#not the 3rd though. i played it once and once was enough <3

[lollitree]

No update for the Liro comic this week! It was my birthday so I took a little break from everything and I need to catch back up on my buffer

[averageallogene]

Lyney ♡⊹˚ His lucky charm [NSFW]

✧˖°. Summary: Before his most recent shows, Lyney seems to have some nervousness regarding his abilities as a magician. Thankfully, his lovely girlfriend is always there to ease his mind beforehand, providing him with the luck her magician boyfriend needs.

fem. reader (3rd person) ; this is basically smut with little more than an intro to it, so beware. Also SPOILERS for ACT I of the first Fontaine Archon Quest. 

5k words.

notes. Hi yes hello I am back, I have played the two Archon Quests, and after working a little for my thesis I decided to write something by my own volition <3. I’m not sure if Lyney here might be portrayed accurately but nonetheless I really wanted to write a smaller piece for him before doing it for other characters! He’s adorable :( ♡ Enjoy ✧˖°

By clicking on the “expand”, you are hereby agreeing to view NSFW content. PLEASE if you are under 18, DO NOT INTERACT. 

PLEASE do not report, as this is my warning to those who do not wish to view NSFW. I, like most writers, work hard on each piece we choose to publish, and reporting it will decrease the number of readers it reaches... Thank you for understanding ✧˖°

Magicians have no need for something many folk cling onto - luck. After all, every trick they perform is something they study, polish, rearrange, rehearse. Everything is staged to the finest of details, leaving no room for unpredictable variables to enter the equation. Every performance is acted out accordingly, a mental checklist going on inside the performer's mind as each prop is placed and moved about, each line is repeated from the rehearsals, each movement in one’s body is carefully played out. Everything is a carefully crafted performance, and what need do they have for luck? None.

To Lyney, such is the truth. Well, at least this philosophy held itself rock solid, up until the incident that nearly landed him a guilty verdict. Despite his confidence in his abilities to wow the crowds, even before there would always be a small but ever present pitter patter to his heart, a quiet reminder of his own nervousness before the show would begin. He would usually handle himself most well, though through the eyes of those closest to them, the normal feeling of “performance jitters” wasn’t all that well hidden. Well, and if that were the case, more so after things went back to normal.

His breathing would be a little more unstable, his fingers would fidget with one of his cards as his eyes darted about his changing room. He would fiddle with his exquisite hat, rebraid his hair while trying to ease himself. Things had gone back to normal, their scheduled shows were once more popular and always fully booked. Yet still, there always was this sense of anxiety deep in his stomach, never truly going away as he quietly wondered if the show would go as planned. 

Well, thankfully he had someone to help ease his mind each time. And as if right on que as he brooded over the upcoming performance, a knock to his dressing room was heard, the door opening to reveal the loveliest of sights. At the door stood [F/N], his lovely girlfriend who would always visit him before he went on stage. 

“Hi Lyney! Hope I’m not intruding?” She asked sweetly, smiling his way which only helped to ease his worries.

“You never are, my love. Come in!” He breathes out, the eagerness to have her close not quite passing unnoticed to her. He extends his arms before fully taking her in his embrace, sighing deeply as he inhales the familiar perfume she would always wear. His favorite. 

“How are you feeling?” [F/N]’s voice grows softer, her arms resting around his lower back as she smiles his way. The silence that follows is enough of an answer, her magician simply distracting himself with playing with the tips of her hair. “...Nervous?”

“...Hah, why it seems nothing really blinks past you. I may have taught you… Too well…” He jests, the smile on his face betraying him before it drops slightly. It reveals some of his vulnerability for her, his violet eyes locking with her own before he speaks up again. “I suppose it’s just some performance jitters again, nothing new...”

“It’s okay Lyney. You’ll do great, I know so.” Her smile shone brighter than the very sun, beaming with warmth that was only cast to him. It comforted his very being, filling his conflicted heart with sugary sweetness that only soothed him in a way no one else could. And if that wasn’t enough, the next few sentences were the ones that would always, always seal the deal for him. “Everything will go well, and everyone will be wowed by your hard work. I’m proud of you.”

It was as though his heart was struck, pierced with cupid’s arrow as he couldn’t keep up the calm and confident act. Lyney’s body visibly relaxed, a content snicker escaping his lips as his arms brought her closer. His lips were quicker than his words, filling her face with brief yet lovely kisses, watching with glee as she giggled as a response. Amidst each kiss he whispered words of gratitude for her support, his hands roaming throughout her lower back as he yearned to feel her closer and closer. 

“Lyney… You didn’t even let me finish!” She laughed, her words being cut off with a deeper kiss as his lips found her own. She could feel his smile against her lips, the magician quite literally stealing her breath away before finally pulling away. 

“Oh, I’m sorry dear. I just can’t contain myself, you’re just too adorable for me to!” He sighed, the flamboyant hum in which he spoke glittering the otherwise full truth she very well knew. “To think a professional magician would be wowed in such a way, you’ll be the death of me…”

“You almost make it sound like I’m such a bad thing.” [F/N] rolled her eyes playfully, her fingers carefully adjusting his hair before inspecting to see if his braid was well done. 

It was in small moments like so that Lyney would cease to speak, allowing his beloved to do as she pleased. His eyes would focus solely on her, watching how her expression would shift, her eyes roaming about to ensure he looked his absolute best. He could feel his heart beating hard against his ribcage, no longer solely because of the nervousness he would feel before each one of his shows. The mere sight of his girlfriend was enough to blow away the growing blaze of anxiety, leaving it only in embers that with time would cease. Her mere care, her mere nature, her beauty inside out… 

It was enough to leave Lyney riddled into little more than a lovesick puppy, the loopy smile upon his pretty face being reserved only for her. 

“Lyney?” [F/N] called for him once more, watching as he finally seemed to come back to. His hands were roaming around her hips, carefully circling around her figure as he finally let out a soft hum for her to continue. “You’re a little too quiet… Everything okay?”

“I’m so lucky to have you, [F/N]...”

It was her turn to be left speechless, her face morphing to surprise as their gazes locked. He watched as the loveliest shade of red adorned her cheeks, the flusteredness he’d often cause on her never failing to amuse him. Still, despite so, he hoped she knew just how sincere he was with his words. 

“Oh Archons… What’s gotten into you?” Her voice whined a little lower, her eyes turning away to avoid him for a mere instance in which her flusteredness was still far too raw. She could feel how his lips chased after her skin, peppering her with light and soft kisses by the corner of her mouth. 

“Nothing.” He responded, his usual flair dropping to soft whispers as he carefully turned her around, helping her have a seat on his vanity. Between fleeting kisses, Lyney took the opportunity to bring himself between her legs, his hands never letting her stray far from himself. “I just wish to remind you more often, because it’s the truth.”

“Well I think it’s the other way around, you know… I’m the one that’s lucky here.” [F/N] smiled softly, her hands finding rest on his shoulders before gently massaging his tense muscles. Her boyfriend leaned back, his eyes gleaming with a twinkle that seemed familiar, one of challenge and mischievousness that would often leave her questioning before finally realizing what he’d plotted. 

“My my, is that so?” He hummed, head tilting to the side while his grip on her tightened ever so slightly. “If that’s the case, how come each time you visit me beforehand, every show I perform runs far better than what I expect?”

“Oh, you’re really running with that?” She giggled, music to his ears. “Only because I kissed you that one time, telling you it would bring you good luck?”

“And did that show not go beyond amazing? In fact, I do believe that was the peak in my career thus far.” He reasoned with a nod to his head, kissing her deeply before resting his forehead against her own. “Therefore, I’m the lucky one here, and you my dear [F/N], are my lucky charm.”

“Oh Lyney…” She sighed softly, stroking her hand through his blond locks slowly. “I didn’t know that tonight my magician was planning to turn me into putty in his hands.”

It was his turn to laugh, quietly, yet full of warmth and endearment. “It’s what you get for stealing this magician’s heart long ago.”

“Ah! I’m gone. Goodbye Fontaine, I am melting from my boyfriend’s words!” [F/N] leaned back dramatically, Lyney catching her before she would fall too far and hit her head against the large mirror of his vanity. The pair laughed in unison, fingers interlacing as he brought her close to himself once more.

“You’ve definitely gotten that dramatic flair from me.” He pointed out, his free hand now resting firmly on her thigh. He watched with hearts in his eyes as she giggled at his comment, shrugging her shoulders before bringing him closer with her legs. 

“I love you.” [F/N] whispered, leaning forward before it being her turn to steal a few kisses for herself. 

It never stopped after that though, one going after the other, kisses lingering longer before them turning into a longer makeout session. The way her lips were always so soft, so warm, the faint taste of her favorite chapstick melting against his own, it never failed to leave Lyney yearning for more, his whole being focusing solely on his lover whilst everything else blurred around them. His tongue carefully peeked through his own lips before swiping across her own, the grin being felt against her mouth as he felt her jolt slightly from the antic. Giving him permission to continue, Lyney carefully led the dance, his tongue meeting her own as they both ignored the need of air, muffled breaths fanning one another as their hands held the other closer, tighter. Before he knew it he was leaning himself forward and her backwards, a little more, his body pressing against her own before they were practically bent with her head touching the mirror behind them. Her legs were pressed against his sides, never letting him stray too far, her hands stroking through his back and hair, sending shivers down his spine as sparks ignited deep within him. 

“L…Lyn-ney…” She murmured between breaths, him finally tilting his head so the two of them could breathe. The way her tongue stuck out of her mouth as she breathed heavily seemed to only entice something further deep within him. “W…What about your show?”

“Worried about that?” He inquired, the clear endearment for her concern being evident in his tone of voice. He leaned closer, voice whispering as he slowly licked the strand of saliva that had dropped down her chin. “We still have time, if that’s what’s troubling you dear.”

“H-Hah…” The words seemed to get stuck on her throat as his hands maneuvered around her frame, carefully parting her legs a little more to give him better access. His fingers quickly grabbed a hold of the hem of her dress, lifting it up slightly before resting his palm on her warm thigh, his lips still remaining close to her own as his very being craved more of her.

“Do you want me to stop?” Lyney softly asked, leaning back as his own breath grew uneven. His face too displayed a lovely shade of pink, his lips redder after the relentless kisses she’d given him. His eyes were glittering with excitement, half-lidded with pure love as he waited for her response. His thumb was caressing her skin softly, the circular motion he did easing her more than arousing her as he searched for her honest answer.

It was embarrassing to admit, but [F/N] absolutely did not want to stop. Her body felt far too hot for her to go back on it now. “I… N-No.”

“Are you certain, dear?” He leaned closer, eyes squinting softly as his breath fanned her face. His hands slithered a little more upwards, giving her goosebumps as they traveled up to her hips. “I don’t want to put you in any situation that might be even a little uncomfortable… I will understand if this is-”

“N-No Lyney, I’m okay.” She nodded her head to reassure him, her hands gripping his clothing tighter as if not wanting him to move an inch away. “I admit, it’s… A bit nerve wracking, given the place but… I still don’t want you to stop.”

He bit his lip, smiling with both excitement and apology. “I’m sorry love, I always seem to get carried away when it’s about you.”

It definitely was the truth, especially given with the way his hands moved around her body. There was always a certain kind of care in each movement, his grip upon her skin tight and loving, as if reassuring himself she was there, with him. Lyney was both selfish and giving when it came to his beloved [F/N], always wanting more for himself, yet always wanting to reassure her she felt properly adored.  

“We’ll have to be-” He kissed her again, followed by another, her lips trying to keep up with his own as he gave her fleeting kisses. “Very quiet- Okay?”

“M-Mhm.” She nodded her head, her face blushing a deeper shade of red as his fingers finally lifted her skirt up. Her own hands helped him hold it up for him, watching him as it finally dawned on her, his figure getting nice and cozy in between her legs before he kneeled down. “L-Lyney?”

The grin he gave her was enough to make her lower region throb. 

“I’m craving a taste of you, baby. Could you please indulge me?” He whispered, his hands parting her legs before resting securely against them. His head turned to her left thigh, leaving a trail of small bites and kisses as he came closer, delighting himself in every reaction she offered him, every gasp and jump, every attempt at caging his head in between her legs. 

“J-Just- Don’t tease me, please.” [F/N] outright pleaded, earning herself an honest nod of his head as his eyes sparkled in anticipation. 

Carefully, her eyes jumped back at the closed door before going back to him, her breath trembling as she breathed out from her parted lips. Whilst one hand held her dress up, the other slowly lowered, helping him to remove the lacey underwear that hid his most wanted prize away. And with a lift of her hips, they were off easily, hanging by her ankle as Lyney’s gaze focused solely on the erotic view before him. His [F/N], holding her dress up for him, sat on his vanity as her chest rose and lowered irregularly, her pussy in full display for him alone. It was enough to get him aroused, the fabric of his own clothes becoming far too constricting as he felt his boner raging to be freed.

His experienced hands crept closer, thumbs slowly hovering her juicy lips before deliciously parting them. He could feel his mouth go dry in an instance, the view of her leaking pussy outright hypnotizing him as she let out a quiet moan. He couldn’t help himself but play around with her pussy lips a little, after all, how could he not? The way her pretty hole would throb in want, leaking out her nectar only for him, dripping down her skin and onto his table, the squelching sounds being nearly enough for him to lose all sense of control. He couldn’t help himself but stare, watch in lust before her soft moans and whines became a little too loud, all the while still arousing him even further.

“Lyney!” She pleaded in a whisper, the pout she offered him sending his heart racing. 

“Yes, you’re right baby… I’m sorry.” He hummed, leaning forth before finally giving her heat a long, slow and deep lick. The vibrations from his hum resonated with her pussy, sending pleasant shockwaves throughout her body as she shut her lips right before moaning. “We’re gonna have to be quieter, love. Can you do that for me?” 

It was difficult to hear him when he was practically squishing his face against her pussy, yet from the mere fact he’d stopped, [F/N] had been able to deduct what he wanted from her quickly enough. She nodded her head eagerly, blushing even deeper as she bit her lip.

“Mhm… ‘M sorry…”

It truly divided Lyney’s heart in two, for he absolutely adored hearing every sound [F/N] would bless him with. Her voice already was pure melody for his ears, all the more when she would be moaning due to his administrations. However, the pure excitement of their ordeal, having a chance of being caught, it was enough to keep him going, to entice him to lick more, to lap around her clit again, to suckle on it whilst plunging one of his fingers deep inside. The way his beloved would instead jolt more often, writhe above him, attempt to suffocate him as her legs tried to close around him, all to not be as vocal, it all had him entranced. 

"You taste so good…" He groaned against her folds, his tongue practically spelling out his love for her as he ate her out with such passion. The groans and sighs that would escape him would only please her further, sending [F/N] closer and closer to her own release as she practically bit down her tongue to quiet out her own moans. Lyney simply couldn't have enough of her taste, lapping every last drop to his greedy tongue as he yearned for more, fingering and licking it out of her as he could feel her gummy walls throb against his fingers. "You're so wet, too… So dirty, my angel."

"L-Lyney…" She mumbled, her erotic whine finally pulling him out of his trance to look her way. By that point she'd already held her fingers around his hair, him not even noticing up until that very moment. 

His light eyes glanced up, for a moment the magician forgetting how to even breathe. It felt as though the wind was knocked out of him, staring up to see his beloved gazing down at him with such a needy look. Her cheeks were flushed, the thin layer of sweat visible on her forehead as her grip on his hair tightened softly. Her teeth were by that point gritting tightly against the hem of her dress, it being her faint attempt at keeping her noises down to a minimum as he ate her out to his heart's content. The view was dirty, marvelous. The dress was lifted to such a way he could now see part of her tummy as well, her body lined with sweat as it reacted to every little touch he gave her. 

It drove Lyney over the edge. He couldn't wait any longer. The breath finally left his mouth in a shaky notion, her thighs shaking like jello as it hit her bare pussy before he got up. 

"Gods, you're so gorgeous [F/N]." He outright moaned, his fingers carefully taking the fabric out of her mouth. He watched how she heaved deeply, her lips tempting him to latch onto them. And who was he to refuse, but a poor magician whose heart had been stolen by the woman before him?

He leaned in quickly, capturing her lips against his own as they both moaned against one another. Their hands couldn't let go of the other, fiddling with their clothes as they attempted to find the best position to finally get what they both wanted. [F/N] leaned herself to the edge of the table, her legs still apart for him as her fingers now fiddled with his belt, unbuckling it before finally freeing him of his leather shorts. Lyney could feel his cock throbbing already, eager to finally plunge inside of her spongy walls and ease the yearning he so deeply felt. He groaned against her lips as she finally freed his hard length, pumping it for him slowly as it was now her turn to suck on his tongue with her own lips. 

"I need you, Lyney…" [F/N] moaned, helping him to part her legs further as he kept his face closer to her own. 

"I know, baby, I know. It's only fair I indulge you after you've treated me so well, right?" He hummed with a smile, all the while his face indicating just how excited he was. 

He grunted quietly as he carefully rubbed his cock against her leaking folds, the two of them attempting to quiet their moans down to the best of their abilities. [F/N] could feel how the particularly protruding vein on the side of his cock rubbed against her pussy, sending tears to the corners of her eyes as she felt herself closer and closer to her release after being so well tended to by her lover. Lyney in turn kissed her tears away, his lips never leaving her face as he practically gulped down her moans to himself. After coating both her pussy with his pre and his cock with her bountiful juices he stopped, lining himself with her entrance before, with a glance shared, he carefully thrusted himself inside.

His hands gripped onto her knees, his lips shutting themselves tightly so as to not moan out as he often would. The way his eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to not voice much of the obvious pleasure he was feeling was a delightful view, [F/N]'s face blushing madly as she brought him closer. Her arms wrapped around him tightly as she hid her face against his neck, her lips pressing against his skin as she quietly whimpered in pleasure. 

"Ah, Lyney!" She moaned quietly, her nails digging into his shoulders as his own sighs of pleasure hit her ear. 

"You're so tight, baby-" He in turn hissed gently, feeling how her spongy walls swallowed him whole as he finally bottomed out. His own hands were gripping harshly against her skin, the two of them sharing moans between one another even as his tip hit her deepest part. "Fuck, you're so wet. It feels so good."

"Please Lyney, give me more…" [F/N] pleaded to him, her eyes wide and glistening with pleasure as she leaned back for an instance. At that point she was once more leaning back against the rest of his vanity, granting him access to pound as deeply as his heart desired. The mere sight of her in such a way was enough for him to derail. 

"Archons, anything for you [F/N]." The magician grunted, his hands leaving her knees as his lips latched onto her own. 

By her own she was able to open her legs as widely as possible, the hem of her dress covering everything from the mid-thigh up as her hands were far too busy around his body. They wrapped around him tightly, effectively caging Lyney in between her much to his contentment. His own hands were busy holding her as close as possible, resting on her hips securely as to not knock her or anything else out, the items on his furniture tumbling slightly with every thrust he pounded into her needy core. With each time he bottomed out Lyney reached deeper, the tip of his cock effectively kissing her cervix as he molded her walls to his shape. He drank her every moan as if he worshiped all sounds she offered, his lips sucking on her tongue in such a lewd manner that he couldn't help but grin over how she squeezed him harder over it. 

"Hyaahhhh, Hinhey…" [F/N] attempted to moan his name out, her puffy lips parted as his own toyed with her tongue to his pleasure. 

He could feel the way she was milking him dry, her juices thoroughly coating his cock generously as her pussy practically praised and outright worshiped him. Her walls throbbed deliriously, sending him closer and closer to his edge as he fucked her through what he very well knew was her approaching orgasm. 

"Is my baby- Close?" He leaned back to speak, humming quietly while licking his own lips eagerly. He watched as she nodded her head quickly, her fingers combing through his hair slowly, deeply. Just how he loved it. "Here, cum for me will you? You can take me like this as you do, right baby?"

[F/N] bit her lip, nodding her head again. She watched how one of his hands left her hips, holding it up for her to take it. His girlfriend took it without thinking twice, their fingers lacing together before Lyney held them against his mirror, his pace quickening up. Once more he glued his lips to hers, never quite truly satisfied with her kisses just as much as he never quite got enough of her pussy. Her breath against him grew ragged, her moans growing ever louder, all while trying to suppress them in what he could only find the cutest whines. He bent her more, held her tighter, he pounded deeper into her. He could feel her moans vibrate against his mouth before she finally gasped, a high pitched sob being all she could muster before her inner walls violently spasmed around him, creaming his cock bountifully as she rode her high. Even still, just as he'd asked her to, Lyney continued to thrust, still as deeply albeit slower, letting her savor her release just as he quickly followed with his closing one. 

"Gyah, L-Lyney-!" [F/N] moaned against him, he in turn shushed her in understanding. "Mmm, t-to much!"

"I'm so close baby, so close…" He whispered, his thrusts a little less rhythmic as he tried to focus. His eyes opened to gaze deeply into hers, the sight of her red cheeks and unfocused eyes only edging him further deep into the abyss of pleasure. "Can you please take it just a little more? Just like this…”

“Mhm…” She eagerly nodded her head, the tears of overstimulation streaming down her face sending a long shiver down his spine. His free hand came to rest upon the side of her face, thumb clearing the tears away as his grip on her other hand tightened. “I-Inside, please.”

He bit his tongue gently as he smiled, nodding his head before pulling her head closer for a deep kiss. “Anything for my lovely lady.”

Against him she moaned, him in unison as he felt the knot deep inside himself finally snap. Lyney felt his eyes shut, a deep low grunt leaving his throat before he finally felt his release wash over him. He thrusted deeper still, his pace finally slowing down as thick ropes of seed flooded over [F/N]’s inner walls. Her womb was eager to receive the abundant load, being painted white from inside out as it overflowed whilst he still remained sheathed inside. Whilst their fingers were still locked she brought him closer, holding him tightly as her body shivered with the overstimulation. Lyney could feel his breath finally begin to slow down, a few final slow thrusts of his hips following as he moaned quietly, ensuring he was milked for all he was worth. He held his [F/N] close, as close as possible, their bodies finally relaxing as they rested atop his vanity, her body welcoming him closer as his seed leaked down and dropped onto the ground.

Even as she still regulated her breath, lips puffy and red and mascara slightly smudged from the sweat and tears, Lyney lunged forward, capturing her lips for the millionth time. Never satiated, like the greedy man he was at heart, he smiled against her as he enveloped her closer, relishing a moment longer. The silence that followed felt comforting, the two of them sighing in bliss as he felt her arms around his figure. 

“Sorry… It must’ve been uncomfortable to sit like that, on such a surface.” He stated, eyebrows furrowing softly as his thumbs cleared her smudged makeup as much as he could. Lyney dared not move, still not even wanting to pull out. It wasn’t as though he could anyway, for the way [F/N]’s legs captured him definitely sent a message for him to stay a little longer.

“Mhm, it’s fine… I enjoyed it all the same.” She smiled sheepishly, relishing in his soft touches as she in turn rearranged his side swept bangs. 

“I’m glad.” He sighed in relief, the pair too engrossed into one another to even notice how some bottles had tumbled over amidst their frolicking. “Still, next time I’ll be sure to make up for it, for all of it.”

“Lyney, truly it’s fine!” [F/N] laughed softly, finally opening her legs for him to move more freely. She watched in amusement how her boyfriend coughed softly upon noticing how heavy she leaked, rummaging through the room to find a towel he could dampen to help clean up. “Sorry… We might’ve taken too long, no?”

“Hey, if anything it’s my fault… It’s what I get for being so greedy.” He reassured her with a sincere smile, carefully helping her to clean up before dressing her back up. [F/N] watched as he fanned his face with his hand, the blush on his face still evident as she helped him dress up as well, a snicker escaping her pretty lips at the sight. 

“Well… I still… Very much enjoyed it.” [F/N] reiterated, her voice low as she helped him button up his undershirt. His smile was difficult to ignore, especially so as she helped him retrace the tear he would always paint on his right cheek. 

“...I did, too.” He pulled her closer by the waist, smiling in a devilish, albeit inoffensive manner. He pulled her closer, stealing a deeper kiss as he relished on the taste of her lips, hoping to steal some of her chapstick for himself so he could taste it all throughout his performance. As he pulled away, he whispered quietly to her, fingers playing with the end of her hair. “...Maybe next time we do this, I can have you turned to my mirror. The faces you make are simply delicious, my dear.”

The way [F/N]’s face turned to utter surprise was enough of a reaction, the magician following with a sneaky laugh as he pinched her behind as the cherry on top. In turn, his girlfriend gently slapped his arm, huffing as her cheeks turned bright red, his laughter becoming louder as a result.

“Lyney!” She groaned, nearly turning around from him in embarrassment.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry baby! Mostly.” He chuckled, embracing her before kissing her cheek with the usual level of endearment that was solely reserved for her. 

“Hmph…” She pouted, though both knew it wasn’t something to last long. “...Good luck on your show, honey.”

“After this? It’ll be the best show yet…” He in turn whispered, his forehead resting against her head as they quieted down. “I’ll see you after?”

“I’ll be waiting here.” [F/N] smiled softly, them embracing one another before finally deciding to part.

Well, Lyney had always been energetic in his performances, yet there seemed to be an improvement on that particular one. True to his word, that performance definitely did do amazingly well, becoming the talk of the following weeks.

All thanks to his lucky charm.

[licorice-tea]

Could I Be Loved By You? Pt. 2

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x reader, Usopp x reader, Nami x reader (separate)

Content: some suggestive jokes in usopp’s part, just general silliness besides that!

Word Count: 0.9k (total)

A/N: first time writing for all three of these characters- say whatttt! usopp’s part is my fave, but i love all of them!!! also if you check my master list for more content or anything, just know that im working on making it looks more aesthetically pleasing (it’s a mess right now😓) anyway thanks for reading and enjoy <3

Part 1

What happens when you ask them; “Do you think we’re together in every universe?”

Nami - 0.2k

With a singsongy voice, you announce your presence to Nami. “Babe!”

“Y/n!” She responds in a similar cadence. However, she doesn’t look up from drawing her map.

You round her desk so that you’re standing behind it, and she finishes off a line before setting down her pen. “What’s up?”

“I have a question for you.”

“Mhm…?”

“Ok. Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t laugh at you, babe.” Well, she might, but only out of endearment.

“So… Um, do you think that we would be together in every universe?”

Her lips, once pressed together in a resting expression, curve upwards. The shake of her shoulders is an unmistakable sign of held back laughter, which is only solidified by her hand covering her mouth.

“Hey! You said you wouldn’t laugh!” But in all fairness, you’re smiling too. It’s a silly sort of question.

“I’m not, I’m not!” She defends herself through giggles, then clears her throat.

“So, do you think so or not?”

Nami taps her chin with a smirk. “Yes. Yes I do.” The faintest blush colors her cheeks, though she’s much too proud to ever admit to being flustered by the idea. To think; you want to be with her just as badly as she does you, in any every lifetime or world where the two of you coexist. It’s enough to make even her swoon.

“Awww, so you do love me!” You tease. Your next course of action is to run out the door before she can (lovingly) hurl a book at you.

Monkey D. Luffy - 0.3k

You and Luffy are the last crewmates left at the table. Neither of you were late to dinner, nor were you ever. No, you had arrived to the dining room on time (even a little early), but he is still on his 3rd main course. Meanwhile, you are a slow eater. It’s no bother, though; you’d take almost any opportunity to spend time alone with Luffy.

With a soft smile, you tilt your head as you watch your boyfriend and captain stuff his face.

He pauses, noticing your staring. “What? Something on my face?” He licks his lips.

You shake your head. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh, ‘bout what?”

“Do you think we’re like this in every universe?”

“Like what? Still hungry? I know I am!”

“No,” you giggle, “I mean like… in love. A couple.”

This time, Luffy is the one to giggle at your curiosity. “What a weird question, y/n.” He cracks his blinding grin at you. “Of course we are.”

Luffy proceeds to stretch one arm around the back of your chair and pulls it closer to his. The proximity allows you to lay your head on his shoulder, and now everything feels right with the world…

Still, the “what if” scenario runs rampant in your imagination. “But if there is a world where we aren’t-“

“Just means we haven’t met yet.”

“… Hm. I guess you’re right.”

“Yeah, and I found you this time, right? So, I always will.” He says it all like it’s some simple, known truth. As if there are no doubts in his mind- nor should there be in yours- that you’re meant to be together. It’s not surprising though, given Luffy’s view on his own destiny. Naturally, yours is part of his, and vice versa.

With a simper, you swipe your thumb over the corner of his lips to brush away a crumb. “Or maybe I’ll find you.”

Usopp - 0.4k

You and Usopp like to play this sort of game where you ask each other questions. Sometimes they’re deep and introspective, others silly and random. It’s not really a game, per say, but… Well, it’s a fun little thing for when you’ve exhausted other topics of conversation or both of you are bored of other, cleverer topics.

“Ok, favorite temperature?”

“Favorite temperature? That's so specific!”

He chuckles. “Thats the point, baby.”

You hum in agreement before responding. “True… 74 degrees.”

“Celsius, or fahrenheit?”

“…Usopp.” You deadpan. “74 degree celsius would be, like…”

“Around 165 degrees fahrenheit.” He grins proudly. How some people, such as your boyfriend, are such naturals at mental math, you would never understand.

“Hmph… if you say so. But, yeah, why would I say my favorite temperature is 165 degrees fahrenheit?”

Usopp shrugs, “I wouldn’t put it past you; I know you like things hot.”

You’re too caught up in the way he leans toward you teasingly to notice his arms snaking around your waist. Without warning, he pulls you close to his chest. You shriek as Usopp spins you around, but your arms remain looped around his shoulders even after he sets you down.

“That was a dirty trick.”

“I think you enjoyed it.”

And you did, so you just smile and accept defeat. It’s your turn to ask a question now. “Do you think we’d be together in every universe?”

His smile falters. “I… Well, I don’t know.”

“…Oh.”

“I want to be, of course, I just…”

“Just what?”

“You have so many choices, y/n. Who’s to say you’d always choose me? I definitely wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, in this hypothetical alternate-“

Your lips stop his from moving with a forceful kiss. They linger there, just for a few moments, before you pull back less than an inch away. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Sorry.”

“And don’t apologize. I’d always choose you, Usopp, no matter what.”

His confidence grows back, along with his smile. “Then yes,” Usopp places another small peck to your lips and pulls away to gauge your reaction, “I think we would be together in every universe.”

Your eyes seem to shine with some emotion that could only be described as love. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

[lexischococoveredblueberries]

CAN YOU PLEASE DO MORE VELVET wlw

ONES I NEED THEM (Have a good day or night:3)

･ﾟ ☾ sweet dreams , 🪷*:⋆

velvet x fem!reader

• head canons

• tooth rotting fluff

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡ ‧₊˚🪷✩ ₊˚🫀⊹♡ ‧₊˚🎀✩ ₊˚

ღ she wasn’t too much of a fan of PDA when you two first got together, but overtime she realized how thirsty people were for you in public so she began making it obvious you were together ( holding your waist , holding your hand, resting her head on your shoulder )

ღ literally hates EVERYONE but you and veneer. of course a lot of the time she’s a brat to you, but one soft look at her and she’ll be blushing and speaking up you in a soft voice. you’re her weak spot.

ღ one time after a concert, she pulled you into the changing room and you made out until your lips were sore. hands roaming against each other, hair tangled , mangled breathing … she would’ve rathered suffocated kissing you then having to pull away.

ღ LOVES to style your hair for fun. she’ll have you sit criss cross in front of her while she braids it, puts accessories in it and curl it. it heals a little something in her and you catch her humming while she does it.

ღ used to cry herself to sleep when she came to realize she was in love with you. she even prayed once , hoping it would go away. the dreams that would come afterwards didn’t seem to agree with that though.

ღ writes love letters to you that she keeps to herself. she has them stuffed in a drawer in her vanity , just a bunch of scrap paper saying how much she loves you and her fantasies she has with you.

ღ if you prefer the AU of vel and ven using the trolls, she has genuinely tried to improve her singing voice in private just for you. she wants to sing for you one day and gets really frustrated when she doesn’t notice progress.

if you prefer the AU of them having natural singing voices, she has already made many songs just for you that she’s too shy to show you.

ღ when you two had that break in my “yes and i love you” story, she cried in veneers arms because of how heartbroken she was. he cried too , he had never seen her like that before.

ღ listens to “Carmen” by Lana Del Rey and day dreams of you while kicking her feet and blushing and screaming in her pillow

ღ she loves laying down on your sides on her bed while you two just look at each other. she likes when there’s no words spoken, just yours and her thoughts drifting between silence.

ღ you two went ice skating once. if you know how to skate, you were teaching her and she was scared SHITLESS. but she felt safe with you. if you don’t know how to, you were both yelling at each other, holding onto each others arms and falling repeatedly.

ღ remembers very small details about you. you won a spelling bee in 3rd grade ? noted. lost a bracelet at a hair dresser when you were 10? noted. you hate a specific brand of milk? she knows.

ღ physical. touch. i can’t explain it enough. even if it’s just small gestures, your hand on her lower back, her pinky wrapped around yours, you playing with her hair, holding hands while you’re on your phones. she just loves feeling you whenever she can.

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜

[anika-ann]

Back and Forth - part 3.2

Part 3 - Bounce Back - 2/2

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 14000

Chapter summary:  In which you have to survive the charity auction and it's not easy... for several reasons.

Series masterlist

Warnings: overthinking, self-doubt and issues with self-image, A+ parenting and its consequences, mentions of (in)human experimentation, alcohol (briefly as a coping mechanism), SPOILER armed assault, language and charming Steve, because he is most definitely a warning

A/N: ALWAYS MIND THE WARNINGS; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader’s appearance

A/N2: Second 'half' of the 3rd chapter. As you might have noticed, this is a long one. But with hints of fluff. So…yay? 💕 If you wish/need to split the reading, I recommend to end a reading session at the second in-text divider 😊

Daisy Johnson, despite being the legendary Quake, did in fact have a moment – which was enough of a shock to stop your headache from getting worse, even if your hands seemed to get a little clammy as your phone lit up with her response.

You would have done just fine without anyone’s input, you considered yourself competent enough to choose an evening gown, thank you very much. But after the day you had had so far – you could hardly believe it wasn’t even noon yet – there was a small traitorous voice of hope in the back of your head. Despite the heavy feeling in your stomach weighing you down, a dull reminder of being alone in this world, it urged you to reach out to the one group of people that once made you believe that you could share more with someone than workload or more than lust that turned into ashes and smoke once the fire had been lit up too strong. Daisy had been in the centre of it – she and maybe Coulson.

It was a dangerous game you played, indulging in the one thing you knew would come back to slap you in the face; entertaining the idea that there was someone who genuinely cared for you regardless of your abilities was setting you up for disappointment. But there was something about Daisy, so honest and sincere, that had wormed its way through the walls you had sworn to keep up for support, several inches thick and vibranium-strong. And that didn’t change, even as you had been given, not for the first time, the evidence of how volatile a faith in friendship can turn just short of two hours ago.

Knowing that Daisy didn’t turn her back to people, not even to her father after all he had done wrong, knowing she chose to see the good in people and to put her heart into nurturing it in them despite the risk of getting hurt in more ways than one, left you defenceless against her powers that had nothing to do with her genetic code. She was, even if distantly, the closest thing to a sister to you, older, due to her experience with Inhuman powers and in Coulson’s team, and younger, due to her pure heart and excitement about new things; once she had managed her powers which she had got about a half a year before you did, she became your guide and confidant; though you hadn’t dared to taint her with the knowledge of your pain.

While you had started search for the dress without her, she texted you barely a half an hour in; fresh out of a meeting, apologizing she’d only have twenty minutes before they’d be in the drop-zone for their current mission. Twenty minutes. And yet, she had made the time for you. Somewhere, thousands of feet in the air, in between preparing her mission gear, she had decided to sneak in a few minutes for you.

The knowledge alone eased the pressure in your stomach and gave way to a wholly different feeling, equally dizzying. She cared. Yes, you could argue that since she had been tasked to lead the division of Inhuman agents of SHIELD, it was her duty to respond – and at times, you reminded yourself of that, that you really weren’t special – but the fact was that she was. And she truly did care. You hadn’t been wrong to call her a friend yesterday; and Daisy-the-teenager couldn’t have had picked a better role-model in life. For most part anyway.

It didn’t matter in the slightest that Daisy Johnson had barely squeezed you into her schedule; it still carried meaning. And it would be enough, because she could be very efficient, sorting through the dresses you had considered so far as easily as if she had been slicing through the security system of the Pentagon – for a person with her hacking experience anyway.

A set of easy questions you yourself had been asking was her effective tactics.

Mission or fun? she had asked first, no doubt already knowing the answer as she went through the early picks. There was a reason why no dress had bare back, while all of them had necklines designed high enough to hide at least a strapless bra.

Me: They call it a mission to have fun, but I’ll be damned if I go without being ready other kind of mission.

DJ: Fair

DJ: Charming or sexy?

Your lips twitched in a small smile, your mind conjuring the image of Daisy’s face when she was typing the question. She was one of very few people – probably the only one – who could make you feel the teenage-like excitement about challenging authority. There was always a reason to the madness of doing so, but there was something about her attitude that always whispered of poking the bear for the sake of fun only.

Charming, you replied, almost regretfully. As much fun as it would be to see brains of some of those pretentious jerks you were about to meet short-circuit just because they were seeing an extra silver of flesh on a young woman – a thing that would make for as much of an icky feeling as hilarity – your mission was to represent, not cause havoc or seduce.

Blah. Colour-coordinating with anyone? she asked then and you chuckled at her poorly hidden attempt to fish for gossip – and at the idea of actually trying to do what she was suggesting. No. You were not going to go and ask Rogers what colour he was about to wear. Less so since chances were high that he was about opt for a traditional black tuxedo suit with a white shirt.

Me: Nope.

DJ: Come on! At least tell me who you’re going with?!!

DJ: You know this is a much of a secure channel as it gets

DJ: And you said it wasn’t really a mission, so it can’t be classified

DJ: …and I can’t find it within the system.

I’ll tell you if we survive it, you replied simply, even as laughter already bubbled in your chest, cheeks beginning to hurt from disuse and the sudden exercise as to stop you from grinning.

You should have known that she’d hack the system and go straight for the mission database unless you told her the details. Tony, bless him, threw a tantrum whenever she did that – which wasn’t too often, but it had happened before. On days when you allowed yourself to ponder, you wondered why he never told anyone – as far as you knew, that was, because no one came down on you, raining holy fire of wrath, despite it being obvious you were the cause of Daisy’s hacks – and why he tolerated it. Some days, you thought he was amused by it and felt bad for you, seeing you missed your former team, granting you connection with Daisy even if the way she went about it drove him absolutely nuts. Other days, you were sure he simply enjoyed a challenge and this was as good one of those as any – and he’d be caught dead before he’d admit in front of anyone that someone was able to crack into his system. Most days, you were content not to look given horse in the mouth.

Like clockwork, FRIDAY’s mechanical voice interrupted your thoughts:

“Agent Spectre, Mr. Stark would like to know if, I quote, you know anything about some punk kid sneaking into the mission logs again, maybe Little Miss Richter Scale, end of quote,” she stated, causing a snort of laughter actually escape you at Tony’s new and dead-on nickname. You’d have to tell Daisy that later – she’d have a good laugh at that

Me: You’re getting better and better.

Me: He’s onto you now though.

DJ: He should, he’s slacking, took him forever to notice

Sometimes, you wondered what would happen if Tony Stark and Daisy Johnson found themselves in one room and she’d tell him that to his face; but that was a thought to entertain another day.

“Thanks, FRIDAY. Tell Mr. Stark to relax. We’re safe, it is just Daisy.”

“Very well. Apologies for interrupting your free time, Agent Spectre. However, I was also tasked to inform you that Sergeant Wilson prepared enough lunch for an army and extended the invitation to join him to everyone on the team. Even to those who are currently on a mission out of state, which I find odd and, frankly, despicable.”

Even though the corner of your lips twitched at FRIDAY’s comment, your heart skipped a startled beat, a fist of cold feeling squeezing your stomach. The invitation was a nice gesture, even if not meant for you. You could read between the lines: the family the Avengers team had built themselves into, even if the second strangest you had ever seen, did not involve you. You were barely a part of the team, a temporary loan, so to speak, even as you had signed a contract. Extending the invitation to the team meant extending it to friends, to that very family. As kind and welcoming as Sam seemed, you certainly did not belong to that category.

The vibration of your phone startled you; the message as amusing as bittersweet.

DJ: Fine, keep your secrets, Ms Avenger

Right. Ms. Avenger. Case on point. You might be one, technically, on paper, but in spirit… hardly. At best, you were determined to try and prove that the way you controlled your abilities could be at least Avengers-adjacent. The harsh truth however, was that if anyone from your old team would have had it in them to become a true Avenger, it was Daisy herself. Alas, she was too busy running and flying the world with another team, protecting, teaching, and recruiting Inhumans... and saving the world in the process.

DJ: Crap gotta run

DJ: Number four is the one I think

Whoever you’re going with is gonna lose their shit when they see you, she added, once again making you snort, this time without humour.

Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. If chances of becoming a friend to an Avenger were astronomical, chances that Steve Rogers would be impressed by you dressing up to the nines were outside of all the realms known to Thor himself. But it was a nice sentiment, you supposed; the flicker of affection towards the optimist in Daisy was a testimony to that.

Me: Thank you for the help. Stay safe out there.

DJ: You too

DJ: But from what I saw about yesterday, you got it

DJ: …Ms Avenger

Shaking your head, this time unable to stop the smile taking over your lips, you set the phone down and ordered the dress to be delivered express, and moved onto shoes and a handbag; you ignored the growling of your hungry stomach and distantly couldn’t but wonder if maybe there’d be some leftovers of Sam’s pasta to have for lunch later.

Tony was not exaggerating when he was talking about the charity auction being a mission. A mission required preparation; having documents land in your inbox along with an alert of high-priority intel relevant to your mission lightning up your StarkWatch yesterday evening, you had never been more grateful for being obliged to read up on something.

As you were putting the last touches to your make-up in the quinjet bathroom, you sent another mental thank you to Tony, because the extensive files on all expected guests, besides having potential to be useful to you during the event, gave you the perfect excuse as to why leave last preparations to the flight.

Naturally, the intel itself was a message with a bitter aftertaste, because it highlighted your role and tasks. Represent. Make small-talk. Show interest. Compliment a healthy amount; meaning bootlick a bit, if necessary. You knew the dance and it had always made your head spin in the worst way. To show enough admiration and knowledge about the world’s finest to look professional and a bit of a fan, but not as a stalker, even as there were people among the attendees tonight who would have probably appreciated a stalker-level interest and considered it a compliment.

But despite the slight nausea hitting you when leafing through the files, you had appreciated the out Tony had given you, whether it was intentional or not; because with an excuse of mountains of intel to try to learn by heart, you didn’t have to sit opposite to Steve in the quinjet in awkward silence. Or worse, trying to make small talk with him, just as awkward. Or, in the worst-case scenario – which would be in the direct conflict with one of the mission’s laughable objectives, specifically trying not to kill each other – fight with him.

And you probably would have done exactly that because there was no way Captain America himself had been wrestled into this the same way you had. They might have had to twist his arm to make him go with you, but not to go. He had been given a choice and chose to attend, despite the concerns you had voiced. And you probably hadn’t been the only one, which meant Steve had to be hyperaware of the potential security issue and he deliberately ignored it. Of course. Why wouldn’t he? He was Mr. Captain America and nothing could ever happen to him; be it because he thought there was no danger and you were allegedly making it bigger deal than necessary or – which drove you all high up the wall and made you want to punch him into his damn perfect teeth or at least punch his stupidly firm pec – the threat was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Goddamn him.

You crumbled the fabric of your dress between your fingers in a firm grip as you breathed through the rush of pure indignation with him being a brave stubborn dismissive dumbass and breathed in slowly; you held your breath for a few seconds, and only then released it along with the grip on your dress. You blinked at yourself in the mirror and repeated the action, arranging your face into a neutral expression at least.

Tony might have as well come up with the idea to send the intel solely to prevent you from attempting to strangle Steven Grant Rogers before you even landed, so it would be polite to honour his efforts.

When you finally exited the bathroom and entered the main space, you found Steve in one of the seats with a tablet in his hand, the screen dimly illuminating his face. He looked up as you approached, rising to his feet almost as if on instinct, his lips slightly parted for a brief moment. His gaze glided over the dress from where it brushed your ankles, over the line of the skirt, the slit reaching mid-thigh opening and closing as you walked, revealing a silver of your leg tastefully and covering you again, then over the waist, V-shaped neckline ending mid-sternum, short sleeves with delicate frills. For a moment, the intensity of his gaze surprised you; but then you realized that he was committing the dress to memory to find you easily in the crowd in case any Avengers-related business came up.

Then, an obtrusively gentle thought nudged at your mind; he was an amateur artist. You had got a glimpse of him several times, a sketchbook and a pencil in his fingers, look distant or extremely focused on the paper in front of him. He could appreciate beauty – and the dress you chose was without doubt an embodiment of it. The glimmer of it was subtle and the sparkles sparce; in the rich dark blue blending into a purple just as dark, it resembled the sky just after dusk, with the first stars coming out. Whether he had a sense for fashion or not wouldn’t matter – the dress was, at least in your eyes, gorgeous. Not flashy, not too shiny to attract too much attention, but with an idea making up for the otherwise simple design.

When Steve met your eyes, the light of the quinjet made it appear as if there was a tinge of pink in his cheeks. And there actually might be, since his eyes lingered on the dress for a moment too long; which wouldn’t be a crime if you weren’t already wearing them, making it seem like he was staring.

“You look beautiful,” he said, the soft tone making it sound almost as if it escaped him unwittingly.

It was the most ordinary of compliments and yet, it surprised you that he had even paid it. Perhaps it shouldn’t have, as he was a product of his time – a time in which if men didn’t compliment a woman’s appearance, they were probably called louts. And yet. Even with that knowledge, something akin to warmth fluttered in your chest, a brief smile passing over your lips, the silent ‘thank you’ the least courtesy you could give in return.

If he had tried to commit your dress to memory, you’d allow yourself the same luxury. A quality black tuxedo with a faint navy-blue glint, pristine white shirt, a black bow-tie. His outfit would be but a drop in the sea, nothing that would stand out among those of other men; but you had the advantage of him being easily found in the crowd thanks to his physique alone. The broadness and strength he radiated could carry the weight of the world – and it felt like it did – narrowing beautifully into the trim waist in a ratio not even a loose jacket could hope to hide, let alone such well-fitting one which seemed to accentuate it a little more than was strictly necessary. With him towering over about ninety-five percent of people and having shoulders wider than about ninety-nine percent of the usual present company, he was truly hard to miss.

Unfortunately, it also made him an easy target who was truly hard to miss indeed.

And now you were staring and he was no doubt aware – it was impossible not to, less so with how much attention he paid to things. So you stood there in silence, awkward one, precisely the one you had wanted to avoid and yet managed to reach it in thirty seconds flat – but at least neither of you were yelling. Yet.

As glad as you were to see that Steve Rogers had clearly decided to leave whatever disagreements you had ever had back at the Tower for the sake of this mission, trying his best to be the exact opposite of antagonistic, you were not going to tell him he looked extremely good to make things even more awkward. You wouldn’t even think it, as right as the assessment was. It would be inappropriate, even as he had complimented you first.  You needed to be professional. There was a task at hand.

Right. The mission.

Steve was still watching you, something akin to curiosity in his gaze.

You cleared your throat, nodding towards the tablet in his hand.

“You were going through the files on the guests?”

Steve blinked, seemingly snapped from his thoughts.

“Yes. Have you?” he asked as he laid the tablet on the seat, straightening to his full height again; it was ridiculous how tall he seemed in the low-ceiling cabin of this type of quinjets. There was a faint smile on his lips, no tension in his jaw as he watched you; he already knew the answer and he wasn’t trying to provoke you.

Small talk it was.

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. You would swear a little twinkle of humour appeared in his eye – but it was probably just the lights reflecting in his cerulean blues. “Yesterday and today. Should be more than enough to represent properly.”

Alright, it must have been humour, because the corner of his lips twitched now at the lightest trace of defiance in your voice. Then he smiled fully, the spark burning brighter, your stomach somersaulting a bit.

Who were you kidding you had no idea; he looked more than just extremely good and handsome. In a different kind of suit than you were used to, bright eyes with their blue accentuated by the colour of his tuxedo, with uncharacteristically relaxed features and even a smile aimed at you, the beauty of him seemed so surreal you might have as well entered another dimension. Which, given your experience with Coulson’s team, was not unplausible. And yet, your heart fluttering had nothing to with fear as he went to sidestep you.

What was wrong with you today?

“Well… good. I’m sure you’ll have the two remaining objectives handled as well,” he said kindly.

You blinked, neurons firing in all directions, heart leaping to your throat. Surely, he didn’t just—the two remaining objectives. That wasn’t--- that didn’t mean anything. He probably didn’t receive the same documents, his mission package different from yours as he was one of the original Avengers, the strategist.

And yet, a worm of curiosity had already chewed its way through to your brain, an itch you needed to scratch otherwise you’d go crazy. Certainly, he couldn’t have implied-

He stepped out towards the bathroom, only to be stopped in his tracks by your impulsive words.

“Can I borrow your tablet for one more moment?” you blurted out, clearly taking him by surprise; but not unpleasantly. “I just… I just want to check on some of the guests again.”

“Sure.”

With the same faint smile adorning his absurdly handsome face, he took a few steps back to reach for the tablet, unlocking it for you and opening the file with individual documents for you to browse before taking his leave.

You weren’t sure why you needed to check – if you were a sucker for pain, needing to know your assumption he had only received three objectives was correct – but you opened the mission overview anyway.

A lump grew in your throat as you skimmed through the document, your stomach suddenly unbearably warm.

He didn’t mean it. He forgot there were four not three objectives, a sharp voice in your head argued, instantly opposed by another, even if less insistent, reminding you that Captain Rogers was believed to have eidetic memory and you had seen his impressive memory indeed in action before.

It didn’t matter. You were making a big deal out of nothing; and ocne you came back from this excuse of a mission, you needed to have your heart checked, because the irregularities in rhythm and the palpitations upon simply reading had to signal an underlying health issue.

But it was right there, in his device, in one of the documents he had just been reading through. The overview.

Location.

Time.

Two names.

Four objectives.

Four objectives which were no doubt written down by Tony, given the choice of words and their existence to begin with, because no one else would have treated an official document this way.

Make Avengers look good; Look good; Have fun (includes using Stark/Avengers card in the auction); Try not to kill each other.

You felt your cheeks heat up even though there was not a single reason to feel that way. You were a grown woman. You had been complimented countless times before, in much more flattering ways, though less playful ones. Steve was just being… polite. And a little teasing, trying to put you at ease, probably thinking you couldn’t handle yourself, having been informed about your… reluctance to attend the auction. His niceness was in overdrive since he had been literally given orders not to treat you as if he wanted to kill you. He didn’t mean it and even if he did, you had no business reacting this way.

But still. It seemed that Steve Rogers decided that for the sake of the mission, he would more than just leave your differences of opinions behind for the night; he decided to truly work hard on the one single objective that did not come easily to him. There was no other reason for that, but despite your better judgement, it brought a ghost of a smile to your face, one that felt a little stupid.

As you heard him open the door, you were quick to close the document and tap on a random one concerning the guests, just in case Steve would want to check. You pretended that you were too immersed in reading to address him as he walked to you, but there was no need.

The gentle swing of the quinjet slowing down made you forget about whatever he had been trying to imply alarmingly fast.

You were almost there; in the lion’s den. It was time to pull yourself together, be the picture perfect this mission required even if you were not. Just because your idea of a useful mission was different, you wouldn’t treat this one with any less focus or professionalism; even if you’d rather find yourself tied-up and gagged an abandoned warehouse in a middle of nowhere, with no back-up in sight, than kept a fake smile plastered to your face for hours.

Avenger or not, your task was to represent. And so you would, conveniently with the man who represented the goals and values of the team better than anyone else ever could. You’d do your best to support him in that, and you’d do so while fulfilling all the objectives of the mission indeed, even if you doubted that you’d be any better than an accessory the size of Steve’s cufflink. You doubted that Steve Rogers would need the slightest support in charming rich people and the staff alike.

Just for that, you mentally added a fifth objective, an objective anyone drawing up the document should have added themselves. For Steve, it would be not to be a dumbass and not to get himself hurt, hit by anti-serum, kidnapped or killed. For you, not to let any of these things happen to him.

It wouldn’t have been an issue in the first place if it was anyone else with you, but since Steve goddamn Rogers had decided to--- no. Not today. He truly was trying to be bearable. You’d meet him halfway; but you’d be damned if you didn’t keep your eyes open.

“I forgot to tell you earlier,” you murmured as the quinjet touched down on one of the rooftops on a nearby hotel, courtesy of Tony’s negotiating skills – his irresistible charm, as he would say – earning you Steve’s startled look. “You clean up well too.”

His shoulders sagged, eyebrow arching subtly, but his surprise melted into a slight smile again. “Thank you. Shall we?”

Like the gentleman he had been raised to be, he offered you an elbow as the ramp of the quinjet opened for you to step out. There was no need – you had walked on far worse surfaces than this in heels before, you had been forced to run and kick in them too – and you had to physically swallow the remark that would inform Steve about that. But you’d be an idiot to not see that he didn’t offer you an arm to be condescending; he did so to be nice. You could work with nice.

“Thanks.”

And with that, you stepped out, counting steps until you’d walk into the lion’s den indeed.

To say that functions, balls and auctions were not your scene would be a serious understatement. Not in the sense of you being unable to tackle them, no – you had plenty of experience – but in the sense of you absolutely despising them. Specifically, you couldn’t stand what people pretended to be when in that environment; and that included you.

It hadn’t always been like that; visiting events like this started off pleasant. People in luxury robes with wide smiles and subtle laughs echoing in glimmering halls were a thrilling environment before. Before you could fully understand what was happening, before you could read the room. It was only much later when you’d identify these events as necessary evil when working for SHIELD and the time between the two points was a long journey.

Your father would have sneaked into these, either in his own ways or through your mother’s alleged renown status; and you, naturally, went with them. She’d often leave you and your father to your own devices, charming guests into adoring her, speaking of her dedication to both her work and her family, particularly to her daughter, her tone speaking louder than her words in the case of the latter; contempt.

Meanwhile, your father was the complete opposite. He had you joined at his hip, a crutch for when his own tactics of pretending to be someone truly indispensable to SHIELD failed. If people roaming higher circles of society didn’t recognize him as the god’s gift to humanity he hoped to come across as, you’d come in; a charming young lady ready to take the world by storm, his beloved daughter, his pride and joy. Errors made that day, that week or past months didn’t matter – they didn’t exist at the moment, your performance always painted as perfect for the sake of the bragging.

It was a divine experience to receive so much praise, him sounding so earnest in front of all those people; it got sicker and more twisted the older you got, seeing the mask slipping on and off as it suited him, knowing that in the discomfort of home, you were none of what he described you as that to him. And yet. To be finally loved and seen as exceptional by your own father, the one person who had always believed in you and told you so; who wouldn’t want that? Just a taste; like melting hot chocolate on your tongue, thoroughly warming your very being, the softest of blankets that turned scratchy the moment you left the room, snatched away to leave you out in the cold reality of being born a hope and growing up a failure. But those moments, those moments you craved as much as you hated them. Because you knew they would never last.

It was one of the many contradictions of your childhood and adolescence, one of many topics of your therapy sessions that seemed to have no end. It reminded you of what Lincoln always said – that every Inhuman had a purpose and that every Inhuman’s power reflected, to a point, who they were. The way you felt you were often being pulled in two directions, loved and despised, dotted on and ignored, obedient and rebellious, to be exactly who your father had always intended for you to be and find your own path – or pretend you could, for a bit at least, to give him a glimpse of a real disappointment; all goals in direct opposition to each other. You were surprised your ability wasn’t the same as Alisha’s who could literally split herself into several images of herself. But you were hardly an overachiever, were you? You had learned long time ago that perfection was out of your reach, no matter how much you’d cry and bleed and clawed your way through to it, only to see the top of the mountain move when your fingers had almost touched it at last. And on top of that mountain; people like Steve Rogers. The man who could shove it into anyone’s face that it wasn’t that the summit was too high; it was just that they were too small of a person. That you weren’t enough.

It wasn’t fair to despise him for it. But it wasn’t fair that some of these people could insult you to your face and imply you were a lesser Avenger – while representing them nevertheless – and you had no chance to truly fight back without somewhat proving them right.

About a hundred and then some boring conversations later, encounters in which you felt your skin crawl because you hated rubbing elbows, facing fake smiles and carefully crafted politeness with veiled insults weaved between the words of those who could afford it, you were ready to take a break and you were afraid it was beginning to show too.

Captain Steve Rogers, of course, did not seem tired of pleasantries in the slightest; the golden boy still roamed among the crowds, more than willing to engage in any conversation, shaking hands and rubbing elbows indeed as if he had been born to do exactly that. Crowds loved him and that was a fact, whether what Tony had insinuated was correct or not and Steve couldn’t stand this kind environment either indeed.

You had to give it to Steve, however – and truly, you should have expected it, because this was Steve Rogers, originally a little man who could not stand people looking down at others, less so diminish someone’s worth, and he was the protector, the ultimate good guy, the perfection personified – the encounters you had handled side by side with him did not see you neglected. Quite the opposite. If someone didn’t recognize you, which applied to the majority, he was happy to introduce you, or, as it had been in most cases, he had you introduce yourself and only then he highlighted your importance to the team if anyone seemed less that impressed.

Contrary to what you would believe, his words and demeanour, however, pushed the icky sensation of the scene away rather than intensified it. Unlike your father, Steve didn’t have you trail after him. He didn’t belittle you to lift himself up. He didn’t boast about his brilliant decision to reassign you to the team since you were so useful When he spoke of you as the new addition to the team, he didn’t highlight your most recent accomplishment either, not with a condescending or patronizing tone or words that would make it sound as if he as saying oh she saved a few people just two days ago, including Natasha Romanoff, someone give her a candy.

Steve didn’t speak of you as if you were hisachievement, didn’t speak of letting you join the team, of the cooperation being his or their choice.

“We are honoured to have her join the team,” he’d say instead.

“With every mission she takes on, she proves how fortunate we are that she is one of us.”

“Her contributions to our common goal are invaluable.”

“She is an essential part of our team and we are thankful she continues to make this world a safer place with the rest of us.”

On one hand, it was almost sweet; on the other, it was irritating. You didn’t need him to earn you their respect and it should make you livid he was trying to do that, to play the hero who’d rush to your rescue. To a point, it did, because you could fight your own battles; but this battlefield tended to make you slip into a mindset you hated – made you slip into a skin you hated wearing. Still, Steve’s tendency to make it his personal mission that you were not overshadowed by him – a futile effort truly – should make your blood boil, because there he was, the world’s mightiest saviour in action again.

But the way his body language changed when someone eyed you as if you were an unwanted addition to the conversation seemed to whisper of other things than self-proclaimed white knight needing to sweep in; it expressed itself as a personal insult to him that your supposed brilliance was not acknowledged. It seemed almost as if he was gesturing to you wildly with his large palms, his voice as if demanding from the people he spoke to: do you really not see how amazing she is? Are you an idiot? Naturally, he was doing so in much distinguished manner, but that was how it felt.

You were certain someone must have got to you before Tony did back in the park, landing a hit to your head or two, causing a microtrauma that only now manifested in your entirely skewed perception and hallucinations. They must have, there was no other plausible explanation. Or maybe you had actually died; laying your life for Natasha’s would have certainly been a worthy cause. Or perhaps it wasn’t so dramatic and you had simply slipped into a coma and this was some weird manifestation of your brain recovering.

And yet, you had a feeling that if you pinched yourself, you would still feel as grounded in this strange reality as you did now, the intense surge of affection for the man still overwhelming, the satisfaction of seeing the swellheads meek and slightly embarrassed at Steve’s tone upon them dismissing you curling hot in your core. You needed to stop revel in it so much.

But be as it might, despite trying to carefully shield yourself from the effect of Steve’s very public words of appreciation due to knowing it wouldn’t last, you felt yourself grow taller than you ever had been in an event like this. You didn’t feel as obliged to smile politely just for the sake of pleasing others, even as you did smile. Despite the presence of Captain America, larger than life, you felt confident and powerful, even if this kind of feeling normally only came when you were on a mission with the target already in your pocket.

And yet, this surge of courage – and all the wondering about what an alternate reality you had entered – didn’t make the game of social chess less exhausting or brought it closer to your ideas of fun. After almost another hour of wandering on your own, tending to every conversation necessary and even those less necessary, you did find yourself in a need of a break and you liked to think you deserved one.

Naturally, fate – if there was such thing – did not grant you such courtesy.

When you finally did find yourself at the bar, it was one godawful encounter later – a single polite conversation that had sucked all life out of you, all of the little glow you felt you had gathered swept away with a single snap of fingers. It was unfair. It was unfair that your mother still had such hold on you after a lifetime of you being nothing but a bug on her windshield as she tried to drive into the sunset of her own glory, even months and months after her final abandonment.

The matter was only worse since it wasn’t even her. Just a distant colleague – her superior, no less. A few minutes, every second dragging since the moment Doctor Franklin had mentioned your mother, and you were ready to hit the bar for something far stronger than champagne.

“Ah, I knew I saw a resemblance. You must be so proud to wear your mother’s features and name. A strong woman, a survivor, truly dedicated to science, exploring the wonders of the nature of Inhuman transformation. Examining her own genetic code to be able to share fascinating facts of the uniqueness of her case. Even the draft of her study was most intriguing… pardon me, what was it that your abilities are after you, unlike her, simply acquired powers like everyone else?”

It shouldn’t have affected you; but it did. With what felt like chunks of metal in your stomach, the tickle of nausea in the back of your throat, you were almost proud you managed to hold somewhat of a smile, actually uncertain if the woman was clueless in the matter of politeness and tact or whether she was making a calculated insult.

“I’m afraid the exact nature of my abilities is classified, ma’am,” you replied. The words, even if they should feel full of vindication, tasted bitter on your tongue.

Trust your mother to finally find her exceptionality and built the pinnacle of her career on a flaw in her genetic code. Of fucking course. Making herself the centre of attention while being the primary source of that attention at the same time; what a brilliant move. Someone should give her a damn Nobel. You really were doing something wrong in your life.

So truly, you felt like were entitled to a breather as you walked away with a polite nod, trying not to throw up in your mouth as the world got slightly blurry at the edges for a moment, your heart pounding, knees feeling a little weak. You felt the sticky remnants of Doctor Franklin’s words linger on your skin, resisting the urge to rub it off.

You deserved a shot of something stronger. You weren’t sure anything weaker than absinth would do the trick and help you snap from the strange haze your body slipped into; but facing the man behind the improvised bar, you couldn’t make yourself ask for that however.

Well-aware that you needed to keep at least some face since the mission of the evening was to represent, you opted for vodka, small shot only. And despite the weary conversations, you didn’t forget: in addition to representing, you wanted to be ready to fight whoever could possibly go after Rogers. As much as you’d like to get wasted to feel actual nausea instead, something tangible and real like the burn of the strongest alcohol known to mankind, you couldn’t. Vodka it was.

You turned the shot bottoms-up, focusing fully on the hot trickle down your throat, the fire dampening all your other senses; and for a few second, it was bliss.

Until your nostrils were hit by an unfairly familiar cologne and aftershave, a deep timbre soaking into your bones whenever spoken despite how much you tried not to let it do exactly that.

“Having fun as we were ordered?”

You froze, shame, indignation and the alcohol lightning you up like a wildfire.

Great, Mr. Morality is here, you thought darkly, setting the glass down, turning to Steve with poorly masked annoyance. Annoyance which was quickly wiped out, the flames licking at your gut put out.

You expected his face to be full of judgement, anger and disappointment; but much like his voice had been, you realized, it was free of any bite or sting, simply showing light amusement and compassion, a slightly worried crinkle between his brows.

His voice had been quiet, purposely so, as not to attract lookers-on. It was a little naïve – to think he could walk in anywhere without at least ten pairs of eyes following him – but it was nice of him that he was trying not to embarrass you by publicly calling you an alcoholic.

But the gentle mix of emotion adorning his expression only made your stomach twist. It was a great paradox really; it would be so much easier to deal with tonight if he was being insufferable and judged you. But that bastard, the irritatingly handsome bastard, was being simply amazing. A much greater person you could ever be. And he didn’t mean to, probably – but he was just screaming exactly that to your face with every little action he had opted for tonight.

Not his fault, not his fault, you tried to remind yourself as he continued to watch you, curiosity sneaking into his gaze now.

Make Avengers look good.

Look good.

Have fun.

Do not kill each other.

Do not kill each other. Got it.

“Guilty as charged,” you said finally, the light tone you had hoped for not coming out quite right; but he didn’t hold it against you.

“Nothing to be guilty about,” he said, shrugging subtly. “I… might have gone for one of those myself had it had any effect on me.”

Right, you realized. Supersoldier. Accelerated healing, fast metabolism. You did happen to know he burned off most things even faster than other men built like mountains. Shorter and less broad mountains, that was.

You felt you head instinctively tilt to side a bit, contemplating what he said without spelling it out. He didn’t seemlike he needed a strong drink. In fact, he seemed perfectly like a fish in water among the sea of piranhas of people – and yes, you were aware that was a harsh judgement on some of them who were indeed rather pleasant to talk to – but Tony’s words echoed in your head.

He’s good at rubbing elbows, even if he hates it, he had said. Steve was exactly that; but apparently, he was also pretty great at hiding his distaste.

Of course that he was, you thought bitterly, even as a hint of compassion nudged at your mind; just because he was good at disguising it, it didn’t mean he didn’t feel just as sick filling the role of the most excellent companion.  

“You could do it just to feel the heat,” you suggested half-heartedly, regretting the words as soon as they left your mind.

You had to phrase it just like that, didn’t you.

Steve watched you with unnerving intensity for a moment, before he seemed to shake off whatever dark thought had occurred to him, a small smile appearing on his face.

“That is true, but somehow it’s even more disappointing if that’s the only consequence, you know?”

“…right.”

He cleared his throat, your gaze falling to his bowtie as he released you from the trap of his gaze.

“Either way. Would you like to dance?”

Your head snapped back up, shock no doubt painting your face, rendering you mute. He wasn’t--- oh he was.

Despite your expression – one painfully resembling of a deer in the headlights of an off-road SUV coming at it at hundred miles an hour – he seemed unfazed, a slight twinkle of amusement in his eye barely noticeable in the otherwise genuine demeanour. You frowned, suspicion dying out as fast as it had arisen.

Whatever motive he had to ask, it couldn’t hurt the mission, you supposed. And it would be impolite to decline. You had promised yourself to meet him halfway in his attempts to be civil; and he had gone far beyond that. For the past two weeks, not having confronted you about either the flash-drive situation nor the went-full-spectre-in-a-public-park incident, that had been him being civil. Tonight, he was courteous even. Pleasant. Kind. You had no idea why he hadn’t sought you out to get answers or scold you, nor why he went this far out of his way to treat you like this tonight, but you had enough common sense not to poke even as it had been eating away at the back of your mind.

You just needed to accept it and be thankful, and needed to aid the common goal; and maybe, just maybe, revel in it and store the memory for later, even if such luxuries only burned with emptiness once they were gone.

But how could you do any different?

“Sure,” you said simply. “Why not.”

How could you feel any different when his lips smiled half-heartedly, but his eyes showed true warmth? A startling warmth almost; but it was nothing in comparison to the heat of his body when he offered you his elbow and led you to the small dancefloor in the adjacent room with only a few high tables lining the walls; it was nothing in comparison to the soft jolt of electricity that ran through your nerves all the way down your spine when his hand took yours carefully, eyes fixed on your face, checking for any sign of discomfort when he pulled you close at the first notes of a waltz.

Up close, without either of you screaming into each other’s faces, he was painfully beautiful; you knew that. You knew that already, because you had played the forbidden game of imagining what it would be like to see his face from this distance; but the reality of it was startling, a tingle of a thrill and pain at once. Inches close and miles away from reach. To be at the receiving end of the look in his eyes, painted partly by delusion and the aforementioned hits in the head you had probably suffered, was the sweetest torture.

It was impossible to ignore his firm but gentle grip, his confident lead; a wall of perfectly controlled muscle, hard planes of his body and yet its surprising softness and warmth, leaving your head spinning and sending your thoughts to an indecent dangerous direction; what would it be to feel him even closer? What would it be like to—

You’d never know. For a large part, of your own doing; for another part, of his own, because you had never met a more irritating person in your life and you had met a quite a few. He was impossible in his very unique different way – even as you knew that was tainted by your own perception – he was impossible in a way you couldn’t but want anyway.

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear, snapping you from your useless musings back to reality.

Yeah, thanks, I was signed up for ballet class about as soon as I could walk, because it should have helped my posture and body coordination in preparation for working for SHIELD before I could attend martial class lessons. Because a kid younger of six years getting punched would have been a bad image for my parents. Not that I knew any of that at that time. Anyway, I had to rediscover my love for dancing much later on-

You cut off your train of thought, swallowing the unnecessarily hostile and dark truth. Instead, you reciprocated his easy subtle smile, something inside your quivering at the casualness and sincerity of the compliment.

“Depends on the lead, right?” you murmured.

Mentally, you sighed, cursing yourself for your loose mouth.

You could have said something along the lines of you too, and it would be an understatement; Steve’s lead indeed was firm but not forceful, elegant ease without a shred of indecency, his sense of rhythm impeccable, which was much more than you could say about some of your companions on the dancefloor. But no; you chose to mention his leading skills, instantly circling back to what was bothering you – you having standing up to his lead as a Captain before and him not mentioning it. He had kept blissfully quiet and here you were, dangling the topic you should have been glad had been put to rest in front of him as if you wanted him to take the bait no matter the cost.

You really must have been hit in the head; or perhaps you were finally returning to normal yourself.

But Steve Rogers was a man of many faces and surprises up his sleeves, apparently. His smile only widened briefly at your note, eyes flashing with amusement, before a little frown creased his brow.

“Don’t sell yourself so short.”

You gulped. Again. He complimented you with such ease, as if it was the most natural thing in the world; and it seemed like he meant every bit. The way your heart fluttered at that ached pleasantly. Hadn’t it been for the sober voice in the back of your head, telling you were on a borrowed time of this kind of treatment, it wouldn’t ache at all. It almost, almost didn’t.

Because the one word you had left out when thinking about his lead on the dancefloor, having avoided it on purpose, was safe. You entered an uncharted territory tonight; you knew Captain America’s lead from your numerous missions you had been chosen for under his command. And even as you had challenged his leadership before, you trusted him on that front. But tonight was a very different thing; and still, he somehow emitted the same aura, in a considerably more intimate way.

It was terrifying.

But as much as you were taken aback, with no clue how to even respond to that, your instincts – probably all over the place, because had you been in sound mind, you would have run for the hills before accepting his offer in the first place – whispered you were safe indeed.

And if you’d turn it into a joke, you’d be even safer.

“If that was a reference to my height, I’d like to point out everyone is short compared to you. And that is with all the extra inches--- that my heels have.”

Oh for god’s-

Your fingers flexed reflexively on his arm; your hand in his would have twitched if he hadn’t held it so firmly. You did not just say that, did you? Closing your eyes briefly, you felt your face burn hot, the furnace of Steve’s body suddenly feeling like ice in comparison. Why on Earth did you talk about inches? First feeling the heat, then this, damn Freudian slips, damn his well-fitting suit and handsome face-

Bless him, his chuckle was good-natured and not in the slightest dirty – then again, you should have expected nothing less from the golden boy, shouldn’t you? He wouldn’t hold it against you and had it been anyone else, you would have been grateful, much like in any other situation. But this was him and tonight your mission was literally to avoid this kind of embarrassing phrasing.

“You know what I meant,” he said, not unkindly – much to your relief and irritation.

You hummed noncommittally, still processing this was somehow a reality you had found yourself in. A reality in which Steve Rogers was a pleasant company, kept you close and safe enough that you had spent several moments with your eyes closed while dancing without fearing you’d end up with a broken ankle, a reality where-

“I wanted to apologize.”

-he just said he was sorry.

Your eyes snapped open, your step, a second nature you barely needed to think about, faltering just a fraction. You found your footing with the very next step and perhaps not even Steve had noticed; but he for sure must have noticed the undiluted shock that overtook your features.

Yet, he held calm in the face of your awe and bewilderment, gaze fixed on yours whispering of nothing but sincerity and regret indeed.

He was apologizing.The sudden lump in your throat was the only thing in physical reality that felt real at all; the rest truly must have been but a fever dream. That and the frantic beats of your heart.

“For what?” you asked quietly.

You weren’t trying to be petty, if he truly was apologizing. You meant it.

Naturally, you had a good idea what he was referring to, but that was part of the reason why it was so puzzling; more so since he now knew what the intel was about, since he was aware who exactly you put in danger by failing. Then again, the fact you were both here despite it told you all over again that he didn’t let that bother him too much.

But even with him deliberately ignoring the threat…

Yes, he had not acted very thoughtfully, but whether you liked it or not, he wasyour superior, he had put together that mission and so you understood the frustration he had felt at the moment. Hell, you had felt it yourself – you would have yelled at yourself too. And looking back, you knew that some of your momentary view of his behaviour and attitude, of his actions, stemmed from the fact you had been disappointed in yourself too; and that most time, he did in fact realize he could do wrong and that he in fact did care for every single member of the team. He probably did give a damn about the fact that you – your spectre anyway – got shot. He probably cared about the fact that two days ago, you left a big damn opening when you projected in public without making sure you had someone in your corner.

You weren’t sure that there was any need to apologize, even with him yelling at you in front of everyone to the point where you hadn’t been able to stand it and a few tears had escaped you – because damn, did he touch a nerve – even if he had been a bit of an asshole.

Most people apologized because they felt the need to ease their conscience, to keep up appearances; but seeing Steve now, the soft and strict lines of his face, told you that he was apologizing for your benefit mainly. It would be sweet if it was so irritating.

Golden boy. Shoved straight to your face. You could never be as good as him, because he simply wasn’t human – and you were the Inhuman from the pair. God, he had his hands on you and he didn’t even try to cop a feel or anything for crying out loud. He was being kind and respectful and so damn beautiful and tall.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he said slowly, gaze intent as if he wanted to make sure you absorbed every word. “I shouldn’t have done that to begin with, but the witnesses made it even worse. And all you did was making a quick decision in a difficult situation, according to your best conscience no doubt. I might not have agreed with it, but you still didn’t deserve such treatment.”

“And you’d do the same,” you added.

You almost slapped your hand over your mouth as soon as the words were out.

This was what happened when you felt safe. You talked back. Dammit.

You could see – and feel, because his chest was practically brushing yours, something you were hyperaware of even as you tried your best not to be– him breathe in to retort.

You really needed to have your head checked out. You should have just taken the apology and cherish it, like any normal person, even if it irked you that Steve Rogers was capable of self-reflection and had enough strength to admit his shortcomings. He was simply better than everyone else. It was easy to see that with no emergency in sight, but that didn’t make it easier to accept that and act accordingly every second of the day.

Yet, you tried at least now.

“Sorry! Sorry. Don’t push it, Spectre. Got it,” you blurted out, fixing a quick smile and you would have sworn you had seen a sparkle on mischief in his blue irises under the indignation. You cleared your throat. “Apology accepted, Captain.”

His relaxed his tense jaw, gaze softening further; painfully so.

“Thank you. And I thought you knew you could call me Steve.”

Golden boy – case on point. You swallowed, unable to keep the swirl of warmth in your chest from creeping into your voice even as you knew you were diving into dangerous waters with reckless abandon by following his request.

“Apology accepted, Steve.”

If your voice was warm, his smile was half the power of the sun, heating your very bones, your heart stumbling in your chest. You should run; you should run because you were never going to receive a gift like that again and the longer you basked in it, the worse it would be when it was gone. But you had already established that sometimes, you couldn’t help but throw caution out of the window despite knowing how much it would hurt later when you’d have to go and scramble to gather it again, hadn’t you?

And so when the song blended into another, the smallest squeeze to your fingers a wordless question, you nodded against your better judgement.

Steve’s smile grew a fraction, feet quick to adjust to the new rhythm, the air around you warmer another few degrees. It was hard to let his apology and kindness linger in the air and not react to it; even as you needed to breathe in and out a few times, eyes examining his face carefully as to predict whether what you were about to say would come back stabbing you in the back.

“I’m sorry for my outburst too. I… acted emotional.” As you recalled the traitorous tears that had escaped you, you thought that to say that was an understatement, but Steve didn’t seem to hold it against you. Instead, he listened with unnerving intent to all you had to say. “Which isn’t an excuse, but I’m still sorry. I… didn’t exactly watched my tongue. I mean, I didn’t-“

­-I didn’t mean what I said, you wanted to say, your voice dying in your throat at the startingly gentle blue of Steve’s eyes, your breath hitching at the sudden vice squeezing your chest. This moment, whatever it was, was becoming overwhelming fast; and you found yourself unable to force the words out.

Because they weren’t true; you had definitely meant a few things, your anger with Steve snapping you back when you had been this close to gathering intel on something that threatened, without exaggeration, his life, just because he had been outraged at… whatever, that was very real. Much like him, you had had a reason for your outburst; and for that itself, you couldn’t apologize. Not when you wouldn’t mean it. Not when he was looking at you like he’d trust anything you said. You couldn’t but reciprocate his honesty even if it should earn you an official demerit from Captain America himself.

“…I didn’t mean at least half of the things I said.”

Steve’s welcoming expression shifted in an instant, your heart already startling in reaction to the change, muscles tensing in an instinctual fight-or-flight response.

And then your brain caught up.

Steve was grinning. He was grinning with mischief lightning up his face bright, humour dancing in his eyes – good-natured humour without a single trace of offense, but maybe with a little speckle of surprise; and if you looked close enough and entertained the thought, pride.

And by god he was breath-taking, leaving you feel like you had flown too close to the sun for a moment unaware that the inevitable fall would kill you.

“Well, as long as it was only a half,” he hummed, his amusement audible in his voice too. There was a strange but not unpleasant tilt to it; almost as if he knew that if he simply accepted your apology right away, the situation would have had you run for the hills indeed. “Apology accepted, Spectre.”

You gulped, taking a wavering breath, flying just a little higher. “You know you can call me by my first name too, right?”

That was only fair, no? That was what you told yourself until Steve smiled softly and repeated himself slowly, this time with your name indeed. That was when you realized you really had caught yourself in a foolish indulgence, because the feeling washing over you was… nice. Very, very nice. His tone, his words were both indescribably nice, and so was the way he held you to lead your through the room without an ounce of indecency, and so was his proximity and his warmth. It was dangerously nice and you felt your chest, having briefly be filled with that tender fragile feeling, tighten instead.

And then Steve spoke up again.

“…and you’re probably right.”

Your eyebrows shot up, gasping; and had you any different company than a room full of important or at least self-important people dressed in black-tie attire, you wouldn’t have stopped your jaw from falling.

Did he just-

Stop the presses! you wanted to shout.

Did he just admit he himself was a hothead?

What peculiar kind of an alternate reality had you entered indeed to see Steve Rogers admit he had been a hypocrite?

This was simply too satisfying to be true.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m the best example,” he added.

You found yourself chuckling through your shock, earning a glare that might have no anger in it, but certainly emitted indignation and gravity. Except the corners of Steve’s lips were twitching.

Damn him. Damn him and his charming side. Since when did he have a charming side and engaged in self-reflection so deep?

Since always, an annoying voice whispered in your head, reminding you that at certain times, you were, in fact, very well aware that Steve Rogers was just as golden as people claimed – even if in way they couldn’t hope to fathom and neither could, not fully.

“Nah, I think it’s one of the very rare traits of yours that should definitely be copied,” you retorted cheekily, never having time to wonder if you went too far since Steve simply kept him mouth shut.

It was a good thing he did, because if he didn’t, you might get tangled in your lie; and might have to admit that you believed that while there were a few of those that shouldn’t be copied in order for the world to maintain some shreds of sanity, there were many more of those which, should they be replicated, would make the world a better place. He probably knew that anyway; he strived to be the example to all. He didn’t need to hear it from you, didn’t need to know that despite your disagreements, you felt everything but contempt for him, with respect on top of the list. And then there was the fact that you were not blind to him being literally meant to be built like the peak of man and looked precisely like it.

And still, his silence surprised you. Despite what you thought of him on better days, it was still a wonder he didn’t try to disprove you; he was full of surprises tonight.

Then again, that was probably the point.

“You know, Tony and Pepper would probably have had no problem coming here tonight,” you spoke lowly into to the silence that settled between you. “They just pushed us together to do something like this.”

Steve’s eyebrows jumped a bit, a brief smirk passing his lips.

“Well-aware. Does that bother you?” he asked, head tilted to side slightly.

You pondered his question for a bit, not sure why. You could have easily said anything, the first or the second or third lie popping up in your mind. But his genuinely curious gaze observing you as he waited for your response, his demeanour the whole evening, and his surprisingly open expression made you want to tell the truth again.

“Not that much. You’re not a bad dancer yourself,” you teased him lightly, feeling your lips permanently stuck in a smile now.

His own smirk melted into a smile again as well, soft crinkle in the corner of his eye.

“Thank you. I know I said it before, but you do look beautiful.”

You blinked.

There he went again, driving his point across; he wanted you to think, to believe perhaps, that his compliments were genuine, not a turn of speech. Why? And what could you even say to that when he kept looking at you like he meant it, the world around you blurring a bit, falling into but a background noise, years of training and his confident hold on you leading you through the dancefloor with ease still, even as the song must have changed again. Had it?

You wished conversation would come just as easy, even when emotions swirled in your chest wilder than your skirts around your calves.

“…thanks. Uhm, Tony said to buy something nice-“

“Mission accomplished, it suits you-“

“-I think he was probably sick of us clashing a lot lately,” you added quickly, almost speaking over him.

He was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for – after all, he had brought up the topic of your fight in an environment where it would have been rude of you to flee just in case you wanted to and he wasn’t called a master strategist for nothing – so he caught your attempt to deflect. And he graced it with brief silence, not pushing, letting your words hang in the air for a moment. Golden boy. Perfect. Too good.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he hummed, one corner of his lips rising higher, his smile almost boyish now. “Did I mention I was sorry?”

“Yeah... did I?”

“You did.”

“Good,” you muttered, blissfully lost in his gentle gaze, even as you had to crane you neck a bit.

The moment was sweet. Slightly electric. Surprisingly comfortable. Peaceful.

Peace.

That was a specific word. With a pang in your chest, it occurred to you that was precisely what it was that Tony intended to achieve when he assigned you to this. To begin to renew the peace that had been within the Avengers family before your presence disrupted it. And Steve had accepted the invitation with you attached to it because he saw the importance of the team holding together from the strategic point of view.

Tonight was a mission. Necessary networking, even as Steve had tried to make it feel like anything but, and necessary attempt at smoothening the relationships within the team. Yes, it was beautiful, but Tony himself had called you a Cinderella. This was but a fairy-tale. An illusion. A projection.

The very spectre of you and Steve, of you being a full Avenger.

Once tonight was over, you’d have to snap back, like you always did. And like always, the pain of what you had lost as a spectre, be it blood or a warm embrace, would linger too. Back in your cold aching reality.

But not in Steve’s; Steve would remain who he was, to the world, to his team, to his friends. To you. It had been a sweet sentiment, a good-natured attempt; and for the night, it lasted. Once again, you felt played by your own naivety, already feeling your waxed wings melting and slowly prepared yourself for the brutal landing.

You kept up your smile, even as you felt the pleasant hum in your ribcage fall silent, your eyes not burning, because there was no reason for it, was there?

“You have good friends, Steve,” you whispered, the blue of his gaze warming up with fondness as he no doubt agreed. “They might be nosy, but they mean well.”

“And they are your friends too,” he replied softly, the pang in your ribcage stronger this time. He believed that, he genuinely did. Maybe that was why it hurt so much; he had seen the worst of the world and believed in the best still; you could read it in his actions, in his expression right now.

But you couldn’t bear it anymore, your gaze falling to the smooth fabric of his bowtie, contrasting with the pristinely white shirt indeed, just as you had known from the start he would wear. Pure. The symbol of all goodness in your culture. Just like him.

You heard what he was saying and yes, it was a tempting thought you had fallen for before. That you could be friends with the team, that the others cared – but you could count the number of people who cared for you on one hand and still had fingers left. People cared for your abilities, admired them maybe, sure. But you were a realist. Even before the Natasha incident – which truly was just her doing her job – you knew and you kept repeating it to yourself, because entertaining any other possibility was dangerous: your abilities, your results or the lack of them, those were what truly mattered. To everyone. To your father, eventually your mother too, to your SHIELD team, to your fellow Avengers. To Steve too. Had those powers come in a different meatsuit than yours, it wouldn’t change a thing. You were just a casing for what they needed.

It wasn’t okay, but it was alright.

The thing was, you couldn’t make Steve admit that – not him. He was a good man – infuriating one, yes, not without fault, yes, but incredibly undeniably good in his core. All the Avengers cared for people too, you would be an idiot not to see it, but if there was one person who would try to look the furthest beyond the abilities you carried, it would be him. Perhaps that was the scariest part of tonight – of him being not only civil, but perfectly pleasant and meaning it. Because he was just that perfect.

And perfect was never in your reach.

“Sure,” you replied absently as you looked up again.

You could tell his own gaze never left your face; and he no doubt noticed the change. His eyes were roaming your features, searching, wondering and seeing; you found yourself slipping into a neutral mask, your way too relaxed stance straightening, muscles tensing.

You only tensed further when you recognized softness and understanding creeping into his gaze, his voice quiet.

“You know-“

You thanked your lucky stars when the song ended and you were allowed to step back from him with an awkward smile.

“I’m going to find the restroom, excuse me.”

You swallowed heavily upon seeing something akin to disappointment and exasperation on his face; but when you pulled away, he didn’t stop you, didn’t use his strength to keep you in place, leaving the choice – as much as he clearly not approved of it – to you. You tried to force your smile further, grateful for that if not for nothing else.

“Thank you for the dance, stranger.”

And with that, you disappeared to the crowd, well-aware that if he wanted, he could have followed, because even in the sea of robes, his eidetic memory told him exactly what yours looked like.

Getting a fifteen-minute break from people, one in particular, was more than generous and yet you granted it to yourself; because putting yourself back together took time. Not for the first time, you sent a silent thank you to Agent May for having taught you her ways of accepting your emotions as they were, locking them away for later and channel them in the right direction when needed.

If you counted your dances with Steve – even as you tried very hard not to think about them – it added up for almost half an hour of the breather you had planned when getting the drink. You needed to go back to work, back to networking, because it was getting late; you had no doubt there were still people to talk to, no matter how efficient your colleague had been.

As you walked the halls with a smile arranged on your face, nodding politely at people admiring the various pieces of art of all forms, from drawings and paintings to sculptures and installations, your gaze fell on one of auctioned objects.

You smile slipped, your steps faltering along with the steady beat of your heart; and then you forced the corners of your lips back up, nails digging into the back of your hand as you folded them in front of your abdomen, to stop yourself from running to the glass stand where what seemed like a very old artifact was laid proudly on display.

And by old, you meant thousands of years old. And you really, really prayed that you were wrong, that your mind was simply playing tricks on you to avoid the emotional turmoil of today, to-

“Son of a-”

Three more steps closer and the curse was on your lips before you could swallow it completely, heart thundering in your chest against the sudden tightness. You didn’t like to be wrong; but in this particular case, you really wished you had been.

But apparently not.

See, this is why we can’t have nice things, you thought to yourself as you released a wavering breath and took off in the search of Steve, as if you hadn’t run from what seemed to be particularly nice things yourself only a little over ten minutes ago.

You swallowed the panic rising in your throat as you caught a glimpse of him talking to an elderly couple, telling yourself that your discovery was the only reason for that. Because that would be plausible and completely valid; an appearance of what SHIELD called an 0-8-4, an object of unknown origin, was never good news.

Except you were rather certain of its origin and that only made it worse.

Steve spotted you now, a small smile lighting up his face as if you hadn’t just taken an escape from when he tried to convince you were a part of the team in the friendliest sense of the word, gesturing to you lightly so the couple turned to you as well.

You smiled wider, squeezed your hand stronger. Too bad – the Lewises – had seemed nice enough when you had read up on them, were one of the rare attendees who were here for their genuine interest in art.

“Good evening, I am so sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Lewis, Mr. Lewis,” you said sincerely, introducing yourself as the lady already extended her hand to you, followed by her husband’s. “It is a pleasure to meet you and I would be very happy to talk to you if you’d be willing, but I need to borrow Captain Rogers for a little bit-“  

“By all means, Agent, don’t let a couple of old folks keep you two,” Mrs. Lewis chuckled, gently touching Steve’s forearm as she smiled at him almost motherly. “Thank you, young man, it’s nice to see bright young minds interested in conversations about thought-provoking art. Do find us if you can spare another minute later.”

“I would personally use the words lovely couple, Mrs. Lewis,” you said warmly before turning to Mr. Lewis. “I promise to bring him back as soon as possible.”

“It’s been a pleasure,” Steve added as he covered her feebly hand on his, squeezing gently. “Agent?”

“Just a small issue, I’m sure it can be dealt with quickly,” you assured him in front of them, your face growing more serious the second you turned away, your voice falling so low only his enhanced hearing could hopefully catch it. “Thought-provoking art indeed. There’s an 0-8-4 on the items list.”

The way Steve’s back straightened, a sign of him turning mission-alert in an instant, would have been a treat to watch in any other circumstance, you supposed. But not in yours. And not in this case.

As you walked away, he followed your unhurried tempo, stopping by the displays briefly when you did, as if you were simply admiring the art. His face gave away nothing unusual happening beyond a minor inconvenience; you weren’t sure if he believed you were making a big deal out of nothing or if he was that good of an actor.

“Anything you encountered before? Potentially how dangerous are we talking?”

His voice had dropped too, but barely enough for you to hear. To an untrained eye, it probably looked like a normal hushed conversation, a couple – of friends – sharing opinions on the auction items indeed. Good. You didn’t need to spread panic on top of barely containing your own.

“Yes and no, I only recognize the symbols. And I can’t tell, but I wouldn’t underestimate it,” you uttered as you gradually moved closer, the artifact now in sight.

Steve stood diagonally beside you, barely a step behind your shoulder; he could keep his voice very low that way, practically whispering to your ear, while you could keep talking almost soundlessly.  

“Should I recognize this? I’m not familiar.”

You bit back a bitter smile, stepping in front of the display together at last. The item itself looked unassuming; a stabile built of plates of metal, interwoven and reaching out of the tangle like tentacles. Except the surface of the plates wasn’t smooth; an intricate pattern of lines and circles rose slightly above it, a geometrical masterpiece only a few people on Earth knew the meaning of. Outside of Earth, well; you wouldn’t dare to guess.

The good news, hopefully, was that the sculpture meant to be in one piece was broken into two; that meant that if the effect was, like with many others you had encountered, tied to breaking the casing of whatever weapon it could be hiding, it had been out for a while and thus might not pose danger anymore. But you weren’t willing to take that chance.

“I’m not sure,” you whispered, almost choking out the words, wary of one word in particular as not to alarm anyone in vicinity just in case. “It is mostly Coulson’s team that handles all the… Kree mess.”

Short silence followed, only for Steve to draw in a shaky breath.

“…are you positive?”

It probably wasn’t meant to be a challenge, but you took it as one anyway, a flare of anger rushing through your veins, because was he serious? That was genuinely insulting. You spent practically your whole post-academy service to SHIELD with Coulson’s team following the trail of artifacts left behind by the lovely alien race Kree were – in fact, artifacts uncomfortably resembling this one. So yes, you were pretty bloody positiveyou were right.

You turned to Steve and took a step back to throw to his face – in as calm manner as was socially acceptable despite wanting to just spit it out – that you were pretty damn certain, because one did simply not forget a single thing about the literally blue aliens that indirectly gave them powers. Except you never got to make a single sound, because Steve’s eyes widened all of sudden, gaze still fixed on the display you had just turned your back to and his fingers closed around your wrist and tugged you closer to him again with surprising force given how gentle he had held you when you-- so not the time.

“Alright, point proven,” he whispered hastily, stepping back and releasing you before you could question him just turning from a gentleman of the year to a lout who just… grabbed a woman and manhandled her.

Frowning, you glanced over your shoulder just in time to see a faint light of the symbols dying out, your panic skyrocketing and making you forget all about your exasperation.

Oh. Oh, that was not good at all.

It recognized you. It sensed the Inhuman in you as you had unwittingly moved closer to it. It was reacting even sooner than the Diviner had, the first Kree artifact your team had encountered, whose symbols only lit up upon being touched by an Inhuman, or a person carrying Inhuman markers in their DNA yet to be turned into one.

“Sorry for-“

“It’s fine,” you interrupted his apology, appreciating it nevertheless. Yet, your smile probably turned out to be more of a grimace, bitter sarcasm bleeding into your tone. “Well, Tony said we should bid on something anyway, right? I’ve got my pick”.

Steve’s eyebrow twitched without a hint of amusement, but he didn’t disprove you, moving to scan the room for any vendor to start bidding indeed; you automatically reached for your black-tie-attire-friendly StarkWatch, to alert the HQ.

You never got to finish the message.

Steve never got to even step out.

A tell-tale metallic sound, a clink of a grenade hitting the tiled floor had both of you snap your head to the source, losing two precious seconds by looking for where exactly it landed, startled intakes of breath taken before a scream could gather in your lungs to warn people to get down.

There was no time to react. The screams aligned with the eardrum-rupturing noise of an explosion, a blur of a movement to your right and a force to be reckon with slamming into you.

Even without his signature weapon, Steve automatically threw himself between you and the grenade, pushing you down and shielding you with his body at least. The heat licked at your skin just as the pressure wave slammed into you both, sending you flying and crashing hard into the glass cabinet, Steve’s arm taking large portion of the brunt of impact.

A jolt of electricity rushed through your nerves along with the pain, a dull crack in your head, the edges of your vision blurring. You barely registered the stream of agents in black gear cutting through the clouds of smoke and vapour tear gas. Smell of copper and iron hit your nostrils, strong enough to make you nauseous; blood and fire. Steve’s cologne; then more blood. Lights and shadows bleeding into one, the former too bright for your smoke-filled teary eyes. The noise was deafening too – shouts and shrieks of terror you knew you should respond to, because it was your duty as an agent and as a half-baked Avenger.

But you didn’t seem to control your body for long enough to as much as lift your hand to check if the sharp pain in the back of your head was an open wound or not, let alone to climb to your feet as Steve’s voice echoed in your ears, warm hands firm on your waist, prickling sensations like thousand needles piercing through your skin all over.

The pain tore through every single cell of your body without warning, but you didn’t have time to find the cause or wallow in it; darkness enveloped you completely and you sank into its thick waters without a chance to fight it, until it swallowed you whole.

Next chapter

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

Hope you don’t mind a little cliffhanger, hehe... as a treat for reading! I wanna say I was really excited about this chapter, sneaking in something soft and fluffy in between the angst, but I’m excited to share everything so... yeah.

I would like to take a moment or two to thank you, again, for your comments. They give me a rush of joy and I read every single one of them more than once; they give me strength to continue even when sudden feeling of ‘this is meh’ attacks me and the thoughts you share ground me back in the story when I feel like I’m slipping away from where I wanted to take it. I cherish your feedback, no matter the form, so much. Thank you 💕

[mingkilovur]

Prologue

pairing: nightfury!seonghwa x ?!reader wc:488 summary: you grew up your whole life despising dragons. they've taken everything from you, everything you once had has become nothing but a distant memory. you swore to avenge your family, the life you once knew if it's the last thing you did. but what happens when theres an obstacle in your way? when you find out nothings is as it truly seems.... type of story:series(maybe mini series tbd) cw: character death, mentions of blood, nightmares(pls lmk if i missed anything) (series masterlist || overall masterlist)

You could smell the fire. taste the ash. you swore you could feel the talons digging into your back. the ground disappearing from under your feet as you get carried away and then falling and falling and falling and fa-

you jolt awake with a gasp, tears streaming down your face as you throw the covers off of your body and grab at your chest. Its the 3rd night in a row you’ve had the same dream(really a nightmare) it always starts and ends the same; your younger self playing dress up with your mom, tiaras on both your heads and the prettiest dresses ever seen in castle Crescent Moon. you dance and sing along to the soft music playing in the background until suddenly, your father bursts through the rooms doors frantic and out of breath. Everything happens in a blur, all you remember is running through doors and down long corridors, screams bouncing off the walls and assaulting your ears like loud sirens. 

cries of despair getting louder as you start to feel warmer, smell fire. you escape the walls of the castle leaving behind your parents, leaving behind the last shred of a life you once knew. you hear a loud whistle and suddenly, what’s left of the castle explodes into flames. your entire life destroyed in seconds. you scream for your family “mom? dad? where are you?” though your cries fall onto deaf ears, no one left alive to answer your pleas; 

you’re alone…

  you hear wings flapping and you feel the earth beneath your feet trembling. you look towards the sky and see a thunder of dragons flying away. all variations and sizes, large enough to instill fear in your heart even if departing. You hear a loud roar from behind you, and suddenly there’s an excruciating pain in your upper back. Long calloused talons dig into your flesh, ripping tendons and muscles alike causing you to cry out.

You feel the earth disappearing from under your feet, and you glance around frantically in hopes to see your captor. you let out a blood curdling scream, what you see as you look up scares you. a pair of neon green eyes molded into tiny slits stare back at you in anger, in disgust. It lets out a low menacing growl that reverberates deep into your being, radiating its malice and hatred towards you.

“Please p-please let me down, i'm scared” you cry out as you begin to thrash hoping to dislodge the sharp talons from your skin. You can feel the warm blood dripping and trailing down your back and you watch the dragon take a long whiff of the smell. It’s eyes widening and pupils dilating, then suddenly it releases its talons from your skin , letting you free fall. You hear the wind rushing past as you fall, gravity pulling you down down down… 

Until finally… nothing

a/n: ok ok... be honest how was it... im actually kind of nervous to be posting anything i think that's why everything i've ever written has stayed a wip BUT i have faith in myself to do this!! any feedback is appreciated!! stay happy and healthy- squish<3

[tapejob]

hockeyblr linguistics - a preliminary analysis

hey all! as some of you know, i sent out a hockeyblr lingo survey a few days/weeks/something ago. as of today i finally have the free time to tackle it. big thanks to everyone who took the time to fill out the survey, and without further ado: a kind of hasty, barely technical, preliminary analyses of hockeyblr lingo!

this dataset features around 21 main questions, with a sample size of around 673 respondents. partial responses were also combined in the final dataset because i got tired of waiting. obligatory disclaimer on response bias due to the nature of an online survey, etc etc.

i'm dividing this analysis mainly question-by-question, but also organized somewhat by themes/section. while we're mainly covering vocab + pronunciations, there's also sections looking at connotations/sentiment associated with words, and hockeyblr behavior patterns. it is very late at night, please bear with me if i get anything wrong.

section i: vocab + pronounciation demographics

Q1: vocabulary associated with the hat trick*

*as anon and multiple respondents have mentioned, this specific question contains a typo that may have affected data collection. the original question posed was 'what do you call three goals in a period?', which caused some confusion. though i think this data is enough to get the gist of it, this is something to keep in mind. i spent some time cleaning the 'other' responses and incorporating any '3 goals in a GAME is a hatty' responses into the other points, but i apologize for the confusion, haha

'hatty' as a casual reference seems to dominate the preferences. the other two spellings of hat trick seem to be less popular, but still present in the sample. in addition, 2 respondents brought up using 'HT' and/or 'H-T' as shorthand.

it is curious to note: in 'other' responses, at least 12 separate people brought up that they would use 'hatty' and 'hat trick' interchangeably (while only 1 person brought up they would use 'hatty' and 'hattrick', and no one mentioned 'hatty' and 'hat-trick' as pairs).

Q2: What is the title of the player that guards the team's net?

'goalie' seems heavily favored, while 'goaltender' and 'tendie' come after. given that these three terms are most likely to be derived from each other (goalie from goal, tendie from tender), it's understandable: goaltender is the official position name in ice hockey. yet it's curious how 'goalie' is so much more preferred, compared to say the hatty vs hat trick.

i bring this up anecdotally because i remember talking with a friend of mine not in hockey (but into other sports), and she laughed a bit incredulously when i said 'goaltender', like i was making a joke. 'what a weird name, tender, haha,' she'd said, and i got. extremely confused for a moment because i had been so used to it being common vocab.

Q3: What is the term you use to reference who calls the game?

as also mentioned in the other section, there are a lot of people on the ice with a lot of different titles (ref vs linesmen) - how much of this data captures the people who care and specify (mentioned in the others responses) vs those who just call everyone ref (also mentioned in the others responses)? something to consider in the future. in addition, 'zebra' surprised me as a somewhat common term, given that i rarely see it used on my dash.

a big oversight on my part was forgetting to put 'refs' as an option - that's why the 'other' chunk seems so large here. below is an expansion on the 'other' responses:

Q4: How do you pronounce the term for the period played following a tie at the end of the 3rd period?

this question sort of combines pronunciation and vocab in one. once again, shorthand seems to be favored (specifically the 'OT (oh-tee)' pronunciation, though there were still respondents for the other pronunciation). interestingly, more fun terms were also reflected among a decent couple people in the 'other' section, shown below in the figure.

shoutout, also, to the respondent who called an instance of overtime 'instant victory'.

Q5: How do you pronounce the term that references when your team gets to play with an extra man on the ice due to a penalty from the other team?

interestingly, this is one of the questions where the shorthand wasn't favored (powerplay over pp). also, as @bisexualingmaliciously brought up: terms like man advantage, commonly favored during announcing, aren't as widely favored, while pee-pee (wouldn't be caught dead on air if they can help it) is considerably larger of a chunk. shoutout, also, to the respondent who pronounces pp as 'puh'.

in other responses, 'poplay' was also brought up as a term. another respondent made a specific distinction that powerplay was used for speaking, but PP for typing - this gap might be something to consider in the future.

Q6: How do you pronounce the term that references when a player gets a goal into a net that a goaltender has been pulled from?

'empty netter' as a term falls into a somewhat shorthand purgatory (with the full term as empty net goal, and true shorthand as ENG). it's similar vibe i assume as calling hat trick -> hatty -> HT. also, unlike PP and OT, ENG pronunciation is slightly more varied (not by a lot, but a little).

within 'other', 5 respondents also cited 'empty net' as their term. obviously this might not be favored due to the confusion (empty net as the event of not having the goalie in the net, vs empty net as the goal on that specific empty net). yet in the sentence 'crosby got the ___', why do the majority of us prefer empty netter over empty net (which, i do recall instances of announcers using as well)? does the 'er' ending roll off the tongue better? expansion on other response data below:

another note: a respondent made a specific distinction that empty netter was for speaking, while ENG is for typing.

Q7: "The other team is coming to our __"

i do think it's interesting that the sort of stadium/localization for the playing field is built off the materials surrounding the sport. 'turf' and 'field' are pretty widely used for field sports, and we have a similar reflection when put into the context of hockey: arena, rink, ice.

'other' distributions also reflect sentiments on 'house/home' -- rather than home turf, our home ice -- or calling out the specific territories. however, there were also a couple responses stating that they would never phrase or say anything along these lines.

Q8: How do you describe a situation where one team is playing 5 players on the ice, and the other team is playing 3 players?

There's a huge preference for '5-on-3' rather than '5v3' as a term. However, something interesting to note: from the 'other' responses, there was one respondent who used '3-on-5', and one who uses '2 man advantage' and '2 adder' interchangeably.

Q9: How do you describe a situation where both teams have 5 players on the ice?

Here, though the number-on-number format is still a large chunk, 'even strength' gains a closer ground (despite '2 man advantage' not having a similar effect on the previous set, even if both terms seem to be contextually linked). in the 'other' responses, there was one respondent who simply cut the term into simply 'even', and also 2 respondents who called this 'normal'/'a normal situation'.

Q10: vocabulary associated with dick trick

*this specific question contains a typo that may have affected data collection. the original question posed was 'what do you call four goals in a period?', which caused some confusion. i went through the same data cleaning procedures, but given this is a 'lesser known' sort of term, it's harder to guarantee that confusion is accurate or reflective.

The majority seemed to have 'dick trick' down - an interesting term, considering that it's not technically an official hockey term, but was popularized from thornton's quote and definitely isn't said on-air.

'other' responses vary: there is a great amount who expressed confusion over the term or called it simply '4 goals' (may be influenced by the question wording, as mentioned). others seemed aware of the reference ('joe thornton special'), or had a different term ('gettysburg hat trick', 'poker', spin on the word hatty).

Q11: What do you call the area that players sit in during their penalty?

more variation in this response - it seems roughly equally divided between 'the box', 'penalty box', and 'sin bin'. within 'other' responses, the sentiment surrounding the box revolved around either playful/childish terms, or those that involve connotations of punishment or crime.

some respondents also remarked that their language around the ox will change based on the situation: for example, 'Time out or prison depending on severity' and 'juvie (if it’s a rookie) crimes corral'.

Q12: What do you call a player whose role is often aggressive and expected to fight in defense of their teammates?

'enforcer' and 'goon' seem to be the heavily favored terms -- however, commentary from 'other' respondents also mentioned that a few believe the terms to be dated, corresponding to historical roles that no longer have a place in the game.

a few responses also called this role 'rat' adjacent, 'bad/big boy', or a similar term referring to the size of the player ('the tank', 'the muscle').

Q13: What do you call a player whose role is primarily situated on defense?

'd-man' as a shorthand holds a large portion of responses (once again, a similar middle ground shorthand format). however, of the 'other' responses, there was a group who also referred to this position as 'defender' and 'defense', as well as one respondent who specified a 'dman' without the hyphen from the multiple choice.

Q14: What do you call a player who often seeks to agitate opponents and draw penalties?

'pest' and 'rat' seem to be the big terms here, with very little surprise. there is however, a plethora of other nicknames available in the 'other' responses

the sentiment towards this player role also seems much friendlier in comparison to other role questions (multiple references to positive endearments, nicknames, or players).

Q15: Which of these terms do you (commonly) use?

this particular question was multiple-response for a reason - i want to take a deeper dive on these associations later. for now, it's interesting to note that specific shot terms, often finisher acts (e.g. 'slapshot', 'one-timer') are somewhat more used than those involved with skills (e.g. 'toe drag').

section ii: connotations/sentiment association

Q16: Oldest age of a baby ___ ?

here are some violin plots on that specific question (which i loved). though this stat has somewhat been alluded to in literature before (the so-called primes/development curves of each position), it's nice to see it in numbers.

a 'baby goaltender' can essentially be older than that of the other 'baby' positions (however, with greater spread - indicating that there was potentially a range of responses in terms of goaltender age). an old baby prospect is the youngest of them all, with the smallest spread.

Q17: Your "national broadcast" refers to:

evidently, regionally based associations come into play here. within the 'other' distribution, there is a range of responses, from those who have never heard/used the term 'national broadcast' before, those not in the US/Canada, to those who define it as anything outside of their local broadcast (no association with any particular brand). there is also a healthy amount of illegal stream usage.

Q18: What do you call it?

this question was deliberately a bit vague, relying on respondents to know the context through the answer choices. even so, 'narrative' won out overwhelmingly. how did this term come about, and why do we all specifically associate so much with it -- choosing it over other terms such as sports magic or story?

on the flip side, 'other' spouted multiple responses who were unfamiliar with the term. so how did that 77.56% suddenly and undeniably understand the term and its connotations? what part of the hockeyblr bubble has assimilated this particular figure of speech for us?

Q19: What does the above term mean to you?

this question was a free response, aiming to look at the sentiments and connotations associated with the term, and received around 342 responses. responses varied from snippets of poetry, objective definitions, confusion from those who aren't familiar with the term, and also a few associations with rpf.

i did a sentiment analysis on the dataset per response, and graphed the positive, negative, and neutral sentiments on a 3d scatterplot.

though a majority of responses featured generally positive-neutral sentiments, there was variation and the addition of negative sentiments in the set as well. looking at a violin plot of the compounded sentiment (combining the positive, neutral, and negative)

though the majority falls neutral in sentiment, and an average skews towards positive, narrative sentiment continues to vary.

in addition, topic modeling was done on the dataset, split into both negative and positive topic models. 10 topics were each generated from the lda models. from the positive topic model, the following topics were generated (terms, with their corresponding weights)

'0.033*"dreams" + 0.033*"perseverance" + 0.033*"strength" + 0.033*"maths" + ' '0.033*"hopes" + 0.033*"finesse" + 0.033*"feats" + 0.033*"essence" + ' '0.033*"peoples" + 0.022*"interactions"'

'0.054*"fun" + 0.053*"used" + 0.051*"happen" + 0.034*"talent" + ' '0.033*"family" + 0.026*"numerology" + 0.026*"moments" + 0.026*"improbable" ' '+ 0.026*"golden" + 0.026*"sids"

'0.167*"story" + 0.054*"win" + 0.048*"season" + 0.040*"team" + ' '0.025*"beyond" + 0.022*"g" + 0.019*"adds" + 0.019*"case" + 0.016*"underdog" ' '+ 0.016*"neatly"'

'0.099*"hockey" + 0.081*"way" + 0.056*"magic" + 0.052*"it" + ' '0.046*"definitely" + 0.040*"fan" + 0.037*"terms" + 0.026*"thing" + ' '0.025*"much" + 0.023*"special"

'0.067*"cup" + 0.059*"team" + 0.039*"whats" + 0.034*"uplifting" + ' '0.034*"bonding" + 0.027*"us" + 0.026*"dynamics" + 0.024*"theme" + ' '0.016*"intricate" + 0.015*"overarching"

'0.059*"storyline" + 0.058*"player" + 0.056*"lore" + 0.048*"career" + ' '0.047*"emotional" + 0.034*"satisfying" + 0.032*"team" + 0.026*"goal" + ' '0.024*"beloved" + 0.023*"important"

'0.100*"tale" + 0.055*"one" + 0.050*"thats" + 0.043*"on" + 0.039*"sport" + ' '0.036*"reason" + 0.024*"cant" + 0.024*"supreme" + 0.024*"pornography" + ' '0.024*"define"

'0.056*"luck" + 0.040*"friendships" + 0.036*"the" + 0.034*"put" + ' '0.025*"words" + 0.025*"stoned" + 0.025*"research" + 0.025*"figure" + ' '0.025*"ur" + 0.025*"playoffs"

'0.059*"current" + 0.037*"trying" + 0.033*"theyre" + 0.030*"creates" + ' '0.030*"cohesive" + 0.030*"life" + 0.029*"guy" + 0.021*"urban" + 0.021*"ppl" ' '+ 0.021*"gay"

'0.047*"pekka" + 0.023*"kisses" + 0.023*"nashville" + 0.023*"must" + ' '0.023*"mika" + 0.023*"juuse" + 0.023*"letang" + 0.023*"hugs" + 0.023*"kane" ' '+ 0.023*"chis"

read through them. i think i cried when i did. it's like.... that's the narrative, huh.

section iii: hockeyblr behavior patterns

Q20: How would you tag a post about Mitch Marner?

this question aimed to look at how users tagged players -- though i tried to pick a player that could be looked on mostly ambivalently, i obviously failed badly. for that i apologize.

though the #[first name] [last name] format that most player tags use seem to be the most common, there are an evidently varied amount of responses regarding the player in question. people either hate mitch or love him, 'other' responses included responses from 'i would not post about him/i have his tag blocked' to variations of 'minch/affectionate nicknames', to a response who didn't know who he was.

other tagging styles mentioned included specific player tags for only players on user's followed teams, or exceptions for specific players. also used was the #p:[name] format for players.

Q21: How would you tag a post about the Toronto Maple Leafs?

as opposed to the full name variation for player marner, 'leafs' as the shorthand name wins out over 'toronto maple leafs' as the full team name.

however, this is also dependent on cultural context - the leafs have always been referred to as the leafs. does this tagging etiquette extend to teams such as columbus (would you tag it cbj, jackets, etc)?

conclusions/future considerations: i hate writing this part in real academic papers so i get the choice to half-ass it on my fake no effort one. hockeyblr is fascinating, and you know - why do we tend to say the things we do? there were a few questions i posed in this dataset that would be interesting to pursue if i or anyone else had the time or the time (good god). and considering how unique we are as a niche, how does hockeyblr compare to a different dataset with similar questions? something to consider.

anyway, i hope you guys learned something from this huge post. if you read through all that, you're the greatest. thanks again for reading, hope you enjoyed this not-at-all-academic study.

[oltammefru]

After having done IS4 D15 ending 3 here's my first impressions on the gamemode. Do note that I've only played this gamemode on D15 since a friend farmed difficulties/progression tree for me:

The squads are all relatively balanced, there's a lot of interesting options between them. I favored Support Squad in my first clears for early snowballing reasons but I think I'll likely play something like Scientism more once I learn the stages better. All the class squads seem relatively balanced with each too.

Lin is really goated she is so very useful.

The early game is incredibly fucking snowbally. If you do well early game and transition into midgame with a decent team, it is so easy to get to the point where the game is just over. In the run where I did 3rd ending, I had like 8 E2 6stars, 28 collectibles, and about 30 life + shields at the end of floor 3.

Objective shields, in particular, early game ones, are way more impactful. Often times they're the difference between an entire collapse level worth of collapse.

Collapse effects are far far more negatively impactful than rejections. I know a lot of people had a lot of issue with IS3 rejections but honestly I think they just rarely ever affected the game.

One thing I liked about the design of IS3 stages / the light system is that basically every stage is made much much easier if you choose to leak a few elites, and leaking on one or two stages is rarely enough to fuck up your run on your own. In contrast, in IS4, every leak you make is incredibly impactful and has long-lasting impacts. Life itself as a number only matters in the sense that once you leak once, there's not much of a downside to leaking more so you can use that to take hard stages you'd otherwise leak like 10 on. (I have a post planned analyzing leaking in IS3 vs IS4 and how it contributes to the various themes of the gamemodes.)

6 stars are even more dominant. Part of this is because of the fact that the +1 hope cost to 4 stars and above (proportionally) affects 6 stars the least, but also because hope is way more plentiful and you only have limited squad / deployment units, so you might as well spend your hope on the more slot-efficient units.

Collectible quality is much much higher. Basically everything is at least somewhat good, every variant collectible is just incredibly efficient for its effects.

Golden chalice is honestly kind of mid? Unlike other collectibles, which have instant effects, chalice takes a while to scale up, while not being great early game (which is the main point in time where you really want good collectibles, because of how snowbally IS4 is). It's also far from the most efficient thing you can do with your money, if you get a -50% shop even with chalice it's generally better to spend at least some of it?

Robbing shop on F3 is way way better as an option now (although I've done it quite a few times in IS3 too, I think it is an underrated option in IS3). The F1-3 rob combat is much much harder though.

There's a lot of combats with <25 enemies there seems to be an emphasis on combats with lowish enemy counts. Like I said before, in IS4 it is much more important to play stages perfectly than in IS3 but I do think this creates an interesting gameplay dynamic where like if you've accepted you're going to leak on like Musical Disaster (very easy to leak on that one!) it doesn't even feel that bad to leak a few more.

Emergencies give way more exp than normal commands (and the gap seems far bigger than previous ISes).

Foldartals are neat. I like them a lot. Some of them feel pretty imbalanced though, in particular the one that has an accord that turns selected nodes into Bosky Passages and maxes out your index is so stupidly good compared to most of the other high rarity bottom ones.

[littlefoxwithbighat]

Dynamics/ Team-ups I want to see in the life series!

Etho & Gem

You've seen their dynamic on Hermitcraft together. Do I need to elaborate. It'd be so funny. Gem is entirely unimpressed by his shanigans (shes an Ethogirl at heart). They would do really well.

Mumbo & Lizzie

I honestly feel like they would mesh so well together. Mumbo and Lizzie both have quite similar, awkward "I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing and-I'm-afraid-but-I-enjoy-the-chaos" energies. I think they would be so much fun. Would they be an effective team? Probably not. But would they have the most shenanigans? Yes.

Gem, Cleo, Pearl & Lizzie

TEAM GIRL TEAM GIRL i honestly think this would be the most amazing friendship it'd be so fun. Guys please.

BigB & Grian

They're friends irl and it shows in their dyanmic chemistry on screen. BigB likes to hang back and Grian likes to be the centre of things, and I think in this regard they'll help balance each other out. Also Grian has wanted to team qith BigB since 3rd life, they'd both enjoy it!

BigB & Martyn

Also friends irl. Martyn likes being witty and starting bits and BigB is genuinely really talented in yes and-ing and continuing bits. They both match each other in terms of being very forthright and very myterious all at once.

Scott & Tango

I just feel like Tango and Scott would match each other's energies and playstyles quite well. They're both interested in the technical aspects of the game and playing to win, but neither are afraid to take a break for bits. Scott's building and Tango's redstone would be a terrifying force together.

Skizz & Grian

I refer you to GIGS phasmophobia streams.

Martyn, Etho & Joel

This team would be a huge disaster. I can see the in-fighting from here. They would come up with the stupidest schemes known to man. They would all be besties. They would have at least 3 divorces. I have got to see this happen it would be brilliant.

Martyn & Gem

Both really like being witty and come-backs. They would be so smart together. Both of them are super competitive but also love the shenanigans and improv. I think they would also yes-and each other till the end.

Martyn & BDubs

BDubs doesnt get enough credit for his wit and improv, hes so talented! Martyn is the witty improv guy. They would be an absolute force together. They wouldn't get anything done, and would probably spend too much time spying together. But the shenanigans and rp would be fantastic.

Pearl & Grian

They would be the absolute worst. Theyd probably die horribly and fight all the time. Itd be really funny though.

Mumbo, Tango & Skizz

They just seem like they all get along really well. A good mixture of chilling and silliness. :DD

Mumbo & BigB

I want to see them hang out more they seem like they would be best friends itd be really wholesome. I don't think they'd win. I think it would be an excellent vibe.

Scar & Lizzie

They both have very similar senses of humour. They both love running with particular characters (see Fairy Queen Lizzie and Wizard Scar). They are both goofy and silly and loveable and threatening to blow your house up. Peak dynamic. It'd be amazing.

Scar & Bdubs

I refer you to HC s7. Trust me itd be good.

[utaicon]

100 Followers Event!

Hi everyone! This is a little bit late- I thought I might notice that I hit 100 followers, but I guess I didn't!

Since I happen to be making this in October, I thought I'd make it a Halloween themed editing contest! If the creepy themes of Halloween aren't your thing, though, you're welcome to go with general autumn themes. I want everyone to be able to participate in this if they so desire :3

More details under cut!

The prompts are more or less made with idol-rhythm games in mind, but if you want to use something else, that's 100% allowed! I believe in your creative abilities!

To make up for my lateness, this event will extend for exactly a month, so the submission period is October 5th - November 5th! You are welcome to complete as many or as few prompts as you want, in any order you want, and be as technical and creative about them as you want! The most important part is to have fun with it!

There will be 5 winners, selected semi-randomly with a wheel. Your name will be entered once per edit you make, and if you edit something on my whitelist, I will enter your name twice! In a similar vein, if you enter anything on my blacklist, you will be disqualified.

Prizes:

5th place: 1 edit of choice

4th place: 2 edits of choice

3rd place: 3 edits of choice

2nd place: 4 edits of choice

1st place: 5 edits of choice + I'll reblog a boatload of your other edits :3

rules: same as my regular rules, respect dni, do not submit anything from the blacklist, as stated above you are welcome to complete however many prompts you want in whatever order you want but please do not repeat prompts, have fun!

please tag me in your edits for this event so I can see them! You are welcome to use the tag #utaicon 100 followers contest, but I am more likely to see if when you tag me!

Prompt List:

note: some of these are vague on purpose! take as much creative liberty as you want!

#1 - edit a character with orange!

#2 - edit 2 characters that you think would swap Halloween candy!

#3 - edit 2 characters you think are angel/devil coded!

#4 - make an edit based on your favorite Halloween/autumn song! It can be a song specifically about Halloween or autumn or it can just be a song that gives you vibes!

#5 - edit a character with a skeleton theme!

#6 - edit a character with purple!

#7 - edit a character with a werewolf theme!

#8 - edit a card/scene from a Halloween event/episode!

#9 - edit two characters from the same Halloween card set!

#10 - edit a character with a ghost theme!

#11 - edit enough characters to create a Halloween themed unit!

#12 - edit a character with green!

#13 - edit a character with red eyes! You can pick a character that already has red eyes or give them red eyes with editing magic instead!

#14 - edit 2 characters that you think would have fun trick-or-treating or playing in leaves together!

#15 - incorporate pride into a Halloween/autumn themed edit!

#16 - edit a character with a bat theme!

#17 - edit a character with a night theme! (stars, moon, etc)

#18 - edit a character with blue!

#19 - edit a character that you think would find a horror movie entirely too scary!

#20 - edit a character you feel is vampire coded!

#21 - edit a card/scene from a non-halloween event/episode!

#22 - edit a character with fire/candles!

#23 - edit a character with leaves!

#24 - edit a character in monochrome/grayscale/B&W!

#25 - edit a character with a candy theme!

#26 - edit two characters from different Halloween card sets!

#27 - edit a character with a pumpkin theme!

#28 - edit a character that you think would find a horror movie entirely too humorous!

#29 - edit a character in red!

#30 - edit a character with a theme of a monster of your choosing!

#31 - free prompt! Do whatever you like!

Happy editing!

[snugglebug-92]

Heeeeey! Can you write an angsty fic for ports where he is stressing himself out over hockey, and the reader tries to help and he ends up flipping out on her?? Thank you!

Hi!!

You had met Erik in your English class freshman year. He sat down next to you and looked rather lost. You gave him the standard 'Hi my name is y/n and I'm a freshman majoring in sports medicine.' When he looked up at you and opened his mouth you didn't hear a single thing he said. You just heard his accent and you were head over heels.

Now fast forward to your junior year things between you and the Swedish goalie were going good. Or at least that's what you thought.

It was around 1 in the morning when you turned over and woke up to an empty bed. The pillow was cold signaling that he had been up for a while. You creep down the stairs and see him watching a replay of the past weekend's game going over every goal he let in over and over again. You sit down on the couch next to him and curl into his side. He places a kiss on your forehead dropping a blanket over you as you fall asleep.

You knew since it was a Sunday night he would always rewatch the games so he could talk to coach. You figured everything was fine until it was Wednesday and you were still sleeping on the couch every night.

As you curl into his side you decide to not say anything. You didn't know a bunch about hockey even though your brother played it before he went pro. They'd play on the same team once Erik went pro too. He gives you the typical forehead kiss before pulling a blanket over your body. You decide to stay up and watch the game some and you notice his jaw tick 2 seconds before every goal. He already knows what's going to happen. It's the 3rd period when you finally fall asleep.

Friday comes around and you are driving to the area with a few of the other girls all clad in your boyfriend's jerseys. The boys play hard but ultimately they lose in overtime.

The next night they once again lost in overtime and your boyfriend is unhappy, to say the least. While he had only let in 5 goals that whole weekend it was still enough to have them tie and lose a game. You are quick to wrap your arms around the tall boy as he walks out of the locker room.

"I wanna go home," he mumbles into your neck.

"Okay baby let's go home," you smile as you lace your fingers into his. He showers before collapsing on top of you. You groan at the weight but you won't complain. This is the most action you've got from your boyfriend in the past week.

Everything is going good until he gets the call. He's being 'traded' he won't be playing for Buffalo and we won't be with your brother. He seems calm on the phone but you know it's all a facade. As soon as he hangs up he's out of the room and going to the gym to blow off steam. When he gets back it's late and the trade is already national news.

"Baby do you wanna talk about it?" you question.

"No just leave me alone right now," he says going to shower. You let him be while you make food knowing he's always hungry after the gym. You go to your room to do homework leaving him a note that there is a sandwich for him in the fridge. After you finish your homework you wait up for him but he never comes to bed. You wait up for him until around 3 when you finally fall asleep. You wake up the next morning to find the sandwich still in the fridge. As you get ready for the day you notice your boyfriend is missing.

"Hey, where is lover boy?" Steve questions.

"I was hoping you would know," you respond before going upstairs to call Erik. It goes to voicemail the first 2 times before he picks up after the 3rd time.

"I'm at the gym with Steve," he says sounding out of breath.

"Okay, baby. Sorry to bother you," you say before hanging up. Steve comes upstairs knocking on the door with Truss on his heels.

"Where is he?" Truss questions.

"Apparently Steve can be in 2 places at once because my boyfriend just said he was at the gym with him," you sigh. The two boys share a look before giving you a hug.

Eventually, Erik comes home and sees you and Steve working on homework. He goes up to shower knowing he was caught in his lie. He changes before going down to sit by you.

"Hi, baby! How are you?" you smile.

"I'm okay. How are you?" he questions.

"I'm good. Thankfully Steve can be in two places at once because I would not be able to understand the homework without him," you say giving your boyfriend a look.

"Can we talk?" he questions.

"Let's go to our room. I'll be back Steve," you say standing up and going upstairs.

"I'm sorry I lied," he says.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Where were you?"

"I was at the rink. I'm sorry I lied."

"You could have told me. You could have said hey I'm at the rink blowing off steam. Instead, you lied. Erik you've shut me out the past week and a half. When it is going to be enough?"

"What do you want from me! You act like you understand what's going on with the sport but your just a puck bunny," he yells.

"What did you call me?" you say trying not to cry.

"You are a fucking puck bunny. The only reason you even understand half the sport is because of your brother," he yells.

"You are lucky Owen's not here to hear you say that because he would punch you, Erik," you state.

"Yeah because you can't stand up for yourself. Just leave Y/N. Go find some other hockey player's dick to suck," he says leaving the room. You collapse on the floor and you hear the front door slam. Steve runs up the stairs and pulls you into his arms as you sob over the boy.

"He called me a puck bunny," you sob.

"Hey, you're not a puck bunny. He's just mad," Steve says.

"It still hurts."

"I know honey. I know. But he'll come to his senses and realize he was wrong and be begging to have you back," he says whipping your tears.

But it's 2 weeks later and you are still crying every night over the boy while he's got a new girl on his arm. He has a new girlfriend and he moved into a different house the day after you broke up. You started to wear Jay's jersey to games since he's to only one without a girlfriend and a massive fan base. As you see Erik with his arms wrapped around a gorgeous blonde.

"Jay," you sob as he wraps his arms around you.

"it'll get better. I promise," he says but you've lost all hope.

[officialgleamstar]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

thank u for the tag @cerealmonster15 :] sorry for forcing you into tagging me and then FORGETTING TO DO IT ONCE I GOT OFF WORK but insomnia is killing me tonight sooo tag game time :3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

127 fics on my account, and then 130 anonymous fics, and two? maybe three? orphaned fics lol

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

826,251! getting close to 1 mil... maybe that should be a writing goal for this year :0

3. What fandoms do you write for?

currently its oxventure all the way down, baby bfdjgfdhhj i have a few dndads fics im still working on though, and i have an aftg fic im working on for an event right now as well! i need to... make sure i finish that on time, actually

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

they aaare mostly anonymous LOL but! for fics i list, these ones. the way that three of these are from 2017 and 2018... i know that makes sense because theyve had more time to accumulate kudos and also are for more popular fandoms but :') man 1. Cleaning Up - Haikyuu!! - 908 kudos 2. heart under your sleeve - 3rd Life - 616 kudos 3. four am - All For the Game - 502 kudos 4. his soul - Empires SMP, 3rd Life - 391 kudos 5. "Are you dense, or do you just not know how to say no?" - All For the Game - 288 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments?

yes i do!!! im bad at it, but i do :D

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

just like cereal, i dont write much angst, but probably you know i love you, right? or these feelings, they're not gone :0

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most of my fics are disgustingly sweet and sappy so its hard to judge

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i have a few times but not enough to be a trend, lol

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yeah lol if i cant write pet play and/or breeding kink i wither up and die. who said that

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

just once! (can you kiss me more) absolutely beloved

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

two times that i know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yeah lol someone translated a handful of my old rpf fics into russian :]

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yeah, but never a finished fic

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

you simply cannot make me choose. you cant make me choose. please.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Divorced Dad Rock Mix you are everything to me but chapter 3 thru 6 are probably never seeing the light of day

16. What are your writing strengths?

im really good at telling a compelling story in a very small amount of word :] also, SPEED WRITING. i can write very quickly when i put my mind to it!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

im so awful at ending fics just absolutely dogshit at it

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

its . writing dialogue in another language, i guess? lol its fine

19. First fandom you wrote for?

pokemon or harry potter i think. maybe my little pony or minecraft. or world of warcraft but i think that was later? id have to dig through my deviantart and i dont feel like it lol

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

god that is a hard question to answer, i love all of my fics a lot bfdgfjhdbghjd i think... the first fic to come to mind was, naturally, my beloved your love is tried and true-blue. normscary <333 AND my glennry soulmate fic as well, so where do we begin? hmmm... the johnny spells thing comes from a very personal space, and its a fic that i thought about for literal years, so its very near and dear to me in that sense as well. and on our dates, it's never daytime is a super self-indulgent fic that i reread a lot because its so perfectly targeted at myself lol same thing for fall (back) in and i love mine, mine, mine for more recent examples. uh. okay thats a lot of rambling LOL those i guess :3

tagging: hmmmmm @bidoofenergy and @cookies-over-yonder i think!!! have fun guys

[kindan-no-kanojo]

🌹| Scarlett Wakahisa Special! |🌹

༺ Character Sheet & Interview ༻

Original template by @inazuma-ryuu ! I edited the hue and language, and added stickers and effects myself. Translation + Special character interview below the cut!

「 “Run along. Okay? Unless you want me to eat your mind away.” 」

༺ Profile

« A hard-to-ignore Ghoul Lady seeks putting an end to the loop. »

༺ Scarlett Wakahisa

Species: Ghoul Age: 19 years old. Occupation: Ryotei Academy's 3rd Year Student Voice Actress: Tamura Yukari

📌 Memo #1

«Caution: Do not leave Experiment 11 unattended.»

༺ Further data

Blood Type: AB Height: 164 cm (5'5) Weight: 62 kg Favorite Food: Peaches Hobby: Music Birthdate: May 13th

📍 Memo #2

? ? «How long... has it really been?» ? ?

📎 Memo #3

«Even after death, flowers can keep blooming...»

Additional pictures include her Ghoul form with Maid uniform, Casual and Formal outfits!

༺ Scarlett Wakahisa || Character Interview ༻ What occupies the passionate Ghoul's mind?

[20 questions based on these and these interviews!]

1. What is your favorite thing right now?

“I recently found a mouse at home. It was really small and cute! As soon as it saw me, though, it ran away... Well, I cannot blame it. But I haven't seen such a tiny little visitor in a while, so it made my day a little better——

——Why are you making that face?”

2. What are your recent preferences in regards to fashion?

“If I think it looks good on me, that's all matters, no? I find it especially uncomfortable to wear pants or trousers, so I tend to pick skirts or dresses most of the time. Whatever makes me feel pretty, stays.”

3. Do you have any subconscious quirks?

“How would I know, if it is not a conscious habit?

...Hm. Thinking about it, I believe it's true that whenever I listen to some orchestra concerto I instinctively start air-conducting. I don't think about it too much when do it, it can be a little obnoxious to whoever is close to me... And to me, too, honestly, when they try to stop me or turn the music off.”

4. How do you spend your off days?

“I'm lucky enough to not have an exhausting routine like before, when I'd use my breaks to rest a few hours. Nowadays, I usually stay home and play music or visit someone to spend the day with.”

5. What does your sleepwear look like?

“You are so curious about that, aren't you? It is nothing out of the ordinary. I wear a simple white nightgown when I'm able to relax. Nothing fancy.

Although, if I don't have access to my sleepwear, I'd simply loose my corset and manage with my shirt and skirt only. But that isn't the usual...”

6. What’s one thing you always do before going to bed?

“Braid my hair loosely. Whenever I don't, I wake up with an entangled red mess.”

7. Which part of your own body do you like best?

“I take special care of my hair, so that would be my answer. It has given me issues a lot of times, but I can't bring myself to hate it...”

8. What do you like best about your own room?

“My room isn't too bright or too dark, it has one small window for natural light, so it goes easy on my eyes, which I appreciate.

I like the peace and quiet of my house overall, it is isolated from the city and the suburbs, so I mostly hear nature and animals. Contrasting, right? I don't like loud environments, believe it or not. Besides, if I'm going to deal with people all day, I need to recharge, so I need a peaceful place.”

9. Tell us your most vivid memory with Kino!

“All my memories are vivid, first of all... But, one that would stand out from the rest? Let's see...

Oh! I find it especially funny when there is something Kino cannot do. He once wanted to learn how to play some weird tune on the piano, from one of his games... He couldn't handle my lesson very well, though. How am I going to teach music to someone who doesn't want to learn the basics!? Theory is not boring, it's fascinating. Well, in the end, he lost his patience and challenged me to a duel of sorts with his mobile device, which he clearly won before I realized. He doesn't like to lose alone, huh...?”

10. How do you feel about Karl Heinz?

“It is pointless to ponder about that dead man.”

11. Where would you go on a date?  

“Oh, uh... hm. Anywhere? I don't have preferences.

If I'm asking someone out, I would choose a place where we could be by ourselves, and possibly do something together. I rarely get invited to dates myself, so when that happens... I'm a little too shocked. Or excited? It's weird, but I can't allow myself to complain, haha... It really won't matter.”

12. Which kind of gestures make your heart skip a beat?

“This may sound ridiculous but... anything kind-hearted and unprompted makes me feel a little silly.

Don't laugh! I'm not used to things like gifts or... acts of service? How am I supposed to react? A 'thank you' doesn't feel enough, so I'm at a loss with those things!

... Kisses make me feel somewhat similar, but at least I can do something about it. Or... try.”

13. What does blood taste like for you?

“Like danger. It's scary. There are equal chances for me to control myself than there are for me to completely lose it, one way or another. I can't risk it, I don't even like blood that much, no, I don't need it... I don't need it at all.”

14. Where would you like to be bitten?

“What do you mean 'where'!? Nowhere. Next question.”

15. Which body part do you like sucking blood from?

“You are playing with fire. Fine, I will humor your morbid curiosity...

Neck and shoulders. Those are my favorite places to bite. Not only it is a good blood source, but I can also hear their screams in pain from very up close and feel how the body tenses and reacts first hand. Besides, if they push me away, chances are that they end up getting more hurt than I. Those areas and very soft, therefore it is easily breakable, you know...?

I hope that is enough for you understand why it is something to avoid, now stop asking about it, will you? Feasting upon someone makes me stronger and crazier, so—— oh, unless you want a demonstration, too!?”

16. Do you believe in fate?

“...I choose not to. If my fate was written like this and it is truly incapable of bending, I will seriously lose my mind.”

17. Is there any good memories you keep with Rhiannon?

“Define 'good'...

Looking back, there is nothing good about that time. Perhaps it felt like home back then, but... even her death meant repercussions for me. I'm grateful to have learned a few tricks with her, that I can admit, but, overall? I don't want to live that life ever again.”

18. What do you think of Yuuri?

“Yuuri almost reminds me of myself in the past. Almost. I feel like there is more to him than what is shown. The way Yuuri keeps calm most of the time, no matter what, is admirable. Like nothing sets him off... but that can't be the case, right?”

19. What is your ideal type?

“Type... I don't have a type. Of course I won't choose someone who disrespects me or hurts me, if I wanted that I would still be a servant. But I won't put up several expectations either, unless I want to die alone.

Well... It's hard to pinpoint, but someone with whom I don't need to be alert at all times would be nice. I don't ask for much, do I?”

20. How do you realize you are in love?

“What a difficult question... I believe that it's already too late for me when I finally realize, but... hm.

The moment I find myself smiling like an idiot, like no one is watching me and I wouldn't mind if they do... maybe that moment means love for me. When I want to show off, do less things alone, and... not a single figure, but one alongside mine instead, fills my mind. No matter what they do, it will look beautiful in my eyes, and...

——I digress. Ah, how cheesy... Forget it, I am yet to get used to it. It is as frightening as it is addictive...”

[not-alien-girl-v]

Hello! Could I request a tate langdon x trans male reader? (Sorry for requesting tate I know you get him alot)

note: you know what you are right i do get tate a lot but the tumblr girlies have been eating him up lately so this one goes out to the transmascs and/or tate lovers. also writing this on my phone and my fat ass thumbs are not doing all that work of clicking shift so this will be all lowercase. anyway i’m writing this sleep deprived at midnight so i am going to wake up tomorrow morning and forget i wrote this most likely

warning: language probably idk i write my warnings before i write the fic and i just predict what the fuck im going to add in idk i should stop

the dead of winter makes things feel quiet. you barely hear your mom in the kitchen though you are just in the room over. it’s not snowing outside, it doesn’t do that in la, like, ever, but it would be nice maybe once.

you feel the vibration of your phone. you’re sitting on the couch and it’s in the back pocket of your jeans and you don’t want to stand up to fish it out so you flop yourself sideways and grab it. you have three notifications, and in your mind, you make a mental ranking of their importance.

3. bereal went off, though it happened hours ago and you don’t bother to take the picture because who cares

2. about 46 minutes ago, your friend texted your other friend in the group chat, talking about some concert tonight for people you’ve never even heard of before

1. your boyfriend, tate, texted about the same concert, but in this case, offering to take you with him to the show

not to play favorites, but a night out alone with your boyfriend sounds like more fun than a night with your freaky little friends. sure, they were a barrel of monkeys… in their own way, but you’d much prefer a long night in working at a puzzle with them than a raging concert.

‘?’ Tate texts again. You opened his text and he saw the read receipt but you’ve just been sitting there contemplating the meaning of life for minutes now.

‘maybe’ you reply and renter your deep thought once more. it would be fun, you’d have a good time and he’d be happy… but you have been wearing your binder for at the very least 10 hours now, and you had plans to take it off in a little bit (granted you were procrastinating) and that was something you didn’t want to deny yourself.

they say you’re not supposed to exercise in a binder, but that’s never stopped you. back in high school, you had PE 3rd period, and it’s not like you were just gonna go through the trouble of taking it off for a one hour block every single day and then put it back on once the class is over.

that’s the same now, though you don’t have a PE class, you are an avid mosher in the pit and you don’t want to be boobs flying everywhere. you don’t even want boobs at all, but top surgery is expensive, and your insurance only covers testosterone shots so you make do with what you can.

‘maybe?’ he texts back and he didn’t include it in the text, but you can feel a :( radiating from his end of the line.

‘tummy kinda hurts idk’ another thing, he doesn’t know you’re trans. it’s no big deal, truly, you know he’d be super supportive and respectful if you came out and nothing would change between the two of you but that doesn’t take away any of your fear of telling him. this relationship has been going on for 6 months now, and it seems like the longer you wait to say something, the more awkward it will be once you do.

‘:(‘ he texts and you frown a little as well in real life, and you put your phone on the table and walk into the kitchen. your mom is baking those little sugar cookies from target with the snowmen on them and you swear if you got close enough, you could eat an entire tray full of them.

but you’ve already spoiled your dinner enough with the potato chips you now realize you’ve abandoned in the living room and walk back to your room.

your bedroom is small yet well decorated, giving it a cozy aura, even more when you light a peppermint candle. you finally remove your binder and it feels like a breath of fresh air for the first time today. twisting your arms around, you stretch out and then put on a tank top and bundle up in your bed because it’s so damn cold out.

you put your headphones over your ears and play some random song off a playlist tate made for you and all is well in the world until you think you hear your mom screeching your name from the kitchen. of course, the second you pause the music and rip of the headphones, it’s dead silence once more, so you put them back on. there’s the noise again. if she’s really trying to contact you, she can just text you rather than test out her echolocation skills.

a moment later, she does text you.

‘someone at the door go get it’

as polite as ever, you have no choice but obey and slump to the front door, unhappy that your unwinding time has been interrupted by some rando at the door. when you open the door (albeit, grumpily), it’s not a rando, but it is in fact your boyfriend.

“tate! what are you doing here?” you don’t mean to sound so unhappy about his presence, it just comes out like that and of course you notice how quickly his eyes trail downwards on your body. you follow them too, until they land on your uncaged boobs. shit. “oh, um.”

“aren’t you going to invite me in?” he doesn’t say anything you thought he would and for that, you hold the door open for him and step aside to let him in.

“so, what are you doing here?” you ask again since he didn’t respond the first time.

“you said your stomach hurt, and mine kinda hurt too, so i thought i could come over and we could be in pain together. what do you think?” the whole time he’s been making his way to your bedroom, though he hadn’t been in your house very many times, he knew where he was going. he kicks off his shoes at the base and launches himself onto your duvet.

“you’re so thoughtful,” you crawl in next to him and hook one leg between his own, immediately experiencing the glory of his body heat.

“i tend to think so.” there’s that silence again. sometimes peaceful, sometimes deafening, because you know there’s something left unsaid. so you open your mouth again.

“um, so, about the boobs thing,” you start and pause to swallow, realizing you must look like a nervous character on tv right now.

“it’s okay.”

“it is?” you don’t dare lift your head to look him in the eye.

“of course. it doesn’t matter to me. you’re still hot,” he pokes you in the side and you chuckle at him.

“stop it, you silly goose,” you joke back and you can feel the physical cringe his body does.

“and i love you no matter what,” it’s quiet, but you hear it, muffled by your cringe minecraft bedspread. you love him too.

[bryan360]

No “On This Day” posting I’ll be focusing today.

Also….

‼️(NO COPYING OR PLAGIARIZING FROM ME AND ONE OF MY CLOSEST FRIEND’S WORK! THAT INCLUDES OUR CHARACTERS, DESIGNS, STUFF, ETC. IMPOSTERS AND SEXBOTS ARE NOT WELCOME TO FOLLOW MY BLOG WHATSOEVER! 😡 That will be all….I mean it.)‼️

2024 Review - Seagate 2TB Portable Drive (Third/Final - Storing game(s))

It’s been a long time coming; not to mention through scheduling at the program all weekdays I’d been in. Nevertheless, I’m finally coming back to this topic for the final time. After that the second half of installing with my gaming console is done, I’m now be storing/moving one of my games from its internal storage; which I’d already got it at early January this year.

⬆️ (From January. 6th, 2024; 3:04 to 6:24 P.M)

The first one is I’d finally gotten to installed Forza Horizon 5; the same game from last year’s Christmas gift for my Xbox One system. You can thank our friend @carmenramcat of ever giving me for Christmas by surprise. Link Here

I haven’t boosted this racing game yet; not until after getting my own potable hard drive in early January 2024. There are plenty of games in it as well, but that’s gonna wait after the final part of this topic review.

So anyways, I’d managed to move this to my portable hard drive which had lot of storage needed. Just how long it will take after installing? Well from checking in actual time (via screenshots information) about 3:04 to 6:24 P.M., it’s 3 hours, 20 minutes, and 33 seconds when calculated by using calculator.net website. Wow. Sure it would make sense due to how big this racing game will be, but taking three hours or less was a bit long. Still, nothing bad happens once it’s done for my portable drive. At least I’m grateful that I’d finally got this game downloaded after months later. The transfer progress should’ve speed things up though. That being said, I can’t wait to dive in unless for further planning to share soon. Or if I haven’t gotten through FH3 progress as of yet. I’d appreciate for having my portable drive with me that I’m willing to transfer other games more. 👍

Update: So I haven’t downloaded just one FH5 updated patch just yet. Not until back in Sunday this week that I got it as well. Now it took me about from 1:52 to 2:23 P.M.; or 31 minutes and 5 seconds shorter. Not bad that didn’t take this long. I won’t be surprised that there will more updated patches for FH5 to check out, just in case.

(Back in March. 24th, 2024) (just after transferring other games that I’d save since February 3rd, 2024)

Now to get into with my other games I’ve previously transfer for my portable hard drive. During the same date of January 6th, I did the second time with 👊💥MultiVersus; a free to play fighting platform made by Player First Games. It took about few minutes than I did with my Forza Horizon 5 game within three hours or less. And then afterwards til February 3rd at 6:20 to 6:53 P.M., I got with two previous Forza Horizon titles, Rare Replay included two Banjo-Kazooie titles, Cuphead, Kingdom Hearts 3, and PAC-MAN Museum+. Talk about plenty of some along the way. Thought looks like it takes minutes for almost all games included this time. That’s good to see that it happened, right?

So anyways as I’d going back to its storage devices setting, my portable drive is about 16.1% within 1.5 TB free spaces. It’s not full enough as of yet. Though who knows if there’s plenty room to pick which I’m going for sooner or later. Other than that, I also pointed out for its internal storage had few games in it. It’ll be for another time to save, I promise.

My Experience/Overall Thoughts: ⬇️

Storing/transferring FH5 (Forza Horizon 5) (plus other games) with my external hard drive was an interesting progress to get through. It depends how many games to transferring within minutes/hours before completion. All in all, I couldn’t done it without my first portable drive that I’d wanted for my gaming console. It won’t be a matter of time before I can get a new one in the near future, but not right now. I’m happy of having a portable drive I’ll be taking care of. 🙂 If you’re curious or interested to get one of those, then it’s available on Amazon.com. It normally cost about $70, so hopefully that you still have your savings left. Link Here

See ya guys until my upcoming topics are coming soon. 👋

Tagged: @murumokirby360 @carmenramcat @alexander1301 @rafacaz4lisam2k4 @paektu

[slytherhys]

Elriel,

T: there’s only one bed 😈

AU: November prompt turned Christmas prompt. 🎅 This will be a 3 part story (the 3rd chapter will mostly be fluff and probably small but the holiday spirit remains). I hope you don't mind the christmas twist but I just had to write this...

TW: Explicit Sexual Content (in part II) & strong language

Chapter II

One Night Only I - an Elriel Christmas Story

Elain gulped – loudly, if the look Nesta sent her way was any indication – as she stared at Feyre with something akin to horror plastered on her face. She couldn’t possibly be hearing her correctly – there was simply no way. Maybe Feyre had developed a twisted sense of humour that only resurfaced during the Holidays for some reason; maybe their father hadn’t given her enough love and care as a child or maybe this was her pregnancy brain refusing to leave even though Nyx was already three years old, babbling words Rhys swore he didn’t learn from him (he absolutely did).

The living room, on all accounts, looked like the picture-perfect holiday card. White Christmas played softly in the background, snow falling just outside the window of the tastefully decorated room. Nesta was sitting by the fireplace, leaning against Cassian with a book resting on her lap as they both eyed the scene in front of them with joyful curiosity. Nyx was on the floor, his little mouth covered in chocolate as he played with his toys, completely oblivious to the tension that threatened to choke the air out of Elain’s lungs. Feyre and Rhys had greeted her with matching Christmas pyjamas, a hot cocoa mug and tired yet satisfied smiles on their faces. Elain ought to feel happy, relaxed… if only Azriel Rosehall hadn’t arrived at the exact same time as her, trailing after her with the excitement of a kid going to the dentist.

She really shouldn’t be bothered by how unaffected he seemed by her, but Elain couldn’t get over it. How he barely looked at her, how he avoided uttering a single word in her direction and how much he seemed to avoid her presence in general. She usually managed to ignore it, but some days were harder than others. And today was definitely harder – specially when Feyre announced with a slight wince that she didn’t have enough beds for everyone.

Elain was still in her winter coat despite the fire crackling in the pit, but she couldn’t be sure if the sweat coating her skin wasn’t purely due to the panic that coursed through her veins as she stared at her sister. She could feel a presence behind her, as if the winter cold had been bundled up into a single man, his presence a dark shadow that seemed to follow her everywhere she went.

Elain laughed, and it might have sounded a bit hysterical – even if everyone in the room politely pretended not to notice. “What do you mean?” She chuckled nervously, feeling her face heat under the pitying look Rhys was sending her way and the smirk Cassian’s stupid face refused to drop – even if Nesta kept punching him in the arm.

“I’m sorry, El.” Her sister said, and, in Feyre’s defence, she did look remorseful. “We just weren’t expecting…” Feyre looked pale, her eyes frantically looking around the living room as if searching for the right words to use. “everyone to come.” She chuckled nervously, and Elain pretended not to notice how Rhys stood closer to Feyre, ready to defend his wife if anyone dared get mad at her (how he managed to look threatening in Christmas pyjamas was truly an enigma).

Elain felt a twang of regret hit her right in the chest. She bit her tongue at the news: so what if Feyre hadn’t warned her in time for her to stay home instead – it was her fault, truly. Thanks to the growing demand her bakery had faced in the past few months she had only managed to give Feyre a definite response a few days ago, once she knew Nuala and Cerridwen could handle all their Christmas orders.

It's not like she’d ever miss spending Christmas with her family – mainly considering it was the first time Feyre and Rhys were hosting since Nyx had been born – but she couldn’t exactly fault them for not counting on her. Ever since Elain had opened her bakery in downtown Velaris spending time with her family had, regretfully, become less and less frequent. Not by choice though; Never by choice.

She glanced at the dark shadow that stood behind her, hands hidden in the pockets of his suit (even if it was Christmas Eve and it was snowing) as he listened to their conversation with passing interest. Mother forbid Azriel Rosehall ever show anything close to emotion other than a stupidly annoying smirk. Elain didn’t know why he looked so pleased with himself – she knew for a fact Feyre and Rhys were also surprised by his presence. If Elain’s visits were rare, Azriel’s were basically non-existent. Elain hadn’t forgotten the amount of times Feyre had called her to see if she knew anything about Azriel’s whereabouts.

Why they thought Elain could possibly know anything about him was beyond her, but she refrained from asking.

“So should I…go home?” Elain frowned, ignoring the white-hot panic that seemed to flare through her body. It was doable. She only lived two hours away and she could be back tomorrow morning. Sure, the idea of driving at night when it was snowing made her want to drop to her knees and beg them to let her sleep out in the garden instead, but she refused to ruin Christmas. This was important to Feyre and she would rather spend the night driving than cause her sister any more stress.

“Well, no. We actually have a, erm, solution.” Feyre tried, eyeing Rhys with reluctancy. Rhys smirked slightly, bending down to pick up Nyx from the floor, using his son as a shield. Coward. Feyre rolled her eyes before turning to her again, a blinding smile on her pretty face. Elain raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious.

“Sure you do.” Cassian sneakered, earning a glare from Feyre and another punch from Nesta. The male flinched, mumbling something about the Archerons before he stepped closer to Rhys and Nyx. Not for the first time, Elain felt like the odd one out. Did they know something she didn’t? She looked at Azriel, but he only eyed Feyre with mild suspicion.

“Every hotel in the area will be booked, Feyre.” His midnight voiced sounded through the room, and if a shiver went up Elain’s spine it was definitely because of the wind howling outside. Elain actively ignored Nesta’s knowing gaze, choosing to stare at Feyre instead. “It’s Christmas Eve.” He added, as if the reminder was needed.

Elain turned slightly, ignoring the heat that flooded her cheeks as he turned his gaze to her. “Do you have any suggestions or are you just going to be a-”

“We have a bed!” Feyre interrupted loudly; cheeks flushed as she stared at them both. “I mean, a room.”

“Nice save.” Cassian muttered, and promptly looked away from Rhys’s glare.

“A bed?” Elain squeaked, clearing her throat before speaking again. “Then where is he sleeping?”

“Concerned, are we?” Azriel teased, and the taunt in his voice sent lighting up her veins. Mother, he was annoying.

Feyre sighed, sitting next to Rhys as if finally giving up on them both. Elain couldn’t blame her. “He’s sleeping in the bed, El.” She explained calmly. Elain frowned.

“Oh.” She felt her shoulders drop. Right.

Elain bit her tongue at that: so what if Feyre hadn’t warned her in time for her to stay home instead of making two unnecessary trips on Christmas Eve – it was all her fault, truly. And she wouldn’t ruin Christmas. Absolutely not.

Sure, it stung that Feyre was giving the only available room to Azriel, but could Elain blame her? They were both absent from their lives, but Elain still lived closed by. Azriel never stopped for long in the same place, so having him home for the first time in months was a blessing neither Feyre nor Rhys wanted to miss on. Certainly not Nyx, Elain thought as she watched her nephew run on wobbly legs to his uncle, childish glee clear in his laughter. Azriel picked him with ease, a smile on his face that had absolutely no business making Elain shiver.

Maybe she had a cold.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts as she reached for the handle of her suitcase, plastering a smile on her face as she looked back at her Feyre. “Absolutely!” She said with entirely too much glee. Nesta shook her head slightly, hiding the smile behind the book she was now using to cover her face. Elain cleared her throat and tried again. “That’s perfectly fine.” She smiled again, her face muscles straining against the herculean effort. “I’m also pretty sure I forgot to leave my doorman his gift so this is actually perfect for me-“

Feyre frowned. “What?” She mumbled as Rhys raised an eyebrow at Elain’s rambling.

“-I don’t know when I’m seeing him again and I truly wanted to give him something. I bought him a sweater, you see, and a doll for his girls. The new one from-“

“Settle down, Santa.” Azriel interrupted her just as she was reaching for the door handle, a stupid smirk on his stupid face as he stepped closer, Nyx babbling nonsense and playing with his cobalt tie. Elain envied him for his obliviousness.  “I don’t think you’re quite understanding what’s going on here.”

Elain frowned but refrained from talking – considering she was clearly set on making an absolute fool of herself every time she opened her mouth. Then Elain scowled because what did he mean she didn’t quite understand what was happening? And why did he seem so pleased at her confusion? There was only one bed; one where Azriel would be sleeping tonight. And if she recalled correctly (and she was pretty sure she did) Feyre hadn’t exactly denied her suggestion of going home for tonight. The living room couch, Elain knew, would be where both Mor and Emerie would be staying once. So what exactly was the…

Elain’s eyes widened just as Azriel’s smirk deepened. Oh fuck no.

“What?” She squealed, the word like sandpaper in her throat.

“It appears we’re sleeping together tonight, Elain.” He bent slightly, his lips grazing her ear. “Merry Christmas.”