturnal Jedi was even lower. He was thankful for the quiet, unsure how well he’d handle a conversation right now. Someone’s kind fussing would eventually lead to Obi-Wan needing to confront the fact that Anakin’s last steps into adulthood had been done on bloodied battlefields, far away from him.

He reached his destination without a single interruption and soon found himself knocking against a familiar door. Years ago, even before the war, he might have hesitated to act so boldly over an issue that wasn’t even truly one and could have waited until morning. Fortunately, Obi-Wan was a member of the Council and had learned that not one member of it kept regular hours. As expected, the door opened and Mace stood in its entrance, looking as put-together as on a Benduday afternoon. He blinked, equally non-plussed about Obi-Wan’s appearance, his expression just a bit questioning. Obi-Wan ought to be sleeping, he’d just gotten home from a rather gruesome campaign, but he hadn’t been able to fall asleep after getting Anakin’s hysteric call.

“Obi-Wan, what can I do for you?” Mace asked.

“Padmé is pregnant, Anakin is the father,” Obi-Wan replied and held up his bottle of Serenno wine. It was an expensive gift from Dooku to Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan had meant to open it or smash it so many times but never ended up deciding on either course of action.

Now he finally knew what to do with it.

Mace closed his eyes and Obi-Wan thought he could hear a curse pass his lips, then the older Master stepped aside and let Obi-Wan inside.

He’d been in Mace’s quarters often enough that they were familiar to him. Shelves with plants and books covered the walls. Many of them were on various meditation techniques from across the entire galaxy. In one corner, his contrabass was starting to collect dust from months of no usage. Obi-Wan’s thoughts returned to his own violin, resting in its case in the corner of his wardrobe. Despite the dust on the instrument, the wall covered by trinkets and gifts of Padawans and thankful people alike was as pristine as always.

Obi-Wan sat down at the living room table as Mace returned with two wine glasses. Obi-Wan poured their glasses full and emptied his in one go. It was a very dry red wine, bitter too. Qui-Gon would have disliked it; Obi-Wan hated it.

Still, it seemed appropriate for the given situation.

“So,” Mace said, wetting his lips. “Care to repeat that first statement again?”

“Anakin called me about three hours ago,” Obi-Wan started. “He was frazzled. I thought it was because of his mission, but instead I learn that the cause for his distress is the message he got from Padmé about ten minutes before he called me.”

“Which, I assume, was of her informing Anakin that she is pregnant.”

“Yes.”

It had been a short text message. Anakin had read it out to him thrice in varying degrees of emotional turmoil, from cheerful excitement to bone-chilling terror. From the way he spoke, it had been clear to Obi-Wan that Anakin’s first instinct, before even attempting to sort through his emotions on his own, had been to call Obi-Wan. While it warmed him to know that Anakin trusted him so much and sought his support, Obi-Wan could have done without needing to calm Anakin down when he was still so unsettled himself.

Mace sighed. “Is Senator Amidala going to visit the Temple Healers tomorrow then?”

“Today,” Obi-Wan corrected absentmindedly. It was already far past midnight and Obi-Wan liked to try to keep track of time. It didn’t necessarily make the days spent in the trenches easier, but it ensured he didn’t totally lose contact with reality and got lost in the war. “And no, she won’t. She is currently on Alderaan, visiting Queen Breha, and I don’t think Anakin told her to visit the Healers here after. I’ll tell him or message her directly, perhaps.”

The entire situation was surreal.

His Padawan was going to become a father.

At his age, Obi-Wan hadn’t even thought about teaching a Padawan someday, had three years still until Anakin would be sleeping curled up next to him.

“We have to provide an alibi,” Mace stated. “If the public catches wind of why Senator Amidala is visiting the Temple, the situation is bound to escalate beyond our control.”

And that was putting it nicely. Padmé and Anakin’s relationship was a bit of an open secret in the Temple and among Padmé’s guards, but the public could not be allowed to learn of it. Padmé’s integrity would be doubted, each and every decision the Order made regarding Naboo since the Trade Federation’s invasion would be questioned. The Centrist faction would demand that Padmé lose her seat in the Senate. The balance between the Jedi and the government was already fragile and complicated enough without a scandal of this size threatening to throw everything into discord.

It wasn’t even as if Anakin were unaware of the danger.

No, Master, we’re not going to do anything stupid.

Well, stupid just happened.

Obi-Wan massaged his temples, feeling the pressure behind his forehead build up. Either his migraine was returning at full force – not unsurprising in these circumstances – or he was due for a particularly unpleasant vision.

Or maybe it was just the alcohol.

“And if Padmé won’t leave the Senate, and we honestly can’t afford her to leave, Anakin will have to leave the Order. Keeping an affair under wraps is one thing, but a child?” That wasn’t going to end pretty.

“The war comes closer to its end with every passing day,” Mace said. “Senator Amidala is well-trained and everyone close enough to Anakin to know can keep their mouth shut for a few more months. How far along is the Senator?”

“Three months.”

Which left them with six to end the war and let Anakin and Padmé decide which path they’d take after. Obi-Wan emptied his glass once more.

Anakin would be a father in six months.

Kriff.

His horror must show on his face because Mace readily refilled his glass but kept his own empty. One of them should keep their wits about themselves and Obi-Wan certainly wasn’t going to be it.

“Do you want me to help you come up with excuses for the Senator, keep you from emptying this bottle on your own, or listen to you talk some more?” Mace asked after a long silence.

Obi-Wan was a good orator, he didn’t need any help spinning a story, and he could drink much more than just one bottle of wine before he truly needed someone to keep an eye on him.

“I don’t know the first thing about newborns,” Obi-Wan said, choosing the third option.

This was not the most conventional way for a lineage to grow, but theirs wasn’t exactly one to do things by the book necessarily. And, beyond wanting politics to stay out of their business, Obi-Wan wanted to be there for his family. Anakin had lived half in his mind for over a decade now. Even days’ travel away, shields locked tight, Obi-Wan could still feel the other half of his soul.

Regardless of what the parents-to-be chose, Anakin and Obi-Wan were still Jedi and their Order raised its children in a loving community. And if that could not happen in the Temple, Obi-Wan was sure that nobody would mind if he took a few years off once this blasted war ended.

Mace smiled. “Then I suggest you learn.”

[illfoandillfie]

If you still want ideas, what about going on a picnic with rog, and like it's all pretty soft and you're giving each other all the hugs and kisses. But then at one point it turns into a heavier make out session and maybe you end up giving each other head 👀 but you gotta watch out that no one walks by and sees because it's not a busy spot but it's still in public ya know.

this was fun and cute! thanks for the request darl!

warnings for smut - oral (m and f receiving) 

Blurb Advent: Day 14

The first days of spring had set in, the weather warming up after a freezing cold winter. You glanced at the sky, twitching aside the bedroom curtain, and decided that it looked like it would be a warm enough day to get away with a very spring-y skirt, brightly coloured with a floral pattern all over it. You worried briefly that you were jinxing things, the weather forecast on the news had predicted showers after all and maybe your skirt would just encourage them to roll in, but it was a risk you were willing to take. Roger was just as keen to shake off the winter, though he still opted for jeans. Instead he suggested you take advantage of the sunshine and have a picnic in the park. He dug out the old picnic set you kept – plastic plates and cutlery and cups, all tucked away in a stereotypical wicker basket – as well as a rug to sit on. And together you spent the morning putting together a few different sorts of sandwiches, cut into small triangles, and cutting up some fresh fruit, locking them all away in Tupperware boxes to keep the safe. Roger threw in a bottle of wine and the last few slices of a cake you’d baked a few days prior. It was all loaded into the basket, the rug sitting on top, and then into the car along with a large umbrella you could share if the weather did turn and a bottle of sunscreen in case it didn’t.

 When you reached the park you grabbed all your stuff from the backseat and then Roger grabbed your hand. He had an idea of where to set up, leading you through the popular front section with it’s children’s playground towards a back corner and a little pocket of trees. There were a few people dotted around the park – a couple of families with their kids on the swing sets, a man and his dog playing a game of fetch, a couple of women throwing bread into the duckpond, laughing. But the further you got, the less people there were. A woman jogged past the tree line, Walkman clipped to the top of her shorts, but otherwise you seemed to have the spot to yourself. You supposed the risky weather was keeping people indoors still or maybe you were just there a bit too early for the crowds.

“Perfect,” Roger said, laying down the rug and taking a spot in the middle of it.

You began pulling out the food, handing Roger a plate for him to load as many sandwiches on as he wanted. Roger opened the wine, the cork making a dull popping sound, and you settled back to bask in the sunshine and enjoy your lunch. Roger shuffled in close to you, leaning back on a palm placed just behind you, eating and gesturing with his other hand. At one point he got so excited by something he said that the slice of orange he’d been about to eat flew from his hand and you both fell into giggles as it got lost somewhere on the grass. Between bursts of conversation and bites of food you exchanged kisses and soft touches. You let your hand rest on Roger’s leg when you weren’t using it to eat and Roger seemed to press himself closer to you every time he shifted to grab another piece of fruit or to top up your glasses. You liked it though. It was nice just to lean back against his shoulder and listen to him talk, feeling his lips press against your shoulder or temple ever so often. And whenever it happened you’d turn your head, tilt it up and invite him to kiss you properly. It was a peaceful way to spend the day, stretched out in the warm sunlight in your little patch of park.

 After you’d both eaten enough you closed up the containers to keep the ants at bay. Roger lay back with his hand over his eyes and you lay down too, perpendicular to him with your head on his stomach. You watched the clouds in the sky, white and fluffy, no sign of the promised rain, slowly meandering over you. A little longer and you might have dozed off, content and warm, except that Roger’s voice broke through the rustling of the trees.

“What cha thinkin’?” “Nothin,” “Same,” “That’s normal though innit,” Roger poked you and you laughed, shifting around to lay beside him as well. You were still giggling as you kissed the tip of his nose in apology.

“Should just leave you here,” he softly teased before kissing you, his lips lightly pressed to yours for a moment. You returned the kiss when he drew back, only for longer, letting it deepen before you pulled away. Roger pushed himself up on his forearm, leaning over you, his eyes moving over your face. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought his face down to yours once more. As you both settled into it his leg fell between yours. You tangled yourselves up in each other, arms and legs as entwined as your lips and tongues. Your breathing became heavier as his thigh pressed against your cunt and you subconsciously began to grind against it. When he realised what you were doing, Roger moved his head to the side, kissing along your throat.

“Maybe we should go home?” you asked, a little breathless and very hopeful.

“Nah, we don’t need to go all that way,”

“But people might see,”

Roger broke away from you, “There’s enough tree cover that they won’t. Besides, we’ve been sitting here for ages and seen maybe two people pass by.”

“That’s still two more than I’d like.”

“Alright, how’s this? We make a barrier with the umbrella,”

You considered his proposal. The umbrella was quite large when open, it’d probably shield all the important bits from anyone who did pass. “Alright, deal.”

With a final quick kiss, Roger pushed himself up and grabbed the umbrella, opening it and positioning it so that it hid as much of you as it could. He used the wicker basket and a few of the Tupperware boxes to anchor the handle to keep it from moving if the wind picked up. “All good now?”

Maybe it was that the wine had gone to your head or maybe the sun’s warmth just made you feel a little daring but it seemed to be a good solution, “Yeah, that works.” You held out your arms, expecting Roger to continue the make out session you’d been so enjoying. Instead, with a playful smile, he positioned himself between your legs and dropped a kiss to your knee.

“You seemed to be wanting something before,” he said before leaving another gentle kiss a little higher, “This okay?”

You just pulled the material of your skirt a little higher, “just get on with it before someone else walks past,”

He laughed and left a final kiss against your thigh before sliding off your underwear.

 It was hard to keep quiet once Roger had started. For one thing, the man knew what he was doing. He had an uncanny ability to make you squirm with a simple touch or just his breath blown over the right spot. On top of that you were used to your sexual escapades happening indoors, in a house large enough that the neighbours would never hear. So, when Roger pressed against your clit with the flat of his tongue, you had to clamp your own hand over your mouth. He nipped at your thigh as a warning before letting his fingers trail through your slit. You whimpered into your palm as he once again licked over your clit, working his finger into you.

“Thought you didn’t want anyone to know, love,” he said softly, pushing his finger deeper.

“I don’t,”

“Then you gotta be quieter,” He suddenly curled his finger against your front wall and you let out a cry at the unexpected bolt of pleasure.

“You did that on purpose,” you whined as quietly as you could manage.

Roger just chuckled and dipped his head again, holding your still with one hand as the other pressed against the spot. You moaned as he sucked on your clit in time with the finger rubbing against your wall, the hand over your mouth still not enough.

“Love. Be quiet or I’ll have to find you a gag.”

“I’m trying, you’re making it hard,”

“You’re making me hard.”

“Fuck off and keep going.”

“Alright but if we get caught before you go down on me then I’m gonna be really mad,”

“So stop talking and finish me off.”

“You’re so cute when you wanna cum,”

“Rog,” you whined his name though that was only partly out of frustration and partly because of how he licked along your slit again. It didn’t take him much longer after that, his finger stroking your insides as he sucked on your clit determined to push you over the edge. You bit down on your fingers to muffle yourself as the orgasm ripped through you, though you weren’t sure it helped much.

 Roger worked you through it, until you were whining for him to stop. He pulled his finger free of you and stuck it in his mouth, humming around it.

“Your turn,” you said before kissing him hard, tasting yourself, and then moving to unfasten his jeans. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was hard so you knew it wouldn’t take too long. You stroked over his length with your hand as you got comfortable between his legs. His breath caught as you licked along his shaft, flicking his tip with your tongue. “Alright love, no teasing,”

You laughed, letting your warm breath wash over his cock as you kept pumping it in your hand, before lowering your mouth to his tip. He hummed as you sucked on his engorged head, slowly sinking lower, your hand still wrapped around where your lips hadn’t reached. It was when you shifted your other hand to cup his balls that he let out his first noise. A choked moan.

You pulled off him suddenly, “And you were telling me to be quiet,”

“Y/N!”

“What?”

“C’mon, you know what. Just please suck me off,”

Trying not to look too pleased you took him between your lips again, bobbing your head lower before rising up to run your tongue around his tip. Roger was just as bad at being quiet as you were, groaning and gasping as you pushed him towards his release. He also liked giving instructions, requesting you squeeze his balls or asking you to repeat movements of your tongue. More than once you had to shush him, making him whine each time, but eventually you let him finish, holding yourself down on his cock as it twitched and released his load into your mouth. You washed it down with a bolt of wine and then lay back against Roger who was still breathing heavily.

For a while everything was quiet and peaceful again.

Suddenly Roger spoke up, “I love spring,” he turned to grin at you before leaving you with another kiss, “Now lets go home and be as loud as we want.”

[alitaimagines]

character- bakugou katsuki - my hero academia 

song recommendation: play date - melanie martinez

note: another Yakuza/Mafia AU. 

“what did I tell you!” Bakugou screamed to his men as they all jumped in fright, “I said that if we didn’t get our last job done and done right, all of you would be dead where you stood!”

he paced the room before grabbing the gun from his waist and held it to the temple of one of the men. the rest of them trembled in their shoes before hearing the gun shot go off. 

“sad he had to go, right?” he asked them rhetorically, “and if you let me down one more time, it’ll be all of you!” Bakugou slammed his gun on the table making his red headed right hand man start to clean it. 

whenever Bakugou had a day like this, he always left the house for a few hours. it cleared his mind and got him ready for his nightly activities. 

being that it was mid November, the air was chilly and there was several kids ice skating in a small pond not too far from his home. he parked the car and sat down on a bench to people watch. 

couples skated together, kids learning how to play hockey tried to shoot into their small net, and others just sat and watched along with him. 

“is there anyone sitting here?” he heard a soft spoken voice say. Bakugou was ready to snarl at whoever interrupted his peace but as soon as he looked up, his voice went mute. 

you had a laptop in your hand with a little contraption in the other. he figured it was a hot spot receiver. Bakugou shook his head no as you have him a smile and sat down next to him. 

he wondered why you decided to sit in the middle of the cold and do work but he didn’t bother to ask you. after a while of just sitting there, he could notice you shiver every now and again. 

not a word was spoken until he noticed a hockey puck was heading your direction. he managed to grab it bare armed and immediately felt the tingling in his hand. 

“are you okay?” you asked with nervousness in your voice. you immediately grabbed his hand and checked it. his hand had small cuts and a huge gash running through the middle of it, “we should get you home and get it cleaned.” 

Bakugou still hadn’t said a word but you dragged him down the street, “my car is this way,” he murmured as you perked up at the sound of him talk, “do you want me to drive? there’s no way your hand can possibly grip the steering wheel this way.” 

he handed you the keys to his VERY expensive looking car and you jumped into the drivers seat before taking another look at his now bloody hand. there was streams of blood running down his very muscular forearm. 

what you said was true. your house wasn’t too far from the pond but your house wasn’t exactly a house. it was a rundown apartment that looked too cheap and ugly for his liking. 

“sorry, from the looks of it, it looks like you have enough money to afford nice things so my apartment is probably really ugly,” this made Bakugou chuckle, “it’s fine,” he grumbled in his deep voice. 

you fished the keys from your purse and unlocked it. your apartment on the inside looked well put together. he smelled the fresh scent of a holiday candle roaming through the air. 

“I’m a nurse so I can patch you up and get you on your way in a moments  notice,” you chirped taking out the first aid kit from underneath your kitchen sink, “now if you want to prop yourself up on the sink, I can get to work!” 

had this been any other person, Bakugou would’ve probably screamed at them for even touching you but for some reason, with you, he didn’t even want to raise his voice an octave higher than his regular voice went. 

Bakugou opened his hand as you dabbed the alcohol onto the cotton swab. you gave him a warning to brace himself however as soon as you started cleaning the cuts, it was like it didn’t affect him. 

“does this not hurt?” you asked. Bakugou laughed before shaking his head no, “you must have a huge pain tolerance to be just sitting there and taking it,” you responded. 

you noticed the lack of conversation Bakuou was making with you but as soon as you took the gauze out, you were able to tell that the hand was turning a purpley-blue. 

“all better!” you said in a childish voice before giving his hand a slight squeeze. your eye widened in embarrassment, “I am so sorry! I’m a pediatric nurse so I’m used to dealing with children!” you rambled to explain yourself. 

“pediatric nurse? living in an apartment like this?” he asked, remaining on the kitchen ledge. you shrugged, “I know but the hospital I work at is very small and they can’t afford to pay me more than the actual doctors. they don’t have enough of donations to raise wages or anything of the sort,” you said with a tinge of sadness. 

Bakugou watched your face fall to the ground, “but I love what I do and I’m a very popular nurse there so it’s not like I just can’t get up and quit,” you added, “but enough of my troubles. you’re good to go! just be careful with your hand for the next few hours.” 

he nodded as he jumped off the ledge and went to the door, “what hospital do you work at again?” he asked, “oh! I work at St.Lukes downtown! it’s the small pediatric office next door to the actual hospital.  

Bakugou hummed a response before waving you goodbye.

you woke up the next morning with an odd feeling. it wasn’t a bad feeling but you just felt like there was something going to happen today. without putting too much thought too it, you looked to the clock on your bedside table. 

5:30 AM 

your shift at the hospital started at 6:15 so you had enough time to quickly get dressed before stopping at the coffee shop near your job for a large coffee before your shift. 

after picking up your coffee, you walked into the employee entrance to see all of your coworkers as well as the head doctor freaking out around a table. 

“hey, what’s going on?” you asked the general crowd, “we got a donation last night. a $100,000 donation!” your eyes widened at the amount as the lead doctor held the check in his hand, “who’s it from! did they leave a note?” you exclaimed. 

“it just says, “to the cute pediatrician,”.” 

your heart stopped for what felt like minutes. it was from Bakugou. the man that you helped yesterday. you didn’t bother say another word knowing if you did, you would never hear the end of it. 

“well, we should get to our posts. our first appointment starts at seven,” you murmured before putting on the rest of your uniform, “hey, you okay?” one of your coworkers asked. 

you didn’t bother to respond as you felt your heart heavy with several different emotions. it was such a big sum of money for someone you only interacted with for a few minutes. maybe he took pity on your story last night but all you hoped was that you seen him soon to thank him profusely. 

after the initial shock wore off for everyone, the day started as any regular Monday. you did a few vaccinations for newborns before getting sent to do some work at the front desk. 

“hey, ( your name ), your lunch is on the table,” the secretary said, not bothering to look at you, “my lunch? I didn’t order any,” you thought before making your tread to the back room. 

you noticed a box of food sitting on the table with a card on top of it. 

“enjoy. didn’t know what you liked but if you want to meet up again, I’ll be at this bar tonight. 10:00 pm.” 

you couldn’t help but smile at the note before stuffing the lunch inside of the fridge and going back to your desk. 

after you left work and went back home to rest, you were laying down after awakening from your nap when you looked at the clock reading that it was past eight. 

you pondered on the thought of actually meeting Bakugou again. you wanted to thank him for not only donating so much money to your job but for the lunch you had. 

you read the note again and looked up the bar. it was on a sketchy side of town but nevertheless, you gulped down your fear and started slowly getting ready. all you dreaded was that you were going to wake up tired the next morning. 

you put on black ripped jeans with a cute top and dark heels before fixing your semi messy hair. you couldn’t help but pick at your nails as you waited for your time to head out. 

all that was running through your head was how weird it was to be going to an end of town that was semi closed off to the general public. the bar was located on a side of town where a lot of yakuza business was handled. it wasn’t like it was prohibited however not many people entered the area because they wanted their lives to spared. 

as you drove to the bar, you could see the city lights dimming down and how the area was particularly quiet in the sense of people being out on the street. 

after you found parking at the bar, you walked to the entrance before noticing how many men were looking at you. you played with your fingers before noticing Bakugou in the back. 

you walked slowly towards him as he had his men sitting around him. not at the table with but at the surrounding tables. 

“Bakugou?” you said in more of a question. he whipped his head up before giving you a tiny smile before waving you towards him, “I’m glad I found you, people were starting to freak me out,” you admitted. 

you sat down next to him as a waiter immediately came to the table, “is there anything you’d like to order?” he asked. you quickly looked down at the menu, “can I order a bottle of wine? red specifically?” the yellow haired man nodded before running back to get you the bottle. 

“Bakugou, did you send money to my job?” you asked suddenly. his internal panicking started as he shook his head, “you have no idea how much I can thank you for that!” you exasperated, “you have no idea how much that’s going to help us as a job and how many patients are going to get treated. our facility also helps families that can’t afford treatment like others so that’s going to help us a ton!” 

he chuckled before swooping you into his lap, “did you like your lunch?” he reminded you, “of course! the steak was amazing, it was so juicy and soft! I haven’t had a steak like that in was feels like years,” you exclaimed. 

the night continued with the both of you talking until it was time to close the bar. it was already nearing two in the morning and you had to be up in a few hours for work. 

Bakugou walked you to your car to make sure that nothing to happened to you and also that you didn’t get stopped by one of his men unintentionally. 

“tonight was amazing,” you whispered as he grabbed you by the hand, “we can do it again if you’d like,” he replied as he felt you grab his tie and pull him toward you. 

you gave him a kiss that quickly turned heated. you opened the door and laid him on top of you as you ran your hands up and down his arms. there was a muscular feeling to him that was not shown because of his suit.

“I should get home,” you told him, “I have work in the morning.”

he nodded as he got off you and dusted himself off. you laughed at the lipstick stains on his lips. you licked your finger and wiped it off his face. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked as you nodded yes, “I’ll get you from work,” and with that, you got back into your car to head back home. 

-

weeks had passed as you continued seeing Bakugou. you had gotten to know him more and the more you got to know him, the more he opened up to you. 

Saturday finally came and all you wanted to do was sleep until you absolutely had to get up for food or the bathroom. 

you didn’t bother to wake up until noon and the first thing you seen when you got onto your phone was Bakugou’s plethora of messages. 

he had told you that he wanted to pass by your house before the end of the night and while you would have freaked out about not being ready, for some reason, you didn’t want to get ready. 

just as you were about to make your first cup of coffee, you heard a banging on your door. you jumped at the sound of the banging before hesitantly walking towards the door. you peeped inside of the door hole before realizing it was Bakugou. 

you whipped the door open to see him bloody, bruised, and looking like he was ready to pass out. 

“hey, what happened?” you yelled as you shoved him inside, “did you get hurt? were you in a car accident?” you continued. 

he didn’t say anything as he hopped on the kitchen sink ledge to let you patch him up, “I just got into a fight, nothing to worry about,” he mumbled as you wiped the blood from his eye. 

“Bakugou, you could’ve died from your injuries!” you lectured making him laugh, “here, let me see! did you get hurt anywhere else?” you asked as he shook his head no. 

once you finished cleaning his hands and face, he brought you in for an embrace, “I wanted to bring you this,” he murmured into your ear as he dug into his pocket. 

he fished out a necklace for you. it was just a gold chain and although you wanted to ask him why he got you it, you realized that it was real gold that must have costed him a fortune. 

“Bakugou, it’s gorgeous!” you whispered as he wrapped it around your neck, “but why?” you asked. 

“because, I need these other extras to know that you’re mine.” 

ALITA 

[thetravelerwrites]

Heat (Part 1)

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Tabaxi/Male Human/Fem-Intersex Tiefling Additional Tags: Exophilia, Babies, Mention of Pregnancy, Children, Kids, Tabaxi, Tiefling, Intersex, Pregnancy, Fatherhood, In Heat, Mating Cycles, Contraceptive Words: 4311

Rings goes into an intense heat and decides to isolate herself to prevent conceiving a child, whereas Ebert goes on a quest to find rare components to create a stronger contraceptive for her. Commissioned by @ocsmutpocalypse!

Rings had been acting weird. More weird than normal. And her normal weirdness was… pretty weird, by anyone’s standards. She spent a lot of time camping in the woods and snapped at anyone who came near her, including Ebert, Reverence, and her sister. Buttons couldn’t be in the same room as Rings, hissing and spitting at her before scrabbling for the door in a frothing rage.

Ebert hadn’t realized the change in her behavior at first, since Ethrik was a year and a half old, and Ebert’s second child had just been born a few months before, which took up all his attention. The child was like Reverence in that they were between genders and were not old enough to decide which gender they most identified with. Ebert and Reverence decided to name them Evo, short for “evolving,” and figured that they could change their name when they were old enough to choose.

So it was a few days before Ebert noticed her odd behavior and pointed it out to Reverence.

“Ah,” Reverence said, breastfeeding Evo. “Maybe she’s in heat.”

“Heat?” Ebert said, confused. “She’s never gone into heat before.”

“Well, not since you’ve been here, but that’s only been two years. It’s happened twice before, and they were random. Her sister says that Rings normally takes some sort of suppressant which works well enough typically, but every once in a while, the urge gets too strong and her body rebels against her.”

“Huh,” Ebert said. “Well, she takes the birth control medicine that I make, so she should be alright, right?”

Reverence shook her head, patting Evo’s bottom as they suckled. “Biological imperative in her species can be pretty strong, and no birth control is 100% effective. Rings hates the idea of having children more than anything, so the possibility that she might conceive is something she simply cannot tolerate. It’s why she normally secluded herself during her heats. Which is unfortunate for her. The last one was two months long. She came back in very poor shape; it took weeks for her to recover.”

Ebert frowned. “That’s disconcerting. Can nothing be done to help her?”

“According to Spring, if she copulates, the heat passes in a matter of days, but Rings won’t risk it. The idea of motherhood repulses her.”

“I know that all too well,” Ebert said. “I’m going to go to the cottage and see if I can work on something for her. I don’t like the idea of her being isolated for two months, especially since winter is coming soon.”

Reverence nodded and kissed him goodbye, and Ebert trekked into the woods and to the cottage where he did is magical work. As he was walking up, he heard glass break inside the cottage.

Taking out a short sword he’d been given and preparing a fireball, he called out, “Declare yourself!”

“Fuck off!” He heard in response, Rings’ annoyed voice loud enough to rattle the windows in the frame.

“Rings?” He said, dropping his sword and letting the fireball spell fizzle out in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing in there? What did you break?”

“Who cares? Go away!”

“I need my workspace!” Ebert said, putting the key in the door, but it refused to open. He had a feeling Rings was sitting in front of the door. “Reverence told me you’re in heat! I’m going to try and make a new contraceptive for you!”

“What do you know?” Rings yelled, banging against the door as he pushed on it. “Go ask Cassandra! She knows more about herbs and medicine than you do, you quack!”

Ebert grimaced, but he knew she wasn’t wrong. Cassandra was an aasimar and alumnus from his old academy, one who actually graduated and hadn’t committed a crime against nature, like he had. She and her lover had settled in the village less than a month previous.

Her specialty was prophecy and soothsaying, but she was also well versed in magical medicine and herbalism. Ebert was a good physician, but he wasn’t much of an apothecary He’d deferred to her expertise on several occasions, including the production of the original contraceptive. He was lucky she was more interested in working as a fortune teller and not as a medicine maker, or she could have taken half his business, if she’d had a mind to it.

“Yeah, I love you, too!” Ebert retorted, stalking off.

Cassandra lived with her lover, a minotaur named Bigby, near the temple and she did a lot of her business with the visitors. Getting your fortune told right outside of the temple was lucrative for both parties, so Reverence had allowed it as long as Cassandra agreed to support the temple and donate a small percentage of her earnings to the temple every month. Despite being a holy woman who lived a modest life in a small, two room house, Reverence was remarkably business savvy at times.

On the other hand, Bigby loved kids, and he often babysat for the villagers when they made their trips to the temple for a small fee. It was a good way to earn himself income and keep the littler tots out of trouble while their parents did their worshiping, so everyone got something out of the deal.

Cassandra was sitting at a booth that she had set up at the feet of Fysy’s statue outside of the temple. She was in the process of giving a reading to a parishioner, so Ebert waited awkwardly a small distance away for her to finish before approaching.

“Hello, necromancer,” Cassandra said pleasantly, her dark skin shining like bronze in the sunlight. “I’ve been waiting for you to come and see me. You certainly take your sweet time. I was wondering if I’d have to come and seek you out instead.”

“Yes, well,” Ebert said. “Rings is in heat.”

“I know,” She said, smugly magnanimous. “You’ve come to get medicinal advice, yes?”

“I suppose so,” Ebert admitted. “Rings and Reverence implied that the current contraceptive recipe will not be enough to override her body’s biological imperative. I need something stronger.”

“The recipe you have is pretty strong,” Cassandra said. “It would work for most mortal beings. Though, I will admit that Tabaxi bodies are very hardy and can expel most poisons with no effect to themselves. It’s no wonder that a normal recipe wouldn’t work for them.” She rubbed her chin. “There are a few herbs I know of that are effective. Bloodwort is one, and the bark of the red cedar is another. Bloodwort isn’t too hard to find, but red cedar isn’t native to this region. To find it, you’ll have to travel northwest for at least a week.” She stood up and came around the table, motioning to him to follow her. “Come.”

She led him to her home, where Bigby was chasing a passel of children around in the yard, pausing momentarily to raise a hand in greeting only to be set upon by many tiny hands, pushing him on his stomach and piling on.

“Here,” Cassandra said, pulling down a book. “This is a picture of the herbs I mentioned. When you find them, combine it with fennel seed, chasteberry, raspberry leaf, thistle, and red clover flowers. Boil on a low setting in clear water for at least three days, and add the decotion to a berry wine. Three tablespoons per day until the next cycle starts.”

Ebert pulled out his notebook and began to draw copies of each of the plants, writing down the recipe underneath the sketches.

“There’s an unusual symptom of this decotion, however,” Cassandra continued. “It doesn’t happen in humans, but in beastfolk, like tabaxis, it can cause an increase in sex drive. It’s still effective as a contraceptive in beastfolk, but it forces them to experience the worst of the heat in order to surpass it. I’d advise you to discuss it with Rings before making the trip. She may not appreciate the side effects.”

“I’ll do that,” Ebert said. “Although… Rings is usually my partner on these types of trips… I can’t imagine--”

“Going alone?” Cassandra said, finishing his sentence. “Then don’t. Certainly, Rings is a capable woman, but she’s not the only one. Her sister is also quite capable, and she would understand the urgency, especially considering she’s gone through a heat herself.”

“That’s true,” Ebert said. “I’ll ask Rings. Thanks, Cass.”

“It’s no trouble,” Cassandra replied pleasantly. “Give the children a kiss for me.”

Ebert waved and set off back to the cabin.

“Rings,” He said once he returned. Rings was still sitting against the door and refused to let him inside. “I spoke to Cassandra. I have to take a trip to get the ingredients she told me about. I’ll be gone for a few weeks.”

“Okay,” She said. She sounded much more subdued than normal.

“Listen,” Ebert started, sitting awkwardly on the steps. “Cassandra said that the herbs have a strange side effect on beast people. It forces them to the peak of their heat and makes them more… needy. The heat passes faster, but… the urge to… procreate… gets stronger. Uncontrollable. I just wanted to be sure it’s something you’re willing to deal with.”

“I don’t know,” She said after a moment. “If that’s the case… Will you and Reverence shelter with me until it’s over? If I’m going to end up in the family way… I’d prefer it if the kid belonged to you or her. I trust the two of you more than anyone else. I know me; it’s just not in me to be a parent. I won’t care for the kid. But you two will. And that’s good enough for me.”

“We can do that,” Ebert said. “I’m sure Reverence would agree. I’ll discuss it with her before I leave, to be sure. I’m going to see if Spring will accompany me on this trip. She understands this better than me, after all.”

“That’ll be good,” Rings agreed. “She hasn’t been out of the village since we came here.” Ebert heard her laugh. “Make sure Flicker doesn’t get the wrong idea. Unless you’re planning on seducing Springs on the trip.”

“Gross. I’m not into sisters, thanks. And Flicker could rip me in half, so I’m not risking it.”

Flickering Flame was a Bengal tiger tabaxi soldier from a far off desert country and was in a relationship with Spring. He worked as a guard, protecting the village from hostile outsiders. Though Spring was monogamous and had chosen not to follow Fysy, Flicker was a disciple of Fysy and worshiped at the temple, an arrangement they had agreed on when they decided to become engaged.

“Yeah, that’s true. He would rip you in half. It would be funny,” Rings said, laughing in a subdued way.

“Are you okay?” Ebert asked in concern.

She sighed. “I’m anxious. I’m never anxious, and I hate it. And I’ve never had to worry about who I had sex with or when. I don’t feel like myself and I don’t like it.”

“We’re going to fix it,” Ebert said softly. “Even if I have to go alone. As fun as it is to see you squirm… I miss you. The real you.”

“I miss me, too,” She said. “When are you leaving?”

“As soon as I talk to Spring,” He replied. “Probably tomorrow morning. I don’t want to delay too long.”

“Reverence is okay with it?” She asked.

“I haven’t talked to her yet, but I don’t imagine she’d be opposed to it. She’s not exactly restrictive or controlling.”

“True. And she can’t leave the village. She hasn’t set foot outside of the town’s boundary since she became the priestess decades ago.”

“I keep meaning to ask her the story behind that, but I’ve never had the opportunity. I heard she came from some place far away. I wonder how she ended up here.”

“I’ve never heard the full story, either,” Rings said. “Let’s ask her when you get back. It seems the three of us will be spending several days together, after all.”

Ebert struggled to his feet and brushed off his trouser. “I’m going to get going. I want to make arrangements before sundown.”

“Hey.”

“What?”

A heartbeat of time passed before she said, in a very quiet voice. “Be safe, okay? Don’t get killed, or I’ll be very angry with you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” He said, chuckling.

“I’m serious,” She said, banging the door. “You’re useless without me.”

Ebert began to set off down the trail. “Don’t forget to eat.”

It didn’t take much to convince Spring to go with Ebert on his sojourn. She asked Bigby to look after Candle until she returned, and Bigby was happy to comply. Ebert also discussed having Bigby watch his tots when he returned and sheltered with Rings during her heat, and he was amiable.

Reverence was sympathetic to Ring’s plight and immediately agreed to help, offering to go to Rings at the cabin while Ebert was gone and satisfy her in ways that didn’t lead to children in the meantime. It wouldn’t be enough to end her heat, but it would keep her from losing her senses in the midst of an uncontrollable influx of hormones.

Spring met Ebert outside of her house the next morning wearing a practical traveling outfit with a sword strapped to her back.

“I wasn’t aware you owned a sword,” Ebert said, impressed.

“It’s Flicker’s,” She said. “I’m just borrowing it. I’m only glad he had one that suited a person my size. Of course, he calls it a letter opener.”

Ebert snorted. “You’re ready, then?”

“Yeah,” She replied, hitching up her pack. “We should follow the river until we hit open terrain. I’m familiar with the smell of red cedar, so finding it shouldn’t be as difficult as it would be without a tracker.”

“That’s definitely useful. Have you said farewell to Rings?”

“No, but I don’t think she’d welcome my company at the moment. I’ll greet her when we return.”

Fair enough. “Let’s head out.”

Traveling with Spring wasn’t as awkward or unpleasant as Ebert worried it could have been, especially considering the two of them weren’t necessarily close, despite his having lived in the village for several years by this point. The only time they really spoke was when he accompanied Rings or Reverence to dinner at Spring’s house.

He discovered that Spring was a good conversationalist and knew a lot about wilderness survival techniques, perhaps even more than Rings, which was reassuring, because Ebert knew fuck all about that.

Though she reminded Ebert of Rings in a number of ways, she was more even-keel and mellow-tempered than her sister. Whatever affection he might have developed for her during their trek, it definitely wasn’t attraction. More like a close friend or sibling, which actually relieved him. He hadn’t been close to any of his siblings, so having a familial relationship with someone was both unfamiliar and refreshing.

“The air is getting colder,” Spring said, pulling her scarf around her more tightly as they walked. “Another day, and we should be in the right area.”

“Great,” Ebert said in relief. “I hate camping.”

Spring snorted. “Yeah, I kinda figured. You do most of your grumbling right before bed.”

“I don’t mean to grumble,” He said, slightly embarrassed.

Spring laughed again. “You do it mostly under your breath, but I have good hearing.” Her feline ears flicked back and forth. “I honestly find it rather amusing. You remind me of Candle sometimes.”

“...thanks?”

“I just mean you like things a certain way. Candle is like that, too.” She hacked a branch out of her way. “Most children are.”

“Insinuating that I behave like a child?”

“I don’t mean it in a negative way. Rings is very similar. I think it’s just a side effect of not having a very good childhood. Rings hasn’t told me much about your childhood, but it’s easy enough to assume that it wasn’t a happy one, and you already know hers was terrible.”

“That’s true,” He admitted.

“We all need certain things when we’re children, chief among them is attention,” She said pensively. “Children grumble and gripe and make a fuss, and it seems irritating, but what they’re really asking for is attention. If you don’t get enough when you’re young, you grow up desperate for it. Rings acts out because she likes attention. I don’t think you necessarily want people to pay attention to you, but I think you do want people to listen. If you didn’t, I think you wouldn’t grumble out loud. People only make noise when they want someone to hear it, after all.”

“What are you, a philosopher?” Ebert laughed.

“Aren’t all mothers?” Spring replied, laughing herself.

The next day, as they were trekking near a treeline, Spring stopped and sniffed the air.

“I smell bloodroot,” She said. “It’s not far away. A few hundred meters, maybe.”

“Any whiff of red cedar yet?”

“No, but it likely won’t be long now. Bloodroot and red cedar are native to the same region.”

“Well, let’s collect as much as we can carry while we’re here. I don’t want to have to make another trip any time soon.”

They spent most of the afternoon plucking bloodroot plants, hoping there were seeds they could sow when they returned to the village. Another few hours travel before nightfall brought them to a grove with red cedar.

“Fucking finally,” Ebert sighed. “I was worried we’d have to travel another day to find this.”

“It is getting late, as it is,” Spring said, looking toward the setting sun. “It’d be best to set up camp now and harvest what we need in the morning.”

“Uuuugh,” Ebert groaned, throwing his head back dramatically, and Spring smiled at him in a fond, maternal sort of way.

Spring set about building a fire pit while Ebert looked for firewood from the nearby brush. He found valuable mushrooms and some lichen that would be useful as components and harvested those while he was at it, then returned to the clearing where they’d made camp.

“It doesn’t smell like rain tonight, which is good. I don’t feel like putting up the tent.”

Ebert groaned. “I don’t like sleeping in the open air.”

“Then you set up the tent,” She retorted.

Ebert’s groan deepened. “It’s not so bad, I guess.”

“That’s what I thought.” She sat down at the newly built fire and put the cooking grate over it, setting a small pot on top of the grate and pouring water into it from her canteen. “Wanna cut up the onions and potatoes for the stew? I still have some jerky left, but I should hunt tomorrow for the trip back.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ebert said with a heavy sigh, settling himself with difficulty on the ground, setting his cane down next to him, and opening the drawstring pouch that contained their food supply. “One each, eh?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” She said.

“So, has Rings ever gone through heat like this before?” Ebert asked as he peeled the vegetables. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but I keep forgetting. This one seems severe.”

“She’s had a couple of heats since reaching adulthood, but not this bad,” Spring replied, tearing the jerky into small strips and throwing it into the pot. “It’s only as bad as this because Rings isn’t used to suppressing her urges. She’s always been impulsive and opportunistic. If she wants something, whether it’s food, money, sex, or whatever, she either takes it from wherever it’s most readily available or finds someone willing to give it to her, and she never hesitates. It’s why Fysy’s village suits her so well. Ordinarily.”

“True,” Ebert mused. “So stubborn. You’re older than her, right?”

Springs snorted. “By, like, three minutes. We’re from the same litter.”

“You two have such different personalities,” Ebert remarked.

“She’d hate to admit it, but she takes after our parents in temperament. I’m sure that’s one of the reasons she has no interest in having children; she hates the idea of turning out like them. That and she hates kids.”

“Yes,” Ebert replied. “Honestly, so did I, before I met Reverence. I mean, I still hate kids, but I like my kids. I guess I expected to turn out like my family. They were not in any way affectionate or sentimental, and up until Ethrik was born, I was the same way. I’d never have believed being a father was a possibility for me, let alone being a good father or enjoying my time with my children. Life has taken quite the unexpected turn.”

“Do you think Rings should have children, then?”

“Oh, Gods, no,” Ebert laughed. “Granted, I love my children, but I will admit it’s not an experience everyone needs. You know as well as I that suddenly being responsible for a living, breathing life you created is terrifying and not something every person wants to or is capable of handling. Rings is right to think that she wouldn’t raise the kid. She can’t deal with that level of responsibility. Her freedom and autonomy is too important to her, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I agree,” Spring said. “It’s one of the reasons I accepted you invitation to come on this journey. I thought of anyone, you would understand her best and not attempt to sway her opinions or plans for the future. You get her. I appreciate that, as her sister. Not many people do. I’d say even Reverence doesn’t understand Rings as well as you, for all they’ve known each other longer. It’s simply a fundamental difference in their personality.”

“You mean Rings hating kids and Reverence having so many?”

“Not just that,” She mused. “Reverence is the priestess of the goddess of love and fertility. Rings is fine with the first part, not so much the second. Though Rings loves Reverence, their difference in philosophies will always be at odds with each other. That’s why I think you’re good for them. You get them in different ways, and you can mediate if they ever argue.”

“Have they ever argued?” Ebert asked, surprised. “I’ve never witnessed it. Which is strange, because Rings loves to argue.

Spring snickered. “Typically, Rings respects Reverence enough to keep her criticisms to herself, but they had a brief falling out a few years back. Reverence was pregnant, again, and Rings got tired of it.”

“But Reverence never keeps the children, except for mine, and those were special circumstances.”

“Rings didn’t care; she felt like Reverence saw herself as nothing more than a brood mare and had no self-respect. Reverence, on the other hand, feels like making children is her sacred duty, and thus felt as though Rings was insulting her calling in life, and Fysy by extension. The parted ways for almost two months.”

“Oh, gods, it must have been serious,” Ebert said, surprised. “What happened?”

“Rings and I had a discussion about why I decided to keep Candle, even though he was conceived in the throes of an unplanned, unprepared-for heat with a deadbeat, what being a mother means to me specifically, if I wanted more children, that sort of thing. I think it helped her understand Reverence a little better. It’s the one and only time I ever heard of Rings apologizing.”

“I’m glad they made up,” Ebert replied. “I don’t know what my life would be like without both of them, and it’s not a thought I want to entertain.”

Spring smiled fondly. “Me, neither. Reverence is like a sister to me, as well. She gave me and my family a home and helped us start a new life. I owe her a lot.”

“As do I,”  Ebert said softly with a sigh, reaching for a spoon to eat the stew right from the pot. “Let’s eat and go to bed, I’m exhausted. I want to get out of here as early as possible.”

Now that they had what they needed, the trip home took much less time, and they arrived back within the town proper in five days. He stopped by Reverence’s house, only to find that Bigby was keeping the children, with all of them on the floor passing a leather ball to each other in turn. Tiny little Evo was sandwiched between Bigby’s legs to keep them upright, squealing delightedly when the ball came close only to kick it out of their reach. Buttons sat in the very center, swatting lazily at the ball as it rolled past her.

Ebert realized from Reverence’s absence that she must be keeping Rings company. Spring collected Candle and excused herself, inviting Ebert and the women over for dinner once Rings was back to her old self.

Ebert went out to the cabin that was well away from most of the town, one of the reasons he liked it so much, and heard moaning issuing from inside. Ah. He’d guessed correctly. He reached up and knocked.

“Fuck off!” Rings cried out.

“It’s me! I’m back!”

“I don’t care! Fuck off!”

“I have a key, you know!”Ebert shouted. “I can let myself in at any time, I was just being considerate!”

“Then let yourself in, the fuck if I care!”

Ebert rolled his eyes and sighed. “I can’t work with the two of you going at it. I’ll start the medicine at home. I’ll be at the house when you’re done.”

“Whatever, go away!”

Snorting derisively, Ebert set back off for home.

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Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[bigmeatymudcrabchitins]

A not-so-brief overview of my Skyrim Dova OCs bc i need to scream to the digital void about my ideas

Freyora Lind, more commonly known by her strange alias “Bjorne Icepick”

A Nord-eventually-turned-werewolf who orphaned during the Great War and taken in by a Dunmeri mercenary whose residence was in Windhelm’s Gray Quarter. Grew up in a cramped boarding house setting among desperate mercenaries of varying backgrounds. Many of them would all come and go, but there was always some sort of a familial bond between them all.

From a young age she got in a lot of fights against people who insulted her for living in the Gray Quarter among the dark elves. Eventually she took a fight too far and was jailed for murder around 14, but was broken out shortly after by a band of masked vampires. Turns out some of her mercenary comrades unwittingly caught vampirism during a contract to clear out a vampire den and had to skip town, but not before ensuring one of their own wasn’t left to rot.

Lived in Cyrodil for about 15 years, but returned to Skyrim pursuing rumors surrounding a cure to vampirism, as her adoptive father would be nearing the end of his elven lifespan and had wished to die a normal death.

Seeing as she was literally a fugitive, and her long-belated parents were somewhat renowned for their battlefield prowess, she took on a false identity. AND an act to match it.

She’ll eat raw meat, chase prey with swords instead of using a bow like a normal person, harp about irrational conspiracy theories, and more. Everyone’s foul reactions to her outlandish act are plainly hilarious to her and only encourage her to act even stranger.

The alias “Bjorne Icepick” was simply the most ridiculous name she could think of.

Not the most morally outstanding. Besides drunken brawling, she’ll steal from anyone who angers her, even if it’s things she literally won’t ever need such as all the goblets in a household. It’s the pettiness that counts. “Try drinking your damn high-end wine now, jackass.”

Calls Dwarven Automatons “Gundams.” Including she herself, no one knows what that means.

Joins the Companions out of homesickness and a desire to fill in a gap that leaving home left.

Hasn’t bothered curing herself of lycanthropy because her whole schtick is being incredibly resourceful, and that includes using any means of power necessary. Still doesn’t fancy Hircine’s Hunting Grounds as her desired afterlife, though.

As her journey goes on, however, her lightheartedly eccentric face starts to fall off as a number of events push her to begin to question the legitimacy of her actions up until that point.

Some of which include the eventual death of her adoptive father (and how she was indirectly responsible for it even if it was what he wanted), Delphine’s ultimatum, the civil war as a collective, learning the tragic history behind the Falmer and the original Companions’ role in it, and killing of Vyrthur (no matter how much he genuinely deserved it).

She grows disgusted by herself down to the core. She takes to skooma to cope, and starts to be plagued by serious skooma-induced side effects. She ends up shutting herself away from all her responsibilities and distancing herself from her friends.

Does she get better? Maybe. I haven’t thought up anything past this point lol

Moureneris Alta

A very, VERY ancient vampiric snow elf, (though it’s notable she was born a considerable amount of time after the razing of Sarthaal)

Survived many atrocities. Stayed in isolation with a band of vampires for countless years out of sheer disgust for the nature of the sapient races. (I’ll explain her full story some other time. It’s pretty complicated)

She was abducted from her isolated lifestyle by a certain person i’ll talk about later. She managed to free herself south of Skyrim, and uh, walks right into that Imperial ambush. The rest is history.

Super ignorant to modern society as a result of centuries of isolation. Exploited for comedic relief. (“What in the name of Oblivion is a Cyrodilic Empire? Are you messing with me? And please, how does levitation magic simply get outlawed by this hypothetical Empire? What are you to do when you fall down a crevice? Just... let yourself perish? How degrading.)

She reintegrated herself into society with vengeance in mind under the belief that all humans are savage bloodlusting murderers who had to answer for their treachery. (And she was royally angry there was no Dwemer left to spite, but partially satisfied at the same time). But she grows conflicted after being shown genuine kindness, even as early as being freed from her binds in Helgen.

Subsequently has a very muddled redemption arc. Queue Dragonborn hero stuff

She has impaired vision, but she cultivated detect life magic to aid her in daily life and combat (think Hyakkimaru from Dororo ‘19 and his soul detection or Toph Beifong from ATLA and her seismic sense). At her peak, she can detect life from about a kilometer away.

She can just barely read, but only if she holds the text incredibly close to her face, not to mention her Cyrodilic lessons were left unfinished after her abduction, making reading a very taxing process. Weary travelers are often spooked at the sight of a floating, ghastly looking elven woman with her nose pressed up against crossroad signs, and it has become somewhat of an urban legend.

Isn’t as nearly as skilled with detecting the dead and tenses up in burial crypts or around other vampires for that reason. Unfortunately, being the Dragonborn and all, she finds herself in a lot of crypts...

When questioned about her background due to her unique appearance: “Oh, yeah. My mother was one of those mer from the east. You know the ones. Dark elves, I think? And my father was one of those er, tall elv- no, sorry, HIGH elves. Yeah. They both died in a big fire or something though. It was horrible. I can’t get the noxious smell or the deafening screams out of my head. Good talk, but never ask me about that again.”

Queue sheltered old immortal antics: “Wow, you’re THAT old? Enlighten me on how it felt witnessing the fall of the Dwemer. Or perhaps the rise of Tiber Septim’s Empire. The Gates of Ob-“ “Oblivion if I know. I lived in someone’s basement for thousands of years. And I still don’t know what everyone means by Empire. You all are messing with me, aren’t you? That really annoys me.”

She ultimately returns to faith in Auri-El and makes it her life’s purpose to help the Betrayed find peace, as well as to seek out any remaining snow elf groups. Probably good friends with Gelebor or something.

Had a crush on Serana. We all know how THAT went. Damned temples.

Was originally gonna spiral into a much darker corruption arc (another ATLA comparison being Jet or Hama) but I just felt bad for her. Moureneris can have a little found peace. As a treat.

That’s her preliminary design made. I’ll need a mod to properly play her, because that right there was made by choosing Dunmer as her race. But I can’t do that. I’m on console, and while I got the Steam port a month ago, my PC’s stone age specs can’t handle Skyrim yet and I’ll need to wait until I can afford a better graphics card (thanks economic inflation)

Alexandre Armasi, jokingly nicknamed Alexandre the Curious

A complete and unapologetic export of my character from a dead and unfinished DND campaign. Except there are no Aasimar in Skyrim, so he’s half Altmer half Bosmer. And his initial last name was Armas but I thought Armasi suited his Skyrim counterpart more, as subtle a change it is.

He’s mainly Bosmer in appearance and constitution, save for his hair and eyes, which are more similar to that of his Altmeri father’s.

I can’t really export his original backstory though because the campaign wouldn’t translate well into TES lore at all.

He’s a writer who came wandering into Skyrim in search of inspiration. While he mainly writes dramatic fables, he wanted to divert his focus to crafting his own bestiary and herbal compendium surrounding Skyrim’s fauna and flora. The ones at home are simply too vague to him!

He’s very altruistic, wishing to spread cheer wherever he goes, through the art of song (even though he was a cleric in DND and not a bard. My bad.) However, many of his verses are just blatant self promotions of his published fables.

But he’s too naive for his own good. Dangerously so. In fact, he says what’s on his mind with little forethought, with little grasp on the consequences of his actions, which lands him in lots of trouble. “I don’t favor him myself, but you guys kill people over Talos worship? That’s not very cool. A bit scary, if you ask me.” or “A Stormcloak rebel? Didn’t your leader kill a bunch of Reachmen rebels years back, or so I’ve heard. By the divines that’s not a man I’d make a symbol of nonconformity.”

He’s also insatiably curious. The type to ACTUALLY shove alchemic ingredients in his mouth with no knowledge of their properties, experiment with dangerous rune spells, throw rocks at pressure plates, and more. Needless to say he’s very accident prone.

Doesn’t know common curse words. People exploit this for laughs. Think that episode of Spongebob.

Everyone is a little baffled that HE of all people is the prophesied Dragonborn of legend. This agonizingly imbecilic writer who has absentmindedly wandered into burial crypts, troll dens, bandit forts, and more, too busy juggling his manuscripts to pay attention to his surroundings.

His past doesn’t exactly reflect his outlook on life. His mother and father fought in the Great War aligned with the Imperials despite their elven background. Both managed to live to see the war’s conclusion, but his father vanished without a trace shortly after, and it seems his mother knows something she won’t tell him.

With plenty of exposure to bad influences, his innocence is slowly lost throughout the course of his journey, and his altruism begins to grow twisted. But nevertheless, he maintains his jovial, social persona, except this time with much darker undertones. Kinda like a creepy dentist or something.

Whoops. He winds up becoming a feared Dark Brotherhood assassin. (Haha get it “Innocence Lost”???) He somehow deluded himself into thinking that the life of an assassin was the right thing to do. But he’s a funky little guy so he gets a pass for his heinous crimes against society

[octalove]

IX: Bullets (And Other Things That Don’t Go Back)

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader and Jason are out for revenge- it doesn’t go as planned. Previous.

TW: Description of gore!!! Seriously.

This was the Bowery. Darkness became blackness here; the shadows were mountains too steep to be climbed. Each clinical electric light on the Estate didn’t seem to make a dent in the depth of them. The air was suffocating, smelling of smoke and sewage. I knew what kind of people were tucked within it; a nest of hornets. The kind of people who kill women in their homes- their beds.

The kind of people who killed my parents.

Jason was beside me, helmet yet to be pulled on as we watched from the shadows, taking in the composition of the place. His warmth and sturdy presence was reassuring; I felt nervous, and I knew why. This was personal.

At the heart of this hornet’s nest was Adriano Cliffs. He’d successfully broken up the families and rekindled a war, blaming the Pellegrinos- Kane Pellegrino specifically- for Penelope’s death. With no marriage, the families were once again enemies and competitors, and pointing the finger at Penelope’s husband was the salt in the wound that finally spurred Olivier D’amici.

Jason told me that she signed Cliffs’ deal at her granddaughter’s funeral.

He was here, tonight. The old Estate was bought with D’amici money, and inside were a dozen armed men on the D’amici payroll. Drug packaging, maybe. I wasn’t too concerned with the particular crimes taking place at the Estate; there was only one crime I wanted revenge for.

The objective was simple; find Cliffs. Whatever Red Hood did thereafter, I wouldn’t stop him. Cliffs had no children, no family. Nothing but his depraved ambitions, and as far as I was concerned, the world was better off without them.

The inside of the Estate was something out of ancient Greece. White marble floors and limestone Corinthian pillars- including a Greek-style statue in the center of the large foyer. It depicted a dramatically-posed bearded man who appeared to be reaching skyward, with the direction of his upturned eyes, a cloth swirling around his form by grace non-existent wind; ever-frozen in time.

On either side of the grandiose room were large, winding stair cases leading to a second floor with intricate railing. It was the kind of house that was built before the Bowery fell to crime and poverty. Even in the dark, with all the boxes, crates, and plastic-covered furniture, the house was a work of art.

We could hear voices carrying from back rooms and hallways, as laymen busied themselves with packing the crates with who-the-hell-knows.

Red Hood was incredibly quiet for the two-hundred pounds he was. He fell into shadows seamlessly, so still you couldn’t see the motion of his drawing breath. We moved together, common tongue of small nods, and barely perceptible hand signals. Slow movements.

Toe to heel. Steady breath. Nice and easy.

Red gave me a slight head tilt, and headed for the East wing, while I crept down the main hall. A stark, stand-alone light was in the enormous living area, illuminating some internal construction- remodeling of some kind. There was paint, ladders, and tools strewn about. I moved forward cautiously, inspecting the many corridors that the living room made way for. The narrow hallway was nearly pitch black, but I heard voices from behind a couple of the closed doors. Hushed, urgent. I pressed my ear to one.

“...What’d he say?”

“Dunno. Somethin’ bout how Cliffs got some guys want him dead for this.”

“For what? Workin’ wit the old lady?”

“Nah, not that... says Cliffs was the one who bumped off the granddaughter.”

I strained to hear them more clearly, my ear and hands pressed to the cool wood.

“Hey!”

I whipped around just as two men rushed toward me in the dark hallway. I stood, and charged them before they could draw their weapons, hitting one in the temple, and kicking the other one into the wall with concentrated force.

I turned back around just in time to see the two men I’d been eavesdropping on bursting from their room, pistols raised. I ducked as one fired a shot- one that rang like an alarm and echoed off the marble and limestone.

So much for quiet.

I slid low, and swept my leg beneath the shooter, knocking him to the ground, then delivered a left jab to the throat of the other. It was too late- I had the attention of the entire mansion now- hearing shouting and footsteps coming from all directions. As three more men appeared from the corridor, I darted back into the open living room.

More gunshots came from behind me, and a reflexive cry escaped my mouth, as I rushed for some form of cover in the nearby structures. I ducked behind an old drywall just as spray of bullets cascaded along it.

Something grazed my right cheek, and I knew the laceration was there even before I felt it. I drew a sharp breath, back pressed against the wall.

Something that sounded like voices, shouting, could be heard outside. Gun flashes ripped through my peripheral vision, hitting the man that was firing on me, who recoiled and made a disgustingly grim sound as he fell.

The wound on my face stung with ruthless irritation. My hand moved absentmindedly to cover the flesh and keep it together, but I felt the immediate fervid heat of cascading blood flood onto my palm, and through the spaces in between my fingers. It had to be deep.

“Fuck,” I whimpered. “Fuck. Fuck!” I pulled myself from my hiding place as a goon ducked behind it, not having enough time to notice me before I delivered a mean right hook.

My knuckles hurt upon the impact, but then, my whole body ached, making it hard to tell. Lines of pain blurred. It frustrated me that I felt helpless. Floundering in what was sure to be a terrifying and inglorious death, full of bullets, to become another corpse for a team of men to find and send back to the City Morgue. Burned in a cremator and reduced to nothing.

The sensation of my own blood pouring over my arm made me panic. There was so much of it, and it was so thick, and hot. I listened for more adversaries, light-headed from the loss, and the adrenaline.

As I pulled myself back into the fray, I halted in the open room, just in time to find myself eye level with a gun, staring down the barrel like my own funeral.

My gaze trailed from the gun, along the arm of my assailant, and settled on the familiar face I’d been inches from at the D’amici party.

The last time I’d been this close to him was when I was afraid I was going to make him spill his wine. His blue eyes were hard and full of hate. My stomach dropped, because I knew it was the last thing Penelope ever saw.

I was going to die.

I held my breath, closed my eyes.

But nothing came. There was a thud, and a cracking noise. As I opened my eyes, he was on the ground, and Red Hood was standing over him.

“Wrong fucking move, Cliffs.”

Irately, he kicked his stomach. Twice. Then, he circled, swung low and grabbed Cliffs by his hair. He made a struggling sound and tried to grasp at Red’s armored wrists, to no avail.

“You wanna put a bullet in another girl, that it?” His voice was full of unraveled anger as he dragged Cliffs. Dropping him forcefully, then picking him up again.

“You picked-“ He slammed Cliff’s head into a marble pillar. The sound was soft, but I flinched, and then shrunk under the sound of Cliff’s agonized cry.

“The wrong-“ He slammed it again.

“Fucking-“ Again.

“One.“ Again. The last blow was a wet, squelching sound as all the flesh had broken away, revealing the skull beneath. When his body finally crumpled lifelessly, a torrent of blood followed, flooding across the marble. His face was featureless- pieces of broken skull fragments indistinguishable from the teeth jutting out in all directions, flesh and hair melding with the blood. My eyes were glued to it.

I let out a shuddering exhale; a breath I’d been holding since the barrage began. I hadn’t even realized I’d sunken to the floor until I felt the cold marble beneath my hands, steadying me.

Red Hood leaned back in a tired way, catching his breath, before turning on me. I was sure for a moment I looked afraid. He gave no indication that he noticed.

“Can you walk?” His voice was harsh, jolting me back to a reality I didn’t know if I wanted to face. Automatically, I nodded.

He knelt down, his leather glove tipping my chin as he surveyed my face.

“Who shot you?”

“I... I don’t know..” I breathed. My mind was still catching up, reckoning with the fact that I was alive. “He’s dead.” I added.

Satisfied with that conclusion, Red turned his wrathful gaze on the back door, where some echoing gunshots could still be heard.

He stood, and pulled me to my feet as well. I only swayed a little, before I composed myself with some desperate sort of intrinsic resolve.

Pull yourself together. You’re Batgirl, for God’s sake.

He held up a gloved hand as we reached the exit, scanning the darkness. Then, together, we paced into the open night.

I wanted it to be over. I wanted to run, so I moved quickly over the concrete patio. There was a small garden in the back- dead trees and bare bushes from the harshness of winter’s height. The chill of which pricked my skin.

Suddenly, Jason grabbed my arm, pulling me to a halt. He tugged my body closer with ease, muscles tight with tension. He surveyed the dark garden, and as I followed his gaze, only then did I notice the silhouetted figure at the back gate.

I was petrified. I crouched, and knew my mask and hood covered my face, but I felt utterly visible. Luckily, Nightwing seemed more interested in Red Hood, who stood there, equal opposite to him, looking like a pissed snake about to strike. I believed it. I’d just seen it. Very abruptly, the tides of my fear shifted- so much so that the pain in my cheek dulled to a lulling ache. I was afraid for Dick.

“Jason,” Nightwing said. It was an odd thing; I knew that everyone knew who he was, but all this time it felt like my knowledge. My secret. My Jason. Now, night and day were crashing into one another, and my illusion was wavering. It was all wavering.

“Jason, I’m sorry. What happened to you- I’m so, so sorry.” The emotion in his voice made my chest hurt. “But you can’t keep doing this. Just talk to us. I miss you, little brother.”

Looking at him, I knew Red Hood was all static; charged up and willing to take out the aggression on the nearest medium of opposition. Nightwing may as well have been talking down a brick wall.

“If you don’t move, brother,” Red’s robotic drag was a sneering mockery and an earnest threat all at once. “I’ll move you.”

I was cemented to the darkness that concealed me, and still reckoning with my wounds, I didn’t know if I could help in a fight. I wasn’t sure who I would fight. Nightwing drew closer, his footfall against the garden’s gravel and the rustling wind were loud in my still-ringing ears. Red shifted his weight, blood-coated hands hovering above his holstered guns.

I stood, slowly. What the hell kind of Batgirl was I if I watched them tear each other apart?

But then, I wasn’t Batgirl, was I? Tonight, I wasn’t the hero. Under all the blood and black clothing, I was just me.

I reached out, my hands grasping at the hem of Red’s jacket sleeve, holding the leather tightly, like if I let go, the night sky would fall from where it hung above us. I pulled softly, a wordless plea, tugging him away from the jaws of a fight, wherein no victory lie- not for anyone.

He stood firmly, and drew his gun. In the time it takes to blink, he fired a shot at a goon who was emerging from the house’s back door. Nightwing and I both jumped, and then he looked back and forth between Red and the man’s body.

After a second more of resistance, Red resigned, turning to usher me into the steep shadows. Nightwing didn’t give chase in favor of trying to save the man’s life-if he could- and we peeled away into the dark.

*

“Jesus. Fuck... fuck.” I was shaking. Muscles trembling from the adrenaline and heart racing from our near-miss with Nightwing, and the way Cliffs’ eyes and blood vessels and skull looked smas-

“Hey. Easy.” My hands were in Jason’s. I must have missed when he shed his helmet, gloves and jacket as we entered his safe house. His skin was warm, his hands still as death. “Easy, little bird.” His eyes were so dark and deep, they looked like the grim, black waters of Gotham River. It was impossible to identify the multitude of emotion that lay swallowed below his torrent gaze. Concern, apathy, vigor, anger, all of it. More, that I couldn’t begin to understand. It wasn’t fair.

“Sit down.” He said. I did, pulling my gaze from his and effectively breaking the spell. He inspected the bullet graze on my cheek, the skin dark with blood.

“I’ll get some gauze.” He muttered, turning away. I focused on my breathing as he pulled off his holsters and set them with a loud clatter on a metal desk he had. He sighed.

“Damn. I wanted Cliffs alive a little longer.“

I looked at him, but it was a full thirty seconds before I comprehended what he said. After that, there was sudden knock in my mind.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” I breathed, before I could think it through.

He studied me considerately. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because you just- everything went- you... you destroyed him. You didn’t stop.”

“Don’t tell me that actually surprises you.” I drew a breath, calming down enough to try and gather my thoughts.

“I don’t know. That’s... That’s not who I thought...“ It came out before I could think.

“Who did you think I was?”

I let his mind fill in the blank, because any answer I supplied was going to sound stupid. I didn’t know who I thought he was. Not good and not evil. He was decidedly human. I couldn’t look at him any other way, no matter how else my perception swayed depending on my company.

“A murderer?” He asked, an edge to his voice like a blade heating up in embers. I stayed silent. “A criminal? A psychopath?”

I bit the inside of my lip. A small taste of coppery blood.

“That was- I don’t... I did. I did think that. But then you... then you were Jason.” I said. He scoffed at that.

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me you didn’t see what I’d done before you started meeting me. Oh, no- wait, wait- you didn’t really think you could fix me? You’re smarter than that.” He was pissed now, and the look in his eyes was what I imagined Alphonso Kuznetsov saw before the coffin lid slammed shut.

“Baby, I’ve been a charity case before, remember? Just like you.”

“That’s not what I am.” I managed to fire, leaning forward. Maybe just to remind him I was worth my weight in a fight. But maybe I wasn’t, when it came to him. “I earned my place-“

“As Barbara’s replacement? I don’t think so.”

I let out a dry, frustrated laugh, and turned my head, letting the urge to yell and scream burn in my chest. A deep breath to smother the flame. Then, I retreated back to the previous point.

“You’re right. I did know what you’d done, and I knew what you were capable of. But that was before all of this.“

“And what is ‘this’?”

This- this this. This neurotic back and forth. Ebbing into him and flowing back to my family just to feel like whoever was more important to me was whoever I was with at the time. I wasn’t on the fence, I was the fence. I had no right of my own, no place on either side. I could offer mediation. Mediocre comfort. Nothing more.

“This. Us. Working with... with you and Batman, and I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong.”

“You don’t know?” He sounded disbelieving. “Face it, babydoll. He doesn’t give a shit about you, or what you ‘earned’. You’re a tool to fuel his fucking self-serving ambitions, just like your parents were.”

“Don’t talk about them.”

“Why? They worked for him and so do you. Only difference is they worked for Bruce and you work for Batman.” His tone was dangerously condescending. I was meeting ice with fire, and it wasn’t working. “You’re a brand. Just like Robin. Doesn’t fuckin’ matter who wore the mask before, or who’s gonna wear it next. You’re nothing to him.”

A long, strangled moment passed. I’m not even sure if he was awaiting a prolepsis, or thought I’d given up, but both of us were left to rot in the apprehension.

“I’d hate to die like you did.” The quiet, vicious acidity that dipped into my voice threw even myself off kilter. A consequence of months of keeping all these goddamn secrets. My head felt like some dark, noxious lightning in a bottle. The edge in my tone was just a cork coming loose.

He met my gaze, and for the first time, looked like he couldn’t tell what I was thinking. His eyes narrowed a little, his muscles tense, coiled deep.

“But just because he forgot about you doesn’t mean he’ll forget about me.”

His infuriating silence that usually encouraged me to open up now hung in the air, tremendous, and growing still, until it was bigger than both of us. I held my ground, even as his eyes bore into me with eerie, hollow fury.

[ampleappleamble]

Heritage Hill. Dyrford. Brackenbury Sanitarium. She was starting to wonder if she'd bitten off more than she could chew. Axa had just finished off her third goblet of the Goose and Fox's most modestly priced wine and was considering a fourth, seeing as her hands were still shaking– so badly, in fact, that she'd spilled her pipe on the bar twice while trying to refill it– when she felt a presence at her side take the stool next to her. She didn't even have to look to know who it was: no one else in her party smelled as good as Aloth, moved as daintily as he did. "Forgive me; I know you're probably loathe to entertain company at the moment, else you'd not have left the table to sit up here by yourself," Aloth murmured, sliding into his seat. "But gods' mercy, I just couldn't take it anymore." He planted his elbows on the slick, well-polished wood of the bar and buried his face in his hands. "I understand that my... ailment is an unusual one, but why must they pry so?" "Welcome to my world." Her voice was thick and rough, the wine and smoke gumming up her throat as well as her mind, and hearing herself speak was enough to help her decide against that fourth drink. So instead she lowered her head to the bar and gently rested it against her outstretched arm, regarding the elf at her side with sympathy and curiosity in equal measure, hoping to forget her own burdens for a bit by focusing on someone else's.

As it had turned out, he hadn't been entirely dishonest with her before– his uncouth, vulgarity-laden outbursts of Hylspeak actually had been a problem beyond his control ever since his childhood, and one for which no healer in Aedyr would have had a cure. But the cause of his compulsion was not some medical mystery or mental affliction. After the Leaden Key acolyte had unwittingly revealed to Axa the cult's machinations in the city and beyond, after they'd escaped the catacombs and staggered to the nearest tavern to process and recuperate, Aloth had gathered every ounce of courage he could muster and, at long last, he'd told them about his Awakening. About her. Her name was Iselmyr. The soul that now dwelled within Aloth Corfiser had belonged to her some centuries hence, and if her rustic accent and colorful colloquialisms were anything to go by, her life had been a rough-and-tumble series of drinking binges and late night fistfights in the bucolic paradise of the ass-end-of-nowhere Aedyran countryside. Unlike the fleeting, nebulous recollections from her past life that Axa's Awakening afforded her, Aloth's past life had manifested in him as an entire separate personality– this bold, coarse woman born again in his body, who forced his own personal will aside at times and supplanted it with her own. Hence the Hylspeak, the surly temper, the rude language that occasionally spouted forth from such a mild-mannered academic as Aloth. She'd been shooting his mouth off at anyone who pissed her off since he was a boy, and he'd been searching for a way to permanently silence her for just as long. He heaved a heavy sigh, briefly massaging his temples before dropping his hands to the bar. "If I was ever anywhere near as annoyingly intrusive with my inquiries about your Awakening as they've been about mine, I deeply apologize. Sagani and Pallegina are courteous enough to take a hint and mind their own business, but Edér and Kana... Those two boors would have me call her out to play, like she's some damned parlor trick and not the scourge of my existence for the past five decades...!" Aloth paused suddenly as an argument with his other half erupted inside him, the effort to keep Iselmyr from usurping his body slowly driving color into his cheeks, his eyes twitching and bulging behind his tightly shut eyelids, veins throbbing in his brow. Finally, he choked out a breath, panting and sweating, and raised a trembling hand to summon the bartender. "Gods, she's persistent tonight!" He ordered a glass of wine for himself, turned to Axa, one eyebrow raised in an unspoken offer. She grimaced and shook her head, burgundy curls spilling across the bar, and he shrugged, accepting his drink and sliding the barkeep some coin. "I've gotten stronger over the years, better at maintaining control. But evidently, she's gotten stronger, too." "What happened to you, anyway? When you were a child, to Awaken you?" Axa lifted her head, planting her chin in the palm of one hand. "I somehow doubt your Awakening was also caused by a strange machine and an eerily familiar black-robed cultist." The look he gave her in response probably would have made her feel guilty were she not so deep in her cups and pipe, but as it was, she only smiled sheepishly as he glared at her, disgust and betrayal plain on his face. "You, uh... you don't have to answer that if you don't want to," she assured him. Aloth glowered at the orlan a moment longer before relenting with a sigh, the guarded hostility on his face replaced suddenly with resigned weariness. "No, it's– it's fine. I figure I probably owe you some answers after what I've put you through, anyway." He downed his glass in one smooth motion, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he did. "...And you've tolerated my nosiness more than once yourself. It's only fair you should get a straight answer out of me every now and then." "'Trust is a double-edged sword, gift and burden both to friends and allies.' My father taught me that one." Axa smiled up at him, hoping she looked more like a supportive listener and less like the sloppy drunken fool she suspected she looked. Aloth winced as he set his goblet back on the bar, applying a bit more force than was necessary. "He sounds a wise fellow, your father. My own father's lessons were... somewhat harsher." Axa straightened up in her seat, halfway to sober almost instantly. The color had all but drained from Aloth's face, leaving the elf pale and haggard, his voice soft and tremulous. "He was employed as an arcane knight, stewarding an erl in the Cythwood, and as his only son– his only child– it was my duty to follow in his footsteps." He gazed into the empty goblet, picturing it full again, hating himself for wishing it so. "He was quite demanding in his expectations of me, even when I was very young. And when I fell short of those expectations, as children are apt to do, he... was not shy about making his displeasure known. Especially after a drink or six." "He'd beat you." A cold rage bloomed in Axa's belly and chest, her little hands clenched into fists atop the bar. "He'd get drunk, and he'd beat you." Aloth struggled to look anywhere else, at anything but the woman next to him. "He... yes. Yes, he would. And although I can't recall the exact details, on one such occasion he was a bit... overzealous about it. So much so that– well, I suppose he must have beaten her out of me. Struck her Awake, so to speak." He toyed nervously with the stem of his goblet, his lips a thin, bloodless line. "To his credit, that was the last time he was physically violent with me. Although it certainly wasn't the last time he put voice to his discontent with my performance as a student of the arcane. Nor was it the last time he drank himself to debasement. As far as I know, it's still his custom to drown himself with liquor as often as his budget allows." The wine sat heavy in Axa's stomach as she considered his words, eyed his empty cup. "And where was your mother during all this?" "Away working, usually. She was in a haemneg– a sort of symbolic marriage between folk and elf, more a business partnership than anything– to a landed thayn some five days' ride from home. In truth, that's where the greater part of our family's finances were earned." He gave in at last and signaled to the bartender for a refill, grimacing as he did so. "Although to my father, the fact that his wife supported our family better than he could was just one more reason to get into his bottles." He'd fixed his gaze into the bowl of his goblet, and as the barkeep finished pouring and the wine settled, he saw his father's face sneering back at him in his own reflection. The two kith sat in silence for a while, Aloth sipping at his drink and twiddling his thumbs, Axa puffing on her pipe and scratching at a rough spot on the bar, both wondering what they should say next while hoping the other would say something first. He wondered if he'd said too much. She wondered if she ever should have said anything at all. In the end, Axa broke first. "I'm sorry," she blurted, stomach and head heavy from drink and grief alike. "No one deserves that sort of treatment from their own family, least of all in their most tender years. I mean, my own family situation wasn't exactly smiles and sunshine all the time in my youth either, but..." "It's all in the past now," he replied, finally turning to look at her. "Water under the bridge. But I do appreciate your sympathy all the same, truly. Thank you for listening." He forced a small smile, but when she lifted her gaze to meet his, he found he didn't really need to force it after all. Cor, laddie, next ye'll be invitin' 'er up to yers fer a tumble– Axa chuckled as she slid off of her stool, catching herself on Aloth's elbow and taking a moment to get her feet beneath her while he gritted his teeth against Iselmyr's perverse delusions. "Thank you for sharing yourself with me. Wael knows it's not always easy to talk about past hardships, not even when you trust the one you're telling. But I'm glad you've judged me worth the risk." Her smile broadened, hand lingering on his forearm, and he didn't quite know what to make of that. "Hopefully we can both find out a little more about our Awakenings at the sanitarium tomorrow– after we've attended to a few other matters first, of course." She patted the satchel at her side, the animancy research for the Knights safely tucked within. "Of course," he murmured, knuckles white with tension as he grasped his cup. "Tomorrow." She gave his arm a little squeeze– gods, was she blushing? No, no, she was just flushed from the wine, surely– before excusing herself and sauntering away, clambering up the stairs to sleep it off in the party's rented room. Her meeting with the Leaden Key had given the Watcher little in the way of answers, but more than enough new leads to chase down, and it seemed she intended to do so with vigor. Aloth only hoped– –only hopin' she disnae suss out yer other grand secret, aye? Iselmyr's voice held little of its usual bite, her crude little barbs replaced with what felt like at least partly genuine concern. Nae afore ye can tell 'er yerself, leastways? He lifted the goblet to his mouth, careful to avoid glimpsing his reflection in it again. "If we should be successful in our endeavors, I hope to never have to tell her at all." Oh, fine figurin' there, lad, his long-suffering other half sighed. As e'er. —

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Death by a Thousand Cuts - j. debrusk

Trying to venture into some new territory, let me know what you think! Title’s from the Taylor Swift song. 4.8k of post-breakup Jake DeBrusk angst, as always, I love hearing feedback! I read all the tags, so feel free to reblog, pop into my inbox, anything!

Wine pairing from someone with zero authority on the subject: a full-bodied Syrah - smooth, fruity, the kind of wine I’d want to drink if I was sad. 

My heart, my hips, my body, my love/Trying to find a part of me you didn’t touch

Shadi threw back another shot, wincing as the vodka burned down her throat. Clara rubbed her back sympathetically. “Better?” She shrugged. Alcohol was great for forgetting things, but there were some wounds too fresh and too deep for even a Sazerac to cure. And her wounds were named Jake DeBrusk.

Jake had been her everything, still was her everything, and the idea that she was somehow now in charge of forgetting everything they had shared was more than she could bear. Breakups weren’t something Shadi took lightly, and especially when she had spent the past year falling more in love with him with each breath she took. Forgetting more than a year’s worth of early-morning conversations in his bed, Jake’s hand gently brushing back her hair before kissing her temple and going out to the kitchen to start the coffee pot. Shadi couldn’t start her day without coffee. A year’s worth of games, up in the box with the other WAGs and down in the tunnel, their lips crashing together in the euphoria of a post-win high. A year’s worth of vacations, to Edmonton to visit his family and Dallas to see hers, laying on the white sand beaches of Tahiti in the summer. A year’s worth of falling asleep to him tracing lines between the freckles on her bare back in the glow of the post-sex fog. It wasn’t like she was going to forget any of it anytime soon. And if Shadi was being honest with herself, it wasn’t like she wanted to. 

---

Shadi met Jake just after moving into her new apartment with Clara, her best friend from BC, when they decided to celebrate their newfound jobs and independence with a bar crawl. As luck would have it, they never actually made it past the first one. Clara had just finished up her first week as a tenth grade English teacher, and Shadi had the weekend to relax before her marketing analytics post started on Monday. 

She wasn't going out to meet someone, not really, but if there was someone attractive enough and charming enough she wasn’t absolutely opposed to spending the night in a bed that wasn’t her own. Shadi sat at the bar, responding to a few texts and sipping her drink as she waited for Clara to return from the bathroom. She wasn’t paying enough attention to her surroundings to notice someone sidle up next to her, getting a little too close for comfort. “Hey,” he said loudly, startling her. Shadi looked up — way up, he was at least six or seven inches taller than her 5’5 — to the stranger’s face, flashing a tight smile. She didn’t know any women who particularly liked to be accosted in the middle of a drink. 

“Hey,” she said. 

He inched closer. “I’m Darren, nice to meet you.”

As much as she’d really just like to be able to tell the guy to fuck all the way off, Shadi hated that it was a far better decision for her safety and security to just try and tacitly go along with it. Let him down easy. 

“Shadi,” she responded. 

He whistled, and she internally cringed, trying as subtly as she could to look towards the bathrooms and trying to spot Clara. More than once, they had pretended to be a couple at bars to get each other out of situations exactly like this one. “Shadi,” he said, testing out the name. “What is that? Arabic? Indian?”

Now she visibly cringed, raising her eyebrows. Great, he’s racist as well as a creep. “Neither. I’m Persian.” 

“Cool, super cool,” he said, nodding. “So, Shadi, what brings you here?”

“Starting a new job next week,” she said, looking back down at her phone, trying to give him just enough information to keep him from being pissed at her. 

Darren finished his drink. “That’s cool, yeah. Good for you. I work in finance. High-level account managing and stuff. It’s a lot of responsibility, but I like the challenge.” Great, add finance bro to the list of reasons why I’ll never go home with this guy, Shadi thought. 

“Nice,” Shadi said, looking away and taking a sip of her drink and trying her damndest to make it clear she wasn’t interested. 

Darren moved even closer, his hand now resting on her waist as Shadi leaned as far away from him as she could while still staying on her seat, looking frantically around for Clara, or anyone, to bail her out. “You come here with anyone?”

“Uh, yeah,” Shadi said nervously, eyes still sweeping the room. “My boyfriend should be around here somewhere.” Darren didn’t need to know she didn’t have a boyfriend, and as much as she hated that men like him were more likely to leave her alone if they thought she was spoken for than if she told him herself she wasn’t interested, it was the best thing she could do in the moment. 

Darren took a cursory glance around the room. “I don’t see anyone coming,” he noted. “You sure about that, Shadi?

“Yes,” she squeaked, as his hand tightened around her waist and she froze like a deer in headlights, too stiff to flag down the bartender.

“It’s polite to look at people when they’re talking to you, or did they not teach that where you’re from?” 

Shaking, she turned back to look at him. “I’m from Texas,” she spat. 

“I think we could really have some fun together, if you’d just stop being so uptight we could really—” Darren didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, his arm being forcefully removed from her waist. She swung around, meeting the eyes of her unknown savior, who was too busy glaring at the man across from her to even meet her eyes. 

“Seems like you’re having a hard time taking no for an answer,” he said. 

Darren looked up, rubbing his wrist from where it had been in a vice grip only moments before. “You the boyfriend?”

The other man didn’t even flinch. “Yeah, I’m the boyfriend. Even if I wasn’t, she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you, but she’s just too polite to tell you to fuck off. Luckily,” he smirked. “I’m not.”

Darren rolled his eyes, grabbing his half-empty glass and inching away from the bar. “Whatever. Wouldn’t have been worth it anyways.” 

Shadi collapsed into her hands as soon as he was out of earshot, breathing shakily. The stranger reached out tentatively, rubbing her shoulder to comfort her. “You okay?”

She leaned back, taking another drink and nodding. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be okay, it’s not like it’s the first time this has happened. He just really didn’t want to leave me alone and I couldn’t find my friend and he didn’t seem to be getting the message that I wasn’t interested.” 

He grimaced. “On behalf of my entire gender, I apologize for all the shitty men you have ever had to encounter.”

“Thank you,” she said, laughing slightly and setting her glass back down on the bar. “And thanks for stepping in, you really didn’t have to.”

He shook his head. “I just did what any decent guy would do. I’ve got a sister, girls deserve to feel safe in bars.”

“Regardless,” she added, “I appreciated it. And just so you know,” she said, pausing, “you don’t have to worry about an actual boyfriend coming around. I’ve just found it’s the easiest way for guys to leave me alone.” Shadi surprised herself; she wasn’t normally this bold. 

He dipped his head. “Good to know. Probably should properly introduce myself, then. Jake DeBrusk,” he said, sticking his hand out. 

“Shadi Azizi.” She shook it, smirking slightly as she took a sip of her drink. “I know.” 

He smiled bashfully, scratching his head. “Hockey fan?” 

She nodded. “I’ll go to Bruins games when I can make it, but I’m from Dallas, so…” she shrugged. 

“You’ve already sold your soul to the Stars,” Jake finished. 

Shadi laughed. “Yep. You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can’t take the Texas out of the girl.”

Jake eyed her glass, seeing that she was nearly finished. “Can I get you another?” Shadi nodded after a moment. “Sure.” He caught the bartender’s eye. “What are you drinking?” “Whiskey on the rocks.” Jake leaned back on his stool, clutching his hands over his chest. “A woman after my own heart.”

---

Three months later, it was November, and Shadi was in Jake’s kitchen, doling out Chinese takeout onto two plates. “Beer?” she asked over the counter, to where Jake was flopped on the couch, flipping through channels in hopes of finding something mildly interesting to watch.

“Yes please,” he shot back. He had just gotten back from a road trip that afternoon, eleven days in the Midwest, and there were few things he wanted more than to be back in Shadi’s arms. They had started a sort of unspoken tradition; Shadi had taken to spending the night whenever Jake came back from a road trip, and he wasn’t about to start complaining. He loved his job and he loved his team, but after a week or two of being around them practically 24/7, he didn’t want to waste any time getting back to her. 

Shadi padded back towards the living room, sliding a plate of lo mein and fried rice over to Jake, who leaned in and kissed her shoulder. “Thanks, babe,” he said, putting the remote down. “Parks and Rec good with you?”

She nodded, mouth full. “Doesn’t take much to convince me. I’d kill a man for Leslie Knope.”

Jake laughed. Shadi looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. “You think I’m joking?”

He held his free hand up in mock surrender, the other balancing his plate on the arm of the couch. “I should have known better. Will you ever forgive me?”

“Maybe,” Shadi said, scrunching up her nose. “I think I can find it somewhere deep in the recesses of my cold, dead heart.” 

Things between Jake and Shadi had gotten pretty serious pretty quickly, certainly more quickly than Jake was expecting. But, as he was realizing, that wasn’t exactly a bad thing. The scene was definitely more domestic than he was used to; it wasn’t unusual for him and Shadi to join some of their friends or the team for a night out at the bars or clubs, but it was just as common to have an evening in. It was nice, being together like this. Domesticity was never something that was quite his style, but as he thought, looking over at Shadi, who was entirely engrossed in Leslie’s valiant attempts to control a town hall meeting, maybe it could become his style.

You said it was a great love, one for the ages/But if the story’s over, why am I still writing pages?

It was the end of January, and Shadi was in Edmonton. Jake had told her about Boston’s bye week about two months earlier, the plan having originally been to drive up to New Hampshire for a week of camping in White Mountain. But then Jake had been selected for the All-Star Team, much to his surprise — not Shadi’s, who had been convinced he’d be picked practically since the season started —  and their schedule had been turned on its head. He had decided that it would make more sense to visit his family. Shadi didn’t complain; she had just started to get used to Boston winters, and wasn’t confident in her ability to go a week in a tent in the middle of January.

What surprised her, though, was when he invited her to come with him. She had never met his parents in person before. Over FaceTime, sure, but it wasn’t the same. Jake was initially very shy about extending the invitation, almost as if he wasn’t sure if that was something she wanted or was ready for. His concern was sweet, but Shadi was more touched that he had asked her to come in the first place, and put in her request for vacation time that night. 

The flight wasn’t much over six hours, a short layover in Montréal and one connection later and they landed in Edmonton. Shadi met up with Jake just outside of passport control, pulling her pea coat tightly around herself. “Ooh,” she said, breathing out shakily. “Bit chilly here, no?”

Jake laughed. Oh, if only she knew. “Wait till you get outside, babe. It’s January in the middle of Alberta.”

“How bad can it get?” Shadi asked naively. Pretty bad, as she found out the moment they stepped outside the terminal into the freezing air. She was suddenly very grateful her parka was in her bag, a Patagonia jacket that had been one of her first big purchases when she moved to Boston. Jake was having a very good fun time poking fun at her in the three minutes it took for his parents to pull up. 

“Aww, is my Texas girl cold? Is she having trouble dealing with real weather?”

Shadi glared at him. “Shut up.”

His parents were incredible, kind and welcoming from the moment they picked them up at the airport. They drove them back to Jake’s childhood home, where his sister greeted her with a hug. She had visited Boston a few weeks prior, her and Shadi immediately getting along thanks to their shared taste in coffee orders and music. They had swapped Spotify playlists more than one time since her visit. 

The week she spent in Edmonton was amazing. Even though she may have been a little bit apprehensive from the start, all of her worries were just distant memories by the time they had to get back on the plane. She had always been good with parents; whether it was her best friend or her boyfriend, they had always liked her. Making a good impression and being unfailingly respectful, especially to her elders, was a value that had been instilled in her from a young age. She had brought a tin of qurabiya on the plane as a gift for them, after a half-dozen Google searches to make sure she could bring them across the border and a twenty minute long phone call with her mom to make sure she was using the right type of almonds. They loved them, and seeing the tin already empty on the third day of her trip filled her heart.

“She’s really good for you, you know,” his mom said, as he was packing his suitcase for the flight back. “You’re still you, fun and spontaneous and caring. But you’re a more mature, thoughtful version of yourself. And I think that’s thanks to Shadi.”

Jake blushed, shoving his toothbrush in his toiletry bag. “She is. She’s great, Mom. We have so much fun together, and she really does bring out the best in me.” He paused for a moment. “I think I’m in love with her.”

His mom raised her eyebrows, not surprised and certainly not disappointed, but a little astonished that he had realized himself what she saw from the moment they had landed in Canada. She had just been waiting for him to admit it. “You do?” she asked, a hint of a smile on her face.

He nodded, more sure this time. “I’m in love with her, Mom.”

Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand/Paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans

“You doing okay, babe?” Clara asked gently, one hand on Shadi’s back as she nursed her third beer of the night. Shadi reached up to try and wipe away her tears. Thank God she hadn’t worn any mascara. She nodded, trying to flash her best friend a smile, but it didn’t meet her eyes. 

Shadi hadn’t ever been the kind of person to put up walls. That was Jake’s thing. But she was a great actress, and if Clara hadn’t known her as well as she did, she wouldn’t have been able to call her on it. 

“Bullshit, Shadi. You’re not fine and I know it. You know it.” God, Clara could read her like a book. It wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay, and she sure as hell wasn’t over him. She didn’t know when she would be over him. If ever. 

They said that Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it burned in one. If Rome was a metaphor for their relationship, Shadi would say there’s never been a more accurate phrase. All it took was five minutes for Jake to break her heart, for the world they had built together to come crumbling apart around her. As much as she hated it, there was still a part of her that couldn’t help but try to look back on that night. Shadi almost called bullshit on him the moment he said he was breaking up with her, because he had never even brought it up before, and that’s not something you just drop on someone like he did, right? But she didn’t, she hadn’t gotten closure and hadn’t gotten a reason, an actual reason, and so any curly hair she saw out of the corner of her eye that night she kept hoping was Jake’s, and any cocky smile from some guy trying to buy her a drink — she’d let them, for the free alcohol, but they never got a conversation out of her — she kept wishing was his. 

---

It was September, and Shadi felt like she was walking on air. She and Jake had celebrated their one year anniversary a month ago, and things couldn’t be going better. Training camp for the new season had started, which had begun to take up more of his time than she maybe would have liked, but she was dealing with it. They both were. It was like Shadi had told him two months into their relationship, and countless times since: she knew what she was signing up for, knew that sometimes she would have to take a backseat to hockey, and she was okay with that. Having Jake some of the time was better than not having him at all. 

So when Jake had texted her that morning, asking if she was free to come over that night, she thought nothing of it. Well, scratch that, she thought a lot of it. It had been about two weeks since they had had a proper date night; while she loved him sneaking into her apartment to sleep for a few hours before he had to get up or meeting in the mornings for coffee and bagels, they were in desperate need of some alone time. Jake hadn’t exactly been distant since their anniversary, but it had definitely seemed like something was on his mind. And when she asked Clara, or her older sister Yasmin, or Hannah, her best friend in Houston, they all said the same thing. If nothing seemed like it was going wrong, but he was seeming distant, but they were still communicating, then there was really only one possibility, at least according to them. He was going to propose. 

So Shadi took a little longer in front of the mirror, put on her good jeans instead of just a pair of sweats, ran a comb through her hair. She grabbed her car keys, locking the door to her apartment and nervously pressing on the elevator button. Why was she nervous? She was in love with Jake. She saw a future with him, a future together. If tonight was going to be the start of forever, there was nothing to be afraid of. I wonder what Jake’s doing now, Shadi thought. Was he waiting for her on the couch? Trying to cook pasta, the only dinner he could reliably make without burning? Pacing back and forth in his room, turning over the ring box in his hand? The ring. What did it look like? Did he buy it new, or was it a family heirloom? Did he ask any of the guys on the team for tips, or did — Stop it, Shadi reminded herself. He doesn’t have to be proposing. We do nights in almost every week. Maybe he just wants to watch a movie. But in the back of her mind, as she pulled out of the parking garage, was the possibility that she was about to walk into one of the most important nights of her life. And it was, but not in the way she thought. Not in the way she wanted. 

Jake’s place was only ten minutes away from hers; before she even knew it, she was killing the engine and walking up the stairs to his door. She tapped her knuckles against the wood. It was barely ten seconds before Jake opened it up, smiling at her.  “Hey, thanks for coming over,” he said, leading her into the living room and pressing a kiss against her cheek, lingering a little longer than usual 

Shadi knew something was off even as they sat on the couch thirty minutes later, Star Wars playing on the screen in front of them. If she was being honest, she knew something was wrong from the moment she got there. Jake was acting stuff, not distant, but almost confused. LIke he had something on his mind that he couldn’t quite spit out. And it didn’t seem like a proposal. “Alright,” Shadi said, huffing and propping herself up on one arm to face Jake. “What’s up.”

To his credit, he didn’t mince words, didn’t play dumb. He knew better than to insult her intelligence like that, and she knew better than to believe him. “You noticed, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “I love you for a lot of reasons, J, but you really do have a terrible poker face.”

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair, leaving a piece hanging in front of his eye. “Alright,” he said, in that kind of I-know-what-I-need-to-say-but-I-don’t-want-to-say-it tone, the one that she wasn’t expecting. The one that never means good news. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on my life, our lives over the past thirteen months we’ve been together, and I’ve loved every minute of the time that we’ve spent together.” Okay, Shadi furrowed her brows, where’s he going with this? “I’ve also been doing a lot of thinking about my priorities in life, where they are right now and where I think they should be. And I’ve realized that,” he swallowed, “I’m at a place in my life where I need to be focusing on hockey.” Oh no. “And I don’t think I’m in a position where I can have a relationship and be as invested in my career as I need to be.” Oh God. 

Shadi sat up, stunned. “Are you...Are you breaking up with me?” 

Jake nodded his head jerkily. “And I want you to know that I don’t regret anything about our relationship. I don’t have anything bad to say about you, or the time we’ve spent together, or anything. I just don’t think I’m able to give you, or our relationship, the attention it deserves. You deserve someone who’s going to be able to dedicate a hundred percent to you, and as much as I wish I could, I don’t think I’m that person.”

“So, you’re saying I’m a distraction?” Shadi asked slowly, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. 

Jake ran a hand through his hair, tangling his fingers in his curls. “Fuck. No. That’s not it. I just don’t know if I’m in a place where I’m able to juggle two things that are so important, and that I want to dedicate this much time to.” 

She scoffed. “Are you really trying to pull the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line with me, DeBrusk?” That stung. She never called him by his last name, not even when they started dating. It was J, or babe, or even Jake if she was particularly annoyed, but never just DeBrusk. 

“Would it make you feel better if I was?” 

Shadi shook her head. “It’s worse. Don’t you know that it’s worse? Because then there’s not anything I feel like I could have done differently. Nothing I could have done to change your mind.” Her eyes drifted down to her right hand, where the gorgeous pearl ring Jake had gotten her for their anniversary just a month prior sat on her ring finger. “You said you were going to marry me one day,” Shadi said, sliding her fingertips down to the band and gently twisting it off. Her hand felt bare, even though it had only been there for a month. Jake’s breath caught in his throat. Never make a promise you can’t keep. 

Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts

God, sometimes Shadi just felt so fucking stupid. She almost felt naive, shortsighted from not listening to her friends in Boston, or people back home who warned her about Jake.“You know his reputation. You know how hockey players are” Shadi couldn’t count the number of times people had told her that, and the number of times she hadn’t listened. “He doesn’t stick with any one girl.” “I know you like him, but he’s only going to break your heart.” But the thing was, he hadn’t. Jake had made it clear, straight from the start of their relationship, that they were exclusive, and he backed it up. She wore his jersey to games, went as his date to all the Bruins fundraisers, and took the week off to come with him when he was selected for the All-Star Game. Jake knew his reputation better than anyone, and that’s why he was so committed to making sure she knew that he wasn’t the kind of guy everyone kept trying to peg him as. And Shadi had never felt so much pride then when she was able to turn around, prove them wrong, and say: “You see? He’s never done anything to hurt me, and he’s not about to start now.” 

But she couldn’t, not anymore. She couldn’t, because they all had been right and he had broken his promises and her heart and now she was crying in a bar with her best friend on a Friday night and had no clue how to get a grip of her feelings. She pounded back another beer, barely even stopping to swallow before ordering a fourth round. Or was it a fifth? She didn’t know, and at that point, she really didn’t care. 

I get drunk, but it's not enough/’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

Sometime past one but before her next door neighbor’s chihuahua always started barking at two, Shadi stumbled into her apartment. She unstrapped her heels and placed them haphazardly by the door as she walked down to the bathroom, reaching around the cupboard for her toothpaste. Teeth were brushed and flossed, and she had shed nearly all of her clothes by the time she reached her bed. She grabbed the nearest sweatshirt to pull over her body as makeshift pajamas, only half paying attention. Shadi was too tired to look too closely; if she had, she would have noticed that it was a Bruins hoodie, the very first one Jake had ever given to her, a month and a half into their relationship. 

It seemed like Shadi had barely drifted off to sleep when she was woken up by the sound of frantic knocks on her door. Her first thought was something was wrong with Clara, who lived down the hall, that she wasn’t feeling well or needed to be talked out of texting her ex-girlfriend. It had happened before. But then she realized that Clara would have called first. Then her thought was a fire somewhere, but she didn’t smell smoke and her alarm hadn’t gone off. The knocking persisted. “Okay, okay, I’m coming. You’re going to wake up the whole building,” Shadi grumbled, throwing back the covers and padding out to the living room, pants be damned. 

She tried to wipe the sleep out of her eyes, the harsh light of the hallway fluorescents the first thing she noticed as the door swung open. The second thing was the person standing in front of it. It was Jake. His hand was frozen in the air, like he was about to knock for a fourth time if she hadn’t answered. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, her voice small. She didn’t trust it to speak any louder. 

Jake’s breath hitched as he noticed what she was wearing. His sweatshirt. He stuffed his hand into his jeans pocket, pulling out her pearl ring. The same one she had taken off the day he left, the same one he had given her when his thoughts of the future were filled with big houses and weddings and kids’ birthday parties. He held it out to her. “I had to see you.”

[morethanaprincess-a]

@despairfiles​ said: “Don’t torture yourself… that’s my job.” (gee I wonder who)

The Addams Family starters

If the rumbling was any indication, Sonia was sure that her meals were growing smaller. Until recently, it had been the great mission of the kitchens to help the queen regain the weight she’d lost due to her emotional malaise and even before, when she was trapped in the deepest of sleep in order to regain her memories of the person she used to be. No one could eat much on Jabberwock Island anyway after they were revived: Teruteru was hardly inspired anymore and the rest of them, barring Hajime? Mediocre, at best.

But now she consistently felt unfulfilled after meals. With busy days that bled into nights, she hadn’t bothered to keep track if the tableware had grown smaller or just the portions themselves. But as she looked over a proposal to fund various construction companies across the country, Sonia saw the words swim and blur before her while her stomach, for the fourth time in two minutes, protested. She wouldn’t be getting anything done without a snack or a small meal, despite how much she didn’t care for the habit. Meals, as she was instructed to understand as a child, were to be taken at mealtimes. Eleven at night hardly counted as an appropriate mealtime. 

Still, she’d taken the secret passages from her office to the kitchens. The hallways were warmer and better lit, but she risked the chance of being asked what she was doing and what she needed. And Sonia was no mood to wake up the chefs or the cooks: they deserved their time off. She’d just have to figure out where the food was kept herself and try to prepare something uncomplicated.

Toast was uncomplicated, right?

It had taken her enough time to paw through the meticulously organized kitchen. Even the refrigerators were mostly stocked with ingredients compiled together in advance for tomorrow’s meals, meats that needed to be marinated overnight or dough that needed to rise. She grumbled in her full-skirted dress and heels: there was no drawer marked ‘breakfast pastries.’ That would make this ordeal a far simpler task. Instead, Sonia grabbed the two ingredients that were familiar to her, edible without needing a stove, and left untouched: butter and jam.

Setting them aside on the countertop, it took her another fifteen minutes to uncover a plate, a knife, and finally a loaf of bread. It was stuck in some sort of wooden box near one of the walls, for some reason. Didn’t bread live in drawers or kept chilled? Nevertheless, Sonia set two slices on a plate before she was left with a dilemma: was the butter added before or after it went in the toaster? Jam was always added at the end, to the individual’s preference of flavor. But butter...toast was always served in Novoselic Castle already buttered. Glancing from the toaster, to the bread and butter, and back to the toaster again, Sonia nodded resolutely before spreading the condiment onto the plain bread before sticking both slices in the toaster, turning the setting all the way to the highest listed, and pressed down on the lever.

Approximately four minutes in, as she searched for where the bottles of water, juice, or anything non-alcoholic was kept (the wine was easy enough for her to find), Sonia noticed the smoke rising from the appliance, followed by a smell that made her eyes water. “Oh, shit!” She gasped, slamming the drawer she was rummaging through closed to dash back to the toaster, waving her hand over the top hoping to make the smoke dissipate before any alarms were raised. “Oh no no no...it’s all the way burned through!” She groaned, reaching up to rub her temples. She was already stressed, and her silly venture to feed herself had only added to it.

“Don’t torture yourself...that’s my job.”

Scratch that. If the Queen of Novoselic wasn’t stressed already by trying to figure out, literally, how to get the country rebuilt and how to feed herself, she certainly was now.

“I’m not trying to torture myself, I’m trying to feed myself,” Sonia corrected him, straightening her shoulders in an attempt to look as dignified as possible as the smell of charred bread and burnt butter wafted through the professional kitchen. “Something I should be able to do but cannot ever seem to get right. And your job is to be a bodyguard when I’m in need of one. I’m not sure a fateful encounter with a toaster necessitates the use of a weapon.”

But the tone of his voice. It was the same sort of amusement, of mockery, he used to tease her with. Emiya wasn’t just trying to dissuade her from trying to cook...he was enjoying watching her suffer.

“How long have you been watching me, Emiya?” She asked, almost afraid of the answer. She refused to be timid, needing an idea of just how quietly he moved in her wake, tracking her throughout her home. But more importantly, she needed to know how long he’d been holding in the opportunity to gloat that the Queen of Novoselic was nearly altogether helpless.

[patchoulimademoiselle]

Guilty. (Part 8.)

Part Eight.

Steve Rogers (Lawyer AU) x Reader Insert. 

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: NONE. Tony is a bit of an asshole to Steve. Morgan is precious, and not to be dramatic or anything but Y/n would die for her. 

Notes: This series is just about half way done! 

Masterlist.

Part Eight: 

"You sound miserable. Does you're boyfriend know that you're calling me?" Much to your annoyance, Tony's voice is like a breath of fresh air. "What do you want?"

You hate that he can see through you before you can get out more than a greeting. You're leaning over your desk, legs crossed at the ankle, a little notepad in front of you just in case. You have Wanda in the corner sorting files, a bored expression on her face, and you almost feel guilty for keeping her so distant from real work.

You still aren't sure what to do with her, knowing that he brother is actively working against your case, you can't bring yourself to include her in anything that's actually constructive. It's cruel, seeing her in a position that you were in years ago, knowing that you're stunting her development on purpose.

"No one knows, actually." You say. "Can we meet? I can't say this over the phone."

Wanda's eyes float over to you, just for a second, but long enough for you to catch.

She's watching you.

"At noon." He says. "Bringing Natasha? Sorry, Pep will want to prepare something."

"Maybe." You nod, because it works out. You were planning to speak with her anyway. "If I can convince Rogers, will you let him come?"

You hear his heavy sigh, "If you can convince him." He agrees, and the smile that coats your face would have been priceless if he could have seen it.

He hangs up before you can say anything in reply, and you're starting to get used to it. He reminds you of Steve in a way, gruff, to the point, never one to beat around the bush unless there's a reason to.

You send Steve a text, telling him about your meet with Tony at twelve, and while you wait, you text Natasha, asking her to tag along. Her response is immediate, which tells you that she's either bored or missing you, and it lightens your mood to know that you might be able to consider her a friend after all of this is over.

You pack up your files and your notes, as discreetly as possible, but either way, it brings Wanda to the front of your desk, hands clasped in front of her.

"Are you doing this on purpose?"

The question makes your blood run cold, because you don't know what to say to her. You haven't talked to Steve about it any further, and you don't want to give anything away that you shouldn't.

So you do your best to smile, glancing up at her, "Doing what?"

"Being distant." It sucks, because you see yourself in her, young and eager to please, "Have I done something wrong?"

"No," You stop to face her, "This case is just more taxing than I thought it would be." You admit. "I'm sorry that it seems as if I'm neglecting you as my assistant."

You nods, "Let me help. Those files are years old, they'll be up for shredding, I know you're just trying to keep me out of the way." She says, and it burns you that she's too clever for her own good. "Let me help."

"You're not ready." You feel an old sense of yourself shatter at your own words, Steve's stern guidance passed on to you. "Maybe the next one, we're up against something too risky to get you involved."

You hope she understands, you hope that she won't take it personal and will accept your decision. But you recognize the determination in her eyes, the need to prove herself, and you know it will be better to just keep her away.

"Take a couple days off." You say, "Let this blow over."

She says nothing, and so you continue to pack up your work. "Go home."

You know that you may have broken something inside her, or maybe you fed her the right thing, giving her a new sense of drive to work harder for what she wants. Either way, it will come back to bite you in the ass one day soon, you just can't focus on it right now.

Maybe you weren't ready for an assistant yet after all. The timing is wrong, you're working on one of the biggest cases of your career, too busy to teach her anything useful.

She's silent as she packs her bag, leaving your office feeling cold at her abrupt exit. Steve comes in soon after, "What's wrong with her?"

You shake your head, "I'll tell you later. Did you see my text?"

He nods, coming to stop in front of your desk, hands in his pockets. He's cleaned up, hair slicked back and dark with gel, a fresh suit and a crisp tie pressed up to his neck. He still looks tired, he still looks like he's been run over by a car, and you hope that the orgasm you gave him this morning will help him sleep tonight.

Maybe you can give him another before the day is out.

"Yeah, I saw it." He says. "I'm not going."

You suck your teeth, "Why not?"

"I don't need to." He says. "Take your girlfriend instead."

You hum, "I am taking her. I'm going to ask her to testify. But I need you to be on the same page as me. We can cover everything all at once."

He rocks back on his heels, teasing you in a way. "Yeah? Kill two birds with one stone? Is that it?"

Your glare makes him smile. "I'm being serious. If he's going to testify, and you're leading the case, you need to both be on the same page." You say. "Stop using me as your messenger."

He leans over your desk, pressing his palms flat on the surface. "I think someone still has an attitude." He says. "What happened?"

It's beyond annoying that he can see through your moods. It's like you can't have anything that isn't consumed by him. Your thoughts, your emotions, he knows it all. it's suffocating.

"I need a cigarette."

You fish through your bag for one, and a lighter, pushing past him to head for the balcony.

He snorts, following after you. "And a drink."

The rain has stopped, leaving the air feeling crisp and fresh against your face when you step outside, the city below you once again bustling with life. Steve's hands are warm as they find yours, taking the pack of cigarettes from you. He gets one out, places it between your lips, cupping your face to light it for you. Then he takes on for himself.

"I see myself in her, I see you in me." You say, "I'm keeping her at a distance for reasons that she doesn't understand."

He chuckles, leaning against the railing to look at you. "Sounds like you alright." He says. "She'll understand one day, just like you understand now. Most importantly, she might not even realize her brother is working against us. Or what if she does?"

If she does, she has no right to be upset. But you can understand either way. Family over everything, if Steve has asked you to betray someone, you would probably do it in a heart beat, justice be damned. We all have that one person, a weakness, someone you would burn for without a care in the world for the consequences.

"If she does, then she's made her choice and will face the consequences." You say over a cloud of smoke. "I don't blame her, but she can't come anywhere near this case."

He breathes heavily, flicking his cigarette, ash falling between you. "Why do you take it all so personally?"

"Because it is personal." Your words hold a weight that you didn't know they had. "I didn't sign up for this shit. I didn't know that I would constantly be risking everything just to get nothing."

He reaches for your hand, and you take it, enjoying the comfort of his touch.

"Let's go away."

You laugh, breathless and in disbelief.

"I mean it." He says. "After this, let's take a vacation, make good on that promise I made you."

The promise to finally be yours.

"If you're joking, this is cruel, even for you." But you don't pull your hand away, taking a step towards him. "But if you aren't, then I say you let me pick the location."

He smiles at that, cigarette dangling between his lips as he pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head, planning a way to blow the bonus you're probably both going to get for winning this case. If you win the case.

Being able to be together without fear of exposure, without constantly looking over your shoulder or worrying about your credibility. You don't want this to turn into a scandal.

You finish your cigarette, prying yourself free of his grip. You leave him to have a second one, packing up your bag. When he joins you, he dangles his car keys in front of your face, plucking up the old cup of coffee of your desk.

You watch as he sniffs it, taking a testing sip before he takes it to the face.

"No," You push his keys away, pulling out your own. "We're getting Natasha, remember?"

He hums, pocketing his keys, setting down the now empty cup. "Fine. We stopping for food?"

"No." You give him your car keys, heading for the door. "There will be something there for us."

He swears under his breath, trailing behind you as you leave the room, stopping to watch you lock the door behind you.

"Remember to behave." You warn.

He doesn't need to be told twice.

You decide to let him drive, his focus on the wheel and not on the stunning red head who climbs into the back seat of your car. She greets you both with a perfect smile, lips lined in a dark shade of lipstick, chunky sunglasses high on her nose, and you can tell by the way she rubs her temples that she's hung over, and terrible at hiding it.

You offer her you travel sized bottle of Ibuprofen, and she thanks you with a sigh of relief, telling you she had run out and forgotten to grab more.

It makes you wonder if you'll ever have a life like that again, drinking wine at all hours of the day, your biggest worries being forgetting to write something on your grocery list. Natasha was smart to get out, and a part of you feels guilty for dragging her right back into it.

But she doesn't complain, simply observing both you and Steve from the back seat. It's not until you arrive at Tony's home address that she speaks.

"So, you two worked it out?" She asks, attention directed at Steve more so than you. But you answer anyway.

"Something like that."

Steve's eyes narrow, and you don't miss the smile that spreads across her lips. "You took my advice."

You nod, eyes shifting to Steve. "Remember what we talked about. Behave. Pepper is a sweetheart, and Tony is risking a lot to work with us. You do well to keep that in mind when you step inside his home."

Nothing has changed between you, you're still a bit indifferent, this morning changed nothing. You can tell by the way his lip twitches that he wants to retaliate, say something, do something to shift the narrative, to give him even just a little bit of control. But he yields, at your mercy, giving a curt nod and nothing else before parking the car and getting out.

Natasha gives you an impressed look, plucking her shades from her face, passing you your Ibuprofen back. "By the balls indeed." She bites her lip. "You're hot when you take control."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Don't start." You say. "This is serious."

She sighs, preparing herself, face switching to one of unforgiving professionalism. "Yes, it is."

Together, the three of you ascend the step to the front porch, you knock gently, and after a few seconds Pepper opens the door to greet you. She smiles, letting you inside. "Welcome, good to see you both again. I'm glad the weather cleared up a bit." Then her eyes fall on Steve. "Mr. Rogers, a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

"I think Tony is out back, I'm almost done preparing lunch." She says. "You can wait here in the living room if you'd like. Can I get anyone something to drink. Tea? If I remember correctly?"

"Please." Natasha places her hand on the woman's arm. "Thank you."

"I'll have a lemon water, if you don't mind." Steve nods.

"Also tea, please."

You settle in the living room, admiring the decor. It's spotless, and you aren't sure if that's because of Pepper or hired help. Either way, it feels homey, pictures placed on the table beside the couch, a fireplace under the hanging tv, the rug under your feet woven wit neutral tones.

"This isn't what I expected." Steve admits, loosening his tie, settling back on the couch next to you.

"There's a lot about Tony that I didn't expect." You say, glancing at Natasha. "He's not so bad."

"No, he's not." She agrees. "Now before he comes in here, care on filling me in?"

You clear your throat, tugging on your skirt. "I'm going to ask you both to testify in court, then Steve is going to present his case to you." You shrug. "Practice makes perfect."

She hums, crossing her legs at her ankles. "I was afraid of this." She says, "But I'm far too bored to say no. With Tony on our side, there's nothing to fear."

She's too smart to get pinned either way, whatever she was afraid of Tony exposing isn't a threat anymore, not with her on his side and helping him. It's Tony that you're worried about. He doesn't want to be apart of it, that's why he gave you everything on Zeke Stane in the first place. He wanted it to be clear that this had nothing to do with him, he wanted his name cleared. Now here you are in his home, about to ask him to do the complete opposite.

That's why you lawyer'd up, so to speak. You brought both Natasha and Steve, two well educated law students, certified lawyers, who won't miss a single perspective on whatever is about to happen here.

A small shriek of laughter, a little girl comes running into the living room. She stops dead when she sees you three sitting there, suddenly nervous.

Tony appears behind her, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Morgan, these are some of my friends." As he speaks, she looks back at him. "Don't be shy, say hello."

She waves, a small smile on her face, and you decide then and there that you're obsessed with her. She looks just like Tony, brown hair framing her chubby cheeks, no doubt too smart for her own good. She's well behaved, you can tell in the way she stands and waits for instruction, looking back at her father.

"Join mom in the kitchen?" He lets out a puff of air, patting the top of her head as she walks by. The smile on his face is sweet, he's proud of her, you imagine she's the reason he wants this lifestyle. A quiet neighborhood, a small home compared to what he could afford, a simple and discrete life where she can grow up happy and unbothered.

You don't blame him.

"Well," He says, plopping on the couch next to Natasha, "The gang's all here. What's up?" His eyes are on Steve specifically.

"You know what I'm about to ask you."

"And you know my answer." He counters, glancing up as Pepper walks in with a tray of your drinks.

She sets them on the coffee table in front of you, and you thank her as you reach for the tea she prepared for you. It almost surprises you that she doesn't leave the room, moving to stand behind Tony on the couch. Morgan trials after her, clinging to her legs.

"In order to win this case, we have to deconstruct the opposing argument." You say. "Our defense won't make sense unless we discredit theirs."

Tony hums, eyes still not on you as he leans forward.

"Isn't he leading the case? A bit problematic if he isn't allowed to speak." Tony says, and finally, he looks at you, a twinkle in his eyes. "What's the punishment? A week with no sex if he mouths off?" Tony Stark truly is too smart for his own good. He lets out a low whistle. "You've got a tight leash on him."

You can feel the anger radiating in Steve, his presence beside you feels hot, his eyes slitting to a glare.

"Tony, with all due respect." You sigh, pausing to take a sip of your tea. "He is the man leading your case, maybe you should ease up on the wise cracks and consider working with us rather than trying to shake the tree."

"I just want to see what else shakes loose." He says, "I already know your dirty little secret."

It's then that Pepper hits him, hand falling to his shoulder. "Anthony, show some decency. They're our guests, and they're trying to help."

He sighs, eyes pinching shut. Natasha smirks, "Perhaps you're on a tight leash too, Stark?" She reaches for her tea. "I'm going to do it, it makes no sense for you not to. If you say your peace in court things will go in your favor. Why not let the words come from your own mouth?"

It's then that Steve speaks up, leaning forward, "We have one of your former employees to back our case, and now your former lawyer." He gestures to Natasha. "All you have to do is ice the cake."

He groans, leaning back against the couch, eyes closed as he shrugs his shoulders.

He has his reasons, you can see the conflict within him, the struggle between being a father and a business man, a family man and a celebrity in the public eye.

"Fine. Just tell me how you're going to lead, and what I need to say."

You watch as Steve shifts into lawyer mode. He unbuttons his suit jacket, stands in the middle of the room, and lays out his entire argument for you all to hear. Brock Rumlow will testify first, then Natasha, then Tony. Of course each person will be cross examined by Zeke's team, which is expected. But as everyone's truth is laid out for the court room to hear, you expect it to be enough to convince the ruling in your favor.

It goes better than you thought, the hostility easily broken as Steve is allowed to express his confidence and ability in the court room. You trust that things will run smoothly when the time comes, you trust that the people around you will rise to the task at hand, and you have a peace of mind when the visit turns more casual, business out of the way. You all sit on the back porch in the shade, a picnic table unfolded in front of you, a variety of cold cut sandwich placed delicately on a spread with fruits and cheeses.

Pepper is a dear, and you wonder what he life must have been like before Tony.

A question for another time, as the sun get a bit lower in the sky, well into the afternoon, Natasha decides it's time to go,  claiming to have plans for the evening. You aren't sure if she actually does or not, but you know that you've overstayed your welcome when Morgan starts to squirm.

"I'll walk you out." Tony offers, standing.

Pepper stands as well. "I'll clean up. Thank you all for stopping by."

You watch as Morgan tugs on her mother's sleeve, Pepper bends to hear her. "Mommy, what's sex?" You watch as Pepper's expression turns to one of horror, turning to glare at Tony.

Time to take your leave.

---------------------------------------------------------------

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Life on Crow Avenue: Part 4

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___

A few people started clapping as the little band played their last note, Roman being one of them. Not for a second he had looked away from the musicians and now felt his neck being a little stiff from looking into the same direction for such a long time. With a huff he tilted his head and heard it crack, causing Remus to cackle at him.

“Mock me all you want! This was fantastic,” Roman pouted and blinked confused as he saw the mocktail in front of him.

“Curtesy of the emo nerd over there,” Remus said and pointed over to Virgil who just nodded.

Reflexively, Roman smiled at the younger man and tipped his imaginary hat as he took a sip of his drink.

“Why thank you! I’ll make sure to pay our drinks back at the end of the evening.”

“Sure thing, flower boy,” Virgil replied and fumbled with the beer glass in his hand.

Roman grinned and the asked curiously: “Am I right to assume that you work in Zookeeper, since Janus is your uncle?”

“Uhm, yeah,” Virgil said sheepishly and looked to the side, “actually I’m kinda the owner? Uncle J’s helping me with it but the shop officially belongs to me.”

Roman raised his eyebrows in surprise but quickly played it off with a polite smile and kicked Remus in the shin, as he sensed him being on the edge to be saying something stupid. To his luck that was enough to keep Remus from talking and he got to continue his little interrogation of his crush’s nephew.

“That’s admirable of you, Virgil. I know how hard it is to start a business at young age. I would never have dreamt of doing it without Rem here,” Roman explained and casually set his elbows down on the table. “How did you come up with the idea, if I may ask? It’s not only a pet shop but also a rescue, if I recall correctly?”

Virgil looked up from his glass and Patton and Logan exchanged a look. Roman was a surprisingly smooth talker unlike his brother. Getting Virgil to not look positively freaked out while talking to strangers was quite a feat.

“Yeah,” Virgil said keeping his eyes steady and smiling a little at Roman, “we also take in hurt and lost animals. If possible, we get them back to their owners or search for new homes. If that’s not possible, I have some contacts with some people who own a ranch where I can bring the ones we cannot keep or find a home for. I had the idea, when I volunteered in an animal shelter for a year after high school. The family then helped me get everything sorted out and we ended up here. Yeah, and that’s that.”

“Woohoo! We’re not the only ones here without a degree!” Remus cheered and Roman rolled his eyes.

“Excuse him. He has no concept of decency and tact.”

“No, I haven’t!” Remus said happily and lifted his glass to toast himself.

Virgil actually snickered at Remus’s ridiculously proud face and shook his head, as Logan just fascinatedly stared at Remus and Patton chuckled a little. Roman’s attempt of looking annoyed was fruitless and he just pinched the bridge of his nose to at least hide part of his smile. Just then he heard steps accompanied by the sound of a stick clacking on the floor.

Even before Roman could look to his side, his suspicion was confirmed by Patton saying cheerfully: “It was a great session again Jan! You never disappoint!”

Roman turned and saw “Jay” standing next to him by the table supporting himself on his cane and meeting his gaze gracefully with a smile. He had thrown his black suit jacket over his right shoulder and Roman could not but admire the whole attire.

Janus then said to Patton without looking away from Roman: “I see you took the freedom to invite a few people to our jazz night, hm?”

As he ended, he glanced over to Patton, who grinned and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, I know. I know it’s your birthday and we usually keep these little parties to ourselves but I just wanted them to feel welcome and-”

“Don’t bother,” Janus cut Patton of as he looked back down at Roman with an almost fond grin, “I’m not complaining about this one.”

“Oh my god,” Virgil moaned as Roman stood up with a smirk.

Graciously, Roman circled around Janus, who followed his movements closely, and pulled out the unoccupied chair next to the man. As he did so Roman asked: “Your birthday? You did not mention a word! Nor that you’ve been to our store opening. I would have improvised a gift had I known I’d see you again so soon.”

With a smile Janus took the seat, not so accidently brushing against Roman’s shoulder as he did so, and said smugly: “Your 31st birthday isn’t exactly what you’d bring up in conversation, I figured. Also, I sadly only made an acquaintance with your brother that day and merely got a look of you in your work clothes. Like this-” he tapped Roman on the chest – “you look much different, I have to admit.”

“A good different I hope?”

Roman sat back down and put his chin onto his left hand batting his eyes at Janus.

“Oh, I’m quite pleased with what I see here.”

“Oh. My. GOD. Uncle J I’m leaving if you continue like this!” Virgil growled.

Janus winked at Roman before he turned to his nephew and ruffled his hair. Virgil made a displeased noise but Janus only chuckled and pulled his hand back.

“Come on kid. It’s my birthday! Don’t you want your dear old uncle to by happy?” Janus asked sarcastically with a grin.

Virgil rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“You’re not even eight years older than me, so stop acting as if you were so high and mighty,” Virgil said while ducking away from Janus’s hand, who had tried to ruffle his hair anew.

Janus chuckled and left Virgil be. He liked to annoy his boy a little but he was not about to overdo it right now. It was just nice enough seeing him outside the store once in a while sitting with people that weren’t him or other people from the family.

“How exactly did that age gap happen? Do you have a much older sibling or how did that come to be?” Remus asked for the first time addressing Janus this evening.

Janus turned and looked over to the man. He had not seen or heard too much of him but something about the tone rubbed him the wrong way and he noticed Logan giving Remus a funny look after he had spoken. Apparently, the behaviour he just displayed contradicted with how Logan had seen him act like the rest of the evening. This could prove to become quite interesting.

“Actually,” Janus said and folded his hands calmly on the table, “I have nine older siblings. I’m the youngest of ten and Virgy here is my eldest sister’s son. That’s how I became uncle at the tender age of seven a half or so. Not that that is any of your business.”

Remus eyed him for a moment before he huffed and took a drink from his beer. Janus waited for more to come and as nothing did, he raised his eyebrows and clacked his tongue to what Remus again looked at him.

“Nothing else you want to know? Maybe my life story with some little re-enactments? Because I do so love being interrogated by strangers on my birthday.”

To Janus’s surprise Remus snorted at the comment and replied: “Don’t worry, champ, I don’t care shit ‘bout you. Just want to make sure my brother isn’t barking at a tree which’s rotten from the inside. ‘Cause we don’t need that drama. But if you want, I can get you a drink as a birthday present, drama queen.”

Before Janus could say a thing, Remus had stood up on the bench and jumped over his brother’s lap to get over to the bar and order him a drink. Roman just sighed and massaged his temple while Janus turned to look after Remus with an appalled frown.

For a moment they all went silent until Logan cleared his throat and they looked over to him. Logan locked eyes with Janus and then pulled something out from under the table. He sat a purse next to his glass and pulled out a gift wrapped in black decorated with a yellow bow.

“As birthday presents were mentioned; here you go-” Logan said and pushed the gift over the table towards Janus – “I hope you find it adequate.”

A little surprised, but not so much since Logan had made it a habit to gift them all something at their birthdays, Janus took the package and held it in his hands for a moment before he thanked Logan. It was obviously a book the man had given him, his usual go to, but he had proven to have an excellent sense of what the other would find interesting, so Janus was sure this one would be no exception.

“Thank you, Logan! I’m sure you’ve chosen something very fitting for me,” Janus thanked him and set the book aside not wanting to open it here.

Logan told him that it was quite alright and a bit of the tension from before had eased away. And just then Remus returned and set a wine glass with white wine in front of Janus. A bit surprised by the sudden appearance of Remus to his side Janus flinched and then looked up to him. Remus smiled widely and sat back down, as Roman stood up to let him get back to his place in the booth.

Curiously, Janus looked down to the glass in front of him and was about say something, when Remus cut him off and said: “I asked for your beverage of choice. Thought, they might know what you like, since you seem to play here every Friday.”

Janus eyed Remus in confusion. What exactly was this man’s game? Was this a trick? Did he want to manipulate him? Why would he be nice after comparing him to a rotten tree?

“Don’t break your pretty little head over it, JJ,” Remus said amused and quirked his eyebrow up, “I’m not one to hold grudges and I tend to do what I say, exactly as I say it. This is not a trick, not a game I play, this is just me getting you a drink and congratulating you on your birthday with it, not me planning your demise.”

Offended Janus glared at him, which caused Virgil to laugh and Patton to supress a giggle. Aghast Janus turned to look at his nephew, who slapped him on the shoulder and leaned a little forward towards Remus direction.

“I changed my mind; I like you! You’re so socially inept that it’s almost charming again!” Virgil laughed and earned another offended gasp from his uncle for that statement.

“Happy to please, Emo Nightmare! By the way, I like the eyeshadow! You need to tell me where you buy that stuff. I haven’t gotten to look around for some good make-up in the aera since we moved here in May.”

For once, Virgil was happy to talk and Remus and he spent a good while gossiping about make-up with Patton at one point joining the conversation when they brushed the topic of hair dye. Logan meanwhile, mostly just listened to the three not minding the talk about trivial things like make-up so much as he would have on other days.

Janus took a sip from his wine and watched how Roman took his phone and typed something into it.

“Our company not interesting enough to keep you from the internet?” he asked coolly.

Roman looked up and shook his head saying: “No, no! I just wrote down your birthday in my calendar. So, I won’t miss it next year and can give you a proper gift.”

The smile and warmth which accompanied Roman’s words took Janus by surprise. He had met a lot of men over the years and he had been smitten by quite a few but none of them had ever said something so ridiculously optimistic like what Roman just said. It was the first day they knew each other and Roman already talked about getting him a present for his birthday next year. And it actually seemed to be a genuine offer.

“You are a strange man, Roman. Nothing like I’ve seen before.”

Roman let out a quick laugh and shook his head.

“I’m certain you’ve met men like me before. I’m not a kind of guy who’s hard to find. You probably just never cared enough to properly look into them. You could have found something quite beautiful. I’ll have to make an effort so you won’t miss out on me.”

For a second, the noise around Janus tuned out. For a second, he only saw Roman sitting there in front of him. There was weight and depth in his words but a lightness in his eyes he had not seen in many people their age in years.

And then Janus found himself laughing quietly and setting his elbow on the table and said with a grin: “I’ll have to keep looking into you, so I won’t miss out then.”

Both chuckled a little and the night kept going on for a little longer, being one of the most rememberable birthdays Janus ever had until that point.

___

@aprincehasgotoslay

@varthandi

@sickeningly-deceitful

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

For this fic:

@frawkeye

@arodynamic-enby

@espepspes​

@ladysuperheros

@bullet-tothefeels

@fukindork

@shadeofadye

@magic-but-its-green

@liv-is-a-fander

@croftersjam15

[deliciouslydebauched]

~~An extract from Reaver’s Journal~~

(1/5):

"This is my first night back since the renovations, and I must say that chap from Rookridge has done a splendid job. A small miracle considering he'd recently lost three toes and two family members.

But what was I to do? He wouldn't be persuaded to abandon the construction of some worthless temple to aid me in my time of crisis. And his predecessor had simply the worst taste in furnishings. I was generous to let him live as long as I did.

Now that awful scent of burned wood and flesh has dissipated, perhaps I shall throw a party. Ursula and Penelope will be my guests of honour. Shame Andrew crumbled to ashes in the fire. What a sweet young fellow... But such a heavy sleeper."

(2/5):

"It's good to be home after these three last months at sea. My ship barely made it back to port under the weight of such spoils, and then only after we disposed of those less valuable.

It was a pity to see my new brides sink into the ocean. But their sizeable attributes rendered them unfeasibly heavy. And I'd already tossed all non-essential crew members into the ever undulating arms of the kraken.

I believe my most cherished memory from this voyage has to be the discovery island far to the south of Albion, among waters of an indescribable blue. There, men and women consort in ways even I found slightly objectionable.

They have little need for clothing under that gentle sun, and their fondness for a syrupy liqueur made from an obscenely-shaped fruit made it almost to too easy to plunder their possessions. I might have stayed there forever, had it not been for the monkey incident."

(3/5):

"I am filled with a wonderful weariness tonight. My bedroom is far too crowded to get a good night's sleep, and I'm too indolent to eject any of my lovely guests. Instead I thought I would sit in my study sipping a restorative beverage, and enjoying my own company.

It reminds me of my very first evening in this house. My bedfellows were fewer and less charming then, but I had less energy left anyways. It isn't every day that one murders a pirate king, and takes his place.

Oh, I had the vigour of youth back then. Real youth. How many must have I killed on my way to this very room? I shall never forget the look on the brigand's face, one so ill-suited to royalty of any kind. How he came to such a position being so slow on the draw is a perfect mystery.

I feel somewhat reinvigorated now, and I hear stirrings upstairs. Perhaps the night isn't quite over yet."

(4/5):

"I received an unusual visitor today, an adventurer who'd toddled in through Wraithmarsh, losing neither life, limb nor sanity on the way.

This alone would have been sufficient to mark him/her as a unique individual, but once I'd learned he'd /she'd escaped from the demented grip of none other then Lord Lucien, I had knew I had quite a catch in my hands.

I sent an emissary to speak with Lucien and came to a lucrative arrangement. Since the time of the tribute is nearing - I can already feel the wrinkles begin to form on my face - I sent the poor sod/cow to the Shadow Court to keep him/her busy. I'm sure the old loon in the Spire won't mind if I post him/her back slightly decrepit. Should make it easier to keep him/her locked up.

I think I'll celebrate my good fortune be commissioning a new portrait. I've heard of a chap with some sort of magical apparatus that renders almost lifelike results. I believe his name was Barnum, I shall have him brought to me today."

(5/5):

"I awoke from the nightmare again. One would think more than two hundred years would suffice to blunt it's steel. But still I see Oakvale devoured by shadows. Still those shrieks fill the air. How much longer must I live before they fall silent?

Such dreams belong to another time. To another man. One who would recoil from the things I've done since that night. Who might even care about all the sacrifices I've offered up to the odious Judges over... over how long? Hundreds of years?

I see that man as he was back then. As beautiful as me, as fiery as me, but so delicate. So breakable. And so afraid of death. I see him summon the Shadow Court into this world, oblivious to the consequences. He asks them for immunity for the disease of time and death, and they grant it.

Then I see him running madly through fields, the realisation of just what price he has unwittingly paid hanging like a tragedy mask from his face. He falls to his knees before the town he called home-- now a dark circus of screams. Hers is among them, but he can do nothing to stop it.

What a weak, despicable man he is. But I am not he. I am Reaver. And I will sleep much better after this chalice of wine."

[captainjimothycarter]

A very unfortunate Marvel comic states that where Steve is, the Avengers will form. So even when he was trapped in 1587, the Avengers sort of came to being. they just appear. So Steve, 1940s time travel, changing the timeline, and the realization that the Avengers are just sort of coming into being. Natasha with the comics origin of a 1920s birth, WWII fighter, Clint the runaway carny kid, Maximoff twins the children of holocaust victims etc. Steve changes the world, and they still stay.

I fail to see how that’s an unfortunate comic because I am in love with that idea? Steve is like hopping through time because he wants privacy. He gets maybe a day before POOF there’s Tony whose naked and clearly was in a shower beside him and just as confused. It just becomes a ridiculous thing then. But let’s go with this idea that Steve doesn’t know this? This is gonna be butchered and my own interpretations and I am so sorry OP.

Steve went back to 1946. Shortly after the events of S2 where Peggy went back to the SSR in Brooklyn.

--

The question of time travel had come up quite a few times when the dust had settled. Steve couldn’t tell you how many hours he spent discussing things with Bruce. Maybe the man had known what Steve would do, but he didn’t exactly say anything when they’d embraced and the man held on for a fraction of a second too long.  

There was no explanation for this, then. Well, there was. Peggy had told Steve he was a carer, nurturer and it stemmed from the fact of growing up sick and wanting to do more. Even when he wanted to rest, he had to do something. Even when Steve was playing her househusband, he was doing something. Even when Steve pulled the mask back on for a mission here under her insistence, he was changing some events in time. In their timeline, that is. [Not that Peggy understood much of this time travel business.]

That being said, she had to admit this was quite off. She knew the name of Steve’s team. Of his family, his friends. Tony, who was Howard’s son [something she struggled to wrap her head around.] Clint, a guy who grew up in the circus and fought with a bow and arrow? Natasha, a product of the red room and being kidnapped. [She knew about that and with Steve’s help, had already started to get involved with searching.] Then there was Bruce? A man who was part...monster and part human? Thor, who was a God.  

Not that Peggy didn’t believe Steve, it was just...hard to think of all this insane stuff so many years in the future, but that was Steve. Her Steve, coming home with an insane story she had no choice but to believe.

And the evidence was right before her.

Before both of them. Natasha Romanoff. The name had crossed Peggy’s desk in some small memo, something she almost overlooked. The second she’d read it, she called Steve to come to her office, damn the SSR, and what they thought.

Steve was there, shield and all despite how he insisted he was putting it down, but he was ready to fight. Rather than was Jack or Kirby or a Hydra bastard who won’t go down.  

Side eyeing the few agents just staring at him, Steve frowned at the paper that Peggy pushed towards him. He read the sentence. A document, a birth certificate that had been recovered from what they thought used to be an old Red Room facility.  

The question was, were they meant to find it, or was it placed there on purpose?

Regardless -  

“I’m going,” Steve told her, sitting down heavily, the chair creaking as he stared at the name on the paper, unblinking. Natasha’s last words echoed in his head. He could do it. He could give her a better life.  

“Go where exactly, Steve? The SSR has accommodated the building. There’s nothing left.” Peggy was trying to be understanding of a situation she didn’t quite understand, but she also knew her Steve. He had that look that told her he wasn’t going to listen to reason.  

“I know them too. I know her. I have to try something. See something the agents won’t,” he insisted, rubbing at his temples. “Bucky, then Natasha. The Maximoff twins...” He muttered off a series of names Peggy didn’t fully understand either.

“Okay, I’m going too.” Steve wouldn’t have it any other way.

There was something. Natasha. The familiar redhead curled under a floorboard, skin, and bones, and sickly. So sickly, it made a childhood Steve look healthy. She’d heard the SSR coming and hid under the floorboards. The agents, the idiots had missed everything. Peggy quietly chewed them out while Steve and Bucky had pulled Natasha out and got her warm and boarding the plane. Least the agents had something to look sheepish about.

“She has no family,” Steve said, looking at the sleeping Natasha in the hospital bed. “Her parents were killed. If we put her in the system, they’ll find her. She has things to unlearn.”

Peggy stood beside him, holding his hand and let Steve speak. “I’m aware. I read the reports. I’ve dealt with them before.” She paused and squeezed his hand. “We’ll take her in. We have no other choice.”

That’s how Natasha came back into Steve’s life, from a scared child who refused to sleep or eat without orders, to a happy, bouncing kid within a few months time.

--

It was Peggy’s turn to wake her fiance up at 2 in the morning, whispering in his ear as she settled on the bed.

Steve had rolled over, frowning. Peggy was still dressed for work. She’d just gotten home. She looked exhausted. No, it looked like she’d been crying.

“Pegs? What’s wrong? Darling.” He sat up and turned the light on, bundling Peggy into his arms. Seeing one of the strongest people in his life breakdown like this just practically broke his heart.  

Peggy held him close, a reminder that Steve was alive, he was here, he was hers. She couldn’t risk affording to fall apart. “I got a call from Dugan right before I was leaving...” She told him about the call. How Dugan told her about their recent patrols had lead to finding kid’s footprints everywhere. How it took them weeks to find the kids. Kids, Pegs. Kids! Kids with weird powers. Speed and...telekinesis. They called themselves Wanda and Pietro.

She recognized the name almost at once, whispering their surname because Steve had told her so much. They were victims of being in a camp and forgotten about when everyone got out. The system missed them because they were kids. They’d been barely surviving these last year or so on their own. The Howling Commandos were flying in now.  

There was no question about it. They were taking them in. They were going to raise them with Natasha. They were going to do the right thing, even if it was hard.

They’d have to move, get a bigger place. And if Steve thought what was happening was going to happen, they’d damn well need a farm.  

Maybe he could get Peggy a fuzzy cow. She always laughed at those...

--

It was unnerving to watch the people you once considered family sitting across you as kids, calling you dad. Dad. He liked that name. The sediment warmed his heart. Bucky had to move in just to help with the kids: Wanda, Pietro, and Natasha. Peggy was busy full time at Shield and Steve always was there for her and how busy she was.  

They did wound up moving to a good section of land in the country side. It was a bit longer trip to the city, but it fit their lifestyle. It was perfect.

Until Howard barged into their home, one Sunday morning, Peggy was sitting on the counter, watching Steve cook breakfast and nursing her coffee in the early slumbering morning. The kids had yet to get up yet.  

“Jesus Christ,” Peggy cursed, nearly dropping her coffee when her best friend barged in, a wild look in his eyes. He looked frantic, in tears. “Howard, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Where’s Jarvis?”

She sat the man down and kneeled before him, Steve putting the omlettes aside to kneel on Howard’s other side.

The man opened and closed his mouth several times before he could speak. “I have a son.”

Steve’s eyes widened, sharing a look with Peggy. No. Tony wasn’t supposed to be born for – god a damn good while. But far as he knew Tony was Howard’s only child.

“You have a son?” Peggy whispered, running her hand through Howard’s thick hair to keep him calm. “How did you find out? Did she call?”

Howard’s head shook. “No. I-I-I...She dropped him off this morning with a note. Said she didn’t want to be a mother. I left him with Jarvis. I-I didn’t know what else to do. I-I don’t know what to do.”

“I think you know what you need to do,” Steve said gentle as possible, clapping his friend on the shoulder. Howard’s cheeks burned a bright pink. “You need to step up. You can’t let Jarvis care for this kid. We’ll help you. What’s his name?”

“Tony.”

Steve stilled, feeling Peggy’s eyes on him. Impossible. The Avengers were slowly forming together.

--

Two years.

That’s how long it took for the circus to come into town, something Steve had been waiting for, in the back of his mind. In those two years, he’d started home schooling the kids with Bucky’s help. They’d built a beautiful farm with two fluffy cows, a herd of goats under Bucky’s insistence, and a large garden that Steve shared with the neighborhood.

When he’d first saw the flyer and a flash of blonde and ginger hair running through town putting them up, Steve had his suspicions. It wasn’t until he snuck into the camp sight that he saw them. Sure enough there were the Barton Brothers. They were practically kids. He’d never met Barney beforehand, but he knew how important Barney was to Clint, even if he insisted they were bad for each other.

“So what are you going to do?” Peggy asked, sipping on a red wine when Steve told her about who he saw. “We can’t leave them there obviously. Not when it’s gonna end bad for them.”

Steve paused and considered it, sharing a look with Bucky who shrugged. He watched Natasha trade a card with Wanda, listening to Pietro pouting about losing at poker. Damn Howard for teaching them. Speaking of – Howard was somewhere in their house putting a baby Tony to bed. The man had stayed far too late again.

“I’m gonna kidnap them.”

All Peggy could do was smirk at Steve. She expected nothing less than the dramatics.

Turns out, kidnapping the Barton brothers were easier said than done. There was fights, scuffing. Steve wounded up with a broken nose from Barney’s elbow and Peggy had bite marks on her wrist from Clint. And the kids learned a new series of curse words.  

It wasn’t until Clint saw it was Captain America saving him, did he comply. Because the circus life sucked, but they were better off anywhere than here.  

“I told you he’d save us!” Clint told Barney smugly as they sat in the back of the car. Peggy and Steve’s smile were hidden in the dark as they drove without their lights on.  

“Gotta say...I didn’t think it happen. You’re still wrong. He didn’t save us. You agreed to go with him.” Barney pointed out and Clint huffed.

“You can just get out. I’m staying with them.”

“And let you have all the fun? No way.”

--

Legally, on paper, Howard and Peggy had worked so that it said that they were the adopted parents of the Maximoff Twins, Natasha, and now the Barton Brothers. A full house on a chaotic day. Unofficially, they were Tony’s godparents under the Jarvis’ of course.  

Steve was still trying to figure this out as the years melted by and his and Peggy’s work as Director [unoffical for Steve], piled on. The Avengers were together, to a point. They were coming to him. They were finding him. He got to make due with his promise of giving them a better life.  

Even if it was an insane life.  

The last he expected was to literally run into Bruce.  

That is to say a toddler Bruce Banner who had a series of bruises that looked like a handprint on his sides and wearing only a diaper.  

“What the hell?” Steve breathed, kneeling down to pick up Bruce. He couldn’t explain how, but he knew that this was Bruce Banner. Maybe it was the eyes. It was late at night, Peggy had gone home an hour ago. He’d told her he needed to finish up some report for Phillips, then he’d be home.

“Where did you come from, hm?” Steve asked the crying toddler, rubbing over his back and rocking him side to side. He wrapped the toddler in his jacket and cradled him, frowning as he came down to the labs to find a man passed out, a bottle in hand. He could smell the alcohol from here. Hearing Bruce’s whimper from under his jacket told Steve all he needed to know.

Peggy wasn’t fond of being woken up at 2 in the morning but for this, she’d give it an excuse. Howard and her met Steve at HQ, where he sat locked in her office, bouncing the sleepy Bruce. She met Steve with clothes and a bottle for Bruce, courtesy of Howard. Howard had gone straight to the labs to ‘discuss’ things with their newest scientist.

“I found her,” Peggy mused, flipping a page over to show Steve. “That’s his wife. This little one’s mother.” Her tone said all. And Steve’s heart clenched. His mother had been in the same situation.

“Pegs, its...Bruce.” Was all he whispered as the toddler guzzled the bottle down, like it was his last meal and knowing his situation, God knows when he’d eaten last.  

“Your...friend? The...?” She eyed Bruce, skeptical.

“Not now, but later he will be. Or would be. There’s an accident, attempting to recreate my serum but I-I won’t...allow it. We can’t allow him to go back. The systems messed up...”

Peggy just wore a fond smile, kissing her husband on the lips. “What’s one more, Steven? He needs our help and we’re not going to let him go into a system that will hurt him. Well, come here, Brucey.”

--

There was one more.

Just one more and Steve was on edge. Thor. How would he show up? How would they come together?  

Wanda and Pietro had been growing in their powers and gotten ahold of them. Natasha's skills from the Red Room had proved useful in many situations but she never used them for selfish needs. Clint and Barney were as siblings went, bickering, but a new love for each other was there and appreciation. Their relationship forever changed. Plus, Clint’s obvious crush on Natasha was adorable. Bruce and Tony took to one another like fish to water. Tony was obsessed with his new friend and wanted to show him everything. Often, they’d find the pair curled up in the farm house, amongst the hay, asleep.  

Howard, as Steve had seen was an amazing parent. Steve had made sure of it. He wasn’t going to abuse this Tony and ruin him. Howard had even given up alcohol. Not only given it up, but Stark Industries focused on the enviornment, not selling weapons. Steve was sure Peggy had nothing to do with that.

They were all together, another family, but in a new sense. Just the question was...where was Thor?

The avengers was incomplete without him.

The answer came one winter night. There was a storm outside, thunder and lightenign clashing across the sky. There was something odd about it. That made Steve’s hair stand on end. He’d sent the kids to bed early, his tone telling them not to question him. He refused to move away from the window, holding a coffee mug and staring at the flashing clouds.

“Is that him?” Peggy asked, layin a hand on the small of his back, rubbing in small circles. “Is his arrival always so...much?”

Steve laughed, unable to help himself. “You have no idea.” He kissed her head, stroking her newly graying hair away from her face. “And yes. That’s him. I’m sure of it. We just don’t know...how he will -”

Steve’s answer came with a lightning strike that blew out the side of the barn. Bright lightning filled the sky and he had to cover his eyes, cursing. Grabbing at his shield, he ran out to the smoldering barn, trying not to think about how he just finished painting it.

Peggy was right behind him, her nightgown fluttering in the wind. She gasped at the...teenager passed out amongst the burning hay. Clearly, something different about him was a god. The hammer that he so carried laid beside him. Steve tensed before picking it up, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the power pulsing through him.  

“Here,” he whispered to Peggy without thinking, passing it to him. “Don’t let the kids find that or Shield. We have to keep this under wraps. We don’t know how he’ll be.”  

Not hearing Peggy speak, he turned around to see Peggy holding the manner with a confused look, it only grew at Steve’s bright smile as he hoisted the God in his arms.

“What? It’s just a hammer.”

“No, no darling it’s far from just a hammer. Only those worthy can hold it. I knew it.”  

Peggy wanted to be annoyed at Steve for not telling her but instead, she laughed.

--

Steve can’t say he was surprised when a familiar figure appeared in his bedroom where Thor laid asleep. He’d just stepped out to check on the kids and Peggy [who was now asleep on the pull out couch], stopping to grab a wet cloth to dab at Thor’s skin.

“Frigga.” He whispered, pausing at the sight of her. She smiled, as if greeting a friend before hugging him tightly as one would.

“My Captain,” she breathed, cupping his face as they pulled away. “Do not look surprise. Of course, I remember you and know what you have done and will be and what you are doing now.” That didn’t surprise Steve, the blonde just shaking his head. “Thank you for looking after my son. We are...unsure of what happened, not quite yet.”

She sat on the bed and held Thor’s hand, Steve sitting beside the bed. He looked up to see a sleepy Peggy in the doorway. Standing up, he brought her inside and sat her down. “Peggy, this is Frigga. Thor’s mother.”

“I’m starting to wonder if I’m not the one that was frozen and this is all an illusion,” she murmured, still accepting the hug from Frigga.

“The great Carter. You are as great as a warrior as time as whispered about. Lady Sif has spoken of great things about you and how she was with you during the War.” At their confusion, Frigga did not elaborate. “Can I ask a favor of you Great Carter and Captain Rogers? There is...There are situations going place in Asgard. Situations I do not need my son getting involved in. He will be safe here, on Midgard for some time. He will have access to his powers, to his divinity, but he will be safe. Heimdall will watch him. But I do wish for him to be under your eye. You will protect him and he can learn lots from you.”

How could they say no to her? That was...a sin, if you asked Steve. How could he say no? Thor needed their help. They were going to help.

No matter what it took.

“Of course,” Peggy whispered. “He’ll be safe here.”

--

They were together. The Avengers. Their makeshift family was together and growing, and changing time. The circumstances were different, but Steve promised himself he’d give them a good life. He just didn’t think it be like this.

Where he was their parental figure, where he was with Peggy, the love of his life, owning a farm, helping Peggy with SHIELD, helping raise a family.

They were together. The Avengers would have the life each one deserved that didn’t mean a life of harship and recovery.

[dontcare77ghj]

Simplicity

Steve x reader x Natasha

Date Night series 

Just a quick note thank you so much for all the sweet inboxes I received after my last post. They were all so sweet and made my day, thank you all so much. I love you all. 

The three of you weren’t extravagant people. It simply just wasn’t how you were raised. This trait followed with you all as you grew into the people you were today. You didn’t care for fancy dates, cars, clothes or anything of the sort. All you cared for was that you had a home and love.

And that was what you gad. You had a home with the Avengers, who had become the family you all needed, and you had love. The three of you loved each other more than you had ever loved yourselves. Anyone could see the love you held for each other, it lit up the room and your faces simply when you were around each other.

Because the three of you weren’t extravagant people, the things you did together weren’t extravagant. But it was in their simplicity, others sought to interrupt.

“Nat, this smells divine.” You complimented, wrapping your arms around her waist as she stirred a pot on the stove.

“Not as good as you do.” She smiled, leaning over to kiss you on the cheek. “Go find Steve for me please? Make sure he’s not on the phone.” Natasha asked, making you laugh.

“He almost threw his phone out the window before, I highly doubt he’s on it.” You mentioned, kissing her on the side of her head before walking towards the bedroom. “Stevie, you better not be on your phone.”

“No, that thing is evil, I threw it far away.” Steve said, walking out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist.

“It’s a cell phone, Stevie, that’s all it is.” You smirked, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“It started speaking, doll. It’s evil.” He repeated, securely wrapping you into his warm embrace. “I told Tony to lock it up.”

“I bet Tony pissed himself at that.” You laughed. “Big bad Captain America, scared of some modern technology.” You added, making Steve gently push you onto the bed.

“I can show you big and bad, doll, if that’s what you want.” He smirked, hovering over you. Before either of you could move further, Natasha strolled into the bedroom and looked at you both with a wide smirk.

“Steve get dressed. It’s dinner before dessert.” She said, moving over to the bed and taking your hand in hers.

“You’re no fun sometimes, Tash.” You pouted as you both walked over to the table that she had set.

“You know that you love me either way.” She said, leaning over to kiss your pouting lips. “Now sit.” She told you, tapping your ass before she moved over to the kitchen where dinner sat.

As you sat down Steve exited the bedroom, fully dressed, and moved over to the chair next to yours.

“This looks amazing Nat.” Steve complimented as Natasha placed the plates onto the table. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thanks, med.” Natasha said, taking a seat. “Cooking is so peaceful, I wish I had had more opportunities to do it before.”

“Well with the two of us, I think you’re going to need to do all the cooking.” Steve smirked, causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“I can cook.” You said, still holding a forkful of food up to your lips.

“No you can’t, dorogoy.” Natasha shook her head. “That’s not us trying to be mean, it’s just fact.” She added, smirking over her wine glass.

“Maybe next date night we can go to a cooking class together.” Steve suggested, looking at you both with a smile.

“Sounds like a plan.” You said, finally taking a bite of Natasha’s cooking. A moan escaped your lips at the flavour. “Yeah okay, Steve, I agree with Nat’s doing all the cooking from now on.”

“You’re not going to eat much of it if you keep making noises like that.” Natasha said, watching you with lust in her eyes.

“Save it for after dinner, Tash.” Steve smirked.

“You know what, Rogers,” Natasha started, pointing her fork at the blonde man. Before she could continue her sentence a loud thud echoed through the tower and shook the floor.

“Captain Rogers, agents Romanoff and L/N, it seems mister Stark has caused a code green.” F.R.I.D.A.Y said as you all heard a roar.

“Looks like we’ll have to have to finish this some other time.” You sighed as Natasha and Steve rushed to grab their weapons.

“We’ll be finished in no time.” Steve assured as you all rushed towards the elevator.

“Good because I was looking forward to eating that.” Natasha said, strapping her widow bites on.

“You were looking forward to eating a lot of things.” You smirked as Steve strapped his shield to his arm.

“We’ll get to that too.” She said as the elevator arrived in the labs where the growls and roars of The Hulk became nearly deafening.

Looks like date night would have to wait.

“Steve we all know we haven’t left the building I don’t know why you had to blindfold us.” Natasha sighed as Steve led the two of you to your mystery date location.

“Because it’s all about the element of surprise, darling.” Steve said, his voice a riddled in mirth as Natasha continued to complain.

Out of the three of you, Natasha simply could not handle surprises. You weren’t sure if it was because of the surprise factor or not being in charge of it, but she really didn’t like surprises. Usually, she refused to go along with surprises and would use her skills to find out what was happening, not this time though.

“It won’t be a surprise when someone falls over.” Natasha grumbled.

“Let’s be honest that’ll be me.” You said, shaking your head slightly. You would freely admit, you were a bit of a klutz, okay a lot of a klutz.

“Trust me, I won’t let either of you fall.” Steve promised before stopping the two of you. “Okay don’t move I need to finish setting up.”

“Rogers you know I hate blindfolds.” Natasha sighed, shifting next to you.

“Really than what was what happened last week?” You snorted, making Steve chuckle deeply.

“Keep it up you two and the blindfold will be the least of your worries.” Natasha assured, grabbing your hand in hers. Though you couldn’t see, you knew the woman was smirking deviously.

“Alright, it’s all set up. You can take your blindfolds off.” Steve said. Without another word, both you and Natasha removed your blindfolds in one fluid motion.

“Oh Stevie.” You breathed out. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

He really had. The three of you stood atop the Tower on the roof patio Tony had renovated. Steve had set up strings of soft twinkling lights, both along the roof top and the low picnic table he had set up. Blankets and pillows surrounded the low-level table which was laden with food and wine.

To anyone else this would be considered simple and normal, but to the three of you it was almost extravagant in its simplicity.

Natasha didn’t say anything as she moved forward and wrapped her arms around Steve’s waist. Even after all these years, she still struggled with emotions. You didn’t hesitate to follow her and embrace your two lovers.

“Love you Steve.” Natasha murmured; face pressed into the blonde’s broad chest.

“I love you too darling. I love you doll.” Steve said, placing a kiss on top of each of your heads. “Now let’s eat.” Steve said, pulling away. He grabbed both your hands and led the two of you over to the table.

While Steve wasn’t the best cook out of the three of you, he certainly was a good one. The three of you sat under that sky until it turned from dusking to darkened. 

“No Steve!” You shrieked as Steve yanked you onto his lap, your wine spilling onto your lap. Natasha laughed heartily as she watched the blonde hold you tightly to himself.

“You started it.” Steve smirked, burying his face in your neck.

“Did not.” You protested, attempting to turn in his lap.

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“You really did start it, med.” Natasha smirked, watching the two of you in amusement.

“You’re lucky I love the two of you.” You grumbled with a pout as Steve pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Aw we love you too sweetheart.” Natasha cooed sweetly. She moved closer to the two of you and laid so her head was resting on your lap. The three of you sat there, you in Steve’s lap and Natasha’s in yours, simply watching the sky above you. All was silent until it wasn’t.

“Rogers.” Tony’s obnoxious voice echoed from his metal suit. “You know Fury has been looking for you for an hour, right?”

“Tony tell him I’m busy.” Steve said, looking up at the metal man.

“Can’t tell him that really. You’ve got a mission.”

“Go.” Natasha said, standing up and pulling you with her. “Go save the world, we’ll be here when you get back.” She promised as you helped the blonde up.

“I’m so sorry, dolls. I’ll make it up to you when I get back.” Steve promised, pulling you both individually into his arms and kissing you both sweetly.

“We know.” You said, cupping his cheek. “Now go save the world. We’ll be here when you get back.” You reaffirmed as Steve said one last goodbye before running towards the stairs.

As you stood there with Natasha’s arms around your waist, watching as Steve left, you could only think one thing.

Date night would have to wait.

“Okay I have the popcorn.” Steve announced, placing the large bowl onto the table. “Doll, shouldn’t you be sitting down?” Steve asked, watching as you picked up a pile of DVDs.

“Steve I’m not an invalid, it’s just some movies.” You said, setting the pile by the DVD player. “You’re such a worry wart sometimes, sweetie.” You smiled, putting one into the player.

“It’s because I love you.” Steve told you, sitting down as you sat next to him.

“You gotta stop being sappy Steve or Y/N’ll start crying again.” Natasha commented, walking into the room with her arms full of chocolate covered snacks . 

"I can't help it, my emotions are out of wack." You complained, happily taking a bag of chocolate covered pretzels out of Natasha's hands. 

"We know, dorogy, and we don't mind the mood swings or the weird cravings. They'll all be worth it soon." She said, sitting next to you. 

The three of you sat on the couch, contently watching the movie you had picked, until you had to stand up abruptly. 

"Shit." You cursed, looking down. "I liked these pants and now they're ruined." 

"Oh shit is it time?" Natasha asked, eyes widening as she jumped from the couch with Steve right behind her. 

"Yeah, it's time. That was my waters breaking." You said as Steve took your hand in his. 

"Let's get you some new pants. Nat can you grab the hospital bag?" He asked. 

"On it." She said, leaning over and kissing you on the cheek. "She's finally coming."

"And she's already a cockblocker." You joked as Steve helped you to the bedroom. 

She was finally coming. Your daughter was finally about to be born. 

"Thank God she takes after you and Romanoff Y/N." Tony joked as he rocked the tiny pink bundle in his arms. "No offense Capsicle."

"In this case, Tony, none taken." Steve said, holding your hand with a gentle smile on his face. 

"You know you're never going to get to have time again, right?" Clint questioned from Natasha's other side. 

"That's okay." Natasha said as Tony handed her little Sarah. 

"It's all worth it." You added, smiling at your wife and daughter. "It's all worth it for her." 

Looks like you wouldn't be having date night for a while. But again, it was all worth it because you had little Sarah. You had a family. 

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[jinkisbelly]

Hearth

Pairing: ot5

Rating: pg, minus a blowjob offer

W/c: 3.7k

Warnings: uh food and wine? Kibum gets a bit tipsy but thats it

Summary:  With their busy lives and schoolwork, it's hard to find time altogether, but a game night is exactly what they all needed.

A/n: This was for prompt 31, for summer of shinee pt 2, which was: shinee but they're playing monopoly instead of working on projectsI hope you enjoy this small thing ^_^

AFF    Ao3

          He grimaced as he stared at his reflection in the newly wiped clean mirror. The steam from the shower was still billowing around him, hair dripping water droplets as he pushed it from his forehead, and a towel resting over his shoulders. Staring back was dark circles from too much stress and too little sleep. With a deep sigh, Jinki tugged open the cabinet and effectively cut off the picture of himself as he reached in for his moisturizer. Kibum would never forgive him if he forgot his skincare. ‘You may look dead on your feet, but at least you won’t have wrinkles.’ . Jinki found himself quietly laughing as he patted in the cool liquid into his cheeks at the memory of Kibum’s long fingers pressing some unknown facial cleanser onto his face, having his bottom lip tugged between in concentration as if it was the hardest thing he had focused on. The other man should be home soon with dinner. Taemin had been in charge of ordering it and Jinki was both excited and hesitant to see what the youngest man had chosen.

          There was a reason more often than not on Taemin’s turn at dinner they always ate out, mainly because it gave him certain parameters to pick from. Given free reign, milk was always found where it shouldn’t, like ramen. Jinki shivered a little at the reminder of THAT incident. Jonghyun reacted so badly to the spice and milk combination that he spent the next day making friends with the bathroom. There was always a limit on the things he’d do for the men he loves. Lying through his teeth about how great Taemin’s cooking was, well that was one of them. The youngest’s history with weird food combinations and risky take out orders was the main reason Kibum always was responsible for the night after his. The chef of their little group always made sure to make it all up to them with something tasty.

          Stepping into the room that he and Jonghyun shared, he was surprised to find Minho spread eagle on the bed. Last he knew the man was still at the university working with his group on the social differences between genders in competitive sports. His phone was held close to his face as he scrolled through something, the light of the screen reflecting off of his glasses. The bathroom door hinge squeaked as it was pushed open and Minho’s head snapped up, a huge smile blooming on his face. He scrambled up from his stomach, sitting back on his knees and accepting the soft kiss Jinki presses to his lips with a sigh. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, Love, but why are you here?”

          “Two of the three people didn’t show up. So the two of us that did show up figured we could do our parts at home.” Minho flopped back onto the bed, spreading his legs out in front of him, “Jonghyun and Kibum left for the food, and Taemin is currently trying to teach his hamster how to jump through a hoop, so I came in here to wait for you .”

          Jinki tugged on his sweatpants, tripping a little on his slippers he forgot were there, and tried to imagine how well that was going. “How is Cheese doing on that?”

          “Oh terribly. When I dropped my bag in the room all Cheese was doing was stealing the snack Taemin was holding and running away.” He could have sworn he had a shirt laid out before he headed into the bathroom, now where was the stupid thing? He looked up when Minho cleared his throat, “Are you looking for this?”

          Sure enough, held out was the shirt he was looking for. It was one of Jonghyun’s from high school, it was softened with time and too many washes, the lettering half faded on the chest.  He grabbed it with a sheepish grin before pulling it over his head. “Thanks, Love.”

          As soon as Jinki was on the bed next to him, Minho had his head against his shoulder, finding his hand to play with his fingers, “How was your day?”

          “I taught undergrads today. It was to be as expected.” With their busy schedules, it wasn’t often than Jinki got to see Minho for more than an hour a day it seemed, and most of that was getting ready to be somewhere else or the younger man making sure he remembered to eat something. He was always horrid at remembering to eat, which is why most of the time either Minho or Kibum made sure he had snacks in the front pocket of his backpack. The distant sound of chaos entering their home caused both men to glance toward the closed door. “I think the food’s here.”

          “From the sound of things, I don’t think Kibum approves of what Taemin ordered.” Minho hummed happily when Jinki pressed a kiss to his hair before both men headed toward the door. The sound of voices increased as the door was pulled open, and Jinki shook his head fondly as he followed Minho toward the rest of their little family.

----

          The dining room table was a second-hand piece of furniture Jinki and Kibum had gotten from a yard sale when they decided to move into a bigger place. It once had been a dark cherry wood, but the color had faded and bits were chipped and scratched from all the mayhem that descended upon it over the last two years. Not that anyone could see the table’s surface with the collection of binders, folders, papers, and calculators spread across the surface from where Jonghyun and Minho always set up shop to do their projects. The last time they had used it to eat off was two months ago when Taemin’s family came to visit and Kibum had made them all dinner. That being said, when Jinki and Minho entered the living room from the hall the food was already being spread out on the coffee table in the living room. From the looks of things, he ordered chicken wings. Which didn’t explain Kibum’s loud reaction to the food at all.

          When he spotted the sauce options chosen, that did, however. Blueberry barbeque sauce and garlic pepper, both mixed in together like some sort of strange concoction. Kibum looked one touch away from losing his chef mind, concern so vivid on his pretty features. Jonghyun looked like he was a mixture of amused, worried, and distraught in his own way. As Jinki slipped past the duo, he squeezed Jonghyun’s hip and kissed Kibum’s cheek. “It can’t be that bad, Bommie.”

          Jonghyun, grim as can be, shook his head, “Oh it can be, Baby, oh it can be.”

          Kibum pressed his lips together before turning completely on his heel, disappearing behind them for a moment. There was clanking, and something popping open. When he emerged again there was a bottle of wine in his hand. By his tongue lapping at his lips, he had already taken a swig. “Really?”

          “Let me forget his sins, Old Man.”

          Jinki eyed the bottle even as Jonghyun and Minho got busy pulling out the food from the bags and Taemin could be heard coming down the hall. Before Kibum could react, he gripped the bottle and pulled it, taking a long swig. Oh, gross, it’s red. He handed the bottle back with a grimace. “My day was bad, but not bad enough to willingly drink red wine.”

          Kibum stepped closer, wrapping his free hand around to rest on Jinki’s hip and kiss his temple. “There’s whiskey in the kitchen if you want a drink, but let’s eat and you can tell us about it.”

------

          The food had been eaten, and while strange, the sauce combination hadn’t been as bad as Kibum and Jonghyun made it out to be. Then again, Jinki loved chicken so much it was very hard to make him upset while consuming it.  Minho had taken their plates into the kitchen to clean because of it being his night for dishes.  Kibum was sprawled out on the couch, sipping the same bottle of wine he had shared with Jonghyun throughout dinner. The younger man had his fingers moving through Jinki’s hair as he leaned back against the front of the couch, legs under the table. Taemin had taken the opportunity to fall against his left side, hugging his arm loosely as they glanced at the drama that happened to be on the television when they turned it on for background noise.

          Jinki laid his head back against the cushion, eyes closing feeling Kibum’s long fingers scratch against his scalp. He was sure there was something important he needed to finish for school, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly with how good Kibum’s fingers felt. The man’s deep voice was quiet as he spoke, wine and drowsiness making him talk slower. “I’m sorry today was so bad, Baby.”

          “Not your fault undergrads are really stressful.”

          Taemin huffed, his breath fanning out over his shoulder as he shifted his head to look up at him. “Hey!”

          Kibum shifted closer until his head was against the edge of the cushion and the bottle of wine was gently placed on the floor beside Jinki. Before he could be disappointed that the fingers in his hair stopped, Kibum moved them again after adjusting his hand. “You’ll get to rag on undergrads soon, Taemin.”

          “Not soon enough.” The youngest grumbled, grabbing his cup to sip from the straw.

          “I should probably do my paper that’s due.” Kibum deeply sighed, his breath fluttering a bit of Jinki’s fringe hanging over his forehead.

          He turned his head until his right cheek was against the couch, smiling softly when Kibum’s fond grin came into view. “When is it due?”

          “Next Wednesday.”

          The topic of the conversation was momentarily forgotten as he gazed at his lover. While he knew Kibum was always pretty, it was moments like this that reminded Jinki just how beautiful he was. His eyelashes fluttering with his drowsiness, his hair falling in soft dark waves away from his face, and flush in his cheeks from his wine. The black hair was different than the blond Kibum had when they first started dating, but Jinki rather liked how his natural hair looked. Oh right, they were talking about something. “You have time to do it later.”

          Something sparked in Kibum’s dark eyes and his lips quirked up as he spoke, “You just don’t want me to stop playing with your hair.”

          “Guilty as charged.”

          A loud growl from their left had all of them looking in that direction. They found Jonghyun standing by the dining room table, leaning heavily on his hands and his hair falling from the tiny ponytail on top of his head into his eyes. Minho popped his head out from the kitchen, brows furrowed, “You alright?”

          “My research assistant forgot to get consent from the last group! I can’t use any of this data.” He lifted his hand, a stack of papers crumped in his harsh grip. “I have to do this all over and I don’t know if I have time and-”

          Minho swooped in close, tugging Jonghyun away from the tabletop and hugged him close. “Put the papers down. Worry about this tomorrow.”

          “But-”

          It was Taemin who chirped from his comfy spot, “We should play a board game instead.”

          Jinki could see Jonghyun was pushing up on his toes to see over Minho’s shoulder, but his voice carried over the distance. “What kind of board game?”

          Taemin sat up fully and grinned, “Monopoly of course.”

-----

          Jonghyun was sitting on Jinki and Minho more than the couch as Taemin came back into the room with the game. Kibum had moved onto the floor, his bottle of wine sitting on the table before him as he leaned his head on his palm and gazed at his three lovers on the couch. Jinki was whispering something against Jonghyun’s hair, causing the man to slowly smile and rouge to paint across his cheeks. Kibum was too tipsy to focus enough to make out what he was saying, but it still made him smile to see Jonghyun begin to giggle because of the oldest man. Minho was gently patting Jonghyun’s shins, leaning heavily on Jinki’s shoulder, but he grinned when Kibum caught his gaze.

          And then Taemin decided to shatter the soft, serene air by dead dropping the monopoly box onto the table. All eyes fell on the youngest, who grinned widely. “I can’t wait to kick y’all’s asses.”

          “Kibum and Jinki are tied with the most number of wins, Bub.” Minho quipped as he lifted Jonghyun’s legs to slip onto the ground, pulling the game box closer to him. Using the top, he pointed at Taemin as he continued. “You’re in last place.”

          “We’ll see.” Taemin’s tongue was poked out of the side of his mouth as he picked up the dark orange 500 dollar bills and began counting out the correct number of bills. All was good until he hit the 20’s, in which his hands lowered into his lap and he stared up at Jinki on the couch. “How many again?”

          “Six, Tae.” Came Jinki’s soft reply. His eyes were closed, a dazed smile on his face as Jonghyun played with his hair. Jonghyun chuckled, knowing that it was always the twenties Taemin forgot the quantity of. “Do I get a night off from being the banker?”

          As Taemin happily called out, yes, the other three men unanimously agreed. “No.”

          “I can do it.” Somehow Taemin always managed to make his voice carry the fact he was pouting deeply.

          “You say that and then after you have to do the math you push it towards Jinki. It’s alright.” Minho hummed, setting out the correct pieces. The Scottish dog for Jonghyun. The thimble for Jinki.The top hat for Kibum. The running shoe for himself, and finally, the car for Taemin. The other three were put back into the top of the box placed on the floor to his right.

          The money stacks were placed around the table and Kibum smacked his mouth after swallowing another sip of wine. “Alright old men, you have to come down now.”

          As soon as Jonghyun had managed to remove himself from the other’s lap, Jinki leaned forward and cracked his knuckles with a sleepy grin. “Who’s ready to lose?”

------

          It was Jinki, Minho and Taemin left. Kibum and Jonghyun had moved back onto the couch, the two men a tangle of limbs as Kibum snoozed with his cheek squished on Jonghyun’s shoulder. As soon as his little snores and nose whistles had been heard Jinki had looked behind him with a smile. Jonghyun looked like he was very close to following their lover’s footsteps, his eyes fluttering as he fought the pull of sleep. After finishing his turn, Minho pushed off the ground to pull the blanket from the recliner and toss it over the two of them.

          Jonghyun mumbled, “Thanks.”

          Taemin was still blowing on the dice, eyeing Jinki’s hotels on park place and boardwalk, when Minho returned to his spot. They all knew if he landed on either of those he was done for. Five or seven would be his doom. He had an 80 percent chance of getting around it safely, but as he finally let go of his dice, one quickly landed on a four while the other kept rolling until it fell off the board onto the table in front of Minho. Face up was a three. “Fuck!”

          “That’ll be two grand, please.”

          “Don’t sound so smug,” Jonghyun rumbled, hand falling from his tummy to pat Jinki in the back of the head.

          Taemin slowly went through flipping over his leftover properties and adding up their worths. Next were his few remaining houses and his one hotel. He had his little bit of cash gripped between both of his hands when he whipped his head up and asked, almost desperately. “If I blow you can I get a ‘get off boardwalk’ free card?”

          Minho choked on the bit of leftover wine in Kibum’s discarded bottle he was attempting to swallow as Jinki snorted. “While I’d love for you to suck my cock, I’m going to have to decline.”

          “Awh! Come on Babe, cut me some slack.”

          “We’ve been playing for two hours, Taemin.” Jinki ran his fingers through his hair to get it from his eyes, tired smile on his face. “I want to end this quickly so we can sleep.”

          Taemin sighed before pushing everything of his over to Jinki with a frown. “I guess I’ll admit defeat for that.”

          Jinki gathered his payment in a neat little pile before gathering the dice and rolling. Minho wasn’t as bad off as Taemin had been, and causing him to go bankrupt would require more than just a single boardwalk landing. Moving three had him visiting in jail. Finishing his turn, he pushed the dice over towards Minho before focusing on organizing his newly acquired items. Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of the man moving his piece the correct amount of spaces on the dice, managing to bypass Jinki’s dark green properties and landing right before Park Place. Taemin hissed out, “Lucky bastard.”

          “I’m not safe yet, Bub.” Minho handed over the dice into Jinki’s palm with a grimace. “Remind me to never let Jinki get Boardwalk ever again.”

          “You make it seem like you had a choice.” Jinki grinned as he began to shake the dice in his fist. “I’ll make you a bet, Baby.”

          Minho’s eyebrow rose, intrigue shifting on his face. “Oh praytell.”

          “Name a number, any number 2 through 12. If I roll it, you win without exceptions.”

          “Just like that?”

          “Just like that.”

          “And if you don’t roll it?”

          “We keep playing.”

          With narrowed eyes, Minho agreed, holding out his hand to take Jinki’s to shake. “Agreed. The number is 12.”

          After a few more shakes, Jinki let his fist open and the dice clattered across the board before slowly rolling to a stop. Two sixes were clear as day facing up, and Minho whooped startling both men on the couch. Kibum whined, glaring harshly as his nostrils flared with his quick breathing. Jinki sighed with a fond smile as he leaned over to kiss Minho on the cheek after rising to his knees. “Congratulations, Baby.”

-----

          The water could be heard running through the open door of the bathroom. As well as the telltale sounds of Jonghyun brushing his teeth when the door hinge of the bedroom door squeaked. Coming through was Taemin, boxers low on his hips and hair a shaggy mess on his head. Jinki closed his book and pushed it on the bedside table with a smile. “Can I sleep with you two tonight?”

          “Of course. Climb on in, Love.” Taemin beamed and half face planted into the middle of the mattress. Jinki shook his head even as he reached over to fix the younger man’s hair. “That is not what I meant.”

          “It’s so fun to do it now.” He commented as he flopped onto his back and wiggled under the covers. “Thanks for not being in each other’s throats like the other two.”

          With a snort, Jinki asked, “Oh, is that why you graced us with your presence?”

          “Only half.” His cheeks were slightly pink with the admitted answers. “I also missed you two.”

          "Kibum was half asleep when Minho helped him to bed, how'd that turn into sex?"

          "Well they were bickering about Minho startling him awake at the end there and you know..." Taemin trailed off, but Jinki did know very well. Minho and Kibum arguing usually led to them having sex on the nearest surface, even the kitchen more times than Jinki wanted to admit he walked in on.

          In the dim light of the bedside lamp and the open bathroom door, Taemin’s chest scars were visible. They were light pink as he was on the far end of his healing journey, but it still brought a smile to Jinki’s face to see the man so comfortable without his shirt on. Settling down beside him, Jinki rested his fingertips barely on the scars.“They’re healing very nicely.”

          “Oh, yeah.” The warmth of his smile almost knocks the wind out of Jinki’s chest it’s so beautiful and free. It reminds him of just how far Taemin has come since they met almost four years before. Taemin snuggles closer, cheek squished with how close he moved into Jinki and trapping the older man’s hand between them. After removing it, Jinki wraps his arm around Taemin to keep him close. His voice is quiet and fluttery, as he relaxes in Jinki’s embrace. “You smell good.”

          “Thank you.” Taemin’s breathing was slowing and by a quick glance down, it was obvious he was beginning to fall asleep. Jinki kissed his forehead softly, lingering for a few moments before barely moving away to whisper, “Goodnight, Baby.”

          A few minutes later, Jonghyun shuffled out of the bathroom. He hooked up his phone to his charger and carefully sat on his side of the bed. He wiggled closer to Taemin, throwing an arm around his narrow waist and resting his chin on the younger man’s shoulder to gaze at Jinki. Pushing up slightly, he managed to catch Jinki’s lips softly. “Goodnight, Love.”

          “Sweet dreams, beautiful.”

          As they curled up, Jonghyun’s nose in the back of Taemin’s hair, Jinki’s chin resting on the top of Taemin’s head, and their legs a mess of limbs as they tried to find a comfortable spot, Jinki reached above him to turn the bedside lamp off by the switch on the headboard. He fell asleep with his arm over two of his lovers, smiling slightly as Jonghyun’s fingers tried to curl a little against his side. Sure, tomorrow they all had important things to finish, but right then none of that mattered. Jinki felt like he was finally home, wrapped up in the embrace of one of his lovers. A part of him wishes the other two were there too, but he would enjoy what he had, for it was more than enough.