#bronze weapons fuck

[farsight-the-char]

Lady Nagda of the Sacred Slaughter. A Fanatic, she oversees the Slaughter of those who have sinned by denying Blood Tithe to the Diamond Fangs Order.

A Grim Duty she is glad to perform, the Realm of Metal curses and respects her name in equal measure.

Formerly a Askurgan Trueblade, politics and fate thrust her into the role of Blood Knight.

....

Yeah I used her to test out a refined version of the Diamond Fangs scheme.

Turns out Contrasts over Grey Knight Steel is the best way to get the colour scheme I always wanted.

...

I have some Trueblades ready too but I gave up trying to get a good picture of them.

[bonetrousledbones]

i cant avoid drawing armor anymore

[swindlez]

have a feeling this current rotation is gonna be dynamo's redemption arc

[a-leg-without-fear]

Because of You (pt.2)🩸🌧️

here's part 2, babes!!!! this one is BEEFY so i hope it's not too boring :)

Ship: Worst!Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader🩸

Rating: 18+

Wordcount: 7.7k

Warnings: spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine, cursing, mentions of violence, mentions of death, grief, alcohol abuse, Wade Wilson is in this, so is Remy LeBeau, suggestive language, mentions of main character death, mentions of child experimentation, ANGST, multiverse shenanigans, self-doubt, kissing

Series: Because of You

The room Logan had woken up in was strange, to say the least. He was clearly underground. Thin windows were dug high into stone walls with an enormous engraving of a woman decorating the ceiling. Shaded lamps lit up the areas not caught in the sunlight from the windows. Random junk, weapons, and blessed alcohol lay strewn about the room.

After he’d spotted the bottles of whiskey, nothing else mattered.

He had never needed a drink more in his life. Stumbling around with Wade, the idiot in red, was shortening his neverending lifespan. Logan was constantly under attack, constantly stressed out of his mind, and constantly annoyed by Wade’s endless chatter. It was like God had finally decided to plop him in hell where he belonged.

Logan stood under one of the windows. A small alcove carved into the rock, with a kitchenette sitting on the stone floor and decorated with various foods and cooking implements. One of his gloved hands leaned on the wall of the alcove while the other lifted the liquor bottle to his lips. Bitter, biting whiskey flowed into his mouth. Sweet relief.

It was nice and quiet. Wade was unconscious on the only bed in the room. Either knocked out or put to sleep, Logan didn’t care. He was just enjoying the silence that had been vacant from his life for the past two fucking days. It had been an unending stream of quips and jokes ever since that red fucker had barged into his life.

The bronze alcohol swirled in the Jim Beam bottle. Specks of dust and whatever else floated around in this cave sloshed around the bottom. Like always, Logan’s thoughts drifted to you. How you’d playfully scold him for drinking directly from the bottle. How you’d grab him a glass, grumbling the whole time about sanitation, then fill the cup with ice and pour his drink for him. 

Lead pooled in his stomach at the memory. Heavy, nearly crushing in its weight. Logan screwed his eyes shut at the sensation.

He would give anything to have you there with him.

That was why he’d committed to helping Wade in the first place. The red idiot had promised that the TVA would be able to bring you back. That they’d fix Logan’s timeline and make things right. That he’d have you in his arms again, your scent filling his sinuses and your warmth burrowing into his chest.

But, of course, Wade was fucking lying. He had no clue if the TVA could fix Logan’s mistakes. The “Merc with the Mouth” had made an empty promise just so Logan would help him.

Logan grit his teeth then knocked back another swig. Fucking “educated wish.” If Wade could actually die, Logan would’ve killed him for saying that.

“Thor!” Wade gasped from behind him. Logan rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, begging a god he didn’t believe in for patience to deal with this red idiot. He glanced over his shoulder at Wade.

Deadpool was, thankfully, still fully clothed. His red suit entirely covered his disgusting skin and even worse smile. The merc’s eyes, white from the mask he wore, darted around the room. Logan scoffed and shifted his gaze back to the stone wall in front of him.

“Where are we?” Wade asked. Logan shrugged.

“No clue. But I like it here,” he replied, raising the bottle to his lips to take another gulp.

A scuffle from the main entrance way of the room made both men snap their heads in the same direction. Wade scrambled out of the bed, drawing a katana, while Logan used the brief moment to down another swig. If he was gonna fight, he’d need all the alcohol in him he could get.

Katana and sais collided with a sharp clang, sparks flying, as Wade’s sword met two outstretched, three-pronged weapons. The red-suit wearing menace was thrown to the ground by the owner of the sais. A woman, wearing dark reds, with long brown hair and green eyes. She leveled a weapon at Wade’s face.

She stepped away as she stowed her sais in the holsters on her hips. Wade jumped to his feet, briefly dusting off his ass, as he watched the woman step away. Logan continued to chug whiskey like this was the last time he could. For all he knew, it was.

Another person stepped through the entryway. Darker skin, sunglasses, black combat armor, scowl framed by a white-patched beard. This man seemed dangerous. Like a caged animal, just waiting for an opportunity to strike. Logan straightened out to pay better attention to the growing amount of people in the room.

The last person to come through the door was another man. Lighter skin than the previous, with brown hair caged in a black neck piece that covered the sides of his head. The guy wore a brown coat and shining purple combat armor. Cards passed between his dexterous fingers.

Logan watched as the three newcomers settled into the space. The man in black fiddled with some blades hanging on the wall, the woman flipped a sai in her hand, and the man with the brown coat messed with his deck of cards. Logan couldn’t help but chuckle at the trio. Did they think they were something special? The way they walked in, one-by-one and each with their own gimmick, made a sardonic smile quirk at the edges of Logan’s lips.

“Okay,” Wade began, stowing his katana with a flourish, “Look at you… All. You must be the others. Perfect! So, just to refresh…” he said as he looked to the woman, “You are Wonder-” “Elektra,” the woman replied with a grimace.

“Elektra, yes. Who could forget. And you!” Wade continued while shifting his gaze to the man in black, “I was not expecting to see you here! I thought you’d be penetrated by six inches of cold-hard-steel by now.”

The man quirked an eyebrow at the merc from under his sunglasses, “The fuck are you talking about?”

A beat passed.

“Ya know, a ‘Blade,’ like your name? Forget it,” Wade answered. Logan chuckled under his breath, taking another swig.

“I don’t like you,” the man in black, Blade, said.

“Never did!” Wade returned. He pivoted to the man with the brown coat, “And who’s this… Succulent reminder of my own inadequacies? Look at you! You look like the superhero version of Hawkeye!”

The man with the coat smiled, flipping the cards, then said in a heavy accent, “My name is Remy LeBeau. Le Diable Blanc. But you can call me ‘The Gambit.’”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Sling Blade. Hit me again,” Wade responded, gesturing for Remy to continue. Remy smirked at him.

“They call me ‘The Gambit.’”

“Are you sure you didn’t just really, really want them to but it never quite worked out?” Wade asked. Remy ignored the question, shifting his attention to Logan taking another swig of whiskey. Logan cocked an eyebrow at him.

“C’est boude y ya. You know, we never had a Wolverine up in he’e. But I can tell you now, it’s just a common courtesy to ask before you drink up all o’ my liquor,” Remy said with an intense look about his brown eyes.

Logan scoffed, raising the bottle to his lips again, and sneered, “Then it’s a good thing I don’t give a fuck.”

A moment hung between them, filled with tension so thick it’d take Logan’s claws to cut it. Remy laughed quietly while shaking his head.

“Couyon zouave,” he murmured. In a flash, bright violet illuminated his eyes and the card clutched in his hand. He flicked the card at Logan. The Wolverine barely had time to react before the card collided with the whiskey bottle, making it explode in a spray of liquor and glass, leaving just the neck clutched in Logan’s hand.

“Fuck!” Logan cursed, blinking away droplets of whiskey that had splashed in his eyes. He glanced down at the broken bottle. His glare trailed from the broken glass, then to a rack of unopened whiskey bottles hanging on the alcove’s wall. He smirked as he tossed away the broken bottle, keeping his eyes connected with Remy’s, the glass shattering somewhere to his left.

“So embarrassing!” Wade hissed at Logan. The Wolverine ignored him, opting to grab a fresh bottle from the rack.

“Boo boo boo,” Logan sang mockingly. He twisted off the cap and took another long swig.

Logan tuned out the tense conversation between the new trio and Wade. Why should he care? Wade had lied about the TVA fixing Logan’s shit, so none of this mattered. He had already resigned himself to sitting in this cave, bottle of whiskey in his hands, living out the rest of his lonely days in the Void. It was what he deserved.

The liquor lightly burned his throat as he gulped down more whiskey. A dull fog was settling over the edges of his mind. With any luck, he’d be blacked out in an hour or two. The flashes of you that constantly plagued his mind would be subdued, his nightmares would be blissfully absent, and he’d finally be able to rest.

“Who-Who brought us here?” Wade asked loudly to the trio. Logan perked up, also curious about the answer. Last thing he remembered before waking up in the cave was passing out in the van.

“That would be me,” a voice said from a doorway across the cave from Logan. He shifted his gaze to the shadow approaching the room. Feminine, wearing a jean vest and fingerless gloves, with long dark hair and a green backpack slung over her shoulders. She looked between Logan and Wade, “Don’t make me regret it.”

“Shit… Logan, that’s her. That’s X23. She’s the one I told you about,” Wade said to Logan. The Wolverine traced the new girl’s features. Heavy brow bone, hazel eyes, pointed nose, permanent scowl across her lips. Huh.

One last set of footsteps came from the same doorway as X23. Quick, sharp clips of heavy boots along the concrete floors. The person that stepped up next to X23 stole the air from Logan’s lungs.

You.

There you were. Dressed in combat leathers and with a scar across your lip. Hair pulled back away from your face, knife with a blood-filled pommel tucked against your waist, intense eyes immediately meeting his. A small frown pulled at the edges of your lips.

Logan whispered your name under his lips. It was like the floor had been yanked out from under him. He was reeling. And not from the liquor, as he hadn’t had nearly enough to warrant the swirls of emotion clouding his brain.

How?

How were you here? You were dead. Logan saw you die. He was there with you, holding you, comforting you, until your breath rattled for the last time. His head was spinning.

“Oh. My. God! It’s her! Your girlfriend! Holy shit, I thought she would’ve died after the events of Logan 2017!” Wade squealed. The idiot skipped around the pool of water in the center of the room to grab one of your hands in both of his, “Can I just say what an honor it is to finally meet you. I tried earlier in the movie, but you and Lo-Lo were… Preoccupied, to say the least.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Let go of me,” you growled, snatching your hand from Wade’s. He held up his hands in surrender while he backed away slowly.

“Got it. Understood. Not a touchy person,” he said. He sheepishly returned to where he stood before you’d entered the room, “So… How’d you all get stuck in the void?”

Blade sighed, “There was a knock at the door, then the TVA shipped me here.”

“Me too,” Elektra added.

“Maybe I was born here, it’s hard to know fo’ sure,” Remy said, cards passing from one hand to the other.

“The TVA decided our universe was dying. And I never even got a chance to fight for it,” Blade continued gruffly.

Logan’s hyper-focused gaze shifted from you to X23, who was taking calculated steps around the pool toward him. Her hazel eyes trailed up and down his slouched form. He took another hefty drink. What the fuck is happening?

“People like us don’t go quietly. TVA knows that, so they took us out,” you explained, making Logan’s gaze snap back to you. You sounded exactly the same. Your inflection, your accent, the tone of your voice. Even the way you folded your arms over your chest as you spoke was the same.

Wade kissed his first finger then pointed at the group, “The answer is yes. I’m in.”

“In what?” Blade asked tersely. 

“A team! Me, you, you and me! All of us together! Let’s get the fuck out of this place,” Wade said. Logan scoffed.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s a fucking liar,” he exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the merc.

“It was an educated wish!” Wade yelled back.

“Ha!” Logan laughed loudly without humor, diving back into the whiskey. 

“Look,” Wade began, taking a calming breath, “We’ve been inside Cassandra’s lair. The only way out of the Void is through her. She can get us home! She told us.”

Everyone in the room’s attention was fixed on Wade. Blade rose to his feet, Remy’s cards stilled in his hands, Elektra set her jaw as she analyzed Wade’s form, you and Laura took a few steps closer to the merc.

“You’ve been inside? And you made it out alive?” Blade asked incredulously.

“Bullshit! Nobody’s ever done that,” Elektra replied. Her hands fell on the handles of her sais.

“We did,” Wade said proudly.

“Everytime one o’ us has gone up against her… They die,” Remy said, walking further into the room, “The Punisher, the Quicksilver, the Daredevil.”

“Daredevil?” Wade asked, cutting Remy off, and placed a hand over his heart, “Which one? The one with the nice ass, or the one that kills people?”

“They don’t all kill people?” Elektra questioned. Wade looked back and forth between her and a spot on the wall.

“I mean… C’mon guys. Daredevil is the Number One Catholic in all of Marvel. His whole season three arc was a constant back and forth of if he’d actually go through with his first kill. Which, by the way, is rookie numbers if you ask me-”

“It was the Daredevil I know,” Elektra answered, ending Wade’s rambling about things no one in the room quite understood.

“Well, I’m sorry for your loss, then,” Wade said as he clasped his hands together in front of him.

“It’s fine,” Elektra replied with a shrug.

“Ok…” Wade murmured, looking down at his feet. A few moments of silence hung in the cave like mist on a cool morning.

“Even that sweet angel, Johnny Storm. He up an’ gone missing, what, two days ago?” Remy lamented quietly. Blade and Elektra met his mournful look with their own.

“Oh, that’s so sad. Whoever this ‘Johnny’ fella is, I’m sure he’s thriving,” Wade said in a soothing manner. Logan couldn’t help but chuckle in response. Oh yeah, thriving alright. Wade cleared his throat, “Look, there’s strength in numbers! Alright? Us, you guys, we can put Cassandra over our knee and force her to let us out of the Void!” he continued. Blade scoffed at the merc, sitting back down on a crate. Wade was floundering at the disinterest shown by the group, “I know what it means to feel self doubt.”

“I don’t feel that at all,” Elektra said.

“I’m good,” Blade added.

“Gnawing at your gut like a coked-up tapeworm?” Wade pressed, gesturing to his stomach in a wide circle.

“It’s like you’re holding up a mirror to my soul,” Remy said solemnly. Logan bit back another laugh.

Wade approached the trio, “You guys may not be able to save your universes… But you can avenge them! It’s what Johnny woulda wanted!”

That was the wrong thing to say.

“Wait. You knew Johnny?” Elektra asked. Tension spread throughout the room. Every eye fell to the idiot in red. Logan couldn’t help but laugh at the mess the merc had made for himself.

“Oh, yeah. Dickhead here talked him into a team-up and Johnny came down with a little case of the ‘deads,’” Logan explained, sneering at Wade. The merc snapped his head back at Logan.

“No, no. We don’t know that! It was just a flesh wound. He may have survived!” Wade said in an attempt at calming the situation. Logan laughed again, lifting the bottle to his lips.

“If he survived that, he is praying for death,” Logan returned. He took another big gulp of the quickly depleting whiskey.

“Thank you, Doctor Wolverine!” Wade groused at him.

“Spill it!” Blade demanded.

“What’d you do to Johnny, huh? Talk, or I’mma start dealin’,” Remy said, raising a card while his eyes glowed. Wade waved his hands in the air, desperation leaking into his voice.

“Okay, okay. Hey, hey, hey! Look, he ran his fatass mouth about Cassandra! Then she zip-zapped his skin, leaving his organs to splash crudely onto the ground while the soil greedily drank his blood! It was horrible! He was like a brother to me!” he said quickly, providing a very filtered version of what had actually happened, “Look, he died before he could make a difference. But… But, maybe you couldn’t save your worlds… But Jesus Christ, you can save mine!”

“I don’t give a shit about your world. But, if these two made it out of there alive, maybe, together, we can get back in and take her down,” Elektra said, turning to the rest of the group. Remy shook his head.

“Where I come from… We call that ‘suicide’, cher,” he retorted. Elektra sighed as she shifted from foot to foot.

“Maybe if we can block her psychic powers, we could get a leg up. I know it! Now, I know Magneto’s dead… But I’d venture a guess that his helmet is lying around here somewhere,” Wade said, a smile practically leaking through his mask.

“Cassandra melted that helmet,” you replied grimly.

“Fuck!” Wade cursed.

“After she killed him,” Blade added.

“FUCK!” Wade yelled, cradling his head in his hands.

“She don’t play,” Blade said while shaking his head.

“She knows that helmet was the only way to protect anyone from her powers. The only other helmet that strong is Juggernaut’s, but he works for Cassandra,” Elektra explained with an air of indifference.

“Juggernaut’s helmet! That’s it!” Wade said, enthusiasm leaking back into his voice.

“Yeah, we don’t be knowin’ that lid ain’t comin’ off without that dome gonna come off wit’ it,” Remy drawled in response. Wade shifted his attention to him.

“I’m sorry, beautiful, I want this to be gentle,” Wade started, pressing his hands together in a placating manner, “Who is your dialect coach? The Minions? I feel like we’re missing critical exposition here!”

Wade’s question hung in the air, silence following the quip. Logan smirked at the group. It was nice to see other people experience the torment he’s been through for the past two days. Entertaining, even. 

Elektra paced back and forth between Remy and Blade, lower lip caught in her teeth, “I’m sick of this shit. I’m sick of hiding. Let’s face it, our worlds forgot about us.”

“Or… Never learned about us,” Remy mumbled to himself.

“The heroes we were,” Elektra continued, disregarding what the Gambit said.

“The lives we saved,” Blade said as he rose from the crate.

“Or wanted… To save,” Remy said, again to himself.

Elektra met Blade’s eyes, hidden behind his glasses, as she said, “Maybe these two are our chance. To be remembered. The way we deserve.”

Logan could feel hope bubbling in the air. It made his stomach turn. There was no way in hell this would work. These guys were just a bunch of washed-up has-beens without a home. Just like him.

His eyes drifted back to you. You were staring intently at Wade, gloved hand resting on X23’s shoulder. You seemed to believe in what the idiot was saying. That there was hope. Logan grit his teeth.

“Yes…” Wade said with an audible grin as he looked between every person in the room.

“An ending,” Elektra whispered.

Blade smiled, “Legacy.”

“Yes! YES!” Wade exclaimed, clapping his hands, “Let this man cook! This is what I’m talkin’ about! Big slow-motion fights, sad music, everybody workin’ together. Who knows if you live or die? That sorta thing! Who’s ready?”

“I was born ready,” Blade replied, flipping a long knife in his hands to the sky.

“Yes! Gambit?” Wade asked as he pointed at Remy.

“I ain’t know my daddy, but I’m sure I shot outta his dick ready,” he answered. There was a pause.

“Jesus Christ, that is graphic,” Wade said.

“Yeah, he was layin’ them buttery nuts all up in my mama an’ I shot out there an’ I said ‘What’s up, doc?’” Remy continued. Logan grimaced at how graphic this guy was. Was there no class anymore?

Wade laughed, “I’m sure Johnny must’ve loved you! X23, what’s it gonna be?”

X23 glanced at Logan, then to you, then back to Wade, “The name’s Laura. And hell yeah, I’m ready.”

“What about you, mama?” Wade asked you.

“If she’s in, I’m in,” you responded, patting Laura on the shoulder. She looked up at you with a small smile.

“Let’s fucking go,” she said, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Let’s fucking go!” Wade repeated. The energy in the room was electric. Wide smiles, hopeful glances, muscles tensing under warm skin. Static built in the room like the air before a lightning strike.

“Show ‘em that the chicken ain’t cold,” Blade said with a grin.

“Yeah!” Wade replied.

“We’re doing this,” Elektra said decidedly. Logan shook his head.

“You’re all fucking dead,” he groused. Wade turned on his heel to look at the Wolverine.

“My God, read the room.” 

~~~~

“I’m not going out there, Laura!” you hissed at your daughter.

You and her were in the room you shared. The stone walls, ceiling, and floor kept your conversation private. A queen bed sat in the corner. Rumpled, black sheets lay atop the mattress. You and Laura shared the bed. Neither of you minded, it was something the two of you had grown accustomed to when on that fateful road trip nine years ago.

“I’ve loosened him up for you! He talked about the X-Men and what happened with them. Mama, please. You need to talk to him,” Laura argued.

She sat cross-legged on the bed while you paced back and forth in front of her. A smug smile tugged at the edges of her lips, gloss reflecting in the lamplight. You chewed on your bottom lip. 

“I doubt he even knows me. I probably don’t even exist in his universe. What if he thinks I’m creepy for talking to him? Or what if I’m a mass-murderer? Shit, what if I hurt someone he cared about-” Laura yelled your name, stopping both your pacing and your rambling in their tracks. You paused in front of her. She sighed, pushing herself off the bed and running her palms down your arms.

“Even if you’re no one in his universe, he still needs someone to talk to. Someone like him. Well, more like him. You know what I mean,” she said with a small smile. You shook your head at her.

“I don’t know how much more like him you could be, kid,” you breathed, resting a hand on her jaw. Every day you were blown away at how similar Laura was to Logan. From their smile, to their terrible jokes, to their temper, to the way their eyebrows crinkled in the corners. She was his daughter, through and through.

“I’m not a bazillion years old,” Laura snarked back. You rolled your eyes.

“You’re lucky I won’t make you do push-ups for saying that,” you replied with a fond grin.

“Go talk to him, mama. If not for your sake, or his, then for mine. Please?” Laura begged, giving you the wide eyes that she knew you could never turn down.

You sighed, “Fine. Five minutes. If I don’t come back, assume he’s killed me or something.”

“Or something?” Laura questioned, wiggling her eyebrows. You shoved her away with a groan. She laughed as she landed on the bed.

“Get some sleep, kid. Love ya,” you said as you made for the doorway. You scooped up your boots that sat next to Laura’s. 

“Love you too, mama. Gane la verga!” she called after you as you stepped out of the room. 

You sighed at your daughter’s antics. Thank God she was past the moody teenager phase. That was a nightmare. The constant anxiety, the mood swings, the self-doubt. Only exacerbated by her mutation. Luckily, you were surrounded by dozens of other mutants at the time. What wasn’t so lucky was that the majority of them were also going through that phase at the same time.

A shudder rolled through your spine at the memory. You’d give anything to see the rest of the kids again, they were your reason for being, but you thanked whatever god would listen that most of them were through puberty. Your mind wandered to your little sheep farm as you sat on a crate to pull on your boots.

Images of the flowing grasses swept through your mind. Light breezes sending waves through the fields, buzzing cicadas droning in the surrounding woods, the occasional bleat from a sheep, smells of whatever the kids were cooking wafting through the white-wood house. 

Logan would’ve loved living there.

It was peaceful. Serene. Secret. Not once in the eight years you’d lived there had the humans discovered your school. It had helped that there wasn't an influx of new students everyday, drawing the public eye to your property. Most of the kids were the ones that had been created by Transigen. Others were some you’d picked up along the way to the farmhouse. A family made of broken pieces.

But there was always that one, Logan-shaped, missing piece. You would feel it when you’d wake up to the spot next to you cold and empty, or when you’d talk with a kid about your past and would instinctively look to Logan for his input. Only, he was never there. 

His death had left a void in your heart. You’d tried your best to fill it by surrounding yourself with love and compassion. Listening to the laughter of your kids, smelling the flowers Bobby grew in the garden, eating the food Amanda and Leah would prepare with care. The love for your kids could only go so far.

Seeing Logan, or this variant of him, had hit you like a punch to the gut. He had his eyes, his hair, his smile lines. He even had his beard trimmed in the same way. But he was young. Remarkably younger than when your Logan had passed. Only a few grays dotted along the variant’s dark beard, fewer wrinkles cracked in the corners of his eyes, and he still had that undeniable energy about him that initially drove you wild. Like a predator trapped in a room full of prey.

“Lost in thought, cher?” Remy asked as he stepped up next to you, snapping you out of your swirling mind. You smiled up at him.

“Just a little, bon ami,” you replied. You’d made it a point to learn French when you’d been thrown into the Void. If only to be able to understand the Gambit better when he went on one of his rambles.

Remy pulled a crate up in front of you and sat on the top. A single card, the ace of diamonds, flipped in his left hand, “Whatchu thinkin’ about?”

“Laura’s convinced me to talk with the big, bad, Wolverine outside,” you joked in an attempt to mask your anxiety. You tugged on the laces of your boots.

“Ah, le couyon zouave. That man’s gonna drink me outta house an’ home,” Remy mused. You chuckled at him calling Logan “silly goose.” Remy adjusted in his seat, throwing the back of his coat over the crate, “You gonna talk to him? ‘Bout what?”

You sighed and shrugged your shoulders, “No fucking clue. Maybe to make sure I’m not a serial killer in his universe.”

“Ha! I’d like to see that, cher. You’d be a killer serial-killer,” he replied with a wide grin. It was hard not to smile back. Remy just had a way of lighting up a room. If not by his charm, then by his explosive cards.

“I wonder what my serial-killer name would be,” you joked as you finished tying your shoes. Remy chuckled in response.

“Hmm, if I gotta be Le Diable Blanc, maybe you could be La Démon Rouge,” he wondered aloud. You shook your head at the word choice.

“Matt already had the whole ‘red devil’ thing going on. Wouldn’t wanna step on any crime-fighting toes,” you responded, pushing yourself to your feet. Remy stood from his seat as well. His eyes passed between both of yours.

“It ain’t just wonderin’ ‘bout your other self, is it, cher?” he asked. This guy could read you like an open book. You ground your back teeth.

“No… I guess not,” you muttered as you folded your arms across your chest. What did you expect from the looming conversation? Comfort in your grief? A drinking buddy? Or would Logan completely blow you off? 

“How ‘bout you take two bottles and loosen him up, yeah?” Remy offered with a grin. You eyed him suspiciously. Prying liquor from the Gambit was like pulling teeth from an angry leopard. He laughed at your incredulous expression, “To learn about your serial-killerness.”

You smiled at the man you considered to be a friend after half a year of knowing each other. Remy was the easiest to grow close with. Charm flowed from him like sunlight through an open window. Out of the people you’d chosen to ally yourself with, Remy was the one you could stomach spending time with.

“I appreciate it, bon ami. I really do,” you thanked with a wide smile. He clapped a hand on your upper back.

“Of course, you pauvre bȇte. Lord knows you ain’t had much action in a while, huh?” he quipped, making you cough as you choked on some spit. He patted your back as he said, “I swear, if that fils de putain don’t gobble you up, I may jus’ do it myself.”

“Thank you,” you wheezed between coughs. What else were you supposed to say to something like that? Remy’s lack of a filter always had you doubled over. Whether in shock or from laughing, it was a toss-up.

“Now, go talk up that rougarou, huh? Give yourself an unforgettable night before your untimely demise,” Remy said with finality, giving your shoulder a little push past him. You stumbled a bit before you managed to catch yourself.

Ignoring the growing heat across your face and neck, you thanked Remy again and grabbed two bottles of whiskey from the rack. The amber liquid sloshed inside the unopened bottles. You approached the stone doorway that opened into the great outdoors. Smoke particles drifted in on the gentle breeze. After another smell, you figured that there must be a campfire not far from the entrance.

Steeling your nerves, you stepped out of the cave. Grass and moss clung to the outside of the cave like tight clothing. Your boots squished in the rain-soaked mud. Deep footprints from Laura and Logan dug into the dirt. The trail led away from the cave, to the left, and to a crackling light about a quarter mile away.

You could just barely make out a figure sitting on a log by the campfire. Elbows leaning on his knees, yellow suit hugging his body, brown hair glowing like a sunset in the firelight. Logan.

The trilling of bugs filled your ears as you approached. Loud drones, often followed by quieter ones, echoed from the tree branches and around your anxiety-ridden form. You usually found solace in the sounds of nature. Enjoying the smells that followed rain, appreciating the sounds of different birds and bugs, gazing lovingly at flowers and different types of trees.

All the constant droning did was increase your cortisol levels. 

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you reached the log ring. Four large logs sat in a square around a burning campfire. Smoke curled from the fire and into the night air. Long shadows chased each other the further they danced away from the light.

“I said I ain’t lookin’ for company,” Logan growled under his breath. You froze in place. This is a mistake. This is a mistake. This is a mistake.

“Need a refill?” you squeaked despite the raging thoughts inside your head.

Logan spun on the log he was perched on. His hazel eyes, practically emerald in the firelight, were wide as they connected with yours. Confusion etched its way across his furrowed brow.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked. The empty bottle clutched in his hands reflected the light like fireflies trapped in the glass. You swallowed a knot the size of a baseball.

“Thought you could use a drinking buddy. Seeings as we’re gonna die tomorrow,” you explained, raising the bottles so he could see them better. He stared at you for a few moments. It was nearly impossible to read his expression. And, unfortunately, you were out of practice.

Logan huffed, a mask of indifference settling over his face once more, as he turned back to the fire, “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” you replied quickly. His eyes traced over your face warily. You squared your shoulders as you met his glare, “I could use a drink with someone my age.”

Logan laughed at that, the sound fast and harsh. His head hung low as he shook it back and forth. A hopeful grin pulled at the edges of your lips.

“Grab some log,” he sighed after a few moments. You did your best to hide the wave of enthusiasm that threatened to break your cool demeanor. The bark of the log dug into your palm, leaving indents in the flesh, as you sat to Logan’s left. 

Warmth washed over your front from the crackling fire. Comforting, like a heated blanket during a blizzard. You held out a bottle to him, the liquid sending bent light across his scowling face.

Nothing happened for a few moments. Logan continued to glare at the offered bottle as it filled the space between the two of you. Apprehension started gnawing at your gut.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood. Logan smirked, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

His gloved hand wrapped around the base of the bottle, taking the whiskey from your outstretched hand. Thick fingers worked the lid open and chucked it into the crackling fire. A log split down near the embers.

“So, what’s your story?” Logan asked after a beat, raising the bottle to his lips. The question caught you by surprise. You worked on your response as you opened your bottle.

“Laura and I ended up here about a year ago. Or, you know, the equivalent,” you began. Bitter liquor filled your mouth as you took a sip. The whiskey flowed down your throat in a sharp-edged stream. You grimaced at the taste, “Jesus, that’s strong.”

“Not a fan of hard liquor?” Logan asked, almost teasingly. You cleared your throat to ease the sting.

“It’s not that. Just haven’t had a drink in… Shit, nine years?” you explained as the whiskey settled in your stomach. Logan hummed in response.

“How come?” he pressed. You cocked an eyebrow at him. He didn’t care to elaborate on why he was asking so many questions, opting to take another long swig instead. You blew a puff of air out through pursed lips.

“In my world, you… Uh, well, you died. Didn’t want to drink without you,” you said, your gaze fixed on the bottle’s opening, “We were on the run from this company called Transigen. They had samples of a shit ton of the X-Men’s DNA, and used the samples to make their own mutants. Grew the kids in a lab. Not even bothering to give them names,” you bit out gruffly. Recounting Laura’s past always left a bad taste in your mouth. You downed another swig, wincing slightly, then said, “A nurse got Laura out of there, along with a bunch of other kids. They all got separated, though. Laura and the nurse ended up contacting Logan for help. Logan, or uh, I guess you, was a limo-driver at the time. The nurse wanted us to take Laura to this location in North Dakota.”

“And I said yes?” Logan asked suspiciously, “Doesn’t sound like me.”

You laughed lightly, “I was the one to convince you. I mean, she was your daughter. Couldn’t just turn her down, right?”

“I dunno,” he muttered under his breath. You didn’t get a chance to press further before he was taking another sip. You chewed on your bottom lip.

“Charles was the main advocate for helping Laura. Him and I managed to wear Logan down enough for that grump to help. So, the four of us piled in the limo in El Paso and made for North Dakota. The trip was… It wasn’t smooth. We lost Charles along the way,” you said, grief beginning to bubble up your throat. You blinked away the tears pricking behind your eyelids, “Transigen had made an exact clone of Logan that they used to hunt us down. That clone killed Charles.”

The loss of your mentor, your longest friend, still washed over you like churning waves in a storm. Charles Xavier was the first person to show you an ounce of kindness. He was the one to house you, to help you figure out your mutation, to introduce you to the X-Men. To the Wolverine.

“I’m sorry,” Logan mumbled. His eyes were still fixed on his bottle, “Losing Chuck was hard. Real hard. I know how it feels.”

“Thanks,” you breathed in response. 

Logan gave you a curt nod as he drank from his bottle. You spun the neck of your bottle between your fingers.

“After Logan’s clone attacked and Charles died, Logan was pretty messed up. See, his adamantium skeleton had been slowly poisoning his blood ever since it was put in him. Leeching metal into his veins and robbing him of his healing mutation. Even I couldn’t patch him up, and that’s my specialty,” you explained with a brief, humorless laugh, “We still managed to make it to North Dakota. Laura took over driving for a bit while I worked on stitching Logan up. Seeing her, only eleven, driving better than he did made me glad he was unconscious.”

That last remark made Logan throw you an irritated glare. You chuckled in response, his reaction so fucking similar to how your Logan would react. Eyebrows furrowed, nose scrunched, scowl pulling on his lips. 

“I’m kidding,” you said in an attempt to ease the annoyed Wolverine.

“Uh-huh,” he huffed. You could just barely see an upward tick on the edge of his scowl.

“God, where was I… We made it to North Dakota. Logan was on the mend after I’d managed to stitch up several stab wounds. Laura brought us to this ranger station looking out over the border between Canada and North Dakota. A shit ton of the kids from Transigen were there. Holed up, hiding from those assholes who wanted them back. The kids told us they were planning to cross the border to escape Transigen. I wanted to help them, to make sure the crossing went well, but Logan was still too injured.”

Bile started to burn at the back of your throat. Watching the color drain from his face, your partner for thirty years, was one of the worst experiences of your long life. Feeling utterly helpless as the energy faded from the once immortal Wolverine.

“The next morning, the kids tried to cross into Canada. But Transigen had found them. They were chasing those poor kids through the woods, hunting them down and either killing or restraining them. Logan and I just barely made it there to prevent any other kids from getting hurt. He would slice up the Transigen cronies while I’d escort the kids away. Quite the asshole-fighting team,” you recounted with a frown. Now comes the hard part, “The clone was released into the woods after us. It managed to grab a hold of Logan before I could do anything. It… It killed him. Stabbed a fucking tree through his chest. And I didn’t even get a chance to stop it.”

Hot trails of tears started leaking down your heated cheeks. Shaky breaths rattled inside your lungs. You wiped away the moisture gathering under your eyes. God, it was hard to talk about what’d happened.

A large hand rested on your shoulder. The palm warm, strong, gloved. You looked up through wet eyelashes. 

Logan looked at you with an understanding you couldn’t quite place. Like the same kind of grief that had you in a chokehold had its claws in him, too. Like he knew exactly what you were going through. You sniffed back a sob. 

“I can guess the rest, doll,” he said softly. His fingers squeezed gently at your shoulder. Your breath caught behind your lips.

Doll.

That’s what your Logan had called you.

“Did-Did I exist in your universe, Logan?” you asked, desperate to shift the conversation away from your grief. Logan inhaled sharply, eyes darting away from yours.

“Uh… Yeah. You did. You, uh, died too,” he responded quietly. The hand not on your shoulder, still gripping the whiskey, lifted the bottle to his lips, “I held you as you died.”

A heavy silence settled over the two of you. Lead-lined heartache tugged at your chest and made it hard to breathe. Logan downed another swig.

You lifted a slightly trembling hand up to the one on your shoulder. Your fingers traced gently over the blue material, the fabric rough under your calluses, then you laced your digits with his. Logan froze where he sat.

“Is this okay?” you asked softly, afraid to break the calm quiet around the two of you. A charged moment passed.

“Yeah,” Logan replied huskily. His fingers adjusted to hold your hand tighter against his palm. Your heart started to kick up behind your ribs.

The two of you sat like that for a few minutes. Quiet, the night air only disturbed by the droning bugs or the crackling fire, Logan’s fingers laced with yours. It felt… Good. Right. Like some of the weight that had piled on these past nine years was growing a little lighter.

“Laura was out here earlier,” Logan said, interrupting the silence. You looked at him from the corner of your eye. He sighed as he took another drink, “Tried to convince me to help out tomorrow. That I’m actually worth a damn.”

The harsh words caught you off guard. Where is this coming from?

“You are worth a damn, Logan. In every universe,” you replied. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He shook his head, frown deepening across his lips.

“No. No, you don’t understand. After you died, I…” he muttered then sighed, hanging his head low. You gave him a few quiet moments to collect his thoughts. It seemed the weight of the universe was piled on his broad shoulders, “After I lost you, I started drinking. Every second I was awake, I was drinking. I didn’t want to think, or remember, or feel. I just wanted to be numb.”

He exhaled a shaky breath. His hazel eyes screwed shut as memories seemed to flash in his mind. You rubbed soothing circles into the back of his gloved hand.

“Everyone in that fucking mansion died because of me. Because I was too fucking drunk to help when the humans came. I…” Logan trailed off. He avoided your gaze as he took another long gulp of liquor. He swallowed noisily, then said, “I ain’t worth shit, doll.”

You took a few moments to absorb his words. The self-pity, the agony, the remorse. You bit your lip as you tried to construct what you’d say. Talking with an upset Logan was difficult, to say the least. One word out of place and he’d shut down.

“Have you ever helped someone, Logan?” you asked, shifting your gaze from the dancing flames to his hunched form. He cocked an eyebrow at you. You bit your lip, then continued, “I mean, really helped someone. Like, you risked your own safety to help out someone you didn’t even know. Whether it be helping an old lady crossing the street, getting a little kid’s cat out of a tree, or even saving someone’s life. Have you helped anyone out like that?”

Logan was quiet for a few moments. He swirled the amber liquor, the bottle now half-full. He cleared his throat, “I have.”

“And how did you feel afterwards?” you pressed.

“I dunno. Good, I guess,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. You shifted on the log so you were facing him.

“Then you are worth something. Even if it was something as small as holding open the door for someone, you improved that person’s life. You made a positive impact. You could have shaped the course of that person’s whole existence with that one, simple action. And, if I know you like I think I do, you’ve done way more than just holding open the door for someone. You’re worth far more than you know, Lo.”

It seemed your spiel had left Logan speechless. He stared at you, wide-eyed, as your words settled into the night air around you. The silence between you stretched on for so long, you were beginning to think you might have said the wrong thing.

“What did you just call me?” he breathed. The hand holding yours tightened its grip. Anxiety started to leak into your mind.

“Uh… Lo?” you answered apprehensively. Did he not like the nickname?

Without warning, the hand holding yours shifted to cradling your jaw. He tugged you towards him, liquor bottle forgotten on the forest floor, as Logan crashed his lips into yours.

SMUT NEXT CHAPTER!!!! I REPEAT, SMUT NEXT CHAPTER!!!!

leg's taglist: @chronicallybubbly @agustdpeach @fandomsunited @bontensbabygirl @quinnlyyy

[annabelle--cane]

story and character tidbits from the post-launch stream:

gwen says "fuck" at some point

as general personality reads, not connected to the actual content of the show: colin says fuck every other sentence, alice says it regularly but with no particular venom to it, sam only says it out of frustration, and gwen says it to herself mostly. if lena says fuck, then you know a situation could not possibly be more dire.

in episode ten, alice and sam go to a place and it's really good

gwen confirmed to be from the same family as elias

celia shouts something at some point

sounds of scuffles and violence have been recorded

in a fight, alice would underestimate gwen's willingness to do violence and therefore possibly lose. if gwen has access to the family metal pipe, alice definitely looses.

alice would either bring a colander as a weapon, or just colin himself. she says "if you take out gwen, I'll do all your IT work" and sets him loose.

the actors would color code their characters as: celia, deep fuchsia. gwen, deep purple. alice, warm burgundy. sam, sage green. chester, tarnished gold/bronze. norris, either ultraviolet or extremely light silvery blue.

jonny assigned dnd classes: sam, ranger. alice, rogue. celia, sorcerer. gwen, warlock. everyone immediately disagreed, and the group sourced classes that went down better are: celia, rogue. sam, cleric or really low charisma sorcerer. gwen, wizard. colin, barbarian. alice, poorly min maxed fighter.

[mj0702]

So my dearest Frens... even if it’s my day today I gift you with Part 6... I hope you enjoy it and have a good night... day... whatever timezone you live in ♥️

The other Bronze – Pt.6

You woke up with pain in your wrist. You felt every pulse shooting right up into your wrist. You groaned and grabbed your phone seeing it was just after 3AM. You groaned again but pushed yourself up and stood up going on a painkiller hunt. You entered the dark kitchen and started searching for the pain meds knowing Lucy normally leaving them in one of the cupboards. You were just rummaging through the third cupboard as suddenly the light got turned on and you swirled around feeling like a kid with it's hand in the cookie jar.

“Jesus fuck“ you exclaimed shocked being confronted by a scared looking Ona

“What are you doing?” the blonde asked evenly as shocked holding up a fly swat like it was a baseball bat

“I'm looking for drugs” you gritted through your teeth

“What?” Ona asked confused

“My wrist hurts like a bitch... I need painkillers” you huffed out before noticing the fly swat “What's up with that?”

“Oh” the blonde quickly lowered her weapon “I thought we were being... robado”

“You what?” you looked at her completely lost

“You know... when strangers come and take your stuff” she shrugged her shoulders

“Robbed... you thought you were being robbed and then you thought it would be a grand idea to defend yourself – and my sister – with a fly swat... great choice” you snorted unimpressed

“It was the first thing I could grab” the spaniard shrugged

“Just a small tip... if you have robbers in your house... call the police and do NOT engage with them.. they probably kill you” you said before turning around searching again

“They're in the bathroom... our bathroom” Ona clarified as she saw you looking around again

“You have an own bathroom?” you turned around again looking at her confused

“We do... wait I get them for you” she smiled before disappearing

“Own bathroom... who does she think she is.. Taylor Swift or what?” you mumbled to yourself plopping down on a chair at the kitchen table

“Here you are Bebita” Ona said as she put a half a tablet in front of you getting you a glass of water from the sink

“Lucy gave me two... you are pretty tight with my drugs” you grumbled seeing that half a pill

“Lucy overdosed you and you were high half of the day” Ona countered smirking

“SHE WHAT???!!!” you screeched

“What do you remember from yesterday?” the blonde asked carefully

“Your friends were over, Luce gave me pills, I slept” you shrugged your shoulders

“Ehrm... yeah... do you remember being in the gym with Alexia?” Ona hummed

“Huh?” you looked at here like SHE lost it this time

“Okay... believe me – a half a pill is more than enough... the rest Lucy can explain... Are you hungry Bebita? You haven't had a lot in the last couple of hours... I can... batter something up” the blonde spaniard offered

You just stared blankly at her.

“Yes... no?” Ona looked at you expectantly

“Yes... please” you said carefully

“What's wrong?” the blonde asked

“Why are you so nice to me?” you asked unsure

“Why wouldn't I be?” she questioned back

“I dunno...” you shrugged “... but I feel like you shouldn't be”

“Why do you feel that way?” the blonde looked confused

“God... now you sound like my therapist” you rolled your eyes but a smile was tucking on the edge of your lips

“So... why do you feel I shouldn't be nice to you?” Ona tried again

“I... I.. I blamed you, you know... and I came here with the thought of hating you... and you're nice to me...” you mumbled looking away

Ona just looked at you before it dawned on her

“You thought Lucy didn't come to your birthday because of me... because she prioritized me over you” Ona concluded slowly

“I'm sorry... I really am...” you nodded as you looked up at her with sad eyes

“You have nothing to be sorry about, y/n... I understand it... and I know Lucy wants to talk to you about it, but you know her – she's snoring her life away” Ona smiled at the end

“How did you know?” you mumbled surprised

“You talked a lot yesterday...” the blonde smirked as your eyes widen

“What did I talk about?” you ask panicking

“You called Aitana flawless... Alexia pretty... Mapí a colorbook and you spilled that you're dating one Georgia Stanway” Ona smirked

“Shit” you're eyes widen even more and all colour leaves your face “shit shit shit shit shit”

“Calm down... she will talk to you about it but she's not mad... not really – more hurt that you didn't tell her” the blonde said calmly

“She's going to kill G... and then me... or first me and then her” you just kept panicking not listening to Ona

“Y/n... she won't, okay... there's more you two need to talk about... but Lucy is NOT mad” the spaniard grabbed your hand running her thumb over the back of it

“Don't let her kill me...” you whined “... Keira... I need to talk to Keira first... and then Keira can talk to Lucy and Lucy will talk first to you and I can flee the country”

“Okay... enough... nothing bad is going to happen – now here's how the next minutes will go... you tell me what you want to eat, then you take your painkiller and then you'll go back to bed... in the morning you and Lucy will sit down and talk to each other – REALLY talk...” Ona put her foot down hoping you wouldn't hold it against her

“Okay... okay..” you took a deep breath before looking at your sisters girlfriend hopefully “I know you guys are pro athletes and live on a diet... but do you have ANYTHING sugary? Cookies? Sweets? Anything?”

“Don't tell your sister” Ona pointed at you threating but smiling before standing up and got some chocolate chip cookies from a cupboard.

“Oh god” you moaned happily as you bit half a cookie off “definitely not telling her... because then I need to share”

“Slowly” the blonde warned you as she saw you shoving two more cookies into your mouth

You slowed down but ended five more cookies before Ona took the package away. You looked at her hurtful but she just shot you a “Don't push it”-glare. She's getting really good with reading you, you must admit. Not Keira good, but... good.

“Come on Bebita... take your pill and back to bed... it's nearly 4AM” Ona smiled softly at you watching you as you took your painkiller without further protest

“Can I sleep in your bed?” you ask pouting

“Your sister snores” the blonde reminded you

“I know” you rolled your eyes “I grew up with her”

“Come on then” Ona nodded towards the bedroom “I'll take the guestroom”

“You.... with us?” you asked getting a little light headed again

“I don't think that's a good idea Bebita... your sister gets quite... handsy early mornings” Ona tried to bring her point across

“Morning sex?” you ask pulling a face your brain a bit foggy

“Sometimes... but that's not the point... how do you feel Bebita?” the blonde checked on you having a slight hunch

“Bit funny” you mumbled “sleepy”

“Come on then... I'll get you to bed” Ona sighed as she stood up signalling you to follow her

You followed suit standing up slowly following the blonde spaniard as said woman turned off the light in the kitchen while you grabbed the back of her shirt so you have a little guidance to not run into anything.

“Off you go to your sister... lay on right side so you don't hurt your wrist further – you might need to push Lucy over a little bit... she likes to sleep in the middle” Ona smiled encouraging as she stopped in front of their bedroom door.

“Oh don't I know it” you mumble as you let go of Onas shirt and stepped forward – to just run straight into the door.

Your face connected loudly with the wooden door. You needed a few seconds to realize what happened before your hand flew to your nose as you started to swear loudly which caused Lucy to finally wake up and open the bedroom door.

“What the Fuck, y/n? Do you know what time it is?” she whisper yelled at you as you try to hold back the tears that threatened to leave your eyes “If you wake Ona up with your nonsense, I swear to god”

“I'm already up... your sister needed painkillers and since you don't hear anything once you're out, I took care of it” Ona said rolling her eyes as she grabbed you by your shoulders and pushed you inside the bedroom to sit you down on the edge of the bed.

“Let me look Bebita” she said softly as she pried your hand off your face.

“I bet it's broken... just my fucking luck” you whined

“Let me look first” the blonde spaniard chuckled as she inspected your nose “No... not broken” she smiled at you

“What is going on here???” Lucy asked behind you both looking so SO confused

“I woke up and my wrist was killing me... so I investigated the kitchen for painkillers since THAT'S where painkillers belong... turns out your girlfriend hasn't got the deepest sleep and tried to kill me with a fly swat thinking I'm a robber... then she gave me some toast and my painkillers and I asked if I could sleep at yours... she said yes and led me over here and told me to go on... which I did...” you explained everything lying about the cookies

“... and you decided to run straight into the door?” Lucy asked you perplex

“How should I have known the door was closed? Who closes their bedroom door??” you said upset

“Me when my little sister is around” your sister countered and you could see the small smirk as your eyes grew wide and you started to dry heave

“Lucy” Ona swatted your sisters shoulder hard “Don't worry Bebita... she's just messing with you”

“I wouldn't put it past her” you mumbled and shivered

“Payback” your sister growled playfully

“Look... I was.... non compos mentis... I don't remember anything so you can't hold anything against me” you started to defend yourself knowing what your sister was referring to.

“Okay... both of you... either you go back to bed OR you go back into the kitchen and talk it out – I won't have you beat around the bush at 4AM when I could be sleeping” Ona interfered strictly shooting you both a warning glare

“I'm half drugged I don't care” you shrugged your shoulders

“Bed it is then” the blonde spaniard said and both of you knew there's no room for discussion

It took a little bit of shuffling before Lucy and you got comfortable in bed as Ona leaves as promised to sleep in the guest bedroom

You woke up hours later to an empty bed the sun already standing high in the sky as you rolled over and out of bed. You padded barefoot into the kitchen to find your sister sitting at the table books and papers spread out in front of her.

“Hey” you said tiredly scratching your head

“Hey Bubs” she looked up at you smiling “Good sleep?”

“Mhm” you hummed as you fell down on a chair beside her

“How are you feeling Bubs?” she asked and you could tell she genuinely cares

“Tired... kinda burned out... like my body wants to shut down but somehow it keeps going... my brain is not function and still runs a million miles an hour” you answer honestly and for the first time you were completely honest with your sister

“What happened at home... I know my birthday was just an excuse to flee mom and dad... probably more mom” Lucy leaned back in her chair to look at you

“I just.... I felt so alone Luce... you and Keira were gone... Jorge and Sophie have their own families... yeah, the girls are great... you know Tooney and Mearps are always there but they're not you... or Keira” you said and shrugged your shoulders looking down

“I'm sorry Bubs... I really am... I actually thought you knew that you can always call me... or text me... or send a pigeon” your sister leaned forward again taking your hand in hers “I may not be in the same country but I'm always there for you Bubs”

“What could you have done when I got expelled from school?” you asked getting upset that Lucy didn't get you

“You what?” Lucy looked at you confused

“I got expelled because I snapped at some girls who said stupid stuff” you said guilty starting to chew on your lip

“Tell me about it” your sister said after a moment of silence “I really want to know what made YOU snap”

“They were talking shit about you and some other players... you know... sexual shit... I mean I can ignore most stuff... I'm used to people drool and swoon over you but this... went to far” you explained getting kind of embarrassed

“Oh Bubs” your sister sighed out “I know it's hard to be my little sister – and I don't speak about the distance or the late night games or always being the baby of every team I join... but you can't snap at people.. not because of me or my name or my career but because of you... you are such an good loving caring person – I don't want people to think otherwise because the witness one incident”

“Do you know how it feels when people rate you top or bottom compared to other players? And not once but for WEEKS... and then proceed to ask questions about certain players and when I didn't answers they wouldn't leave me alone and pester me every fucking chance they got... do you know how it feels if you get asked in the middle of the class if you could top Leah... or Beth... of for god sakes JILL ROORD” you finally broke your silence about what happened and of course your sister was the reason for it. You didn't said anything about the topic to your principal – or your parents. You just took your punishment and the disappointed looks from your parents and just went on. Your Dad decided after some days it probably would do you some good to clear your head somewhere else and shipped you off to Lucy – much to your mothers dismay but she let you go once your dad reasoned with her about Lucys birthday surprise.

“I'm sorry...” your sister started after you took in what you said but you interrupted her immediately “... stop say you're sorry... it doesn't change anything if you're sorry or not” you leashed out at her feeling yourself getting angry “... I need coffee for this...” you said before standing up and going to the guestroom to chance and make ready to go out.

Your sister cleared the table while you went to change into some shorts and a simple white sleeveless compression shirt you obviously stole from Lucys wardrobe. As you re-entered the kitchen there were two cups of coffee on the table your sister sitting in her chair again waiting for you to sit down so you could continue talking

“I'm not drinking your shitty filter coffee...” you said grimacing at the cup

“It's from the good machine okay...” she rolled her eyes while she pointed to the shiny porta filter machine standing on the end of the counter “... you're such a coffee snob”

“Just because you don't have any taste buds left due to your old age” you fired back grinning but carefully took a sip of the cup “....yeah... acceptable” you said after a second

“We still need to talk Bubs...” Lucy redirected your conversation to the earlier topic “... what's going on?”

“Honestly.. I don't know Luce... I just... I get angry so quickly... I get upset even quicker... mom and dad are SO annoying... I don't really know what's going on... the only time I really calm down and can relax is when I'm with G” you try to explain but feel like you fail miserably

“Yeah... we need to talk about that too.. but.. one step at a time... you're a teenager Bubs... of course mom and dad are annoying... about the anger... what makes you angry? Are there specific situations? Like do you get triggered by something?” Lucy said empathic offering you a little smile

“I... don't know.. sometimes it's like someone clicked a switch in my brain and I get so so angry... I punched a hole in a wall in spring Luce... I don't even know why” you said defeated

“You need to get that anger out of you... in a healthy way... I'm going to talk to mom and dad – you're staying with me for the next few month... we're going to work on your anger management... I already have an Idea how... what do you think of boxing?” your sister said putting a hand on your shoulder for support “And I want you to talk to me... about everything...”

“Everything? Really?” you raised an eyebrow “Did you know that you can legally buy sextoys...” you started as Lucy slapped her hand over your mouth

“NOT everything... I'm not interested in that... in my world you're still a virgin and you will die a virgin” Lucy interrupted you quickly having a horrified look on her face

“Really... I'd die a virgin? But you can have girlfriends and sex? In front of me!” you asked baffled

“First... THAT was an accident... I didn't know you were coming...” Lucy started

“Neither did you apparently” you mumbled smirking

“Ugh... stop with the sexual innuendos” your sister rolled your eyes “And yes... you'd die a virgin”

“Yeah... kinda too late for that I'm afraid” you shrugged your shoulders

“I mean... you did spill a lot yesterday but how did THAT happen anyway?” Lucy asked calmly

“Would you believe me if I'd say G slipped and her fingers..” you smirked evil

“Not THAT... the whole getting into a relationship with Georgia” your sister rolled her eyes again

“She didn't want to at first... you know... she said you would kill us both... and that I should be able to have a relationship with someone who can openly declare how much they love me.... and then there's the age gap... which apparently is a big issue for some people... I wouldn't let her run away... It's all on me, so if you want to kill someone you need to kill me” you said quietly hoping Lucy would understand

“I mean... I understand her... you're 16 Bubs... and even if it was all consensual she's older... it's dangerous – for both of you... no one will listen to you if this comes out... but I also understand you – I know you got a good head on your shoulders and I know you know about the consequences and thought carefully about it” Lucy said thoughtfully

“I didn't choose to fall for her Luce... but I did” you said sadly thinking your sister would forbid you to see your girlfriend again

“I know Bubs... love isn't something you choose... Love is something that's just happening – and most of the time it's happening when you least expect it” your sister said softly “You have two options now... you either break up with her or you need to be really REALLY sneaky”

“I love her Luce... I know there's a lot at stake for her but I love her... and she loves me” you said quietly

“Then you need to learn to sneak around” your sister smiled encouraging

“Like you and Ona?” you asked a smile tugging on your lips

“Like me and Ona” your sister confirmed

“You do realize the fans already caught on, yeah... you have a ship name... but don't worry... it's not as bad as Wonze” you grinned

“You loved Wonze” Lucy shakes her head

“I loved the W in Wonze... but the ship name itself... not a fan – it sounds so harsh... like a sumo guy” you said thoughtful “But the new one is better... they call you Luna... Lucy... Ona... Luna... kinda cute”

“Isn't Luna that yappy Dog from Mrs. Kean down the road?” Lucy asked confused

“Was... got run over... chased a squirrel... truck... yeah...” you explained shrugging your shoulders once again

“Uh... I feel sorry for Mrs. Kean... she's a nice lady” your sister scratched her chin

“So... you won't forbid me to see G again?” you asked carefully

“Honestly... I'm not a fan but I couldn't stop you anyway... I will do everything to support you I swear but I also WILL talk to Georgia about it” Lucy said seriously

“Oh Luce cooome oon.. please... no” you whined “you'll scare her away”

“I'm your big sister... it's my job to scare girlfriends off” Lucy smirked widely

“I don't scare your girlfriends off” you huffed

“My girlfriends see you as the cute little helpless Bean... they don't take your threats seriously” your sister continued to smirk “But you could actually call your girlfriend and let me have a talk with her”

“No...” you said shaking your head hard

“Oh yes...” she just grinned at you

“You can't make me...” you pouted

“I can call her too, you know... I have her number” your sister mused

“But I'm not leaving... you can talk to her but I will be right here.. and if I think it gets to much I WILL stop you... and if I have to kick your bad knee” you said quickly

“I will go light on her I promise... for now” Lucy wriggled her eyebrows

You pulled out your phone opening your contacts clicking on Georgias contact waiting for the face time call to connect which didn't take long

“Hey Baby” you heard Georgias soft voice before the call connected fully “Everything okay?”

You saw her before she could see you – and your sister who was perched over your shoulder smirking evilly. But you knew exactly the second the call fully connected as your girlfriend squeaked out a “Shit... the other Bronze” and hung up on you.

You looked at your dark screen perplex while Lucy bursted out laughing behind you

“She knows she just blew your cover without blowing it” Lucy continued to laugh as you just stared at your phone

“She can't be fucking serious???!!!” you bursted out already trying to phone her girlfriend again

“Text her first” Lucy advice you “She thinks she just fucked up – tell her it's okay and to call you back once she re-joins the land of the living... you probably gave her a coronary”

You tipped out a quick message before putting your phone down

“YOU gave her a fucking coronary grinning like a fucking maniac right behind me...” you snapped at your sister waiting for your girlfriend to answer

“Calm down... breath Bubs” Lucy said her voice low sensing you're getting angry again

“I'm sorry...” you said shyly after you took a few deep breaths

“You're all good... but we definitely need to do something about that anger” your sister smiled at you

“What were you doing earlier?” you asked not wanting to talk about anger anymore

“Learning spanish” your sister answered understanding your need to change the subject

“Speaking of... where's the spaniard?” you wondered looking around to see if you could spot Ona

“Which one? The pretty, the flawless or the colourful one?” Lucy smirked at you

“Ooooh goood” you groaned letting your head hit the table with a loud “thud”

“Don't worry... none of them took it seriously... Aitana was kinda horrified when you were two centimetres away from her face calling her flawless and then telling her she could do better than dating me, but all of them knew I overdosed you and to not listen to you” your sister chuckled as she rubbed your back comfortingly “Alexia even went so far to actually answer to you calling her pretty spaniard... but to answer your question... she's at the Beach with some of the girls... it's our day off and the weather is nice enough so they decided on Beach”

Your head shot up grinning widely “Wanna play a game??”

“What did your brain vomitted out now?” Lucy asked carefully knowing you can be quiet the prankster – years of hanging out with Millie Bright, Rachel Daly and now Ella Toone and Alessia Russo took it's toll on your behaviour.

“You think I could pull of another day of overdosement?” you smirked

“Overdosement is not a word... but I pay you 50 bucks if you can pull trough for an hour without Keira catching on” Lucy smirked back holding out her hand for you to seal the deal

“Kei's there... now THAT'S a challenge” you grinned and shook your sisters hand

“Let's go then... you can take some of my stuff – like that compression shirt” Lucy said offhandly as she stood up from the table and went into her bedroom to get some beach friendly clothes

“It looks better on me anyway” you yelled after her as your phone started to ring

“Hey G” you greeted your girlfriend lightly smiling brightly as you saw her face again

“NEVER do that again... I swear I died – dead... possibly twice!!” your girlfriend stressed through the phone

“I'm sorry Luv... she made me call you... well... not really made me but she said either I call you or she would.... I thought it would be damage control if I'd call” you explained quickly peering down the hallway if your sister would come back

“So... she knows?” Georgia asked carefully

“Oh yeah... she knows..” you sighed out “... she overdosed my painkillers and I spilled the beans quiet happily as I was told... I'm sorry”

“As much as I wish it would have happened another way... ANY other way... I'm kinda glad she knows... I mean... I still think she will kill me but trying to pretend to just be friends when she was around was hard... so hard when all I wanted to kiss...”

“Stop right there Stanway” suddenly Lucy appeared behind you which made you swear loudly

“Jesus fucking Christ Mary Mother of God!!!! LUCY!” you yelled scared as you slammed your phone upside down on the table out of reflex to “hide” your girlfriend from your sister

“I'm sorry!!” Georgia yelled out as she was met with a dark screen where your face was just seconds before

“Oh you're going to be sorry once I get my hands on you....” Lucy started before looking at you “turn your phone around... how should I threaten her properly if she doesn't see my face??”

“She KNOWS what you look like, genius” you rolled your eyes “she's seen your face before”

“But she was never at the receiving end of my glare” your sister whined which made her “thread” kind of useless

“Lucy I swear... I won't hurt her...” your girlfriend said her voice was serious and honest as you turned your phone again so she was met with the face of Lucy and you “.... I love her”

“You better not hurt her Stanway... you may be my friend and teammate... but she's my baby sister... if you hurt her I'm going to break your legs” Lucy said and you knew she was serious about it

“Isn't it... “I'm going to break your neck”?” you asked confused

“She's a football player... broken legs are far more scary than a broken neck” your sister grinned and winked at you

“Good point” you mused grinning

“Ehrm.. excuse me?! We're talking my legs here” G interrupted you two

“You have very nice legs” your eyes shining knowing you could rile up your sister “very VERY nice legs”

“No... nope... uh-hu... don't finish that thought....” Georgia stopped you quickly knowing what you were thinking “... I'm about to go to training, you can't think about that right now... AND... your sister is right next to us”

“There will be a moment where she's going to walk in on us... which won't make us anywhere near even but it's a start” you said and can't stop grinning

“You were so innocent once” Lucy whined as she finally caught on what you were talking about

“Yeah well.. my room was right next to yours and the walls were very thin” you shot back which made Georgia laugh out loudly

“At least you learned from the best” your Sister shot back immediately

“Yeah... Keira explained quite a bit” you acted like you thought about something particular

“OI” you heard from both women

“What... I always ask Kei if I have questions...” you shrugged your shoulders “... it's not like she showed me or something”

“Okay... that's enough... G... training – go be great... y/n... do whatever... gosh... I feel like mom” Lucy huffed

You chuckled lightly at your sisters antics, shot Georgia a quiet “I love you” before hanging up, looking at your sister expectantly

“What are we doing now? I'm bored” you whined

“Beach?” Lucy smirked at you

“And what should I wear? Should I go naked?” you rolled your eyes

“I do own bikinis” your sister shot back also rolling her eyes

“Do I look like I wear bikinis?” you gestured down your body

“Shorts and a bikini top?” Lucy negotiated “Bubs you look great.. you know that – but if you feel more comfortable in shorts or even sweats – which would be a bad idea here in Barca because it's like hot hot but even then – I want you to be comfortable”

“It's just... my knees... I don't want to answer questions” you said quietly

“No one will ask questions Bubs... I'll make sure of it” your sister laid her hand on your shoulder and squeezed reassuringly

“Maybe bikini with shorts?” you asked insecure

“Sure Bubs...” Lucy smiled softly as she stood up and got different bikinis for you to choose from

“Should I send G some pictures?” you grinned “Bet I can make her walk into a door”

“Let her be... she needs to train... she needs a lot of stamina for next camp” your sister waved off not wanting to get involved in your antics

“I like the way you think... stamina is always good” you grinned

“Not for that... she will run a lot” now it was Lucy who grinned

“You can't make her run... you're not captain” you said as a matter of fact

“Oh but she will run... away from me” your sisters grin widen and got an evil look

“No... Lucy no... please... you said yourself we need to be careful... and you chasing her around won't help with that because all the girls will ask questions and yeah... please Luce” you actually begged your sister to leave your girlfriend be

“Bubs you don't understand... I NEED to do it... it's basically big sister law” Lucy ruffled your hair and you knew you wouldn't be able to stop her anyway

“Just... make it subtle” you sighed out rubbing your temple

“I'll see what I can do” she grinned as she grabbed a bag which was next to the door and grabbed her car keys “Come on Bubs... it's Beach time... oh... and don't forget to act overdosed”

“Okay... I need more pointers... what did I do yesterday... I need to be convincing” you immediately were distracted by your sisters comment

“Oh god... I don't even know where to begin..” Lucy laughed as she opened the door letting you step outside first.

That's it folks... it's a wrap for Part 6...

Next time on “Living with the Bronzes”

– Beach shenanigans with Mapí

– trying to convince Keira of being high again

– Ona on babysitting duty

– Alexia trying to keep the everything and everyone under control

and Lucy deciding to just sit back, relax and drink Sangria

[fryingpan1234567]

some CHB headcanons

every cabin has LEDs around the inside, but there’s a constant battle over what color they are

Percy has his rippling back and forth from teal to blue and it looks like light dancing through water all over his walls and floor

the Apollo cabin can usually settle for orange and yellow as a common ground

the Aphrodite kids have a different color for each time of day and sleep with pink on the lowest brightness setting

the Hermes cabin has like ten different strips and they’re all constantly shifting

Demeter cabin’s shifts with the seasons

ANYWAYS MOVING AWAY FROM THE LEDS

they have movie nights, which I will talk about in a different post

before everybody goes back to school, the Aphrodite and Hecate cabins have a massive salon at the end of the summer with new haircuts and magic hair dye and outfit recommendations and fake but enchanted sturdy nails and a whole bunch of other stuff and basically it’s a week straight of spilling hot tea between everyone in camp

if someone asks where a camper got their hair done when they get back to school they just go “oh, um… summer camp.” and their friends will snort and be like bro isn’t summer camp the opposite of a makeover?? but they get no argument, just a shrug and a half smile

when I tell you pride month over there is a fucking riot

because Mr. D is in on it, right?? because he’s the god of gender?? and Chiron is aroace and has been raising dumbass gay heroes for literal centuries?? PLUS the sheer fucking amount of queer peeps up in there?? dude yeah

cabins competing for who shows the most pride

Demeter’s roof is covered in rainbow flowers

Hecate’s is enchanted to emit actual light in whatever flag colors of whoever uses the front door, even when they’re straight (it’s just a rainbow)

Percy collects a bunch of shed scales from the hippocampi at the bottom of the lake and then puts them all over his cabin

I could make a whole post about CHB pride but

every single Apollo kid is also a theater kid fight me

Rachel Elizabeth Dare painted a skateboard for Percy’s birthday and he brings it everywhere now, it even sits in his backpack at school

Leo, Annabeth, Percy, and Piper fucking love horror movies. Frank, Hazel, and Jason fucking hate them. They watch through their fingers, if at all

Piper loves the band Surfaces with all her heart, but she also is a die hard Green Day and P!ATD fan

Jake Mason is covered in burn scars up to his neck, just like Deadpool, just not bald lol

Hephaestus and Apollo kids faintly radiate warmth (like more so than a normal person)

the Stolls sometimes stay at camp year-round because their mom is off on international missions that are too high-risk for them to help with

the seven are AVID Smash Bros players

really everyone but

not as many people go to the Athena campers for help with homework as you might think, but whenever anyone does, they’re happy to help

the sun chariot blasts music at a frequency only the Apollo kids can hear, so their life kind of has a shitty soundtrack that consists of a mix of Broadway, Queen, modern stuff, and random bits of Beethoven every now and then

the Romans swear on few occasions

the Greeks know when to swear and when to be polite

the Valhalla peeps swear unbridled and all the time

the Egyptians never swear (in English)

for the longest time, Will Solace thinks the only gift from his dad is his healing prowess— which is obviously great, but he expresses being upset over the fact that he’s not very good at archery

well, considering this is the dumbass who didn’t bring a weapon to actual fucking Tartarus, Nico drags him to the weapon shack thing immediately afterwards and made him pick something out

he's immediately drawn to the Celestial Bronze shotgun.

Nico’s just like “what in the redneck shit did you just pick up” and Will jokingly aims it at his chest and grins and says “you know I’m from Texas, right?”

that’s how they find out Will is one of the damn best marksmen in Greek demigod history

some of the Disney nerds in the Apollo cabin sing What Once Was Mine to the little ones who need bandaids for knee scrapes and give them lollipops afterwards

Percy Jackson absolutely used to make poverty and struggle meal jokes all the time, but he got weird and concerned looks for it at CHB, so he kind of just stopped. But one day, aboard the Argo II, the PERFECT opportunity came up and he just HAD TO and as per usual— everyone else looked at him like he’s crazy— but Leo laughed so hard chocolate milk came out of his nose and that’s the story of how the two of them became Best Friends

[spacerockfloater]

“The Targaryens/ Valyrians are not white supremacists and can’t be compared to European Colonisers!”

Oh? My bad then. I must have them confused with some other white folks who thought their appearance made them superior, brought whole continents to heel, exploited the lands of others for their own greed, destroyed whole civilizations and enslaved vulnerable people who unfortunately lacked the advanced weapons of mass destruction they possessed.

“Well, the Andals and the First Men were also colonisers, so they deserved it!”

No way! Are you actually telling me that every race has a history of violence because human nature itself is corrupt and we’re no better than animals fighting for their place on this earth? That’s so crazy and original. By the way, are you saying that people deserved to get colonised and enslaved because they were fighting other people in order to survive? Are you suggesting these “savages” should have been contained by the righteous white folks who came there to better their lives? Not to mention that the Andals and the First Men came to Westeros 12,000 and 6,000 years ago respectively, while the Targaryens attacked Westeros barely 130 years ago (literally just 3 - 4 generations) from the Dance of the Dragons? So are you comparing the morality of the people who migrated here, who were so primitive that barely even possessed weapons of steel, with that of the most advanced civilization ever built in the ASOIAF universe? That’s so interesting! It’s almost as if the Andals and the First Men didn’t know any better until it was too late and were trying to find a land that could accommodate their millions of people, so they were essentially fighting for survival, whereas the Targaryens who came from a race that had evolved philosophically, politically, academically and technologically wise, possessed enough wealth and land to sustain their little family, yet still chose to go to war against the land that nurtured them out of pure greed! Hmmm. Do you also believe that the Greeks had it coming when they were enslaved by the Ottomans and should just let go of the past because it’s been so long since they regained their freedom (barely 200 years ago btw, after 4 centuries of slavery), because their Ancient Ancestral Tribes migrated to Greece and conquered the land 3,500 years ago, a little after the age of bronze? No? Then you might see why that kind thinking is flawed.

Stop defending these inbred bastards with your full chest. We get it. They look badass. We all have a fave war criminal but all of the Targs need to be put to the sword, along with their fucking lizards. Purposely denying the parallels between the Targaryens/ Valyrians and the Colonisers/ Conquerors of our world screams white saviour complex.

[dyk3tastic]

friends

victoria neuman (the boys) x reader

genre: angst, light smut, hurt/comfort(ish)?

summary: when victoria shows up unannounced at your apartment in the dead of night you want nothing more than to kick her to the curb, you let her in anyway. reader is a member of the boys, could be read as a follow up to my previous fic “cant have both” or as a stand alone. (now wiv a follow up u can read here)

warnings: weapons, language, slightly nsfw, light smut, mentions of sex

a/n: back with another one. getting back into posting ff, haven’t written for an ‘audience’ in a while, feedback is appreciated. enjoy! :)

“wow, you really gonna treat a friend like that?” victoria drawled, foot blocking your front door, stopping you locking her out. wide grin flashing her perfect white teeth. the last thing you wanted at 4am was to shuffle bleary eyed through your shitty apartment, glock firm in your grip by your side, to answer that incessant hammering against your door. when you open the door to see her standing you want nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow you whole, dreading wallowing in the limbo between you both. the space between hate and longing, betrayal and understanding, where all interactions between you two now seemed to take place. you were tired.

staring up at you under her thick dark lashes, you knew you couldn’t get rid of her even if you wanted to. “we’re not friends” you croak out, voice rough with exhaustion. she just laughs at you, continuing to blink up at you like a fawn, flashing her predatory smile. “what are you doing here vic?” you hiss frustrated by her brazenness and lack of explanation.

“can i come inside? i want to talk to you”, she lets her smile drop. “please”.

you say nothing to each-other as you turn to let her in, she slides past you, eyes dragging down your body, heat prickles your ears as she clocks your batman underwear. she strides in, confident and assured as ever, walking towards the kitchen as if she were coming home from work, like she owns the place. just as you’re starting to become hyperaware of your lack of clothing she speaks again, voice gentle and relaxed over the quiet hum of the tv, “i knew you wouldn’t be asleep yet”.

“is that what you’ve come here to do, pretend to know me so well, tell me about my fucking sleeping patterns?” you mutter, irritated. resting against your kitchen counter you stood opposite her, taller than her now that she had her heels off. the low orange glow of the kitchen light illuminated her bronzed skin. victoria looks up at you, all brown eyed and beautiful, and it makes you forget what she’s done, what you’ve done, just for a second.

“i want zoe out. i want her far away from all this bullshit. i want out. i need you to help me undo this, to just leave it all behind. please.”

hissing, voice scratchy in your throat you half sigh, “you just turn up here and expect me to trust you, expect me to risk my life for you, blinking up at me like bambi and expecting me to feel fucking sorry for you.” “i trusted you, believed in what we were doing, in us. i thought we were working towards something right, some fucking justice for once. to find out those years of my life were useless, sisyphus pushing that rock up that never fucking ending hill for vought. when i told you about-“ you stop abruptly, tired of rehashing the past, take a deep, shaky breath and collect yourself. “coming round here talking about friends” you scoff.

chest rising and falling with uncertainty she stares you down, face unflinching. mocking and faux innocent she asks “we weren’t friends?”. “i’d say when i’d ride your pretty face til it was covered in my cum that we were friends, at least i definitely considered you my friend.” her smile is sharp. “when you’d rut against my leg all desperate and pleading you didn’t think i was your friend?” she added with an exaggerated pout.

you recognised the deflection immediately, could see that all she wanted was to crawl under your skin and pull you back to her. but you’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t effect you, the full truth of it all hanging in the air, your skin prickling with memory and mouth dry with the her boldness. “we’re not friends now” you say, proud of yourself for managing to keep your voice steady.

she steps forwards, encroaching in your space. “that’s okay, we don’t need to be friends”. she moves closer again, you don’t dare move, anxious not to scare her off, anxious to close the gap between you two. she breathes an “i’m sorry” into your neck, voice laced with what you so desperately want to believe to be sincerity. moving her head up, her nose bumps your cheek, plump lips pressing a soft kiss against your mouth. your arm moves of its own accord, snaking around her waist, urging her closer. her next kiss is less gentle, her mouth greedy and desperate against yours, chills run down your spine as you let out a quiet whimper. tongue swiping over her lower lip you let yourself get lost in her, in the kiss. transfixed by her touch heat pools deep in ur abdomen, your underwear growing sticky and uncomfortable.

the nights spent touching yourself, seething with anger as you imagined your fingers buried deep inside her, imagined pulling out those little pants and whimpers that made you want to never hear another sound again; those nights seething in your betrayal and wetness couldn’t compare to the electricity that ran through your body as her warm tongue licked lewdly into your mouth. nothing could compare to the feeling of her pressing her warm, petite but deadly body against yours. revelling in the feeling of her tits against your chest it was the bumping of her hip against the hard glock tucked in the thick waistband of your underwear that brought you out of your trance. both of you breathed heavy hot air against the others face, panting as you try to remember why you were here, to clear away you heady thoughts, to regain some semblance of control.

[miguel-owhora]

on another note, gladiator!miguel being your champion, the spider of the great empire, nueva york. he's your prized possession, perfectly sculpted by the gods, made of bronze and steel, marked by your branding on the small of his back.

he stands strong and unwavering, taking down men and beasts alike with whatever weapon lands in his hands. pushed by your dark eyes and the cheering of crowds, miguel kills and kills and kills until red all he knows, until violence fills his lungs and chokes him.

of course, being your prized champion comes with its bonuses. only the best and most skilled medics treat him of any injuries, the maids cleaning him up, dressing him in the most comfortable outfits, servant boys polishing his weapons and whatever armor he might've used. he gets fed the finest meals the empire has to offer, sitting on your right, as you watch him with predatory eyes and a pleased smile.

and of course, the best prizes. that being the feeling of your gummy walls swallowing his cock hole as he fucks you into your own bed, watching your pretty expressions and your pretty cock weep over your stomach. it's the finest prize in the whole world, the reason miguel fights, if not for your approval.

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor Pt. 7

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: Your Hunger Games strategy goes off the rails when a friend comes to you with a plan

Part 6 | Part 8

“Look kid, this isn’t like last time, you’re not on a level playing field here.” 

Katniss crossed her arms as she leaned back into the couch of District Twelve’s Capitol penthouse. 

“These are Capitol darlings, lethal weapons, murderers one and all, gathered neatly together for an All Stars round. Of these stars, you are space dust. Recency may be on your side, but little else. They are older, stronger,” 

Peeta effectively interrupted, “Who are they?” 

“What?” Haymitch blinked. 

“Take us through them. Surely you can offer some insight, after knowing them all these years,” he shrugged. 

“I’ll ignore the fact you just called me old,” the older man walked off to grab the tablet that controlled the TV. District by district, he took his tributes through their competition. 

When he got to District Four, Katniss beat him to it, “Finnick O’Dair, right?” 

“Yes,” Haymitch confirmed, “he won his games at fourteen. Youngest ever. Extremely humble.” The image of the tall, bronzed man sauntering across their screen seemed to disagree. 

“You’re kidding,” she deadpanned. 

“Yes! I’m kidding,” Haymitch snapped. “He’s a,” he dramatically moved his hair, “peacock. A total preener. But he’s the Capitol Darling, they love him here. Charming, smart, and very skilled at combat. Especially in water.” 

“What about weaknesses?” Peeta leaned forward. 

“One,” Haymitch confirmed, “Mags. She was his mentor and basically raised him. If he’s trying to protect her in any way it exposes him.” 

“A guy like that has to know she’s not gonna make it. I bet when it really comes down to it he won’t protect her,” Katniss shrugged. 

“Well, Katniss,” Haymitch said, “I just hope when she goes she goes quickly. She’s actually a wonderful lady.” 

Katniss blinked guiltily at his statement, and Peeta leaned back into the couch. 

“But if he does ally with her it’ll make him less of a threat,” Peeta offered. 

Haymitch let out a sour little laugh, “Oh, we’ll get to his allies.” 

Peeta winced when Haymitch later marked the intimidating young woman from District Seven as one, and was surprised at the lack of others. 

By the time he got to Ten, Katniss was antsy, “Can we wrap this up?” 

“Sure if you want to ignore a huge fucking threat,” Haymitch shrugged. 

“It looks like a strong gust of wind would blow him over,” Katniss complained. 

“Not him,” her mentor snapped, clicking forward, “Darla Kennedy.” 

Their attention went back to the screen when another young woman appeared, stepping forward and giving an assured nod to the cameras. 

“Darla is young, well connected, and deadly with a whip,” Haymitch began. 

“Who’s that behind her?” Peeta interrupted, noticing the woman peace keepers were escorting off stage.  

“Well, since you mentioned it,” he rewinded the feed to when the young women were standing next to each other. “That,” he pointed to the one they weren’t familiar with, “is Darla’s mentor. One of the most popular tributes to ever come out of the games, and maybe the best mentor I’ve ever met.” 

“How do you mean?” Peeta pressed.

“She saved Darla’s life about four times during her games with just wit and a warm smile,” he shrugged, “if she wanted a sponsor there’d be twenty knocking down her door. Kid’s a magnet, and a brilliant strategist. Not to mention, a great drinking buddy,” Haymitch finished. 

“Not helpful,” Katniss griped, and the man rolled his eyes. 

“Point is, if you don’t think she’s calling on every favor she’s owed and pulling every string in her arsenal to save that girl, you’re dead wrong. Darla’s practically all she has left,” Haymitch elaborated, “but both Ten ladies are good friends with Finnick.” 

“Finnick?” Peeta asked, surprised. 

“Not that he’d need the help with sponsors,” Haymitch shrugged, “but no doubt it’ll be a scary alliance. One you might consider joining.” 

“No way,” Katniss scoffed. 

“Like I said, I’m friends with their mentor, I could hook you up,” he doubled down. 

“Not interested,” she grunted. 

“Look,” Haymitch sat on the coffee table across from them, “you’re starting at a disadvantage. Most of these people have been friends for years.” 

“That just puts us higher on their kill list,” Katniss snapped, crossing her arms. 

“Do it your own way,” Haymitch shrugged, “but I know these people. You go it alone, their first move is gonna be to hunt you down. Both of you.” He left the room before his words even sank in. 

————————————

Your fingers twitched while you waited for Darla to wake up. Sometimes you cursed yourself for being an early bird, but after your games you couldn’t help but get up with the sun. Some lasting self-preservation instinct had always been your theory. You had a plan for her, not that she’d like it. 

Shuffling from the hall caught your attention, and you perked up to see her walking toward the breakfast table half-awake. 

“Morning,” you said, quickly. She just grunted as she poured herself some coffee. “I want to run something by you.” 

She took a sip of coffee, placing pastries from the breakfast spread onto her plate. When she realized you weren’t still talking she looked up, and gestured for you to go on. 

“I want you and Finnick working together,” you started. 

Darla interrupted, mouth full of croissant, “Obviously, that was just a given.” 

You clenched your jaw a bit, but barreled on, “and I want the two of you working with Johanna and-“ 

“No!” She cut you off, nostrils flared. “That’s a recipe for disaster, and you know it.” 

“It’s the best plan I’ve got,” you fired back, “the Capitol knows the two of you were together. They’ll eat your dynamic right up, and keep you alive long enough for you to keep making good television.”

She looked indignant, but you doubled down, “Johanna is a strong fighter, and with Finnick distracted protecting Mags you’ll need to beef up your alliance. If Blight comes with her, the five of you can square off evenly against the careers.” 

“We’re sure Finnick won’t want to join the pack?” Darla raised a brow, and you blinked at her in surprise. 

“You really think he’d do that?” You asked, voice light. Would he? You were so certain of his character you hadn’t even considered the possibility. But the games always changed things- changed people. When she made a face at you, you shook it off, “You know he loves Mags, he wouldn’t just leave her. And the careers are too pragmatic to take on someone they see as dead weight.” 

“Good thing I’m not pragmatic, then,” Darla said wryly, taking a bite of a fruit tart. 

Pragmatic, no. Entertaining, yes. Watching Finnick care for Mags would melt hearts across the nation, and they wouldn’t be able to turn the cameras away from two bickering exes. Putting on a show was the first step to a one way ticket out of the arena. You just didn’t want to think about which one of your friends would be the one to take it.

Your strategy started as soon as the train pulled into the station. Walking onto the platform with an arm over Darla’s shoulder, and big smiles on both of your faces. If there was ever a time to appeal to the audience it was now. Normally you’d shy away from questions, but with a few cameras you were eager to assert your tribute early. 

“We’re always happy to visit the Capitol! You all make us feel so welcome here!” Darla assured a reporter. So she had taken your strategy briefing to heart.

“While we wish we could be seeing you under better circumstances,” you jumped in, “we’re certainly going to make the most of our time here. You might just get sick of seeing us!” You laughed with the reporter, touching her wrist lightly. 

From there you were off to the races, starting a campaign of phone calls in the car. Scheduling an appearance on daytime TV to talk up Darla, conversing with the connections you’d made over the years, and making appointments for drinks or coffee occupied your afternoon. 

Darla took the time to settle in to the space, flicking through magazines on the couch as you talked your throat dry. After hanging up on another Capitolite, you scratched some more notes on the meticulous schedule you’d started. 

“Time for a break?” Darla asked from the other room after a minute of silence.  

“Time for a drink,” you complained, but caught a glimpse of the time. “Shit!” 

“What?” She asked as you ran to the room you’d stayed in during your annual visits. 

“I’m meeting Mrs. Montgomery for dinner!” You shouted back. 

“Who?” 

Within ten minutes you stumbled back out in a short, but stylish cocktail dress. 

“How do I look?” You asked, shoving your feet into a small pair of heels as you smeared lipgloss on your mouth. 

“Stellar,” Darla assured you, not bothering to look up from her magazine. 

You were busy clipping your hair up, assessing your appearance in the microwave’s reflection. “Really?” You fretted, finally turning toward her. 

“Absolutely!” She said enthusiastically, still not looking up. 

Your shoulders dropped, “Fuck off!” Grabbing your purse, you headed for the door. 

“Love you too! Thanks for all you do for-“ 

The slamming door cut her off, and she snickered. 

Mrs. Montgomery was over the moon that’d you’d asked her out to dinner, and recommended her favorite spot in the city. Luckily it was only a few blocks away, and with some extra incentive your driver floored it. You walked into her embrace right on time, and successfully reminded her of how much she adored you for an hour.  

Long ago you had learned just how much Capitolites liked to talk about themselves, and you used it to your advantage more often than not. Questions like, “How are your students? I so regret I haven’t been able to visit recently!” Were unbelievably well received, and further endeared you to the very wealthy woman who sat across the table. 

Finally, she came to address the elephant in the room, “I’m sure it’s hard for you to be here under these circumstances.” 

You nodded, “It is. This is my home away from home, but I can’t help but worry for Darla.” She nodded sympathetically, you had her hooked, but it was time to reel her in, “She’s so so capable, and I know she’ll go far, but I need her to come home.” 

Mrs. Montgomery reached across the table for your hand, “We’ll be happy to sponsor Darla.” She spoke on behalf of herself and her ultra-rich husband, who you’d have the displeasure of meeting as a client. 

“It would mean so much to me to have yours and Mr. Montgomery’s support. Please tell him I asked after him, by the way,” you squeezed her hand gently. You might come to regret it later, but what was the point of being forced to have a roster if you couldn’t put them to good use. The man was richer than God, and had requested your company on multiple occasions. An appeal to his wife and to him, though indirectly, would go far. You could face any consequences later. 

You paid for dinner yourself, though Mrs. Montgomery did protest, earning even more points towards your cause. A warm goodbye hug marked your departure, and soon enough you were B-Lining to the hotel bar in the lobby of the training center. 

—————

“If it isn’t my favorite District Twelve victor,” an airy voice pulled Haymitch’s attention from the glass of bourbon he’d been swirling. Pleasantly surprised to see you, he turned the futuristic stool next to him in your direction. 

“Well, have a seat, your highness,” he invited, and you settled in at the bar. “What are you drinking?” 

“Surprise me,” you set your purse on the counter. He slid you his untouched glass of bourbon. “Lazy,” you complained, before taking a sip. 

“You’re just the gal I’ve been wanting to see,” a small smile spread across his thin lips and raised alarm bells in your mind. 

“Why’s that?” You asked cautiously. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” he stood from his chair, but you shook your head. 

“Let’s not,” you weren’t aiming to be associated with Twelve right now. If Capitolites saw the two of you on the street and got to talking, it could be bad for business. Katniss and Peeta made for a good show, but with your finger on the pulse of the Capitol, you could tell when Snow was displeased. That wasn’t an obstacle you currently needed in your way. 

Haymitch put his hands up in surrender, “Then I’ll mix you something better.” He winded around to the other side of the bar. Stopping in front of you, he snatched the glass of bourbon back and polished it off. Where the bartender had run off to, you couldn’t say. 

“What do you want?” 

“Your ear,” he crushed some mint at the bottom of a new glass. “I just don’t want you to waste your efforts.” 

Your brow furrowed, he was crazier than you thought if he was asking you to back off, “I spend my energy carefully, thank you.” 

“Then spend it on this,” he plopped a mojito in front of you, “your girl makes it out and so does mine.” 

You raised a brow, inspecting both him and your drink, “You know that can’t happen.”  

“If you pretend we’re flirting while I lean in to tell you the plan it can,” you blinked for a second before meeting him halfway. 

“A transport is coming from District Thirteen to pick up Katniss and anyone aiding her from the arena. They want her for the rebellion,” Haymitch breathed into your ear. Pretending you hadn’t just heard literal whispers of treason involving a long-dead district was difficult, but you managed to swallow your shock. 

“When?” If true, this would change everything. Your moves would need to incorporate Katniss and Peeta, your endgame would be totally different. But first you had to determine the chances of this going wrong. 

“I don’t know yet,” Haymitch whispered. 

“Give me something here,” you pleaded, “I can’t work with nothing. How could I trust a pretty promise?” 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he warned, and you angled your head enough so he could see your glare. “You know very well I’m too chicken to take anything less than a sure bet.” 

“You’re awful at gambling, and you’re a reckless old drunk,” you snarked quietly back, this wasn’t a risk you could take lightly. 

“I’m telling you this because I need your help, and Darla’s, and Finnick’s, and Johanna’s,” he went on, but you cut him off. 

“You’re assembling a team of political defectors?” 

Haymitch’s nostrils flared, but went on before you could protest further, “We need to keep Katniss alive until Plutarch can get her and her allies out of that arena.” 

“Plutarch?” That caught you off guard, and you reeled back. Your volume clearly bothered him, though the bar was empty. Haymitch clapped a hand over your mouth. 

“Yes,” he confirmed quietly, scanning the room, “though this is all meant to be secret!” 

You smacked his hand away, “Then what is my part in your lovely little treason plot?” 

“You need to recruit the others,” Haymitch nodded. 

“Excuse me?!” 

“Well, as helpful as you’ll be pulling strings from behind the scenes, Katniss needs allies in the arena,” he said. 

“You really think they’d commit treason because I asked nicely?” You were skeptical. 

“Yes,” he nodded, and you gaped. 

Shaking it off, you kept pushing, “What makes you think they’ll work with her? What makes you think she’ll work with them?” 

“She doesn’t know about this,” he said sharply, “and she can’t. All they have to do is not kill her, and eliminate those tributes who might.” 

“The careers, then,” you tilted your chin up. 

“Bingo.” 

You took a sip of the now slightly watered mojito, “So what does she know?”

“What you did when you won,” he offered, “shoot to kill, play to win.” 

“Will she take any allies?” You asked, taking a deep breath, “You know that’d make things easier.” 

“I’m working on it,” he shook his head. 

“Yeah, that’s a no,” you huffed a laugh, astounded by the turn of events. Never in a million years would you have seen this coming. You knew Katniss had stirred something up, but had not foreseen a full fledged rebellion on the immediate horizon. 

“She needs time,” Haymitch insisted, “Peeta will help her see the logic behind strong allies.” 

“And how much does he know?” You set your glass down with a clink. Haymitch just shook his head. Sighing, you barreled on, “I don’t like this, you know?” 

“I know,” he nodded, eyes clear and serious. You weren’t sure you’d seen him quite like this before. “But you’ll do it. You don’t want to have to choose between Finnick and Darla.” 

Tightening your grasp around the glass, you ran your tongue across your teeth. Fuck if he didn’t have you pinned. If there was even a slight chance you could save them both, you’d take it. Just when Haymitch had realized how deep your affection for Finnick ran, you had no clue. Suddenly, you hoped you weren’t a chatty drunk. 

“Your lives will all be better for it,” Haymitch said, “we’ll all be free.” You met his gaze head on, and were surprised to find hope lying in them. 

“I’ll talk to D tonight,” you nodded once, “and I’ll get to Fin and Jo.” Haymitch’s shoulders sagged with something like relief. When you clocked Peeta walking in from the other side of the room, you knew it was time to wrap things up. You leaned in close, again. 

“But don’t think I’m doing all your dirty work, Old Man,” you said lowly, with a coy grin, “I’m sending them your way!” You planted a quick kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a lip stick print. Quickly grabbing your purse, you sprung off your stool. 

With some manufactured pep in your step, you walked towards the blond boy. “Don’t let him fix you a drink, Peeta,” you said, conversationally, “for a drunk, he’s piss poor at it!” The last part was directed at your old pal, who’d now placed the lot of you in a precarious spot. 

“I missed you too, Sugar!” He yelled back, wide grin on his face as you sauntered toward the elevator. 

Peeta looked at him, amused, but skeptical, “What’d she want?” 

“A piece of this!” Haymitch gestured dramatically toward himself, and picked up the glass you’d left behind. Polishing it off, he choked a little at the taste. You’d been right, of course, he was a little rusty at bartending. 

——————————

You tugged at the shoulder of Darla’s tribute outfit. When you’d suggested leather to the stylist, this wasn’t what you’d meant. Skin tight, black patent leather reflected sunlight into your eyes. You let your hand come to your brow as you shook your head. 

“What?”

You raised a brow at the stylist, one of Darla’s.  

“What’s wrong with it?” 

“You don’t think it leans a little… kinky?” You shrugged, frustrated. 

“Well, you said leather,” the stylist defended themself. 

“And you took that as BDSM?” 

Darla threw her hands up in the air at your comment, tired of being examined, and wandered off. 

You sent the stylist away before they could argue any further. This parade was already a mess. Your plans to put Darla on horseback, to harken back to her first parade, were ruined by Darby’s apparent inability to ride a horse. There was no way you could put her on horseback if those poor creatures were pulling a cart as well. You pet one of the horses that would be pulling the Ten tributes, and the action calmed you a bit. Only, your peace was disturbed when you saw Finnick putting the moves on Katniss. 

Of the ways to piss off the standoffish girl you’d been charged with helping protect, he had to pick this one. It took about ten seconds for you to march over and fix it. 

“I’m sorry you had to cancel your wedding. I know how devastating that must be for you,” you overheard. His voice oozed with sarcasm and you rolled your eyes. 

“Is this strange man bothering you, Katniss?” You didn’t wait for a response before dragging him off by his ear. 

“Hey, now,” he complained, but kept at your side. “Peeta,” Finnick tried for a dignified nod as you passed him, but came up short. 

“Finnick,” he nodded back, gaze turning to you. 

“Bye, Peeta!” You waved with your free hand. 

“See ‘ya, Sugar,” he waved back, kindly. 

Finnick planted his feet, freeing himself in an instant, “Sugar?!” He stood to his full height and shot the Twelve tribute a sour look. You rolled your eyes and started dragging him by the wrist instead. While you were going to correct Peeta, you no longer saw a point. 

“Sugar?” Katniss questioned too, a skeptical look on her face. 

“Is that not her name?” Peeta was confused. “That’s what Haymitch called- oh,” he seemed to have answered his own question, and Katniss let out a small laugh. 

“What was that?” You asked Finnick, when you’d finally pulled him to a secluded area. 

“What? I was just being nice,” he defended himself, about to pop a sugar cube in his mouth. You plucked it from his hand and tossed it over you shoulder. Finnick blinked. 

“So I was trying to sus her out,” he shrugged, “big deal. If the Capitol finds out their romance is a lie, their support goes up in flames… like her little dresses.” 

You rolled your eyes. If you were still playing to win, you would’ve liked his angle, but as it was, you had to steer the ship back on course. “Play nice with her, would you? I’m working on something.” 

“You’re working on something that includes the girl on fire?” 

You grabbed his wrist, “Keep it quiet and come find me later. Find Haymitch too!” Sensing the parade was about to start, you turned to go. 

“Some greeting,” he complained, moodily. You stopped in your tracks, and turned again to face him. 

“Did I forget to say hi to you and your abs and your skirt?” You asked facetiously.

“You did” he nodded, “we were offended.” Rolling your eyes amusedly, you stepped up close to him. 

“Hello Finnick,” you said, meeting his gaze. “Hi Finnick’s abs,” your gaze moved down as you went, “hi Finnick’s skirt.” You couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips as you looked back up at him. “Happy?” You asked. 

“Very,” he nodded, soundly. 

“Good,” you nodded back. 

 “I missed that smile.” He said lowly, leaning in a bit. You were really fighting against your grin, now.

“It missed you too,” you said, refusing to make eye contact. 

“Really?” His eyes sparkled as he looked down at you. 

“Don’t you have a populous to charm?” You tilted your head.

“I’ve got a you to charm, first,” he blinked, innocently. When he reached out to tug on a strand of your hair, you’d had enough. 

You lightly swatted his hands away and skittered back, “Go! … Do your parade prep,” you sputtered. 

Finnick tried to conceal his laughter at your reaction. He just loved to see you flustered. “If you insist,” he bowed his head and began to trot off. But he couldn’t resist throwing a melodic goodbye over his shoulder and taking one last glance to see you hurry off. 

————————————

Finnick wouldn’t see you again until later, though he did try. He eventually found you at a party that night, a young Capitol socialite you were both familiar with was throwing a celebration in honor of the games. 

When he saw Darla tearing up the dance floor, he had no doubt that you were behind the appearance, and started scanning the rooms in the penthouse. Finally, he found you hidden away in a quiet spot, typing away on a tablet. 

Hard at work securing sponsors, no doubt. If he was lucky, he’d be reaping the rewards of Darla’s 101 sponsor gifts. Maybe you’d even deign to send him a little something. He called your name to pull you from your work. 

You looked up from your tablet, curiously. His hand tensed. When did you start wearing glasses? How did they make you look even more- 

“Finnick?” You arched a brow. 

“Yup?” He said, shoving both hands in his pockets. 

You blinked at him from your spot on a couch, “Spaced out there for a second?” 

“Yup,” he nodded. You rose to meet him when you noticed he wasn’t moving to sit beside you. He watched the slinky black dress graze your thighs as you walked. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yup,” he said, a little breathy. 

“Okay,” you said, skeptically, “So in terms of-“ 

“Sorry,” he interrupted, swallowing, “when did you start wearing glasses?” 

“What?” You asked, not quite following his train of thought. 

He inched closer and adjusted the frames on your nose as you blinked up at him, “When did this become a thing?” 

“I-“ you floundered. Was he blushing? 

“Okay, lovebirds,” Johanna breezed into the room. You jolted and Finnick snatched his hands away from your face in surprise. “Wrap it up, I want to hear this brilliant plan of yours.” 

She directed the last part towards you. You had found her earlier and told her essentially the same thing you’d said to Finnick. Johanna was surly, sure, but had a soft spot for you. She’d won the year after Darla, and you eventually took her under your wing as well. Not in time to warn her to take Snow’s threats seriously, but soon enough to comfort her before she could spiral too badly. 

You tried to shake off the confusing last few moments, “Alright, well, marketing it as my plan was maybe a little disingenuous.” They both seemed confused at your words. “But if it’s the plan I think it is it’s a plan I can get behind,” you rushed out

“Are we throwing a surprise party? What the hell are you talking about?” Johanna asked. 

“Look, I,” you did a quick glance around the room, and motioned for them to follow you. They both did, but it only further soured Johanna’s mood. When you found a private enough corner, you told them what Haymitch had told you. 

“So what? We have to protect pretty little princess for a free ticket out of here?” Johanna spat.

“Basically,” you nodded. Looking over at Finnick, you tried to gauge his reaction. He hadn’t said anything, and still seemed deep in thought.

You knew neither of your friends were fond of the Capitol. They had both lost more than they’d care to admit to these people, but you couldn’t begrudge them for trying to think this through. You’d spent a few hours doing the same before you brought it to Darla last night, and she had to sleep on it. 

“Look,” you tried again, “the reality is, she probably won’t ally with you. I still think the smartest thing to do would be to bring both your district partners and Darla into an alliance of five. If you can manage to knock out some threats to her, you can bide your time until the free plane ride.” 

They both seemed to relax a bit at that, but there was still some hesitance. “You really think throwing Darla and I together is a smart move?” Johanna asked smartly. 

“I don’t take this lightly,” you said with an air of scolding, “I’m trying to keep you safe. Right now, the only way I know how is asking you to watch each others backs in the arena while I watch yours from here. Can you trust me to do that?” 

“Yes,” Finnick chimed in seriously, speaking for the first time in minutes. 

Johanna was silent for only a few seconds longer, “Yes. But don’t expect me to be nice to her.” 

You weren’t quite sure if she was talking about Katniss or Darla, but either way it didn’t surprise you. You only shrugged at her before she walked away. 

“So,” you turned casually back to Finnick, “where were we?” You gave him a quick once over, and he seemed to tense up. 

“I think I might turn in,” he nodded quickly, brow furrowed. When you titled your head and shot him a confused glance he barreled on, laughing awkwardly, “Big day tomorrow, super tired, goodnight!” He took smell steps backward with every word before practically bolting. 

He breezed past Darla, face a little flushed. She smirked a little at his quick pace, and shook her head as she approached you. “What was that about?” She laughed. 

“Beats me,” you shook your head, confused and a more than a little disappointed at his departure. After all, you hadn’t seen him in a few months. Most of your phone calls had circled back to the quell, and you would’ve liked some time together. At least the escape plan had made you more optimistic about your chances of seeing him again. 

————————————

“Answer me this,” Darla’s voice startled him the next day at training. “Why’d you leave the party in a rush?” 

“Sorry?” Finnick remembered it well, but in the light of day was better able to keep his cool. Damned glasses. 

Darla rolled her eyes, “Why don’t you tell me after I kick your ass?” She gestured toward the mats set up in an alcove and started walking that way. He followed her lead and took on a fighting stance. 

She started to throw out guesses as he dodged her jabs. “Indigestion?” He blocked a punch. “Had to vomit?” Blocked a kick. “Left the oven on?” Sidestepped a hit. Her barrage continued until he swept her legs out from under her. 

Darla landed on the mat without complaint, more concerned with him than with training. “Then what sent you running from my lovely mentor?” 

Finnick offered her a hand up, but she swept his legs out too. Lying in opposite directions on the floor, he made his first verbal defense. “What, you don’t get sick of those parties?” 

She propped herself up on her elbows and sent him a glare. It was intimidating too, but Darla had learned from the best. “Cut the crap, I know there’s a reason. No way she could fathom being rude to you, so that’s out.” Finnick rolled his eyes as sat up. “And she’s got no game so no way she made you blush.” 

“Come on,” he said, defensively, pushing to his feet, “don’t insult her.” 

Darla perked up at this, and accepted the hand he had once again offered, “Wait, it was really her that made you blush? What on Earth did she say?”

“Drop it, D,” he warned, stalking off. 

“I am so getting to the bottom of this!” She chirped, smiling at his departing figure. 

Darla gave him some space for a while, flitting around the various stations. The practical skills called out to her, no use practicing with weapons when she was already as good as she’d get.

When she saw Finnick bothering Katniss she made her way over to intervene. He’d tied a noose around his neck, the cheeky bastard. Just when he held it out for Katniss to take, Darla snatched it and pulled him away. 

She heard him wheeze and let up on her grasp. “Fuck,” Finnick choked out as loosened the rope from around his neck. “Darla!” He scolded her once he was properly free. 

“Don’t antagonize the girl,” she said, stopping once they were out of ear shot, “and don’t act like you’re not spoken for.” 

He didn’t bother replying to the first part, “I’m not spoken for.” Darla shot him a glare, saying you’re really going to pretend I’m wrong? with just her eyes. When he glared back she only shrugged.

“You could be,” she sassed, and he took a sharp breath. 

“I don’t think now is the time to-“ 

“If not now then when?!” Darla whisper-yelled, “Newsflash buddy, you still might die. So do you want to die sad and alone… or spoken for?” 

“Do I really come off as sad and alone?” Finnick blinked. 

“Only to those who know you,” she shook her head. 

“Gee thanks, Darla,” he said flatly. 

“It’s my pleasure,” she gave him a friendly yet exaggerated shoulder bump. “Come on, let’s catch the show.” Finnick followed her off to join the crowd forming around Katniss’s simulation session. 

Darla could see the faces of the other tributes drop as Katniss put down figure after figure. They were nearly all modeled after the rest of them, and featured their signature weapons at the very least. She clenched her jaw when Katniss shot the female figure holding a whip straight through the face. No mistaking who that was meant to be. She saw Finnick twitch when Katniss shot the figure with a trident through the chest. By the end, it was clear that the girl was absolutely on the level of every person there. If luck was on her side, and she wanted to, she could likely kill each one of them. 

Wiress started clapping, and it killed some of the tension in the air. But the quell was getting more interesting by the minute. 

——————-

The four of you sat in silence in a both in the empty lounge within the training center. You traced the rim of your drink, hoping Haymitch would arrive soon since he asked you all to meet him there. The casual conversation had died out a bit ago, having run out of outfits to make fun of to keep the conversation light. It was hard not to think about your immediate circumstances. 

You shivered a little, still unused to the central air the Capitol pumped through all their buildings. Finnick caught your eye and nodded his head in the other direction, inviting you to scoot closer to him. You would’ve shaken your head if you hadn’t put on a tank top earlier, but you were chilly enough to press up against his side in a bid to steal body heat. 

Finnick raised a hand to wave to Haymitch when he saw the older man scanning the place. He settled the arm over your shoulder when he was done. Behind your head, he caught Darla narrow her gaze at him and sent her a look of warning. 

“What’s the update?” He asked Haymitch as the man slotted into the space at the edge of the curved booth. 

“Well, Katniss is not keen on allies,” he said, instantly off to a bad start, “though she is interested in the District Three Tributes.” 

“Excuse me?” Johanna asked. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Wiress and Beete.” 

“You mean she wants Nuts and Volts for allies?” Darla asked, and heard Johanna try to muffle a snicker. She tried not to smirk at the sound. So much for ‘not understanding her’ or whatever Jo had said during their breakup. 

“Look, don’t shoot the messenger,” he defended himself. 

“Maybe we should if the message is dumb,” Johanna snarked, crossing her arms. 

“She said she liked them,” Haymitch repeated, and the whole table winced. Maybe as people, Darla thought, though even that might be a stretch, but as allies? In terms of physical game it’d be like tying a brick around your ankle. Hadn’t the girl seen anyone else at work? Johanna’s axe skills? The second time she and Finnick had sparred? 

“Anyone else?” You tried, hoping for a better result. Haymitch thought for a second before snapping his fingers. 

“Yeah, Mags!” Darla groaned, make that two bricks. Finnick used the arm he’d draped across your shoulders to flick Darla in the ear. 

“Mags and I are a package deal,” Finnick asserted. Not a chance in hell he’d trust someone else to protect Mags. 

“Then my bet would be no deal from the girl on fire,” Haymitch shrugged. 

“Ok, so we’re keeping Katniss alive, but Three too?” Darla asked. 

“Haven’t we established-?” 

“We’ve got it,” you reassured him, and Finnick and Johanna nodded.

“Good,” Haymitch saidd. “We’ll,” he nodded in your direction, “keep in touch through sponsor gifts. But it’ll have to be subtle, so keep your thinking caps on.” 

“Is that it?” Johanna asked, bored. 

“No actually,” he went on, “when the time comes you’ll have to cut out your trackers and one of you will have to get Katniss’s.” 

“Shit,” Darla said. 

“Squeamish?” Johanna taunted her from the other side of the table. Haymitch interrupted before a fight could break out. 

“Before then,” he said, firmly, “I’d recommend making a big show of the interviews. Last chance to drum up public outrage at this, maybe get it cancelled.” Johanna scoffed at that, but Haymitch kept on, “At the very least it’ll be good for sponsors.” 

“He’s right about that,” you nodded, already thinking up possible interview angles for Darla. 

Haymitch grinned, “I’ll see you all there.” He pushed away from the table, heading back to his own tributes, no doubt. 

Johanna walked away next, and Darla popped up to follow her. 

“Think they’ll kill each other before the games start?” Finnick asked, angling his head to look at you. 

You let out a chuckle, still tucked under his arm. “Let’s hope not. I’m counting on those repressed feelings to bring in sponsorships,” you replied, watching the two walk off. He grinned, shaking with a bit of laughter. When you looked up to catch his gaze, you realized how close you were. 

“They sure are powerful,” Finnick said, holding your gaze. 

You blinked at him, “Sorry?” 

“Repressed feelings,” he clarified, doing his best to look innocent. You elbowed him and scooted away from his grasp and out of the booth. You’d been dancing around your feelings for him for so long you didn’t know how to do anything else. 

“Goodnight, Finnick!” You called over your shoulder as you marched away. He sighed as he watched you go, a small smile working on his face. Maybe Darla was onto something.  

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

Hope you enjoyed <3333 next part coming soon! That one will cover the interviews and the start of the games at least

taglist: @emerald-09 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @daixylie @fandomhopped

@axelinchen

@whens-naptime

@avoxrising

@erindiggory

@commanderfreethatdust

@blackdxggr

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@iheartspderman

@slytherinfolk25

@cassiecasluciluce

@jazzyyyyslife

[demigod-jack-hearth]

THIS IS PJO RP BLOG

Moodboard by @reyna4ever

Name: Jack Hearth they/them or ask (specific people can use whatever)

Age: 17. Birthday= 16th December

Height : 6"2 (WOOOO, growth spurt)

Godly parent: none - clear-sighted champion of Hestia @unproblematic-hestia

Legacy of @bast-the-best26 (Egyptian goddess of cats)

Patrons

Description: male, 6"2, scruffy shoulder length hair, dyed light blue, warm orange eyes, swimmers build, he has a celestial bronze hand

Fatal flaw: low self-esteem

Backstory : parents died in a car crash, and he was chased by hellhounds, this is where Hestia found and saved his life, she then named him her champion even if he is mortal, she then helped him get to CHB where he stayed for 6 years, before moving to CJ after the second giant war. He now moves between camps quite often

Powers : fire manipulation, can heal himself and others with fire, fire immunity, can summon food, charmspeak, enhanced attractiveness, manipulate love, tell when people are in love, enhanced agility, enhanced senses, partially immortal, skilled with most weapons, plant manipulation, emotion manipulation, can communicate with cats, minor water control, can speak with snakes, anything Jesus did in the bible, can tell if someone's gay, can sense monsters, can turn into any animal, can switch genders, can control the winds, heals from moonlight, more energy from the moon, can cause someone to go insane, cannot get drunk, knows how to perform every form of torture, can communicate with dragons, can slightly control dragons, has a dragon form, can cause tragic events to happen in someone's life, can create hallucinations

He is gender fluid and bisexual

Parents : dead

Adopted by

@unproblematic-hestia = mom

@damiedantediane = dad

@mache-of-greece = mama

Siblings :

@thegroovydaughterofhestia

@unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia

@iceweavercatlover

Kids

Goddaughter: @unicorn-bitched

If you are a moot, you are automatically adopted

Status : poly relationship with

@neoptolemus-achilles-son and @genderfluid-child-of-apollo

@achilles-the-greatest - father-in-law

Face claim : female and male forms

Cat form

Dragon form

His weapons

Important starters

Few occ notes

I also run the blog @demigod-of-all @scylla-weird-kid @flaming-feline @jacks-best-kid @snowflake-spawn @dead-lightning

OCC is gender fluid, you can use whatever pronouns you find easier

Occ is bi... I will make a lot of jokes about it

A lot of British jokes will be made - I am British

[sadesluvr]

CAT AND MOUSE. (IIII)

Miguel O'Hara x Black Cat! F! Reader Warnings: None PREVIOUS CHAPTER | READ ON AO3 | SERIES MASTERLIST

CURRENT DAY  

“Miguel doesn’t want to see you.” 

Some fucking man he was. Despite the soft spot you held for him in your heart, it was difficult at times to put up with him. One minute he was hot, the next cold…it was nauseating, to the point that it made you want to go out and practically throw yourself into the arms of danger. 

In moments like these, there was only one thing that made you happy – a late night burglary. You hadn’t settled for anything small – no, tonight was for something more serious; a high security lab, one that just happened to be owned by Doc Ock himself. It wasn’t as if you cared about stealing serums, instead you knew that he was bound to have a few high-tech weapons that could certainly be beneficial to your arsenal. 

As you scoured through exposed pipes and racks of spare tools, a prototype on a stand caught your eye. It was a smaller version of the man's tentacles – a size that could certainly fit you. Retracting your claws, you ran your fingers along the crafted object, as if it were the Holy Grail itself. How much of a shocker would it be if you showed up to your next encounter as strong as, or even stronger than Miguel and Jess combined? 

(Was it worth destroying your progress in changing for the better solely because a man wasn’t giving you attention?) 

On a level, yes. Your complicated relationship with Miguel was all about power, and you knew better than anyone how dehumanising feeling ineffectual could be. If he wanted to be petty, you could certainly be pettier.  

(You’re toxic. This attitude isn’t healthy.) 

Who gives a shit? 

You were ready to wrench the contraption right out of its power sockets until you caught a glimpse of something behind you. It was big, it was shiny, and it was certainly expensive, right there in a glass tube. There was a red blinking light on its side, virtually screaming at you that it was dangerous.  

It was time for you to make a choice. Take the contraption and become a stronger villainess, or do the right thing and steal what could be a weapon of mass destruction and save the city? 

(Wasn’t that Spider-Man’s job?) 

Both outcomes involved you taking the contraption regardless. It was down to you whether you wanted to use it for good or evil. 

In your sick, attention-seeking mind, you rationalised it all with the idea that Miguel wasn’t just ‘any’ man, but one you were quickly falling in love with.  It was as if since meeting him, your entire philosophy had changed.  

Your past run ins with versions of Spider-Man had left you admiring the enigma without caring about the person underneath, but that hadn’t been the case with Miguel. You still remembered your second encounter as clear as day, when he’d run up on you at the Met Museum. 

“Missing me already, huh? How did you know I was here?” You grinned, crossing your arms over your chest. Though Miguel, ever so elusive, kept his mask on, you could practically see his face from under the pixels. That signature, totally disappointed look. 

“You’re predictable. I saw an ad in the paper about an unnamed cat burglar’s spree.” 

“Becoming predictable,” you corrected, jabbing him playfully in the arm. “I never used to be this way. Something’s changed.” 

“Don’t make excuses.” He replied flatly. 

You cocked a brow before shifting your weight, focusing your attention back onto the sculpture in-front of you. It was a weighted, bronze statue of Eros sleeping, his cherubic frame dangling off a slab of stone. His cheeks were puffed and there was exhaustion written all over his face, all flourished with a sense of innocence to it. After all, he was just a baby.    

“What’re you here for anyway?” 

“Patrols.” 

Miguel’s lip twitched at the lie. This ‘crush’ sort of thing didn’t come natural to him. By the way you were scanning his face, he could tell you didn’t believe him in the slightest. 

How embarrassing. 

“Are you much of an art guy?” You said, changing the subject. “I must say, you don’t strike me as one.” 

Miguel shrugged. 

“Art back home is far different…It’s futuristic. You don’t know what’s what sometimes.” 

This seemed to interest you.  

“And home is…?” You questioned, your voice raising as your eyes widened, hoping for the slightest bit of insight into the strange man who popped into your life. Miguel was silent for a while, contemplating whether he should tell you about Nueva York. Technically, it was safe to – you didn’t have a watch that could take you there – but then he would simply be giving too much of himself away, inevitably having to answer the age old question about family. Between Gabriella and his mother…there wasn’t a favourable option.  

“It’s — Not important.”  

“I don’t think I’d like it,” you sighed, clicking your tongue. His aversion to any kind of prying was annoying. “You can’t beat physical art. I love when you can see every stroke and chip, it’s like you’re watching the artist in real time.” 

Perhaps it was the distant look in your eye at the statue below you, or the soft genuineness within your voice at the statement, but either way Miguel felt an inexplicable urge to remove his mask.  

He hadn’t paid much attention to it at first, but the closer he looked, the more the statue reminded him of Gabi; on the days where she’d be so exhausted from school outings or soccer practice that he’d drape her over his shoulders and gently place her on the sofa so she could nap. The slow, happy times. 

Watching you stand over it, your fingertips brushing gently against the inanimate skin of the boy as you voice lulled did nothing but awake something in him. Motherly, kind… breedable. 

Sometimes it was hard to remember that people were more than just a costume. 

“Are you an artist?” he said, his brown eyes gazing into the side of your face.  

“God no,” you chuckled. “But there were a lot of books in jail and I read about the classics, modernism, that sort of thing. It gave me a new perspective.” 

He didn’t know why he was stunned by this. It came as a bit of a violent wake-up call to him. He didn’t judge those who’d gone to prison – but it was all dependent on the nature of the crime.  

“Jail? Why did you go to jail?” 

“I thought you’d know,” you laughed dryly, placing your hands on your hips. “Trespassing, and, surprise…theft.” 

“I should’ve guessed.”  

“You really should’ve.” 

You hadn’t expected the man to smile, let alone chuckle. It was brief, but it was genuine, and for a second you saw his pearly whites peeking from under his lips, the sides of his cheeks crinkling slightly. It wasn’t sex, but it somehow felt more rewarding than the act. 

“I get it from my Dad, but it wasn’t always this way,” you continued, motioning your hands in the air. “I went to college for social studies, and before that I was a gymnast. I almost joined the circus.” 

Miguel pursed his lips. You had the confidence and charisma of someone made for a life in circus – perhaps you would’ve done well. He knew that the sight of your gravity-defining locks gliding through the air would’ve been a spectacle on its own. 

(Gabi would’ve loved you.) 

He folded his arms. 

“Where did you learn how to fight? I’ve seen you in action. It’s…Impressive.” 

Your demeanour suddenly became strained, and he watched you suck in a breath between your teeth, staring distantly into the unknown. The longer you didn’t reply, the more he worried. 

“My college ran self-defence classes,” you said quickly. “It was just a starting point. Jail certainly taught me something, as did life in the mafia.” 

He nodded. That seemed understandable.  

“Are you not going to arrest me?” You interjected. “I’m confused as to what’s happening here.” 

So was he. 

“You’re not doing anything,” he said matter of factly. “Everything is still in tact. I have no reason to.” 

“Then you could fake perp walk me out the building. It might give you some street cred, I know how you Spider’s like a good photo op.” 

“‘Street cred?’” He repeated inexplicably. It was one of those words the younger Spiders used. “Jesucristo, how old are you?” [Jesus Christ] 

“Old enough to know that me saying that sounded weird,” you smirked. “I keep forgetting you’re not from here. Definitely not a city boy, are ya?” 

He frowned and diverted his gaze, mumbling something in Spanish under his breath. From the corner of his eye he could see you glancing at the security cameras, twitchy as you eyed the doors and the piece in-front of you. How could he have convinced himself that you weren’t there for just a look-around? At the end of the day, you were still a criminal. 

“Well, if you’re not going to arrest me, can you be a lamb and help me move this piece?” You chirped, pinching his cheek. “It’ll look stunning in my living room. Strong man like you can move a ton.” 

He glanced down at the cherub. Its malt-coloured features morphed into ones that were tangible, with long brown lashes and a baby blue football top draped across its pudgy body. 

“This piece?” he remarked, eyebrows furrowing. “No…Leave this one.” 

“Why?” you frowned. “You want it for yourself?” 

There was a flash of recognition in his eye, and your gaze followed his own as you watched his irises scan the child’s gentle features. Absentmindedly, he ran his large fingers along its cheeks and up its fringe, as if to stroke the hair from his face. As if it were human. 

And that’s where you got your first glimpse of the man under the mask. Someone who was possibly yearning. Someone who had probably lost something. 

Someone who was hurt. 

“You know, I’m not in that much of a stealing mood tonight.” You announced, casting your gaze at the man. He frowned, and raised an eyebrow. He was upset. Not necessarily because you hadn’t put up a fight, but because you were leaving. Unfortunately for him, he wanted to stay and talk to you. 

“I’ll see ya around, Spidey.” You grinned, brushing past him gently before escaping through the cracked window you’d entered in, leaving Miguel on his own once more. 

Standing on the rooftop opposite Doc Ock’s lab, you played with the blinking object in your hands, the familiar feeling of goosebumps peppering your skin. Since meeting Miguel, you’d tried so hard to be better that you’d forgotten how much fun it was just to be bad. 

And what was more devious than stealing a detonator from a mad scientist? 

Taglist: @honeyluvsatj @vancehopper1987 @saturnknows

[danikamariewrites]

Taken (part 1)

Cassian x f!reader

A/n: I realized I haven't written much for Cass so I decided he gets a two-parter

You can read part 2 here

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, violence, Beron Vanserra being a dick

The room had gone silent, there was a slight ringing in Cassian's ears. Someone had taken you. Someone had taken you from your home. And he wasn’t there to protect you or stop it or kill the person who dared touch you. You’re his mate, and he failed at the one job he had, protecting you.

“Cassian,” Rhys spoke softly, noticing Cassian's hands were curled into fists at his sides. The red siphons strapped to the back of his hands were glowing as his rage simmered. “We will get her back. Whatever it takes. Azriel should be back soon, he said he has a lead.”

He knew what you would say to him if you were here right now. ‘Don’t worry Cass I’m fine. I can handle myself.’ He knew you could. He had been training you since the mating bond snapped. But you didn’t grow up like him. Training every day, honing your body into a weapon.

You grew up studying history, learning languages, and everything about the courts of Prythian. Your mind was strong. You were witty and the smartest person he’d ever met.

Cassian always joked that he was the brawn to your brains and that’s why the cauldron had mated you. But smarts didn’t always get you out of a sticky situation.

Azriel burst through the door, Feyre and Mor on his heels. Cassian turns to face his brother, his rage nearly boiling under his skin. “Who. Took. Her.” He demanded through gritted teeth.

Azriel took a cautious step forward, putting on the mask of Spymaster, attempting to remove his personal feelings from the situation. “Y/n put up one hell of a fight. The house was a mess but I was able to recover this,” Azriel holds out an armored shoulder plate in his scarred hand. “She knew to leave a clue, Cassian. We’re going to find her.”

Cassian took the armor from his brother, examining it. It was bronze, with the insignia of Berons personal hit squad carved on the curve of the metal. Rhys rounds the corner of his desk to examine it.

“Get Nesta and the Valkyries ready, you two get ready as well,” he says to his mate and Mor. “We need to form a plan,” Rhys commands. “No!” Cassian's booming voice echoes around the office. His family pauses, waiting for him to explode.

He shoves the armor into Rhys’ chest. “I’m not fucking waiting for you. I’m going ahead. I’ll see what we’re dealing with.” He stomps towards the door, Azriel stepping in his way. “Cassian, you know how bad of an idea that is.” Cassian growls at his brother but Azriel doesn’t back down.

“I hate to do this Cass,” Rhys starts, Cassian’s back stays turned to him, “but Az is right. As your High Lord, I am ordering you to wait until we are prepared to leave.”

———

You heard a door open and shut echo across the cavernous dungeon, and a male's angry voice muffled by whispers. You didn't dare open your eyes out of fear the guard stationed at your cell door would announce it. So you lay on the floor, pretending to be unconscious.

It was better to catch people off guard when you could, Cassian taught you that. Cassian! Judging by the small amount of sunlight coming in through the tiny window in the cell, it was late and he had to know you were missing by now.

You had tried to reach out to him through the bond a few times but it was no use. Your abductors had used a lot of Fae Bane to subdue you, and the wards around the Forest House were strong. Beron was a very paranoid person and left nothing to chance.

The male's heavy footsteps approach, accompanied by two other pairs. You tried not to let the scent of your fear be known. “Open the door.” You know that voice. Beron had come to see you himself. Something had to be going on if he was desperate enough to have you kidnapped.

He entered the cell, crouching over you. He grabbed your face, squeezing hard. Your eyes fly open, anger overtakes your features as you struggle to get away. He pulls you into a standing position as he looks down at you. “Now, now y/n. You should know better than to struggle.” you stop, your breathing heavy. You weren't an idiot. You wanted to live long enough to attempt an escape, so you'd obey for now.

Beron roughly pushes your face, letting go. Never breaking eye contact you growl out, “What do you want?” He backhands you across your face so hard you fall, hitting the stone floor. Recovering quickly you scramble away from the High Lord of Autumn clutching at your face. You could feel a large bruise forming.

He stands scowling at you, “It's too early to be taking that tone with me y/n. But I will sate your curiosity.” you push into the damp stone wall, hoping you'd fall through it and escape.

“You are Rhysands go-to for translating languages and whatnot.” ok, so he knew your job title. Big deal. “I've come across something rather rare, my people have looked at it but the incompetent fools failed at translating it. You will translate it for me.” He stares down at you expectantly.

It's clear the other High Lords didn't know about Beron's little find, but you had to make sure. “I take it the other High Lords are unaware of this.” He huffs out a laugh. “No, and it will stay that way. You do serve another purpose being here though.” you tilt your head giving him a curious look.

“Your little inner circle is keeping secrets. I didn't think Rhysand would be so careless but alas, I found this in my idiotic son's study.” Beron takes a crumpled piece of paper from his breast pocket holding it out to you. You lean forward slightly to make out the message.

Shit. That was one of the first letters between Rhys and Eris after Hybern. Shit, shit, shit. And Beron knows they’ll show up for you. It's not a secret you and Cassian are mates. Shit. This is a trap. And you're the bait.

The panic showed on your face as Beron smirked at you, knowing he won. He turns to leave, saying, “I'll send guards for you when I'm ready.” The cell door slammed shut and the guard went back to his watch position as Beron and the other two walked away. He was going to leave you here all night. Just to emphasize how powerless you were in this whole situation.

———

By the time the plan was set and everyone was armed to the teeth Cassian was fuming. Too much time had passed for his liking. He was going out of his mind, thinking of all the negative what-ifs. And he couldn't feel you down the bond.

He had reached out a million times and nothing. It was still there but that wasn't enough for Cassian. If he kept thinking about it he was going to be sick.

Rhys’ voice broke him from his thoughts, “You know what your assignments are. We have no room for error. And remember, this could very well be a trap we're walking into. So stay alert.” Everyone nodded.

The plan was that Azriel would winnow in first, then send the all-clear to Rhys for Feyre and Nesta, then Mor and Emerie. And he and Rhys last. They would sneak into the Forest House from four different spots. Nesta and Emerie would take out guards where they could. Mor, Feyre, and Rhys would keep trouble off their backs and find Eris. And He and Azriel would head for the dungeons to get you out.

Rhys grabbed Cassian's arm. The world fell away, darkness consumed his sight, and then the forest of Autumn bathed in moonlight was around him. The air smelled crisp and earthy.

He took a deep breath and followed his brother toward the Forest House.

———

You couldn't sleep. You tried different spots on the floor but your anxiety kept your heart pounding at the thought of Beron coming back for you.

You were sitting against the wall, knees pulled into your chest. The guard had yelled at you an hour ago for fidgeting too much, so you've been sitting in this position since. You didn't want to see what he would do if you moved around again.

You began absent-mindedly running your fingers against the stone wall. On your second pass over a certain spot, your finger caught slightly. You ran your finger over the spot again. And traced the crack in the wall up and over.

Laying your palm over the space you felt a slight breeze. This wasn't just a crack in the stone, it was a door to a secret passage. At that moment something in your brain clicked. You've studied every High Lord in Prythian, even the layouts of their houses.

You knew exactly where this passage led. The guard was your only problem. You could do this. Cassian taught you how to sneak up on people. You just had to stay calm.

You moved into a crouching position and slowly made your way over to the bars. His quarterstaff was held lax at his side. You stuck a hand through the bars grabbing the staff. Before he knew what was happening you brought the staff up to his throat. Grabbing the other end you pulled him against the bars, choking him until he passed out. You let him down slowly, so his body didn't make noise.

You push and push against the secret door. After a few minutes, it finally gives in. You start crawling in the dark and dusty passageway. It clearly hadn't been used in centuries.

You didn't want to get ahead of yourself, but this escape route was looking promising.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[witchhazelevesque]

Leo threw a screwdriver across a dark cavern guarded by a giant and hit an elevator button perfectly to open the Doors of Death at just the right moment.

Leo also doesn’t have a consistent weapon.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

Yes, his mind is his best weapon but! He should also have a physical weapon(s)!

Anyway, throwing knives. Also I think he should have a bunch of jewelry, so they can be enchanted daggers that turn into ear cuffs and rings and the like. Both his hands and his ears just lined from top to bottom with bronze and gold and at least one silver piece on each side, fuck them werewolves, he’s not doing that again.

[libraryofgage]

PJO Steddie Six

One | Two | Three | Four | Five

And we back at it again with the PJO AU

The new series on Disney+ right? Like, that's soon and I'm fucking excited to start watching it omfg

Anyway, hope you enjoy this one! A little more Steddie flirting and some of Steve being a goddess's favorite little guy lol

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

-----

"Your, ah, bat," Chiron says, glancing at said weapon leaning against the side of Steve's chair, "it's effective against monsters?"

Around them, the sound of chewing can be heard as the kids descend on the snacks and refilling cups. Dustin, Max, and Erica in particular have chubby cheeks as they shove cookies into their mouths. In comparison, Steve hasn't touched a thing on the table. Not because he doesn't want to, of course, but because he'd rather avoid Lucas inadvertently biting him (it's happened before, he doesn't want it to happen again).

"Max's mom gave us some Celestial bronze, Dustin figured out how to melt it down, and Will suggested embedding nails in a reinforced bat. So we did," Steve explains, shrugging once.

Sitting in the chair directly to the left of Chiron is Eddie, his fingers drumming on the table as he looks between Steve and the centaur. He's been like that for the past 15 minutes, managing to keep quiet unless he's answering a question or adding a detail about their drive up that Steve missed. It's odd to see him so....restrained, but Steve can tell he's trying to be on his best behavior, likely to give him and the kids a better chance of staying.

Chiron hums in thought, considering the kids. His gaze lingers on El the longest, watching as she sips milk tea from her cup and passes Mike a bowl of grapes when he asks for it. "And you're sure El's powers aren't permanent?" Chiron finally asks.

Steve nods once. "We've timed it before. Worst cases fade in a few hours. Since El and I are related, she can't freeze me," he explains, offering a little more information than he needs to in the hopes of earning Chiron's trust.

The centaur must see through him, but his smile isn't unkind. "I see. And do you know all of their parents? The godly ones, I mean."

Steve nods and points to each kid while listing their godly parent. At the end, he points to himself and adds, "And mine is Zeus, which was probably obvious."

"Just a little," Chiron says. He considers them all for a moment before sighing. "Well, as long as you'll take full responsibility for El and her powers, I am happy to welcome you to Camp Half-Blood."

-------

Camp Half-Blood is nice.

Steve likes the strawberry fields, he's already looking forward to giving the climbing wall a try, and Eddie's brief mention of Capture the Flag earlier has him regularly glancing at the forest. The kids seem eager to explore, too, with Dustin practically lighting up when Eddie points out the Haphaestus cabin's workshop, Will and Erica looking wistfully at the pegasus stables, Lucas and Max practically vibrating with excitement when they pass the practice arena, Mike nearly breaking off from the group to jump into sparkling water on the beach, and El tugging on Steve's hand excitedly when they pass the archery field.

The tour ends in the middle of the cabins by a fire pit. A young girl is stoking the fire, keeping it going and smiling softly as the flames dance in front of her. She glances up to meet Steve's gaze, and he immediately recognizes her. He's ready to greet Hestia when she subtly shakes her head and turns back to the fire.

Steve forces himself to look away, studying the cabins, instead. There's one for each deity, and several other groups of cabins are scattered around the area like they keep adding more. A path of mismatched stone has been paved from each one to the fire pit, keeping them all connected.

His attention is immediately drawn to a cabin with a cloud and thunderbolt above the door. It looks kind of like a marble box with huge columns, a domed roof, and bronze doors that gleam in the sun. It looks imposing, and Steve can't imagine anyone actually staying in it.

"That'll be your cabin," Eddie says, pulling Steve's attention away. He grins when Steve looks at him, rocking back and forth on his feet. "And that's the Athena cabin, the Aphrodite cabin, the Morpheus cabin, Plutus, and Nemesis. Each has a lead camper in charge of getting new campers settled."

Steve blinks, frowning slightly. "What do you mean?" he asks.

"Well, the kids will stay in the cabins of their godly parents."

"No. They won't."

Eddie pauses, seeming to realize there's a problem. He looks at the cabins, then the kids, back to the cabins, and finally settles his gaze on Steve. "It's possible to visit between cabins, but we've never had a camper, like, not live in their parent's cabin."

"Has anyone tried?"

"Well. No."

"Does anyone live in the Zeus cabin right now?"

The moment Eddie shakes his head, Steve leads the kids toward the Zeus cabin. He feels a little resistance when he reaches the door, but he stubbornly ignores it and crosses the threshold to find an empty space. Well, mostly empty. He blinks, looking over the alcoves with golden eagles and the giant statue of Zeus in the middle. From the inside, the domed roof has mosaic clouds drifting across it with lightning bolts striking out from them.

"You've got to be kidding me," Steve says, frowning as he looks around the cabin. A cursory glance reveals that there is, in fact, a single bed somewhat hidden behind the statue of Zeus.

"I'd rather not sleep with your dad staring at me," Erica says, frowning at the statue before looking up at Steve. "I'm sure the Aphrodite cabin won't be so bad." Despite her words, her tone is reluctant, implying she'd rather not sleep with a bunch of strangers.

Steve closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and turns to look at the kids. Eddie is at the back of the group, watching him with a curious expression. "Okay," Steve says, his tone immediately getting the kids' attention, "I'm going to ask a question, and I want honesty. Who wants to stay in their parent's cabin?"

A few seconds pass in which the kids all glance at each other, silently asking the same question to see if anyone's answer will be different. When none of them raise their hand or say anything, Steve asks, "Does that mean you'd like to stay in a cabin together?"

The kids all nod, and Eddie looks ready to speak when Steve nods and herds the children out of the cabin. He glances at the fire pit, sees Hestia is still there, and tells the group, "Just hold tight."

He strides over to the fire pit and crouches next to Hestia, waiting patiently. After a few moments, the goddess smiles at him and says, "Hello, Steve. Welcome to my hearth. Would you like a cookie?"

Steve nods and takes the chocolate chip cookie that Hestia offers. He doesn't know where she got it from, but he doesn't question it. "Lady Hestia," he says after taking a bite, "I would appreciate your assistance."

"Your father would not appreciate other children in his cabin," she says, her voice gentle and coaxing.

"The kids want to stick together," Steve says, figuring that should be more than enough explanation.

"And what do you want, Steve?"

Steve is about to answer that he wants the same when Hestia meets his gaze. The words die in his throat as he's forced to actually consider the question. What does he want? He wants the kids safe, of course, and they'll be safest with him. But he also finds himself wanting a space of his own, his eyes glancing at Eddie before quickly looking away. He likes the idea of being alone with Eddie, something that likely won't happen unless Steve can put a door between them and the rest of the world.

He takes a deep breath, the two thoughts at war within him. Before he can say anything, though, Hestia smiles. "I'm sure Lord Zeus would prefer you stay in his cabin," she says, a brief flash of dislike crossing her eyes, "so I will work with it."

"And you won't get in trouble?" Steve asks, wondering if he really needs to worry about a goddess. She's doing him a favor, though, so he can't help himself.

"There is little your father can do to me," Hestia says, shrugging as she waves a hand toward Zeus's cabin. Nothing on the outside changes, but Steve knows the inside has been completely overhauled.

He looks at Hestia and smiles brightly. "Thank you," he says, pausing before digging into his jacket pocket and pulling out a pack of gum. "I can give you something better at dinner, but would you like one?"

Hestia lights up and happily takes a stick, carefully unwrapping it before popping it into her mouth. After chewing a few times, she blows a large bubble, grinning when it bursts a few seconds later. "Thank you," she says, beginning to blow another bubble. A breeze kicks up, sending a slight haze of smoke into Steve's eyes, and by the time he clears it away, Hestia is gone.

Steve stands, brushes non-existent dust off his jeans, and walks back up the steps. "Okay, let's try again," he says, flashing a grin at the kids and Eddie before opening the door.

The cabin has, thankfully, changed on the inside. It now has a skylight in the ceiling, allowing sunlight to stream into the room. There are several bunk beds pushed against the walls and three doors on the opposite side of the cabin. Each of the bunks has one of the kids' names carved into it, and the left-most door on the opposite wall has a small sign with Steve's name right in the middle of it.

"How is Zeus not smiting you right now?" Eddie asks, following the kids into the cabin and staring at everything around him.

Steve shrugs, watching as the kids choose their bunks by throwing themselves onto the beds and splaying their limbs out like starfish. He walks over to the three doors. The far right is a bathroom with multiple stalls and showers and the middle is a storage closet with cleaning supplies. He studies the door with his name on it for a moment before taking a deep breath and opening it.

The room inside is large. Like the main portion of the cabin, the room has a skylight. The walls are ringed with real clouds, all of them fluffy and white and leisurely drifting along. In one corner of the room is a small fountain covered in clouds and tiny carvings of women holding urns and smiling. A small bowl next to the fountain is filled with gold coins, and two oversized chairs are set up in the adjacent corner. The opposite wall is covered in shields and swords with one open spot that Steve knows is for his bat. In the middle of the wall, just above the spot for Steve's bat, a large crystal ball hovers, filled with lightning bolts that streak across it.

As Steve takes it all in, Eddie wanders over to the weapon wall and pokes the crystal ball, the door swinging shut behind him. His hair begins to float and stand on end from the static, and Steve snorts. "Don't mess up your hair even more," he says, grinning at Eddie as he bats his hand away.

When their fingers brush, a tiny shock passes between them, an almost imperceptible arc of lightning connecting their fingers before Steve jerks his hand away. "Sorry," he mumbles, frowning slightly. He can dismiss the other two times this has happened (he was surprised by the pool and barely maintaining control outside the camp), but a third time means it's significant, right?

"Don't apologize," Eddie says, reaching out and poking Steve's hand. Another shock passes, and Eddie grins wide. "It's cool."

"It could hurt you," Steve corrects, sliding back a step only for Eddie to follow. He frowns a little more, backing up again. Eddie follows again. They keep this up, amusement budding in Steve's chest and changing his frown into a smile, until Steve is backed up against the wall and Eddie is crowding into his space.

Eddie lights up like he's won and shifts closer. "You wouldn't hurt me, Stevie," he says, utterly confident in his assessment.

Steve snorts, raising an eyebrow at him. "You barely know me," he says.

"That's easily fixed."

"I could be a terrible person."

"You're not."

"I could be. Maybe this is all an act."

Eddie hums softly, leaning closer until their hands are close to brushing and they're inches apart. A low buzz starts to build under Steve's skin, reaching out to Eddie with such desperation that Steve doesn't think before grabbing his hand. Tiny sparks pass between their palms again, and Steve somehow feels himself calming down.

"I don't mind falling for it," Eddie whispers, his smile softening, and Steve finds himself thinking "it" probably isn't the word Eddie actually wanted to use.

He swallows around a sudden lump of nerves in his throat, lost for words and about to just turn to action (kissing seems like a pretty good action right now) when one of the kids bangs on the door. Eddie jerks back, blinking a few times as his cheeks start to flush. "Steve!" Lucas shouts, knocking on the door again, "C'mon, man, we wanna see more of the camp."

Steve swallows again, noting the way Eddie's gaze drops to his throat, and quickly looks away. He pulls the door open, somewhere between grateful for and annoyed by the interruption. "Have you guys figured out who's sleeping where?" he asks, letting himself get distracted by Lucas rolling his eyes and Dustin shouting about Mike stealing his bunk.

------

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