#is this how low we’ll sweep for some fucking attention that doesn’t even fucking mean anything

[lewishcmilton]

stan culture has fostered such an incredibly greedy and competitive atmosphere where you’re so desperate for any attention online that you lose any and all basic empathy you might’ve possessed at some point

[one-boring-person]

Too Bad, Sweetheart. (Part One)

The Expendables x reader

Warnings: swearing, death, gun use, injury, alcohol consumption

Context: after an incident on a job, the reader is "let go" from the team, only for them to realise they want them back.

A/n: I hope this isn't as bad as I think it is 😅

This reached the "long post" limit thing, so I'm uploading it in two parts

Masterlist

After having spent years in a profession where I often have people trying to kill me in my own home, my mind has easily become attuned to when something is wrong, and right now, something is definitely off. Standing before the door of my dingy apartment, I feel a frown crease my brow as I look over the battered door, my hand instinctively moving to the small of my back, where my pistol is tucked into my jeans, as it always is, the other hand going to take hold of the door handle. I pause where I am, uncaring of how stupid I must look, listening closely to the area around me, tuning out all external sounds except the telltale ones of some person coming towards me. 

There's nothing, only heavy silence.

Not quite trusting the thick quiet, I try the handle, only half surprised when it's unlocked, the door cracking open with a soft noise. Cursing internally, I push it open completely, making sure no one is stood behind it as I wait just before the threshold in case there's someone on the other side. Nothing happens, so I step inside, drawing my gun and holding it by my side, cocking it with one hand.

Swinging the door closed behind me, I stand in the darkness for a moment, allowing my eyes to swiftly adjust, sweeping the room as I do so, easily locating the intruder. A figure is sat, facing away from me, on my worn old couch, the silhouette easily recognisable to me, even from the little I can see. Instantly, I feel the low burn of anger bite at the back of my throat, my face falling into a state of blankness as I make my way over to him, having made sure the rest of the room is safe, my steps slow and soft, though I know he is aware of my presence. To my surprise, however, he doesn't move. Not even when I press the cold muzzle of the gun up against his skull.

"Get out." I order him, keeping my voice level and cold as I hold the gun to his head.

"And "hello" to you, too." The familiar voice snarks back at me, his British accent as thick as the last time I heard it.

"I'm not gonna ask again." I ignore his greeting, pushing lightly with the gun until his head tips forwards slightly.

Slowly, the man stands, turning to face me, my gun pointed directly at his forehead as he trains scrutinizing eyes on me.

"You ain't looking so good, (Y/n). Out of work?" He questions, reaching over to flick on the desk light on the coffee table, casting us both in a warm light. Lee's features seem softer like this, though there's a harshness behind his eyes.

At his comment, I feel a poisonous scowl etch itself onto my face, my anger flaring up now. My grip on the gun tightens.

"Get out." I repeat, my voice strained now as I hold back my seething fury.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" He scoffs, stepping away from my gun and going over to the wall, turning on the main light.

"That's generally what a gun is used for." I reply, keeping the weapon trained on him.

Lee shrugs, leaning against the wall.

"In my experience, it's always more of a scare-tactic." The mercenary remarks, before he gestures to the room around us, "This is a bit of a downgrade."

Again, I feel myself start to seethe, my muscles going tight, his comments starting to rile me up.

"Get. The fuck. Out." I snap, nodding to the door, clenching my jaw tightly.

"Easy, it was just an observation." Lee furrows his brow, "We need to talk."

"Like hell we do." I scoff, scowling harder.

"Yeah, we do actually."

"What makes you think I want to talk?" I practically snarl, fed up with his pestering.

"Not much, doesn't mean we're not gonna." He shrugs again, a smirk playing briefly at the corners of his mouth, "We need you back on the team."

Silence settles on us. A look of disbelief crosses my face, followed by outrage, then anger, before settling on cynical amusement. I can't stop the sharp, dry laugh that escapes me.

"Do you, now?" I roll my eyes, trying to suppress the rolling anger in my gut.

"Yeah, we've got a job that we're gonna need your expertise on. We thought about others, but Barney insisted it was you. I know you left and all-" He starts, watching me hopefully, only for me to interrupt him.

"Hold on, I left? Last I checked, you assholes fired me." I growl, unbelievably angry now.

"Err, well, yeah, but we made a mistake. We need you back, (Y/n), we've gotta do this, and we need you to help. Barney wants to take you on again. He regrets letting you go, and so do the rest of us. We miss you, (Y/n). Please come back." Lee nearly pleads with me, stepping forwards.

"Give me a break, Christmas. What makes you think I want to go with you? After what you all did to me?" I bite back, gesturing around myself, "You think you can break into my "downgraded" apartment, tell me I look like shit and ask if I'm "out of work" after everything that happened? Jesus, Christmas, did you guys get gassed or something?"

He's speechless. Blinking, he stares at me, fumbling for words.

"Sure, at one time, that might have been banter. Maybe we'd have joked about it, and we'd have teased each other. But now?" I laugh wryly, "Not in your wildest dreams, Christmas."

Again he struggles to find words, an occurrence I remember being scarce, the Brit always having something to say.

"Now, get the hell out of my apartment before I shoot. And no, I won't hesitate." I order him, nodding to the door again.

With a sigh, Lee casts me one last look, before he goes to the door and steps out, clearly defeated.

*

Gunfire pelts the air around me, my own gun spitting back at my attackers as I peek out from behind the fallen crate, my ears ringing from the barrage of sound. A wound at my hip bleeds profusely, a bullet somehow having managed to get past my body armour and to skin, leaving me with an injury that'll most likely scar.  At this moment, I don't care, my attention focused on the targets across the room, adrenaline making it impossible to feel too much pain in any case, allowing me to take out the enemies with relative ease. To my left, I can hear Toll and Caesar shouting at each other, the latter bringing out one of his heavier guns as they chase a unit of soldiers only a nearby hallway, leaving me alone in the room with the other killers.

Gritting my teeth, I feel the clip come to an end, meaning I have to drop back behind cover and reload, swiftly unfastening the magazine. Throwing it aside, I go to take up a new one, only to realise I'm totally out, leaving me with my pistol and a couple of knives. I swing the rifle onto my back, taking out my pistol and cocking it, before I lean back out of safety, shooting a couple of shots.

All of them hit, leaving me in an empty room, my breathing hard and ragged as I try to recover. Leaning back against the crate, I nearly have time to catch my breath again before the gunfire starts again. 

This time, it's only from one gun, a handheld pistol of sorts, probably like mine, the owner not shooting at anything in particular. Frowning, I glance around, my eyes widening as I see who it is.

It's our target, Pierce Fenwick, the rogue mercenary stepping into the centre of the room with a smirk, his eyes on mine. Confused, I raise my gun, ready to shoot if he does, painfully aware of my orders to keep him alive. They'd stressed this: keep the target alive, he's needed for questioning. I had no problem with this, but I'm still wary of him.

The final shot ricochets off of the walls, leaving the room in silence again, the report ringing out around the space. 

"I know you're there. You might as well come out." Fenwick calls out, his smirk evident in his voice, "I'm not gonna shoot."

Not quite believing him, I wait a couple of minutes, unsure of what to do.

"Come on, I know you need me, so I'll go quietly." He tries again, his conviction finally persuading me to hesitantly stand and face him.

"Ah, there you are." He grins mockingly, "Here to get me?"

Staying quiet, I edge forwards, my gun aimed at his head.

"Too bad, sweetheart. I don't intend on going anywhere. At least not in this life." With that, he lifts his own gun, pressing it against his forehead. 

I have time to widen my eyes before the gunshot tears through the quiet, leaving me standing in front of a collapsing body.

Instantly, horror fills me, dread and despair flooding my being as I step forwards, only to hear a pair of sharp intakes of breath behind me. Spinning on my heel, I see Barney and Lee standing there, Toll, Caesar and Gunnar quickly joining them. All of them carry shocked faces.

"What the fuck have you done?!" Barney finally manages, his tone low and laced with fury.

Confused, I glance between them and the body, only now realising what it looks like. Eyes widening, I turn back to them, raising my hands.

"I didn't shoot him! He shot himself!" I try to argue, but it's already too late.

The boys shoot me foul looks as they file past, heading to the body to see if there's any way of recovering him. Finding none, they turn to me, scowl in place.

"Nice one, (Y/n)." Gunnar growls, walking away.

"What? I didn't do anything!" I try to reply, only for the others to step past me, all except Barney, who stops before me.

"We're not blind, or stupid. You've just cost us the entire job, and that's a lot of money. We had specific orders to keep him alive, and you disobeyed them." Barney sighs, his expression furious, "We'll fly you back, but once you're there get your stuff from the hangar."

My mouth falls open as he leaves me there, not quite able to understand what just happened.

Part Two

[kissofthespring]

Title:  switching them positions for you Ship: Bokuto x Fem!reader CW: period sex. shower sex. bokuto doesn't care. daddy owl bokuto. minors dni

The MSBY Black Jackals had a home game today. You were supposed to go originally, but you weren't feeling very well. The office job that you had was working you to the bone, and you had the chills. When you got home, that was when you were hit with the cramps from hell. Oh, this made sense.

Your period always started this way, intense painful cramps and then the flow from hell. You stripped and changed into your boyfriend's sweats and one of his jersey's. Curled up on your shared bed, you try to get some sleep. The commotion of your boyfriend coming home wakes you up a little while later, "Hey, hey, hey. Baby Owl! You didn't make it to the game. Are you okay?" You curl further in on yourself, glancing up at him with a whimper. "Cramps."

His hands slide up your back, taking note of how tense your lower back is. Oh, that's not great. He wraps his arms around you from behind you and spoons you, his head resting against your shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby... Do you want a bath? A shower? Both? What would help?"

"Fuck me."

"Do you really mean that, baby owl?" You look up at him and shake your head, "No, no. I just read that would help somewhere, but the mess..." You could feel his grin against your shoulder. "Baby Owl, I don't care about the mess; we can clean up." He brushes your hair behind your ear before he whispers, "It'd be fun, come on, baby. Let's live a little."

You roll over onto your back so that one of his arms rest behind your head and the other wraps around your tummy. "Fine, whenever you say things like that, it just makes me soft." You pout for a moment before you look over at his wide eyes. "Where do you suggest we do this, Ko?" He leans closer to you, pressing his mouth to your neck gently before pulling away, "Shower obviously, then we'll figure things out. First things first, let's get you relaxed, babe."

He leaves your side with a soft kiss on your cheek. You sigh as you watch him bounce across the room, grabbing towels and comfy clothes that you might want to wear. Then he wanders into the shared bathroom, flicking on the light. The Shower starts, and you glance over to the door to see Bokuto in the doorway sans his shirt. "Come on, Baby Owl." He makes grabby hands for yours, and you stand despite the pain you are in. Walking toward him, you let him strip you of his sweats and old jersey. His hands are gentle as they smooth over your skin carefully. "Now, show me where it hurts. I'll make you feel better." His teeth catch your jaw, and you moan as he walks you backward to the Shower. "Let Daddy Owl take care of you."

The water hits your body and instantly warms your flesh. It feels so good, but the menstruations of your lover feel better. His mouth molds itself to your neck, nibbling on it, then down along your collarbone. He presses you under the spray, letting the water soak your entire body.

He joins you for a moment, his hair falling as the spray gets him. You reach up for him, brushing his grey and black hair back from his eyes. "I like your hair down like this." Bokuto grins, catching your hand and kissing your fingertips gently, "Maybe, I'll wear it down more, sweet bird, now where were we." He ducked down to your breasts, tugging your nipple into his mouth. He licked the sensitive bud gently before sucking. Your head lulled backward as you pressed your thighs together, trying to create a little bit of friction with the movement.

One of his large hands came up to give the other breast attention, massaging it between his rough fingers. There's a moan that you can't hold back from your lips, and you press your back against the tile of the Shower behind you. "Ah, baby owl, make more noises like that. I know you're enjoying it if you make sounds like that." You arch toward Bokuto, reaching for his hand that's on your hip holding you up slightly; you move it down to your core, "Please, Kou, please."

His golden eyes lifted from your breast, pulling away with a pop. "Oh, my little one really needs her daddy owl right now, huh?" Bokuto's teasing as he presses a singular finger through your folds and to your clit gently, "Could I ask you to do something for me first? Would you suck me off a little bit? I don't want to cum in your mouth, but I want to feel you wrapped around me for a little while. I played a good game. I just wish you had been there."

"I wish I had been there, too, Kou. You asked so sweetly, and I was going to do it anyway." His gaze met your eyes, and instantly, lust swirled around his. "You're so good to-" His sentence was cut off by you on your knees taking his cock into your mouth. Your tongue swirls along the tip for a moment, slipping around the end for a moment. Then you suck the head gently. God, Bokuto's cock is pretty, beautiful even. Pretty reddish-pink cock head that leads down to the perfect girthy shaft. You have to use your hand to even really get it into your mouth. But that's okay. You love it. It's wide, girthy, and settles when it hits the back of your throat. It stretches your lips and hurts if you aren't careful. You love his cock. The way your saliva mixes with his precum, you swallow the salty flavor, smiling as you pull back for a moment. "Oh, Koutarou, you taste so good."

He grins down at you, pushing his fingers through your hair. "You feel good, Baby Owl; let me fuck you, please." You lick the vein on the underside of his cock, swirling before letting him go with a pop. Bokuto reaches for your arms before tugging you upward, pressing his mouth to yours deeply.

"How's those cramps, baby?"

"Much better." You whine as your back hits the shower wall for a moment. "But we aren't done yet..." He reaches for you taking you in his arms, then turning you around. His mouth presses against your ear before whispering, "Oh, Baby Owl, we're nowhere near done." He reaches down between your legs and presses two fingers into your cunt. He's gentle as he moves them inside of you, stretching you until you can accommodate his cock. "Baby, I just want to make sure you can take it. I know you're sensitive." You moan, rolling your hips back against his hips. A gasp escapes your lips, and his teeth bite your ear gently, whispering, "So pretty, such a pretty little owl."

Bokuto adds another finger, scissoring them even more. Your hips buck roughly against his hands. "Are you going to cum, Baby Owl? Hm?" The question is soft and not a command, but you whine, unable to stop yourself. There's a hot pleasure pressing behind your eyes as you clutch his arm that's wrapped around your chest, tugging you back toward him. You crash as you cum, shaking from your orgasm. Your eyes roll back as your curl into the intense feeling. Oh, it feels so good. Bokuto's hand finds the sower head, reaching for it and lifting the moveable head off Shower. He cleaned his hand off, then pressed the showerhead to your chest, traveling it down your body gently.

"Feeling good, baby?" You nod against his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping your lips. "Ready for me?" He lines his cock up so he can enter you quickly. He slides in inch by inch, not going too fast or too slow. It's a heady experience. When he finally bottoms out, you flutter around him, "Oh!" The sharp feeling in your womb is dull compared to the feeling of being speared open by Bokuto's thick cock. He feels good, so good.

His groans sound so sweet in your ears as your sensitive walls flutter around him. He's just waiting for your body to adjust to him. "Did I make you cum from just that, Baby Owl? No, I don't think I did." His hips set a sweet pace, one that leaves you clutching the wet wall for support but unable to find it. Bokuto goes a bit faster now, the pleasure building between the two of you.

"Harder, Kou... Harder, please."

He reaches for your hips, fingers digging in just the right amount to leave bruises along your sides. Then slides a hand up to cup one of your breasts as he proceeds to start pounding into you. He seems to be watching the way your bodies connect the back and forth of it, the way your cunt swallowed him up. When he'd pull back, he saw the little bit of blood and couldn't stop himself from groaning at the sight. There was something so erotic about this moment. The perversion of it made him that much harder. Bokuto could feel your cunt clamp down on him, and a groan was pulled from his lips,  "Fuck, Baby Owl, you take me so well. You look so pretty, little owl." His hips snap forward, and your body rocks with the motion; a low groan escapes your lips as your nails finally find purchase on the soap rack.

Little shocks rolled down your spine as your orgasm came closer and closer; Bokuto pulled your back up to his chest, his large hand wrapping around your throat with a squeeze. "Tell me how you feel, baby." The pathetic whimper that left your lips had his head falling forward against your shoulder. "That's it, little owl. Come on. Just a little more. Fall apart, tell me how good it feels, tell me how those cramps can't hurt you anymore. Cum for me."

The lit of his voice was dragging you to the edge, any moment now. The hand on your hip slipped forward between your legs and found your clit. Sweeping across it with his thick fingers, you gasped. His lips stretched into a grin against your shoulder as he felt you fall apart. Coming undone in his arms, back arching a perfect bow, nails clawing at the soap rack, knocking the bottle there off, head tossed around against his shoulder as your spasmed in his arms. Bokuto followed soon after with a few more pumps, riding out his orgasm with your overstimulated body, painting your walls white. The hand that had been around your neck, gently cutting off the blood flow to your brain with every squeeze, slackened, finally sliding down to hold you up still. Your knees were giving out quicker than you wanted them to.

"Thank you, baby owl." The words are whispered into your shoulder as the tall man drags the shower head over your body, washing away the evidence of your sex down the drain. He's gentle as he dries your body and his own, wrapping a towel around your hair for you and helping you change your clothes. Slipping into a low slung pair of grey sweats, he carries you back to your bedroom. "Baby, want me to order some food for you?"

"No, at the moment, I want you to cuddle me; thank you, Kou, for this. I feel a thousand percent better."

He lays down beside you, bouncing the bed slightly as he pulls you into his arms. "I love you, baby owl. Anything to make you feel better."

He'd give you the world if he could.

[danddymaro]

Playing with fire | Loki x Reader

Includes Enhanced Reader W/ fire manipulation, and a temper.

Basically Loki Being an Ass

Word Count : 2393

Playing with Fire

She smiled with satisfaction as she continued to clean the counter in small circles, the little powder blue rag leaving the surface with a nice shine that filled her with pride.

All the while, sweet, soft hums of happiness left her as she saw the lovely surface slowly bouncing the sight of what seemed like her reflection.

“You’ve certainly outdone yourself this time (f/n),” she said lowly, grinning at her work with fulfillment, executing joy-filled little claps as a mild cheer that lasted only a few seconds before she went back to work.

Tony walked past the doorway but whirled around as he caught sight of her, tisking at the sight, because, 

how many times has he told her now?

“- I told you, you don't have to do that,” He said with exasperation, pouting down at her as he coolly walked over to her, “ You don't have to pick up a finger here.” He continued, making himself comfortable by leaning his elbows onto the counter, looking at her with tired dark eyes throughout the entire time,

“In fact, even the toile-”

She stopped him by lifting up her hand in a halt sign, the other maintaining the same circular motion,

“I want to,” she said simply, looking over to him with a soft smile that was filled with peace. “It makes me happy,” she added with pleading (e/c) eyes, hoping he’d drop the argument.

“It brings me peace, so please... drop it?” she asked him, giving him the same sweet, begging eyes.

Rolling own his eyes, Stark shrugged, a heavy sigh accompanying the action, “I guess,” He mumbled, displeased nonetheless.

“If you continued to do it after the first few times, I don't know why I keep trying to convince you otherwise,” he added, a halfhearted glare directed at her, “Just don’t overwork yourself,” he pleaded her.

“ - I feel bad enough having you slaving around her,” he murmured with a sheepish upturn of his mouth.

Granted, he appreciated how tenderly she treated their home, but it was to the extent that he felt guilty, almost like he was taking advantage of her.

“Slaving?” she said with a quirked brow, “You have your drinking, and I have my cleaning… yet I’m the one in the wrong?” she said back to him, chuckling all while she shook her head, giggling even more as she saw his expression change at her words, a toothy grin etched onto his face as his eyes were squinted playfully,

“Really Red Hot?” He snickered, watching as she rolled her eyes at the address.

He opened his mouth to speak more when another voice cut through their merriment,

“Ah, Servant Girl,” Loki called out, beckoning the woman to go to him with a lift of his finger, causing her to instantly drop her happy, little expression down south,

“Servant...girl...?” she lowly, all while shooting the man a quick look that dared him to repeat the phrase.

“Yes. servant girl," The long-haired male said in a snobbish manner, “ Did I not just call you?” He questioned her, and by then the little rag in her hand combusted.

‘What is with this guy?’ She wondered while irked.

A seething hot glare was shot directly at the dark-haired prince as she destroyed her little rag, and it gave her all the more reason to be angry.

“Oh no, “ stark muttered, quickly placing a hand to her shoulder, directing her attention from Loki’s lasting gaze and turning her over to him instead,

“ he’s not worth blowing your cap off, just relax,” he advised feeling a cold sweat running down his forehead as his palms that had landed over her shoulders began to grow warmer, indicating that her temperature was rising.

He could feel her body begin to increase in heat, and he had to act fast, taking her mind off of the annoyance that triggered her,

“You don't want to ruin this pretty kitchen do you?” he asked anxiously, sweeping his arm to offer her the grand view of the luxury space.

“Besides...I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.” He further explained, hoping that it was the case, but not entirely too certain about it because after all, it was Loki.

-The same Loki that had in the past bated the Hulk out of Banner.

It was then that her ( e/c) eyes swept left and right to the little place she had dubbed her ‘safe space’ and after a good moment of reflection, she closed her eyes tightly, her harsh pants coming down to mellowing breathes that were both inhaled and exhaled through her nostrils.

“There we go, “ Tony said smiling with relief.

She gritted her teeth, “Okay...I’m fine..” She told him, soon releasing a low breath that seemed to make her deflate, her tense muscles with the blow of air.

“You sure?” he asked her, uncertain.

“Yeah,” She responded back with a lax voice, a slow smile beginning to pave way onto her face, “Sorry about that, “ She said sheepishly, her face glowing as she’d calmed to a state where she was easier to reason with.

‘Gotta be nice,’ She told herself. ‘Technically he’s a guest. One who’s not from here,’ She reasoned.

She then turned back to the prince, the same sweet expression present as she approached him, truly hoping he didn’t get the wrong impression of her.

‘I’m not a horrible person, you have to believe me,’ She thought to herself, ‘It’s just...sometimes...I’m too passionate.’ She went on.

‘I’m really sorry,’ She added while releasing a calmed breath, ‘You didn’t know any better,’ She mused, ‘I don’t know what got over me.’ 

“I’m so sorry about that,” She said with humility, nearly close to bowing her head in shame with how embarrassed she was.

“I’m (f/n) (l/n),” She introduced herself, her weary smile easing into a true, amiable grin.

 She then extended her hand out to him, kindly offering it,

“ I’m a part of the A-”

“- Avengers,” He finished for her, “Yes, I know,” He said while grinning at her, the words falling onto her and causing her to freeze, numbness soon overwhelming her as he took her hand.

‘He knows…’ She thought to herself, ‘Which means,’ She then droned on,

 ‘Which means he PURPOSELY called me that,’ She went on, the gears of her brain working at max capacity, coming to the conclusion in a manner of seconds.

 All while her face began to twitch with annoyance, she could see him slowly form a grin of amusement, one she took in with insult,

‘He thinks he’s so cute…’ She went on, soon glaring at him, ‘What’s his damn problem?!’ She added, hearing him chuckle, the sound of his velvety voice producing such an aggravating, yet warm sound that it frazzled her.

‘He’s doing this on purpose,’ She concluded, watching as every twitch of her face made his eyes glow furthermore, the gems married with amusement.

‘He’s trying to… to,’ stopping herself she bit her tongue, not knowing what his true aim was,  

‘What the hell is he even trying to do, get on my damn nerves?!’ She wondered with dismay.

‘So, You think it’s that easy huh?

You think I’m just some hotheaded punk that can’t stay fucking...uuugggggghhhhhhhh!’ She inwardly shrieked, fighting against the nature she assumed he wanted to become a spectator of.

‘I want to just wipe that stupid grin off his face!’ She thought with malice, ‘But if I do, the pretty boy wins,‘ She contemplated, her mind viscously jumbled, and throughout it all, much to her pleasure, she managed to hold herself steady, not letting the fiery strength take over.

“I hope I get to see more of you!” She chirped back, shoving out the words, subconsciously squeezing his hand.

‘- No I don’t,’ She inwardly added, wanting to wring his neck instead.

“I just know we’ll get along,” She then added with the same glee.

‘- I want you acres from me,’ She maundered darkly.

At the first elated peep, Loki’s brows rose, a chuckle escaping him as he eyed the saccharine smile that was in stark contrast to her vicious (e/c) colored eyes that clearly showed disdain, and it only gave him more reason to fuel her flame.

“(f/n) (l/n),” He then said, taking her warm hand in his before laying a little kiss to her first knuckle,

“A pleasure,“ He told her, enjoying the way her face morphed into complete, and utter shock that left her doe-eyed.

She was then left blubbering, her brain nearly fried by the simple action, not knowing how to take it,

‘Wh-who does he… think he is?’ she asked herself, unsure of just how to feel.

‘No one’s ever done that before,’ She thought to herself, ‘But that doesn’t mean i enjoyed it,’ She then added.

‘I just got caught off guard!’ She reasoned.

Tony chuckled lowly, having only seen the other man’s face throughout the entire exchange in greetings, completely missing her annoyed tick as well as her withheld aggression, only catching sight of the glowing enjoyment in the other man's eyes.

“I hope to see more of you,” Loki then added, withdrawing, and leaving her stunned.

‘Why...Why did he even want me in the first place?’ She asked herself, unsure of what had even transpired between them.

“- Looks like Reindeer Games likes you,” Tony then mused aloud, and it did nothing to help her.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The man alternated between bitter and sweet. 

He was charming even when he was a nuisance, and she detested the way he easily tweaked her. 

Anything he did was sure to make heat rise within her, from his annoying pestering that brought her close to combustion, to the sweet, charming second nature that made her face glow.

He pushed her on edge in more ways than one, and it made it all the more frustrating when he went out of his way to bother her, because sometimes she wanted to choke him, and other times,

‘Other times… I just want to...to do things with you that I don't even understand,’ She thought helplessly, having never felt so bothered by another being.

She was grateful to have learned how to properly control her powers to the degree that most of what he threw at her was shot back with sweetness,

‘Kill ‘em with kindness,’ That was the motto that, and until then, she’d followed to a T. 

But, everything had its breaking point, and as the second month rolled by she found hers,

“ Call me servant girl again you little shit,” She sneered, holding up a tightened fist before him, the little ball shaking with the furiousness she felt.

“ Oh? and what will you do, if I do ... little, servant girl?” he said snickering, nearing her with a confident strut, “Are you going to strike me?” He said while grinning, his two hands held behind his back as he leaned towards her, extending his jaw out subtly, all in a manner that dared her to do so,

“ Because I’d just love to see you try,” he said lowly, challenging her, his emerald eyes glowing as he looked down at her.

 Her already accelerated heart jumped at the glance, forcing a gasp out of her, one she was aware he found amusement in by the sly way he continued to tease her.

Her lips then twitched upwards, not in a show of amusement, but instead a nagging annoyance before she swung at him, which, of course, went straight through him.

“My...You're quite hot-headed,” he said while observing her, making her whip around to him with eyes that glowed just as fiercely as his did,

‘ Hot-headed…

Hot-head…’

She repeated the name over and over, detesting it.

The little nickname made her insides bubble, and as she dwelled in the nickname her body erupted into a heap of flames,

“I AM NOT HOTI-HEADED, IM CALM AND SERENE AND A FRUCKING DELIGHT!”

She screeched, launching herself towards him.

“- All of that foul language.." he muttered, his left hand capturing her wrist in a strong grip, soon pulling her to him before he spun her, forcing her back to his chest.

His right hand then gripped her lower jaw, holding it in a manner that made her lips pucker,

“Such a pretty mouth, and yet such ugly words,” he said amused, releasing the same sweet chuckle that made her insides bubble.

“- I hate you so much,” she said lowly, squirming all the while.

It was rare to be captured, much more, held down by someone else while in her current state, and while it scathed her, it touched her in a way that was indescribable,

‘Do you know how many people have run from me?’ She silently asked him, wondering just why he played with her so much, when she could lose control at any moment.

‘Do you know how many people I’ve hurt?’ She then added, shrinking with a touch of sadness at the remembrance, because she never forgot.

‘Because I’m this way…

Because no matter what I do… I always end up burning…’

“I hate you… so much,” She said in a weaker voice, wearing a small smile that held just a touch of fondness,

‘I hate you for being able to handle me...even at my worst.

I hate you for making me feel so small and weak next to you.

I hate always thinking about you.’

A low, sweet chuckle left him, and during then he wore a teasing little smirk she couldn't see, but could vividly imagine, because she had it ingrained in her mind.

“Ah…” He breathed, “ A shame…,” He murmured, “I love to play with your flame.” He admitted. 

“Your heat...” he then uttered, before falling into silence. His hold and presence disappeared all at once, leaving her wide-eyed and surprised, her face burning with embarrassment.

She whipped around, spinning like a curious dog chasing its tail, her eyes searching for the man with wide-eyed innocence.

“I just can’t stand him, “ She murmured, fuming, by then having been subdued into a less agitated state.

‘Because I can’t think of anything but him.

I want him to play with me as much as he wants, shape me in every way I can be molded.

Loki...why are you so unbearable....so unforgettable?’

[heyovivi]

ACOTAR 6? (MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ACOSF)

Okay! I just finished A Court of Silver Flames and absolutely love Nesta’s journey and this is coming from a person who didn’t really like Nesta from the beginning. Her journey of healing and finding herself was beautiful and her journey with Cassian was heart-wrenching and sexy and I just loved it all! But anyways, more on that later, I have some predictions for the next book. 

So I usually don’t go into anything without spoiling myself so before I even picked up ACOSF from a bookshelf at Target (don’t worry I was able to read both bonus chapters; meaning Azriel’s and the Feyre and Rhys’ chapters) I knew a little about ACOSF already. Now, ACOSF wasn’t deeply plotted and there wasn’t any world building like there was when we read the first three book--although it didn’t really matter to me I still enjoyed the book. ACOSF was all about Nesta and her journey and an insight to her thoughts and why she is the way she is and although I felt that at some points I hated Nesta I could still understand her frustrations and I could understand that she was deeply flawed as a character--which is fine. 

Now, even if ACOSF didn’t have a huge plot there were some key elements that will probably be very important in the next book such as Koschei, the remaining Mortal Queens, the Band of Exiles, Azriel’s journey, and Elain’s journey. But one key thing I noticed was Eris. Now he didn’t appear that much in the book and if he did it was during moments where his presence was essential to the plot (such as being kidnapped by Queen Brialynn and Koschei), but in that last chapter he appeared in it seemed like there was more to the story, to his story specifically. I think that maybe we might be getting a book on Eris. 

A lot of people say that ACOSF is reminiscent of Tower of Dawn from the Throne of Glass series, where instead of following Aelin in her quest to free her kingdom and stop Maeve, we instead venture into a Chaol-centered book where we kind of try to understand his point of view and character growth. So maybe, and this is just a theory or prediction, maybe we’ll get a similar thing with Eris. 

From that one little conversation we get with Cassian and Eris, it appears that Eris is kind’ve jealous of the Night Court and it’s relationships with the other courts in Prythian. A lot of people have already pointed how much Eris could be a lot like Rhys in the manner that Eris wants the Autumn Court to be seen not as the fiery court of rage and misery, but instead wants to be a beacon for those who dwell there. And you do see some parallels between Rhys and Eris and their upbringing with their fathers being very strict figures in their lives but with Eris there was an emphasize of abuse somewhere along the line. 

Now I’m not saying that Eris is getting a book or that his book even next, but I think that we have not heard the full story of what happened between both him and Mor, and I really want to know the entire story of what had happened in Eris’ life to make him seem like such a conniving person. But if I’m being honest I would much rather read a book about Eris’ efforts to lift the Autumn Court than a book about Mor--just my preference you don’t have to agree with me. 

Now here are my runner ups for who could be the possible voice of ACOTAR 6. 

Azriel

Elain

No, not Azriel and Elain, but Azriel or Elain. Now there were a lot of people saying that the book is either about Elain and Azriel, or Azriel and Gwyn, or Elain and Lucien--and I’m not going to shut down anyone’s theories but I’m going to share my own. Again, if you feel peeved about what sides or ships I support then stop reading when you get pissed because I can live with the fact that not everyone is going to agree with my theories.

First off, Azriel. 

I’m going to be honest, from what I read on Tumblr mainly I thought Azriel’s role in ACOSF was going to be way bigger, but I still enjoyed his dry humor and presence when he was there. Though when it comes to Miss Sarah J Mass we have to pay attention to every little detail in her books and if you caught onto his distance from Mor during the Solstice party or his reluctance to hold baby Nyx because of his scarred hands then I think it’s pretty telling that the next book could be about Azriel and his journey with coming face to face with his trauma, his past, and maybe his unsteady relationship with the Illyrians; not to mention his five century one-sided love with Mor. 

If you know me, or looked at any of my content, you should know that I am a hardcore Gwynriel shipper. I love Gwyn and fell in love with the ship almost immediately so much so that I’m embarrassed that I entertained the idea of shipping Azriel with Emerie or Clotho. I think that she might play a pivotal role in his journey to healing and that he might also play a large role in hers as well. Through his bonus chapter we can kind of see the sparks of something starting between them, I’m guessing it’s tied to theories that they are mates or to the theory that Gwyn could be a possibly lightsinger. All I know for sure right now is that Gwyn’s story is definitely not over with and I except see more of her in the future along with the other Valkyries as well. 

Finally, Elain. 

Now I don’t think the next book is about Elain but I do feel that out of all of the other characters her story is in the making? I’ve been told numerous times that Elain will be getting a book of her own, but we don’t know when and we don’t know what it is going to be about. Now, I’m not the hugest fan of Elain and it all goes back to her and Nesta just sitting around when Feyre was in the woods fighting for her life and there's as well. I know that she apologized and felt guilty afterwards but her excuse was “we gave up and she didn’t” just did not do it for me. 

It was in this passage from A Court of Thorns and Roses, where my distaste for Elain blossomed: 

The mercenary transferred the coins to my waiting palm, and I tucked them into my pocket, their weight as heavy as milestone. There was no possible chance that my sisters hadn’t spotted the money--no chance they weren’t already wondering how they might persuade me to give them some. 

...I felt my sisters sweep closer, like vultures circling a carcass. 

Like at least we knew Nesta was the “wolf” as she described herself. We knew she had a sharp-tongue and we knew she could be a bitch with her words. But Elain, she was described as innocent and nice, and yes when you paint her in a garden with flowers and frilly dresses she does just seem like some Cinderella-like character but after five books, especially after ACOSF my hate for Elain has just grown. Like after ACOWAR, I just thought she was boring--yes, she had a hand in killing the king of Hybern but that hype was kind’ve stolen away when Nesta ripped his head from his body. 

Since then, we haven’t really, really got a full look through with Elain and a large part of that is because we haven’t gotten her point of view, like not even in A Court of Frost and Starlight. From what we know about her, canonically, no theories or anything, she likes to garden, she likes to cook, her friends are Cerridwen and Nuala, she doesn’t want to confront that bond she has with Lucien, and she has an attraction to Azriel. But beyond that we don’t know anything--there were things that I kept out even though they were mentioned in ACOSF but there is also a lot of mystery around the things she said and claimed to do--even Cassian questioned them but didn’t approach her about the topic. 

I don’t think we have enough of a story to build up on Elain. For the most part I feel like her presence in ACOSF was mostly there to just piss Nesta off. Literally, in every scene she has with Nesta, she is pissing her off, setting her off, making her yell or scream, or making the silver flames ignite. And this is extremely out of character for Elain. Yes, we don’t get enough of her, but from what we can gather, Elain usually is not one to push buttons but I wonder why she did with Nesta. 

Here are a few passages that I just found beguiling while reading Nesta’s interactions with Elain: 

Elain stepped closer, brown eyes wide. Undoubtedly wholly convinced of her own innocence, her innate goodness. “It’s the truth. We did this because we love you, and we worry for you, and if Father were here--”

“Don’t ever mention him.” Nesta bared her teeth, but kept her voice low. “Never fucking mention him again.” 

Mentioning their father? A very taboo subject for Nesta. And Elain stans like to argue that Elain is quiet and docile because she is an observer. She takes things in and she tucks them away in her memory, but if she’d paid so much attention then why would she mention their father to Nesta? Feyre noted Nesta’s relationship with their father in book one, so there is no way that Elain herself didn’t know about it. 

Here is  another line from their conversation I thought were very weird to read about and I’ll explain why: 

Elain crossed her arms and said calmly, sadly, “Feyre warned me this might happen.” 

Bullseye. Nesta doesn’t like to be talked about, to be judged. We learned that in ACOSF and again if Elain was this person who sees and pays attention she should’ve known this or caught on. 

I think in this scene, Elain was purposely trying to set off Nesta. 

Nesta cleared her throat. “Cassian said it might be good if I came.”

Elain’s eyes flickered. “Did Feyre pay you, like last year?” 

“No,” shame washed over her. 

Elain sighed, glancing over Nesta’s shoulder to the open doorway across the entry. The party within, only for their small inner circle. “Please don’t upset Feyre. It’s her birthday, first of all. And in her state--”

“Oh, fuck you,” Nesta snapped, and then choked. 

Nesta was actually trying to get better at this point. She even risked going to a party despite not feeling welcomed just because Cassian told her it might be good for her to be surrounded by her family and for her not be alone on the holiday. You could even tell how by the way Nesta is keeping herself away she is still uncomfortable but the thing is she still showed up which is a sure sign she is improving. 

I don’t know why Elain started talking about the year before or about upsetting Feyre--literally wanted to slap the bitch in this scene. Like I just want to know why Elain pressed so hard. Then afterwards she waved it off as if she hadn’t just said what she said and acted normally. I can not tell you how mad I was at this--like especially for a sensitive character like Nesta who is ALWAYS In her thoughts and always takes things to a deep level. Like what Elain said could’ve just broken a vital part of Nesta and caused her to relapse. 

Anyways, I think Elain’s behavior in ACOSF could hint at the Evil Elain theory. Although I don’t think it’s going to come in the next book--it might build in the next book but at most I think Elain’s story will come to fruition in ACOTAR 7 or 8 and isn’t going to be about her journey or soul searching but maybe we’ll be getting the point of view of a villain. Like there were many mysterious hints dropped in ACOSF and the way I interpreted them is that Elain is planning something and if her behavior matches her actions, it’s something that could possibly affect her sisters. 

Plus, you have to wonder how Brialynn and Koschei knew everything. They knew all the IC’s moves and all of Nesta’s moves...but how? A lot of the time when Nesta was given a mission by Rhys it was in the River House and we also know that Elain has been getting better at sneaking around without being detected so it’s not too farfetched that Elain could be the spy. You don’t have to agree with me but I think it’s a pretty solid theory as far as they go. 

But do tell me your thoughts I would love to hear them. I’m sorry if I offended anyone in the end but we all have to just respect everyone’s opinion so no fights or slander, especially in my comment section. 

[shortythescreen]

Personally.

Pairing(s): Revenant/Reader. 

Warning(s): Gun violence, fighting, descriptions of robotic injuries. 

Author’s Note(s): A commission for @kopperknots! I’m so honored you reached out to me for this and I can’t wait to work with you again, lovey <3 My first ever commission! So fun to write! I hope y’all enjoy! 

You’re not sure if the Apex Execs have noticed Revenant’s been spending more time with you or if they’re just hoping you’ll kick his ass on the field, but during this week’s match, you two aren’t on the same squad.

Your team isn’t a bad one – Bangalore is a great offensive Legend and Crypto is the definition of recon. Still, you can’t help but glance over at the simulacrum. He isn’t looking at you, optics trained on the screen displaying his team – Caustic and Mirage, poor Elliot. When his gaze finally cuts to yours around the bustling squads, taking their place on the dropship’s hissing floors, you know he’s thinking the same thing as you.

If we’re ever on opposite teams in the arena, we’ll let everyone else die first, so we can fight it out.

You like Anita, and even though Kim doesn’t talk too much, he seems like a nice guy. It almost makes you regret making that deal with Revenant. Your eyes cut his way again. He’s still looking at you. Then, he raises his thumb, dragging it across his throat and pointing directly at you.

Almost.

You huff loudly, whipping around so your back faces him. Kim glances your way, hands stuffed in his pockets, and his little nod over your head tells you he’s noticed your change in demeanor.

“You alright, kid?” Anita asks.

“Better than alright,” you mumble, “where are we dropping?”

Kim never has much an opinion on where to drop. He seems to like the city most, in part because there’s a smaller chance of his little drone getting shot.

In the end, Anita pushes for Sorting Factory. With how large it is, and far enough away from the dropship’s path, you’re certain you’ll be able to scrounge up some decent loot for the three of you. At least enough to defend yourselves with if another team has a similar idea.

You glance over your shoulder one time, snow whistling past your body as the floors lower. Revenant is leaning over Mirage, his long, skeletal body looming over the poor guy. You whistle once, loud, sharp, and the noise draws the attention of several others nearby. Revenant’s the slowest to react, his head turning like the ominous twist of a doll’s head in a horror movie. Those ocher eyes meet yours and you smirk at him before reaching up and slowly, deliberately, dragging your thumb across your throat.

You swear before you fall that he smirks.

-

Your squad faces off with not one but two others the second you drop. You slam your first into the face of an opponent, sending them tumbling back long enough for you to sweep a P2020 so generously left for you in one of the outside buildings of the factory. Just when they make to run at you again, you unload the clip into their chest, putting an extra bullet between their eyes for good measure.

It might not have been a good enough to waste all your ammunition but you’re frustrated, uncertain of just how many have chosen to drop with the rest of your team, who happen to be in the next building over. You broke off, thinking it wouldn’t be too busy an area with hot zone being in Overlook.

You were wrong. You’re crouched low, fitting an evo shield over your body, grabbing the L-Star placed next to it. For those who can control the damn thing, it does a hell of a lot of damage. For you? Well.

You’re just remembering how the hell to wrap your hands around the behemoth of a weapon when you feel it. Eyes, resting on your back, watching, sizing you up. You don’t even have to look up. You know it’s him.

You duck back into the building as the sound of gunfire ricochets near you – a Triple Take, you’re positive, three holes piercing the shabby metal of the building you’re inside. Low on ammo, with a gun you’re not entirely sure of how to use, you decide to book it – you can’t give him the satisfaction of hurting you this early.

“Jump tower! Get to the jump tower!” You yell into your comms as you leap out the opposite door, skittering out of the way of a grenade launched in your direction. “There’s another squad! We’re outnumbered.”

“Fuck me,” you hear Anita hiss. You barrel around, your body barely able to keep up with the sharp turn without sliding. Another shot fires and you growl, twisting around. He’s on top of the building you were just in, pointing his stupid fucking Triple Take down at you. He doesn’t fire right away, head cocking as he watches you.

“Poppin’ smoke!” You hear Anita, and suddenly you’re encased in it. “Make it two!”

You take the cover, sprinting to the jump tower, your boots pounding against the road beneath you. You leap for the rope, hanging on as the moving cord propels you upwards, towards the hot air balloon at the top. As you emerge from the smoke, your eyes cut to where he was. His expression comes harder to see the higher you go – but you do see the way he raises a hand, twiddling his fingers, then suddenly starts firing at Crypto, sliding down the building’s back to catch up to you and Anita.

Fuck.

You’re not able to retrieve Crypto. By the time you two double back to Sorting Factory, he’s timed out, and you make a note to apologize him to later. You and Anita press on but you can tell she’s distracted, bothered by having to leave a soldier behind.

The fight goes on and you and Anita take down an impressive number of teams for it only being the two of you. You’re able to pluck up purple shields from some of the death boxes left behind, and Anita finds a gold helmet, which you let her take to help charge up that heavy artillery of hers.

You two come across several of Caustic’s traps as you hurry to catch up with the closing rings. You tell yourself you’re not seeking them out.

“Enemy trap,” you say, pointing it out as Anita picks up some extra ammo. She nods her affirmation but is otherwise silent. You’re not looking for him. You’re not.

It’s down to this – three squads. You know in your bones he’s still in the fight, can feel it. You can’t tell how many there is left but the ring has closed you all into the Geyser. You and Anita are perched up on the building adjacent to the tunnel between here and the city.

“Enemy spotted, far,” Anita says. You lift your Hemlok, the 3X bruiser allowing you to see in less detail the enemy she’s talking about. Pathfinder. He’s sliding down the slope from that little gray area between sorting factory and here, grappling the ground to pull himself along. It’s then that you hear gunfire and you swivel up, finding Caustic and Revenant in hot pursuit.

Pathfinder must be alone. You watch, Pathfinder twisting, throwing a thermite at the two deadly Legends chasing him down. The thermite bursts beneath their feet and Caustic is caught in it, stumbling away from the flames. Revenant darts around. They disappear beneath the top of a building and a few tense moments pass. You glance Anita’s way. She’s watching too.

Your communicator beeps and you look down at it, the holographic screen appearing.

“Only two squads left,” you murmur, your wrist falling, the screen disappearing with it.

The fourth ring appears, and you groan in frustration as you realize that your squad is not inside of it. Which means you’ll have to get closer. Anita points two fingers to the building on your right-hand side and you nod, hopping down from the edge of your perch, landing light as a feather. You’re running, trying to keep your head low, when suddenly:

“Oscar Mike! I’m spotted!” Fuck, shit! You look up, watching three bullets sail over your head. You hiss, sliding around the side of the building and into a crate next to it. In the distance, you spot them: Revenant and Caustic, at the other end of Geyser. You switch your Hemlok into single fire, aiming down your sight, and start shooting.

You graze Caustic, inside the building, and he ducks. He and Revenant aren’t made for distance, which means you can press your advantage. “I’m going over there!”

“Wait, kid!” Anita cries into the com but you sprint over to the geyser, hopping into it. You hear the gunfire beneath you, the sound of Anita throwing her smoke grenades and trying to escape the hailstorm coming at her. “Heads up, droppin’ the pain!”

You launch yourself through the dropping of Bangalore’s rolling thunder, the earth shaking, splitting from each missile that hits. You land between two, a door on each side of you. One is thrown open and suddenly, you’re face to face with Caustic. Before he has the chance to react, to pull the trigger of his gun, you slam your gauntlets together, activating the electromagnetic force of your tactical. Caustic flies backwards, surged into one of his traps at the back of the room, sickly green gas sprouting from it. When you realize Anita’s bombs are about to go off, you bring him closer – directly into the line of fire.

The explosion sends you stumbling back, unable to hurt you, but definitely dazing you. You blink through the fog, the smoke, your wrists hissing with the remnants of their charge. Caustic is down, bleeding out, but instead of crawling away from you, he’s crawling closer. You cough, shaking your head back and forth, trying to raise your gun to end him when another whistling shot goes off overhead.

“Damnit! I’m down!” Anita hollers into your ear and you whip around, blinking your glazed vision as you realize that she tried to follow your path into the geyser. Whether it was by her own artillery or the shot that had gone off, she falls through the air, body landing with a hard thump onto the roof of the building.

You turn to go for her, to try and get her back up.

“So much for a professional soldier,” hisses a dark voice and you freeze. Your gaze turns to the enemy, the simulacrum you knew had marked you for death.

If we’re ever opposite in the field, we’ll let everyone die first…

There he stands, shouldering his triple take. Revenant’s golden optics whirl at you as he retrieves a prowler from his back instead. He hums an off tune, made worse by his static voice.

“Help!” Cries Caustic. He sounds indignant and as you briefly look in his direction, you realize he’s crawling towards Revenant. The simulacrum begins to sway his head from left to right, right to left, humming quietly. “Revenant-”

Revenant suddenly raises his prowler and he fires a single bullet between Caustic’s eyes. His teammate falls limp to the ground, heavy body thunking before he becomes a death box. Revenant places one foot on top of it, lifting himself up, and over, Caustic’s death box.

…Then we can fight it out. Personally.

“You’re disrespectful,” you say.

Revenant smirks. Quick as lightening he’s pulling his gun into position and you fire three shots, one ripping a hole in the side of his armor, another lodging in his shoulder, and the third? He moves entirely out of the way, upper body crashing to the side, creating a U shape. He looks like a contortionist at a twisted circus, putting on a performance.  

Before he even rises, he fires at you. You dart out of the way, knowing he’ll need to right himself to chase you. The buildings have enough room beneath them that you can slide underneath, trudge through the water and get to Anita. You slide into a crouch, water arcing around you like a fountain but before you can crawl beneath, find your teammate, he appears.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hear before your ankles are being grabbed. He yanks you back out and your stomach hits the river with a painful sounding smack, hemlok sinking like a rock in the waves. It knocks the air from your lungs, and you gasp, ingesting water, and sand. You sputter it out, trying to hold your breath at the same time. Revenant flips you around, onto your back. “That’s not the deal we made.”

“Fuck off!” You cough. He starts to lift you by your ankles, thin, sinewy joints metallic and freezing against your soaked pants. The bones of your ankle crackle in protest as all your weight tries to bring you back down to the planet. “Fuck!”

“Where’s your fight?” He grits out. Your upper back leaves the floor and you grit your teeth, letting him pick you up. He hasn’t seen a fight. You arch your back, your hands surging out to grab his ankles and you yank with all your might. The angle he has you at doesn’t help but you must take him off guard because he crashes into the water with you, releasing one of your feet to try and catch himself.

Your back lands with a sickening thud into his hip plate and you groan, rolling off him. Running on adrenaline, on the instinct to go, to move, to survive, you kick him in the chin. You hear the crack before you even see the damage you’ve done, the heel of your boot catching him in the space that isn’t quite protected by his cowl.

“Mother fu-fu-fu-fucking skinsu-ui-ui-” his voice comes out like a scratched CD as you crawl away, trying to fish out an arc star to launch at him, to end this. He doesn’t let you get far though, his cold, metallic fingers grabbing your hip and yanking you back towards him. You hiss, spinning around and slamming your elbow into his face. Pain spiderwebs through you but its worth it to hear how he grunts. His long, spindly fingers stretch across your waist and he uses his iron grip to slam you back onto your back.

You’ve cracked parts of his face, long, deep fissures stretching across the side, towards where his nose would be. His jaw isn’t quite staying together, slightly gaping, slightly open, and you realize it’s moving, as though trying to catch up with what he was saying earlier.  

“What’s the matter, Revenant?” You breathe as he wedges himself between your thighs, golden optics flickering, whirring. “Cat got your tongue?”

His eyes narrow at you and he careens down, face mere inches from yours. Your breath hitches as he places his hand on top of your forehead and you realize he means to drown you.

“T-T-T-Time f- y-your end-d-d-d,” he murmurs, his voice hushed, low, like it’s only for you. Like if he whispers softly enough, the cameras won’t pick up how he speaks to you, jaw twitching and cracked, voice crooning and quiet, like a long-lost lover. You shudder beneath him, the chill of the water beginning to close in on you, swim before your eyes.

“Or yours,” you murmur back, whipping that P2020 from your hip. Before he has time to react, you unload the clip into his jaw, shattering his skull. His two-ton body slackens above yours and the whistles of your win sound in your ears. Instead of celebrating, of cheering, you close your eyes, and listen to the racing of your heart. Fuck.

[setsailslash]

Hooker Jason?

this is underage hooker jason/dr. thomas wayne set in flashpoint verse featuring father todd and also batman(thomas) because when you don’t specify my brain does weird things ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Then.

Standing at a street corner, shirt cut too low, torn pair of jeans too tight, Jason glances at the car itself and the way it parks just a little further than any of the regulars would to know it’s a newcomer seeking just the kind of thrill he provides.

He waves with a smile, mouth curling sweetly in invitation, and waits for the slow roll of the passenger side window to come down a slit before he starts walking over. 

Looking both ways before he crosses the street.

The car is nice, like really fucking nice. A lot of money in a top of the line Bentley with chrome rims. Jason would whistle if that wasn’t the point here, all low and sharp and impressed as he sweeps a hand over the sleek side of it. The sheer power contained within the machinery more of a turn-on than anything the man sitting inside could be packing.

When the window comes down further, Jason leans over until the driver can see the glint of his nipple piercings when the collar of his low cut tee swoops down even further. 

“What’s your name, handsome?” Jason asks before he can even see the man’s face, half hidden in the shadows. But when he does, he’s got to blink because, well, handsome is his go to but he never actually means it to describe any of his clients. 

Until now, it seems.

“Thomas.” It’s a nervous edge but the man answers at least, and it seems like at least this part is familiar to him. Jason has to smile again.

“Well, Thomas,” a stress placed on the sound of his name as he says it, mouth wrapping deliberately around it. A lick of his lips, a tilt of his head, Jason asks. “Think you wanna take me for a ride?”

-

Now.

When he meets him again, it feels like it should be some kind of alternate realities or the parallel kind, like he’s read in those sci-fy novels.

Because it hasn’t just been years, it’s been a decade. 

The kind where he really hasn’t been thinking of the other man at all. 

The last time Jason had the man cross his mind, well, the man’s kid was gunned down in an alleyway much like where they first met. The news latched on like a dog with a bone, and the reports went on and on of a little boy murdered. Like kids didn’t die every day in the Narrows. But Jason guesses all those other boys and girls didn’t have all the prospects a shithole like Gotham could offer placed upon a single silver spoon.

Jason isn’t Jay or whatever name his client wanted to groan out loud when they grabbed his hair and jerked his head back just so they could come messily across his face. 

Jason is Father Todd with a parish of his own, and has been for years too.

He is blinking his eyes at him because when the cowl comes off, it’s—

“Doc?”

It’s a second life here they are living when they meet each other once more. A hooker turned priest staring down at a surgeon turned vigilante. It all sounds a bit surreal, made up really, if he’s being honest with himself.

“Jason.”

Thomas brings down the gun he had levelled at the Father, shoulders sloping down, heavily.

-

Then.

Jason has himself draped over the middle console, the stick shift digging into the side of his hip as he finally pops open the buckle of Thomas’ belt. “You don’t have to be shy with me.”

He turns to look at the man, sees how he glances at everything in the interior of the car except for Jason, and really, he can’t have that. He isn’t proud of this job, but he takes a bit of pride in how he does it.

Jason lets out a soft little sigh that catches the man’s attention, waits until Thomas is finally looking before he reaches over, takes Thomas’ hand into his so he can drag it to cup his own groin. A flutter of his lashes, and he is rocking his hips, pushing his hard-on inside of his tight jeans into Thomas’ palm. 

“Now, I’m going to suck you off.” Jason tells him, and hopes a little bit of clear instructions will bring the man back to focus on him. 

Thomas nods, squeezes him gently through his jeans and Jason breathes hard. “Can I do something for you?”

It’s a weird fucking thing for a john to ask him that, and Jason nearly gets taken aback by it. But he thinks on it, settles on it, and tells Thomas with a smile. “You can finger me if you want but if you wanna fuck, that’s gonna be extra.”

Sways his ass in the passenger seat too as encouragement.

Even in the shitty lighting of the alleyway they’ve pulled into, Thomas’ face is still terribly handsome even as it is half shrouded in the shadows. His voice too sounds warm and kind. “I just want to make you feel good too.”

“You’re sweet, doc.” Jason tells him as his fingers work the button of the man’s slacks open and then the zipper down. 

Thomas freezes up, and Jason laughs, tips his chin to the Gotham General lanyard still around the man’s neck ending at an ID card for one Dr. Thomas Wayne before he swallows him down.

-

Now.

He stands just before the altar, looking down at the man he thought he knew. 

Time passes, people change. Some more extreme than others, he reminds himself. Thomas Wayne is older, eye weary, dangerous even, and he carries himself like he’s been fighting a losing war for far too long.

Jason isn’t sure what Thomas sees in him now, isn’t sure he wants to know. He’s died, he’s come back to life. He’s seen all of the truly awful things in life and learned that the world can be beautiful and good too. Jason has taken his second chance.

It seems like Thomas Wayne has too.

“My church can be a sanctuary if you want it to be.” Father Todd says to him. His voice kept even, an invitation but one with conditions. “But I won’t have you bringing any of your troubles here where people will get hurt.”

“People already got hurt.”

There is steel edge to Thomas’ voice, he’s a man standing on the ledge no matter how metaphorical, finger itching and Jason doesn’t need to look closely to know the kind of weaponry Thomas is packing beneath the armour he’s got on.

That’s Batman, and he’s never not been ruthless. Blood could be dripping off of the black Kevlar and Father Todd really shouldn’t be fazed.

“Are you here to talk, or are you here to fight?” Jason asks, trying not to bring his arms up to cross them over his chest in defense.

“Why?“ Thomas chuckles, the sound low and deep, feels like the slow crawling seep of heat beneath his skin, and there’s no reason why Jason should feel it at the distance that they’re at. "You gonna fight me, Father?”

“Not even if you asked for old time’s sake.” 

Jason feels like he’s here trying to talk a man off from that ledge. 

“You’ve come a long way from turning tricks in Crime Alley, Father.”

Jason knows this game. Knows Thomas only dredges up the past if just to bring Jason down to where he’s stuck at. It stays, it sticks, like a bad taste at the back of his throat migrating forward. Death has a funny way of changing people. Jason tries to let Thomas down, gently, for all the times the man had shown him some resemblance of kindness even when he didn’t have to.

“Not really, doc. It’s only three blocks.”

-

Then.

When Thomas Wayne comes inside of his mouth, Jason drinks it all down.

He drags his lips along the softening shaft to catch the stray drops he couldn’t swallow on the first try, runs the tip of his tongue over the sensitive head until he’s cleaned the man up. 

Jason lets Thomas drag his fingers in and out of his hole a few more times before he whines for him not to make him come, murmurs with his tongue still bitter from the taste of the man’s release that he doesn’t want a mess inside of his pants the rest of the night. Jason is panting softly, clenching down out of reflex, hole squeezing in rhythm around two of Thomas’ fingers buried to the last knuckle inside of him. 

His breathing hitches at the graze of the pads of those fingertips across his prostate when he does. And it’s like they are almost reluctant when Thomas gently withdraws them from the tight hot clutch of his body, leaving them both a bit breathless from it.

Jason makes a noise, and it catches himself off guard. 

Either Thomas doesn’t notice or he doesn’t mind it, because the man is zipping up, tipping his head back until he is staring at the ceiling of his Bentley to confess.

“Christ, you’re barely older than my kid.”

It’s not true, Jason is at least a good five years older than Thomas’ little boy but that’s not the fantasy he is selling here even if plenty of other men would buy him up for the night just for that. 

Jason laughs, and there’s still innocence in the way he lets it settle inside of the car before he tells him. “I’m eighteen.”

Thomas looks over at him, gives him a look that’s entirely fatherly when he replies, deadpanned. “And I’m husband of the year.”

Jason shrugs, doesn’t tell him his real age and they call it even.

“I’d say don’t do it again, but I’m not that good of a guy.” He takes what Thomas hands him and it’s more than double of his usual fees even when he takes Brother Blood’s cut out of it. “If you come back around, I’d love to see you again, doc.”

Thomas laughs, and it’s a tad bit hollow. Jason knows that kind of laughter, it’s of a man coming into the full understanding of his own actions.

“We’ll see, Jason.” 

He separates the cash into two piles, tucks each one into a respective backpocket, buttons up his jeans, and opens the door. There is the rush of a late night Gotham chill rushing in, making the stark stench of sex from the interior of the car that much sharper.

Jason revels in that.

[ladyninjaa]

Blasty Boi and The Cat Cafe

Imagine: Owning a cat cafe and Pro-Hero Ground Zero pays a visit.

Owning a Cat Cafe was always a dream for you. Well, it was mostly due to your quirk: Cat Talk. Obviously from the name, you could communicate with felines but not directly in words but more in what they were feeling; it was as if their feelings came through clearly and directly. Safe to say, cats were your thing. Since you were little, cats from the whole neighborhood would visit your home and everyone knew you as the Cat-kid.

But you did get teased for one outstanding feature that you used to hate--Your cat ears. Everyone in your family and your friends adored your cat ears, but those who were bullies targeted you.

It stopped during High School when some bullies were picking on you that you were saved; saved by what? Cats, protective ones. Your beloved feline friends could tell something was off with you; they saw you as one of them. They followed you and caught wind of these bullies...safe to say, you were never bullied again.

You went to U.A but you weren’t in the Hero Classes; of course not, talking to cats wasn’t exactly a life-saving quirk and it wasn’t powerful. You weren’t bitter about it; it was just facts. Anyway, after high school, you opened up the Fur-midable Cat Cafe with your best friend who had an incredible technology quirk.

It was made up of two buildings; the Cafe and the second building was two stories for stray cats or even resident cats. Usually, it was a safe place for strays or even lost cats but occasionally resident cats would lounge in the second building which was called Purr-ty Fur-ends. There was no front door, the only entrance was through the back which was connected to the Fur-midable Cafe.

Today was a big day.

You were gently guiding one of your high school employees on what their responsibilities were for this important day; adoption days were rare simply because the usual cats that hung inside the cafe weren’t interested in being adopted, but there had been a huge bust on a resident in the city who had been hoarding cats and dogs and other animals in awful and horrifying conditions. You were called in by the animal shelter that took in the dozens of cats to speak to them and figure out what would be the best course of action for each feline.

After weeks of recovery and socializing, about thirty felines wanted a home while the others wanted to return to their outdoor cat style; those felines were fixed, ears clipped and sent on their merry way. Adoption days were held in the Animal Shelters but the shelter recommended the adoption event held in the Fur-midable Cafe.

How could you possibly say no? The cats trusted you the most; they would entrust you with their future. So, here you were prepping your employees while glancing outside your tinted front windows and seeing a decent-sized group forming--your eyes spotted your regulars, new faces, and even Pro Heroes. Your heart stuttered uneasily and you felt a knot in your stomach; the new outlets were reporting as well and eager to enter and capture the moments of human and feline interaction.

Of course, you had granted them permission to enter your cafe.

“Nervous?” Your best friend mused from the counter.

You sent off your high school helper away, “Is it obvious?” You chuckled dryly and ran a hand through your hair, “We’ll have so many applications to go through!” You winced slightly at the thought of all that paperwork.

“Yeah, well, it’s worth it for these little guys to find their fur-ever home.”

You smiled at your best friend’s cat pun and asked, “We have Pro Heroes, too, you know what that means.”

“Momo already has this place locked down,” Your best friend waved her hand dismissively, “Togi is charging right now but he’s ready to guard the front door in a few minutes.” Your best friend’s little human android--Momo popped up from underneath the counter with a giant grin and waved excitedly.

“Momo has both buildings under tight control! Cameras are all in position! I even placed one around the corner!” Momo squeaked.

“See?” Your best friend smirked, “Stop worrying, everyone is going to find good homes.”

“I know,” You sighed with a chuckle, “It’s just...they trust me so much, ya know? I don’t want to let them down.”

“Five minutes till opening, boss!” One of your employees called from the bar.

“Show-time, people!” You clap your hands, “If you get overwhelmed please let me know!” Your eyes sweep the lobby and cafe seeing cats slinking about. Only the ones wanting homes were in the cafe at the moment. Everyone seemed relaxed, a few of them were nervous but other than that the cats were ready to find their human and fur-ever home.

You did some last-minute preparations and pep talks before the doors opened.

It was controlled chaos but it made you buzz with excitement! You made sure that all the cats were comfortable being around so many excited humans; you also made sure any children were behaving. You found that the older felines were often stressed by the children who were a bit...aggressive. Applications were being placed on the main counter, cats were enjoying all the attention they were getting, and you felt happy.

By the end of the night, all but one cat found their fur-ever home.

You squatted down onto the floor beside the ginger tabby who showed no interest in any of the humans who showed interest in him, “Hey, grumpy, I thought you wanted to find a home?” You booped his nose.

Dark green eyes peered lazily at you and the ginger tabby meowed back to you.

“No one caught your fancy, eh?” You mused continuing to stroke his body gently, “We’ll keep looking, okay? Adoptions aren’t over until the last cat is adopted!” You said happily.

The ginger tabby rolled his eyes at you; he was being very picky about the next human who was going to take him into their home. You understood that completely. The hoarder who had him kept him in a small cage with mewling kittens that he probably fathered; he had been very moody and grumpy the first weeks of socializing him, but he started to get more comfortable and confident with humans.

Kittens were the bane of his existence though, so he would definitely go to a home with no kittens. You allowed the usual Cafe cats to come into the cafe halfway through the day. The Ginger tabby’s photo was still up in the front stating he was available for adoption with the cat’s approval. The day wandered by and the ginger boy was rejected every human that came his way and you couldn’t help but find it humorous.

It was almost time for closing, the last humans were slinking out of the shop with smiles. Grumpy-boy was snoozing on the main counter where you were preparing to count the cash in the registers to see how much money was made or lost.

A chime echoed through the sleepy cafe.

Your eyes lifted from the cash in your hand to the sandy-haired man standing in the doorway. You pursued your lips shocked that someone like him would be in your cat cafe, “Welcome, Ground-Zero,” You greeted the number 2 Pro Hero warmly trying not to sound too shocked; he was famous for temper.

Crimson eyes met yours; he looked irritated. “Did I miss the adoptions?” Ground-Zero asked walking up to the counter you were at; his eyes did a quick sweep of the cats lounging about, “I heard every cat got adopted but it doesn’t look like.” He grumbled as Grumpy-boy sleepily looked up at Ground-Zero.

“There’s only one feline left,” You mused softly, “He was being very picky.”

“Yeah? Which cat is it?” Ground-Zero questioned impatiently.

You looked over to Grumpy-boy and Ground-Zero followed your gaze. “Grumpy-boy meet Ground-Zero, he’s a pro hero.” You introduced breezily as Grumpy-boy stared at Ground-Zero with unblinking eyes.

“What the fuck are you staring at, fur-brain?” Ground-Zero huffed looking away from the feline.

Grumpy-boy meowed and you laughed.

Ground-Zero looked at you with annoyance, “What he say?!”

“He likes you,” You giggled and Ground-Zero eyes softened ever so slightly but you didn’t notice because you were talking to Grumpy-boy, “Yeah, he has a temper but I guess you like that, huh?” You booped Grumpy’s nose.

“Meow,” Grumpy replied breezily as he got up and stretched before rubbing against Ground-Zero’s chest. “Meow.”

“What’s the fur-brain saying?!” Ground-Zero demanded but it was quiet and low. His crimson eyes were watching Grumpy-boy with curious eyes. A hand was already stroking him and it made you smile.

“He wants to go home with you.” You replied softly.

His crimson eyes shot up to yours, “Just like that?” He asked doubtfully, his eyes narrowed.

You put the cashback in the register with a hum in response, “Cats know what they want,” You spoke to him as you grabbed a pen and the adoption application, “Grumpy-boy likes your fire.” You slide the application and pen towards Ground-Zero, “Would you like to adopt him?” You asked curiously.

“Meow.”

You snort with laughter, “You sure are bossy, eh?” You say to the feline as you stroke his ears.

“What’d he say that time?” Ground-Zero asked.

You smiled at the confused man, “That you don't have a choice and he’s going home with you.”

That seemed to irk Ground-Zero because he backed off Grumpy and stared at the feline, “Look here, you fur-brain, if you’re coming home with me, I’m in charge, got that?” Ground-Zero hissed angrily.

You tried not to laugh because that’s not how cats worked.

“First cat?” You mused as Grumpy and Ground-Zero had a lethal stare down.

“Maybe,” Ground-Zero growled but it was mostly directed towards Grumpy.

“Meow.”

“Grumpy, be nice.” You chastised.

“Is he talking shit?!” Ground-Zero demanded.

“He says your outfit sucks.”

Ground-Zero and Grumpy stared each other down for a few more seconds before Ground-Zero scoffed, “Tch, I guess I’ll take him.” Grumpy looked victorious and Ground-Zero began filling out the paperwork, “Little shit, are they always this cocky?” He asked you.

You laughed and nodded, “Some are that way. You two suit each other--you don’t back down easily.” You mused softly as Grumpy began rubbing against your chest now, “He’ll open up more once he trusts you completely.”

“What do you mean?” Ground-Zero muttered without taking his eyes off the application he was working on.

“He’s a goofy old man,” You said and Grumpy hissed at him, “Okay, he’s a goofy young man,” Grumpy huffed contently and began to purr against your boobs, “He has his...quirks.” You let out a giggle.

Ground-Zero scoffed, “Nice one.” Though his harsh voice sounded amused.

“Not to pry but I have to ask,” You spoke up a bit gently, “Are you prepared to look after a cat?”

Ground-Zero gave you a sharp look, “Of course, I am. I wouldn’t adopt an animal out of impulse like the other idiots,” He replied sharply as he returned his attention to his application, “I’ve been looking around the shelters for a few weeks now and have everything I need.” He added in a bit more civilly.

You smiled surprised by his response. You returned to counting out the register as Ground-Zero finished his application. He already had his I.D card out, two bills with his address, and permission from his management to have the cat. Wow, you thought with a light chuckle, he is prepared.

You looked over his information, confirmed his address, and typed it into the computer. “Grumpy is all up-to-date with his shots so I'll print out his medical history since we got him. He’s up to date with his shots but I’ll also print out the dates for his yearly shots,” You were typing and clicking quickly, “He’s a generally healthy young man but he will need you to brush his teeth every night though.”

“What the fuck, cats need their teeth brushed?” Ground-Zero demanded loudly.

You smile and nod, “Oh, yeah, they do. If you don’t take care of his teeth, problems can occur at a young age. Grumpy here actually likes his teeth being brushed so, it shouldn’t be too much of a nightmare to do. Financially speaking, it’s cheaper to brush his teeth every night than to pay for any type of dental work for him.”

“I can only imagine how expensive that is,” Ground-Zero muttered.

“Very.” You chuckled lightly.

“How do you take care of all these cats then?” Ground-Zero questioned with a frown.

“Donations,” You answered easily.

Ground-Zero cocked a dubious eyebrow, “Just donations?”

“Well, whatever we have leftover from paying bills for this place usually goes to the cats but donations are our main source of income, I guess. A lot of people donate food, kitty litter, and whatever we else might need for our cats.” You explained quietly.

“And I assume you have more cats than the ones in here?” Ground-Zero questioned further.

You gave him a sheepish look, “Definitely.”

The conversation is quiet afterward; you finish the process and Grumpy is ready to go to his fur-ever home. “Anything you can tell me about him?” Ground-Zero asked as you gently nudged Grumpy into a cat carrier brought by Ground-Zero; which made you squeal internally because it was such a cute thing. Ground-Zero was full of surprises.

“He doesn’t like kittens,” You immediately say, “He’s friendly with other cats and even dogs, but kittens are the bane of his life,” You laugh when Grumpy meowed in agreement, “He likes cat milk, doesn’t like cream treats, he likes a blend of wet and dry food,” Each time you listed something correct Grumpy would meow in agreement, “He likes to burrow under blankets a lot, so I’d be careful with blankets and pillows, he actually likes water a lot, and he’s very vocal,” You laugh softly, “If you couldn’t tell.”

Ground-Zero smirked, “You care a lot about these guys, huh?”

Your ears twitch, “Of course, they’re like my kids.” You smile brightly.

Ground-Zero picks up the cat carrier with Grumpy meowing impatiently. Ground-Zero looks at you expectantly and you couldn’t help but smile, “He wants to hurry up and take him home.”

“Tch, impatient shit,” Ground-Zero mutters before bowing slightly, “Thank you, I’ll take good care of him.”

“You better,” You joke, “I’ll send a cat army after you if I hear you’ve been mistreating my babies.” It was half a joke and half a threat, but one you would do.

It makes Ground-Zero snort but he heads towards the door. He pauses for a few seconds and looks back at you; you stare with curious eyes and notice he’s staring at your cat ears. You raise an eyebrow as a silent question.

“I like your ears.” He says with a smirk before leaving.

Your face flushes instantly. Holy shit did Ground-Zero just give me a compliment?! You scream internally as your mouth hangs open in shock.

“I think he likes you.” Your best friend had been watching the entire exchange as they cleaned up around the cafe.

“You were watching!?” You screeched.

They smirked at you, “Of fucking course, that’s Ground-Zero, honey, half of the girls are in the back swooning right now.” They responded with a laugh.

“He wasn’t as bad as I thought,” You mumbled quietly as you felt your ears burning up, “He’s a lot louder in the news.”

“Maybe next time I’ll get his autograph.” Your best friend mused.

You looked at them surprised, “You think he’ll be back?”

They laugh, “Of course, I do!”

You smiled because you hoped Ground-Zero did come back.  

So, go easy on me because this is my first My Hero Imagine XD I hope you all like it! I plan on making a bunch of other imagines! This one took a while just because I haven’t religiously typed like this in a very long time!

Part Two   Part Three   Part Four

[something-tofightfor]

Ink VI

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader

Word Count: 6386

Rating: M (language, talk of drug use, multiple partners, implied nudity, Logan being Logan)

Author’s Note: Last part of this story... but that doesn’t mean this is the end of the line for them. 

Summary: What’s Logan’s tattoo? Why did he react the way he did to your admission? What’s going to happen after you get home? 

As always, feel free to ask to be added or removed to this tag list. No hard feelings.

General:

@the-blind-assassin-12 @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @obscurilicious @sweetybuzz25 @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @gollyderek @poindexted @ificouldhelpyouforget @elanor-of-imladris @thesandbeneathmytoes @luminex3 @geeksareunique @weallhaveadestiny @mfackenthal @thesumofmychoices @yannii04 @beautiful-thinking @drinix @agentlingerie  @blah-blah-fuckit-shit  @dreams-with-thoughts  @wangmangagavroche @traeumerinwitzhelden @jigsawlover10 @malionnes

Logan Delos:

@nananananananananananabatman @damalseer @chibiyanai @life-is-a-melody @songtoyou

Uncategorized:

@banditthewriter @padfootagain @madamrogers @ethereal-heavcns @editboutique @marauderskeeper @ilkaeliseb @delicatelilyflower @king4thesirens @ymariejp @mr-robot-x @rageshots @introvertedlibrary @writing-for-a-chance @yesixoxo @ilikebeachessushiandsmallanimals @likeorions @swiftyhowlz @dylanobrusso @malik-payne @lynne1993 @ladyblablabla @dreamwritesimagines @audreychaz @tc-elliot @kind-wolf @honeyydippaa @binbonsadoration @ms-delos @jeanettexkillian @avengerswhore @elioelioeli0​ @projectcampbell @giggleberts​ @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes​

Logan’s tattoo took less than twenty minutes for Asher to complete, and you watched him with the same intensity that he’d watched you, eyes locked on the place where the needle touched his arm; the short, sweeping lines appearing as if by magic on Logan’s pale skin. The two men talked only briefly, Logan explaining that the word was significant to him to Asher as he picked out the design he wanted from the few the artist wrote out - but not the reason he’d chosen it. His dark eyes were focused on his arm, too, and you watched as a variety of emotions crossed his features - none of them pain. Looks like we have more to talk about than just me. 

 You were almost desperate to know the meaning behind Logan’s tattoo, but didn’t want to ask in front of Asher, because you knew that if Logan had wanted the man to know, he would have elaborated. After wrapping Logan’s arm and explaining the aftercare instructions to him, the three of you left the small room, walking back to the front desk, Asher going to find the receptionist so that you could pay. There were still a few people getting tattooed - the shop was open until 1 am - and while you didn’t want to stare, you couldn’t help looking around the room, the sound of the tattoo machines and conversations loud in your ears. Logan’s hand was on your hip, holding you close, and when you heard Asher say your name, your attention was pulled from a young woman that was laying on her side with one arm stretched above her head, a needle decorating her ribs with inked flowers. “Yeah, Ash?” 

 “You, ah… you guys are good to go.” What? Frowning, you shook your head. I have to… “Logan took care of it.” You looked up at the man next to you, who was watching you with interest. “Nat just said…” He jerked his thumb at the woman, who was laughing with another client, and fixed Logan with a large and grateful smile. “That Logan’s already paid for both of your tattoos.” How? He didn’t give me a price… 

 “Logan, you can’t -” This is hundreds of dollars for mine alone, I can’t let you… 

 “I can. And I did.” Logan shrugged. “Well worth it.” But that’s not… I haven’t… “Maybe next time I’m in New York, or you’re out here… we’ll make another appointment?” Asher nodded as you stood next to Logan, looking between the two men. I can’t believe you. 

 “Yeah, I’ll need someone else to work on, since she’s about outta skin.” You huffed and Asher laughed, pulling you into a tight hug, his arms winding around your middle. “He’s a good one,” the man whispered into your ear. “Keep ‘im.” Asher pulled away, still smiling. “Always good to see you.” He held out a hand to Logan, who went to take it but was surprised when the blonde man pulled him into a hug, too, clapping him on the back before letting him go. “Thank you for trusting me, Logan. Your skin was a pleasure to work on.” Flustered, Logan thanked the man again before the two of you said goodbye and headed back out and onto the street, turning back toward the parking lot. 

 “I’d ask you if you wanted to go for a drink, but…” Logan let out a breath, fingers flexing against yours. “But I’m sure you wanna get back, and…”

 ‘We can have a drink at your place, Logan, but you have to go to sleep, you’ve got work in a few hours.” He unlocked the doors of his car but didn’t open them, waiting until you’d walked to the passenger side before he spoke.

 “I took tomorrow off, too.” He beamed at you, arms resting on the top of his car, the edges of his bandage visible beneath the sleeve of his shirt. “Don’t gotta wake up early.” Of course you did. 

 --- 

 When you got back to Logan’s place, you both quickly changed for bed, leaving the t shirt on and slipping into a pair of Logan’s sweats, Logan choosing a pair of shorts and a looser shirt. You met in the kitchen, where Logan handed you a drink, his own in hand. “Patio?” He nodded, taking a sip, and the two of you made your way out onto the large patio, city lights twinkling in the distance. Once you’d settled onto the outdoor chaise, stretched out on your stomach with your head propped up on one hand, you looked over at Logan, who was laying next to you, one arm up and bent behind his head. “Why’d you pay for my tattoo, Logan?” He stayed silent. “I figure you did it when you left the room, but… thank you, you didn’t -”

 “I did it because I wanted to.” He turned his head to look at you, “I did it because I could, and because I’ve known you for how long and haven’t gotten you anything aside from dinner and drinks and a goddamn employee gift bag from Delos.” That’s not true, Logan. He took a deep breath, eyes narrowed. “I did it because you trusted me an’ I fucked up your entire… the whole thing, and then you said you weren’t gonna fix it.” What?

 “You didn’t, though.” You reached out with one hand, putting your fingers against his chest. “It’s the best part of the whole thing, Logan. The…” You shook your head. “It’s a piece of you, and now I’ve got it. Now it’s mine.” He looked up at the sky, staying quiet.  “That’s better than...” You scooted closer to Logan, fingers gripping the material of his shirt, though he refused to look at you. What’s wrong, Logan? “Logan, please tell me what you’re thinking.” 

 “Why would you want that reminder?” His tone was bitter, but he finally looked at you. “You said the other day that you don’t know what’s gonna happen with this, right?” You nodded, searching his eyes. “So what if we stop seein’ each other, and you’ve gotta live with that for the rest of -”

 “It’s not your name, Logan. It’s not an anniversary, it’s not your birthday or… or anything like that.” You shook your head. “It’s a piece of a design that you just so happened to put there.” You smiled at him, tapping your fingers against his chest. “And it looks good Logan, when I take the bandages off to clean it up, you’ll see.” Closing your eyes, you lowered your head, taking a breath. “I trust you, Logan, and it’s not just … I can’t just say that to you, you have to see it, too.” 

 ‘What if I fucked it up, or… I don’t know, what if I would have pushed too hard and it just scarred? The rest of you is perfect and then you would have had to tell them -” Perfect? Are you kidding me?

 “Logan, stop.” You pushed yourself up, sitting cross legged on the chaise next to him. “Tell who? I don’t explain this to anyone. It’s none of their business. You were actually… aside from Asher, the first person to get the whole story. And you didn’t ruin anything. You took that machine and you tattooed me. You tattooed me. And you didn’t fuck it up, you didn’t even come close.” Both of you were silent, Logan staring past you and at the city. “You said you wanted to give someone something that they could k-”

 “It’s just a couple of lines, some... “ He sniffed, shrugging. “Just… not a big deal.” But it is, Logan, don’t you see that? 

 “Give yourself some credit, Logan. It is a big deal.” He finally looked at you at that, his eyes wide. “You were successful at something you didn’t know how to do a few minutes before you did it.” He looked surprised at your words, but the look in his eyes was slowly changing. Good. “You’ll know what you did, Logan. And I’ll know what you did, every time I see it or touch it, or....” You sighed. “That part’s not easily hidden, either.” He inhaled sharply. “Everyone’s gonna see it, Logan. They won’t know, but they’ll still get to -”

 He surged upward and toward you, his hands closing on your arms and holding you in place as he kissed you, none of the usual finesse in the action. You leaned forward, hands finding Logan’s thighs and pressing down, whimpering quietly as Logan’s tongue found its way into your mouth “Where did you come from?” He shook his head, still not letting you go. “Jesus, and I tried not to... “ He said your name, grip on your arms tightening and then kissed you again, this time slowly and deliberately, fingers sliding up your arms until they reached the ends of the sleeves, where they stopped. “Did I really do a good job?” His voice was low and uncertain. “I tried to -”

 “You did.” You took a deep breath. “And you can see it again in a second. It’s been enough time, I can take the covering off.” You pulled away from him, glancing down. “You can, too.” You were excited at the thought of getting a better look at Logan’s tattoo, but still didn’t want to ask him about it. Maybe cleaning it will make him want to… “I just don’t have anything to sleep in, Logan, I usually…”

 “You don’t have to put a shirt on.” He raised an eyebrow, using the back of one finger to trace along your jaw. “I’ll behave.”

 “Will you?” He laughed, tossing his head back and just like that, the mood relaxed again. Logan opening up to you seemed to come in spurts, and while there were times when you wished that they’d last longer, there were other times when you were grateful that they didn’t. He was a lot to handle, and though you knew that he was still learning that he could trust you, that he could truly be himself around you, you noticed that he was much different around you now than he had been prior to your trip to the park, and you didn’t want to ask for anything more. “Alright, Logan. I’ll probably need your help anyway.” 

 He followed you into the master bathroom, where he reached into a closet and pulled out a few different towels; one large one and two washcloths, all of them in a soft gray. You lifted your arms and Logan pulled your shirt off, carefully easing it over your head. You’d pulled the straps of your bra up but loosened them over the bandage, and you watched in the mirror as Logan stood behind you, carefully removing the straps from your shoulders, leaving them hanging. “Just pull the tape off?” You nodded, eyes still on the mirror as Logan stepped closer to you, his hands skimming your stomach as he hugged you from behind, face turned in toward the side of your head. Logan took a deep breath and raised his hands, carefully peeling back the tape that was attached to your chest - first on one side and then the other, easing it away from your skin. 

 You fought back the urge to suck air in through your teeth, closing your eyes. “Just pull on it, Logan. Like ripping a bandaid off.” You held the edge of the counter, and rather than ask you to confirm, Logan did as you requested, one firm yank on the bandage pulling it away from you. Ow. That… yikes. You hissed in pain, but when you looked up to meet his worried gaze, you were smiling. “I knew what I was getting into, it’s fine.” You took a breath. “How’s it look?”

 “It looks… swollen.” Logan was inspecting your upper back closely, his eyes moving over your skin. “Not too bad, though. Really red.” You wet the washcloth under warm water, handing it over your shoulder to Logan and instructing him to squeeze the water out so that it would drip down your back, reaching for the soap as you did so. “You want me to -?” 

 “You’ve gotta, Logan. I can’t reach it.” Offering him a smile, you shrugged. “The lower part wasn’t as hard, but…” You felt the water dripping onto you, followed by Logan’s fingers, spreading the soap over it gently. He touched you as if you would break, which was different from what you were used to, but it felt good, Logan’s hands cleaning the dried blood and ink from your skin. He turned you so that your back was to the mirror and moved his wet, soapy hands to your shoulders, continuing to rub in slow, soft circles. His eyes remained fixated on the side of your body that he’d tattooed, lips parted the slightest bit while he worked. You did that. 

 He made quick work with rinsing your skin, leaning into your body and using his cupped hands to lift water, the drops running down your back and shoulders. Logan turned you again, carefully holding the large towel to pat the skin of your back dry before he handed it to you, allowing you to do the same to your shoulders while you turned to face him. Finished, you watched as Logan leaned in, fingertips hovering over the lines he’d inked. You saw the slight tremble in them, but he was frozen. “Go ahead.” He looked up at you, wide eyed, and you grinned at him, reaching up to touch his hair. “You’re not supposed to, but your hand’s clean, it won’t hurt anything.” 

 Logan waited the span of a single second before you felt his fingertips land against your skin - touch light as he traced over the lines. “It really doesn’t look bad, especially since it’s on you.” His voice was filled with surprise, but before you could say anything in response, Logan straightened up, meeting your eyes again. “My turn.” Though you wanted to return the favor for him - pulling the bandage off, using the pads of your fingers to clean the tattoo - you knew that it wasn’t your place, and so you stepped to the side, allowing Logan access to the sink. He pushed his sleeve up and peeled the bandage back, and you watched the slight lifting of his lip at the sensation, the focus of his gaze on the inside of his arm. His bandage joined yours on the countertop, but you were staring at the ink on Logan’s skin, the way the black stood out. It wasn’t just that it was swollen and red; even though the lettering was less  than two inches tall, it was clearly readable to you - the 7 letters scrawled on his arm like they’d been written with a fountain pen. “When I was in Westworld…” He turned the water on, starting to clean the tattoo. “William tried to kill me.” 

 He’d previously told you the barest of details, outlining that the first - and last - trip he’d taken to the park with William hadn’t ended well, that he’d wound up in the hospital, delirious and dehydrated with sunburn covering most of his body. He’d told you that William had been behind it, that the approach he’d taken to introducing William to what the park offered hadn’t been the best, and the man had snapped, but he hadn’t told you details. You’d wanted to ask, looking up information about Logan’s hospitalization and subsequent release, about William and Juliet, about Logan’s lifestyle changes… but you hadn’t. You’d told yourself it wasn’t your place, that it was none of your business; that sharing Logan’s bed didn’t mean that you were sharing anything else… so you’d stayed quiet, accepting the information he gave you and responding appropriately, but not delving. And now he’s telling me. You took a deep breath and watched as Logan continued to use his fingers in a circular motion over the tattoo, soap hiding the word from view. “Did he?” It was all you could think to say, but Logan looked away from his arm and directly at you, eyes serious. 

 “Yes.” He swallowed. “I pushed him… pushed him too far, and he retaliated.” Logan narrowed his eyes, thinking. “I deserved some of it, bein’ left in Pariah, being taught a lesson, but I didn’t… I didn’t deserve him stripping me and making me walk behind a horse for days while he searched for Dolores.” Dolores? That’s the… she’s behind… Logan chewed on his lower lip, pausing. “I cut her open in front of him, to show him, because he forgot. It was real for him, all of it - the Hosts and the things he thought they felt and what he felt for her … and when I reminded him that it wasn’t, reminded him of Juliet, he didn’t like it.” Logan returned his attention to the tattoo, leaning over the sink and sticking his arm beneath the slow stream of water. “And then he tied my hands together and put me on a horse.” Logan straightened up, both hands gripping the edge of the counter, eyes focused on the sink basin, the water still running. “And he told me that when he got back home, he was gonna take Delos from me, because I couldn’t… I didn’t have the ability to run it, that I was too… reckless and unbalanced.” Logan licked his lips and you saw the snarl on his face, the way his forehead wrinkled. 

“He sent me off into the desert to die. Alone. And I would have, but one of the Hosts found me a few days later, and … he saved my life. One of the Ghost Nation guys, he… if he wouldn’t have found me, the security team wouldn’t have, either, not until it was too late, or they started building something out there.” Logan looked over at you, offering you a sad smile. “We didn’t track the guest locations then, only… only the things the Hosts did and saw, and he … I guess he triggered a warning to the Mesa that a guest needed help, and…And they found me a few hours later, passed out in the sand.” Logan took a deep breath, and you heard the shudder as he let it out. “I wouldn’t have made it through the night, I was too dehydrated and … out of it.” You tried to keep the horrified expression off of your face. They could have found his body. His body or his bones.

 “Did you…” You stepped closer to Logan, putting a hand on his back. “Did you tell anyone?” You assumed that he had, but with what you knew of Juliet, it didn’t make sense. Why didn’t she… “Did -”

 “I did. Or, I tried to, at least.” Logan shook his head again. “But Billy was good, he was…” Logan laughed. “He went back to the train depot and immediately told the people in the Mesa that he hadn’t seen me in days, that I hadn’t been waiting in Sweetwater after we got separated. He reported me missing, but lied about everything else.” Logan looked over at you and you saw that there were unshed tears in his eyes - the first time you’d ever seen him so emotional in front of you. “So no one believed me when I told them what he did… the bits and pieces that I… everyone thought I was confusing things, and so, for a while, I did too.” Logan sniffed, and you watched as he reached up to swipe at his eyes with one hand. “That’s when the drugs came in. I was in the hospital for a few weeks, and then when I got released? I didn’t have to think about anything if I was high. I didn’t have to worry about people askin’ me questions when we were fucking, because that’s all they cared about - the lifestyle and my body. It was easier to ignore it, to forget, to pretend that my life was like it had been before, but... “ Logan lowered his eyes. “I dialed it up. I wanted to d-” He stopped. “No, that’s not true. I didn’t care if I died, because Billy was workin’ his way into my position and Juliet was by his side, and I felt like I had nothing left... nothing worthwhile, at least.” He stood up straight, gesturing to the bathroom you were standing in. “It meant nothin’. The money and the sex and the status - meaningless. All of it. I just didn’t care.” 

 You felt your throat getting tight and stepped even closer to Logan. You didn’t know what to say - didn’t want to interrupt because he was finally opening up to you, and while you weren’t getting the whole story, he was telling you more than he’d likely ever told anyone else. You studied him in the mirror, your thumb slowly moving over the center of his back, and imagined what he’d been like back then - both in the park and outside of it. You couldn’t; there was no way for you to view the man next to you in any way but the way you knew him, but to know that someone had tried to kill him for it? That someone had undermined him like that? And she married him. She had to know that something was… Logan doesn’t lie, he… 

 “So I let it go. All of it. I stepped back from Delos, took a break, focused on myself and just … I didn’t give a shit. No one else believed me, and Jim already had someone followin’ me around and overriding all my decisions, so why would I even…” He shrugged. “I didn’t wanna ruin Jules’ marriage, didn’t want to… and then she got pregnant, and I just…” Logan took a deep breath. “It wasn’t worth it, trying to put everything together with no one else on my side, so I stopped, and just lived my life… if you can call it that.” He turned toward you, raising an arm to show you the inside of his elbow. “You’ve never seen me with marks here, but for seven months after I got out of the hospital, they were there.” You reached up, fingers pressing against the smooth skin, and waited. “And then I woke up one morning, in bed with ... “ 

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, I don’t even know their names.” You winced, and Logan reached up, tucking your hair behind your ear before his hand slid slowly down to your neck, thumb resting behind your ear and his fingers tightening against the back of it. “I woke up and I realized that I cared. I wanted to… I wanted to be back at work, I wanted my job back, I wanted to…” He sighed, eyes locked on yours. “Juliet kept just enough board members on her side and wouldn’t let Billy fire me. No matter what else she did, she was always in my corner on that, defending me to him and to Jim, tellin’ them to let me make my own decisions, and so … I knew I had a job to go back to, I knew… I had a place, even if they were gonna treat me like I just started... I had a… it was something.” 

 You nodded too, trying to quickly add up the timeline. Seven months would be about four before I started there, he’s … Your eyes widened as you realized just how fresh everything likely was for Logan, how well he hid it. “Logan, I -”

 “No, shh. Give me a second, I’m almost…” Logan closed his eyes. “You know as well as I do that the… narratives and the Hosts are … there’s reality in them, in the way they look and talk and... “ You nodded, watching as Logan opened his eyes. “I went back to work and I started looking for anything I could to help me figure things out, to make sense of what happened, to find some way to prove it.” He smiled at you, and though it barely reached his eyes, you saw life on his face again. “The Ghost Nation Hosts… they all speak Lakota.” Logan licked his lips again, taking a deep breath. “He saved my life, Akecheta?” You nodded. “And I remember it.” He pulled your face closer to his. “I’ll remember what he did and why he did it and… I’ll remember that for the rest of my life, because… the more I think about it, the more…” Logan’s voice caught and his next words came out in a rush, followed by a low sob that you’d never heard from him before. “It felt real, the way he gave me a blanket and the way he… I didn’t understand a word that he said to me, but he was a goddamn Host and he showed me more compassion and humanity than…” 

 Logan sagged against you and you wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, feeling his body shake against yours as he cried, his arms looping beneath yours - careful not to touch your shoulders even in the middle of his breakdown. “Logan, it’s alright, you’re…” You felt the tears in your own eyes, trying to keep your voice from breaking. You knew what Host he was talking about, could picture the man in your mind. He saved Logan, even though he was only doing what he was programmed to do, he… 

 “They’re not real and I know that, but… thinking about that was enough to…” He was breathing normally again when he pulled away from you, and though you could see that his cheeks were still wet, he’d stopped crying. “It’s the Lakota word for ‘remember’, and… it’s to remind me that no matter what people say, or what people believe, I know what happened to me. I know what I felt and what I saw, and… and know that someday, somehow William will pay for what he tried to do, he’ll...“ Logan stepped back, looking down at his arm and your gaze followed, eyes locked on the single word - kiksuya - scrawled on his skin, a permanent reminder of the worst days of his life. That’s perfect, Logan. “I’ll get my sister and Em away from him, get him out of Delos, but I can’t … I can’t forget why it’s so important, and I can’t forget how much I don’t ever want to be the person I was before again..” 

 “It’s also a reminder that you’re alive, Logan.” You reached up, your fingers finding the skin just below the ink. “That you’re here, that you’re…” You stroked over his skin, feeling the heat beneath your fingers. That you’re with me. “I believe you.” You swallowed, looking up and finding his eyes wide and locked on yours. “I believe in you, Logan Delos. And I’m glad you’re here with me, but I’m even more glad that you told me all of this.” You truly were - though you were still in disbelief that he’d opened up so much. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you, if you want me to.” 

 “Just like that?” You nodded. “Why?” He looked confused, and after thinking for a second, you sighed, shaking your head. 

 “Can we get out of this bathroom? It’s really bright.” He smiled - a small one - but nodded, and a few seconds later, you were sitting in Logan’s bed, facing him. You’d thought carefully about what you wanted to say - trying to find a way to straddle the line between being too open and emotional and still letting him know how you felt. You held his hand between your bodies, the room bathed in low light from the bedside table, and took a deep breath. “You need to know, Logan, what it’s like for someone to choose you, for someone to… want you, to believe in you.” 

 “But you don’t know me.” He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “You only know… you didn’t know me then, what I did, or what I was like, or…” It doesn’t matter. “Why would you believe in me? My own father didn’t, my… Why would you want me? How could you want me? We’re so different, it’s not…”

 ‘Look at me.” It was your turn to command him, pulling his hand into your lap, squeezing it. “Is it so hard for you to believe that I care about you when we’re not naked, Logan?” You saw in his eyes that the answer was yes. “Well, believe it. You looked down and then back up at him, feeling exposed while sitting in front of him in only a strapless bra and sweats while he was fully dressed. “Give me a reason not to, Logan, and maybe it’ll change, but until then…” You shook your head. “People see you one way or the other - never both. But you… you let me see just a little bit of what you hide.” You wet your lips. “Not just tonight, but when you ask me about myself, when you notice things about me, when you let yourself slip, even a tiny bit.” You let out a breath, closing your eyes. “And that’s what I like, Logan. The … they aren’t even imperfections, they’re just… all those things are proof that you’re real, that you’re not the thing Delos has worked so hard to create that…”

 “That I’m flawed.” His tone was bitter. “That I’m a fuckup, that I’m a junkie, that -”

 “Stop.” You opened your eyes again, leaning in. “We’re all flawed, Logan. None of us are perfect. And everyone fucks up when it comes to pleasing their parents, so that’s not something you should worry about.” You reached up, fingers finding the birthmark on his face before they dropped back to his inner elbow. “And you had a drug problem, Logan, but you didn’t let it kill you. That’s something you’ll have to think about for the rest of your life, but you’re not that anymore.  It would have gotten to anyone, I think… feeling alone, feeling confused, no one believing a story that you know is real.” 

 He was silent as you stopped to take a breath, his eyes downcast at where your hand held onto his arm, where your joined hands were resting on your lap. “It’s hard.” He wrinkled his nose, pausing. “Tryin’ to be something you’re not all the goddamn time. Pretending everything’s OK and that you don’t want to drag your sister’s husband out of….” He took a deep breath and let it out. “What if I can’t give you what you need?” What? How did this go from… “What if this is all I have? What if I never get -”

 “I’ll decide what I need, Logan, not you. Not anyone else.” You gave him a few seconds to respond, but when he didn’t, you continued. “I’ll be honest with you, too.” You saw his eyebrow raise slightly, questioning you. “I thought a lot about what… more would be like with you.” Are you doing this? “And I imagined it, imagined all of the other people I’d have to deal with, the things I’d have to put up with hearing back when it came to saying ‘yeah, I’m with Logan’ … and you know what?” He regarded you with an interested expression, but you could see that he was trying to dial back the emotion that he was feeling at your words. You don’t have to. “None of the outcomes were ever enough to make me think twice about answering your next text or coming over here or… caring about you.” 

 “You thought about more?” He was trying - and failing - to hold back a smile, the tone of voice much more relaxed than it had been. “More with me? Yeah, Logan, you little - “And you wanted it?” You nodded, lips pressed together. “Do you still? Knowing what -”

 “Yes.” Your heart was pounding; you’d had multiple conversations about being with Logan in only a few short days, and though he seemed to want it too, he’d also tried to find a way to talk you out of it nearly every time you’d agreed. “I want it. Want you. I want to h-” You stopped, waiting, but Logan didn’t move, didn’t speak. “I want to help you.” He mouthed the word ‘help’ and you nodded, leaning in. “As much as you’ll let me, Logan, in any way you need me to.” He hesitated and then kissed you, pulling his hand from yours and curling it around the back of your head, holding you close to him. Without breaking away from the kiss, you shifted onto your knees, your hands moving to Logan’s chest and pushing backwards, easing him down and onto the sheets. Swinging a leg over his hips and pressing your chest to his, the two of you continued to kiss, Logan obviously done talking for the moment. This is fine. You slid your hands down, both of them moving beneath the fabric of his shirt and Logan pulled his hand away from your head, moving it to your back and undoing your bra, the fingertips of his other one sliding beneath the waistband of your sweats and stopping. “I want to touch you.” He groaned, fingers tightening on your skin. “All I wanna do is…” Logan said your name, lips landing back against your mouth, and you stopped thinking, stopped worrying and focused on him, on the way he was kissing you - on the way you could feel his heart beating through his shirt. “I won’t … I won’t question it.” 

 Logan turned his head away from yours, taking a deep breath. “Question what?” You pushed yourself away from him slightly, mindful of the fact that you were bare from the waist up. 

 “You. Wanting me.” He sounded uncertain, but you could see that he wanted to believe you, wanted to believe what he said. “I thought, when we first… I liked you, but I thought it was going to be a quick thing, that you’d get tired of me not givin’ you a regular relationship, that the sex wouldn’t…” He scoffed. “I know I’m good in bed, but that’s not enough for some people, an’ you… you’re just… Look at you. You could have had anyone at Delos - anyone, even Asher or…”

 “Asher?” He nodded. “Logan, I’ve never wanted anything with him, aside from for him to finish this, and … at Delos? Jesus, Logan, that boat yesterday? I’ve never had so many people look at me like they wanted to throw me overboard. None of them want -” He laughed at that, amusement in his eyes. 

 “They’re just jealous of you.” He was stroking your back, fingers staying low and near your waist, never rising too high. “Jealous of how you act and how you look and how you…” He bared his teeth at you, biting down on his own lower lip before continuing. “How you were able to make me feel even when… even when I was trying to fight it.” You shook your head back and forth slowly, never looking away from him. Almost eight months of him acting like this was …. And now? Now he won’t, now he’s… “Thank you.” You reached up, frowning in confusion as you ran your fingers through Logan’s hair. “Not just for… this,” he said, raising his newly tattooed arm. “Or for… this,” he continued, fingers skimming down your side, pulling your body toward his at the hip. “For everything.” 

 Unsure of what you say, you just sighed, lowering your head to his chest and turning to press your cheek against it. “You’re welcome, Logan.” Swallowing, you went silent, trying to process the events of the night. You’d figured that Logan would enjoy watching you get tattooed, have a good experience with getting his own. You’d hoped that he’d explain what the meaning of his ink was to you, but you’d never dreamed he’d reveal what he had, and the realization that it was likely only the beginning was a shock to you. He wants this as much as I do. It hit you like a baseball bat to the knees, and you fought not to react, feeling how relaxed Logan was beneath you. He’s just afraid to say it, doesn’t know what to do with it. Breaking the silence, you spoke again. “I meant it. Every word.” 

 “I know you did.” You felt his beard against your forehead, moving as he spoke. He was still trailing his fingers over your skin, but the movement was rhythmic, controlled. “You tired?” Nodding as you hummed assent, he sighed. “We should sleep, then, it’s late.” You sat up, forgetting that he’d removed your bra, and though his eyes moved down to your chest, they didn’t linger. “You need anything?” 

 “A dark towel, maybe. I’ll sleep on my stomach, but my shoulders… I wanna protect the pillow.” you pressed your lips together, but Logan waited until you’d climbed off of him to get out of bed, returning to the bathroom for a new towel and handing it to you. Logan waited until you’d positioned it over the bottom of the pillow and under your torso to climb back in bed, switching the light off and plunging the room into darkness. You heard him remove his shirt before he laid down on his back next to you, an arm beneath the pillow and behind his head. “I’ll pay for the blankets if I ruin ‘em, Logan, I -”

 “Shut up.” He turned his face to you, and even in the darkness you could make out his smile. “They’re just blankets. I’ve got more.” Alright, Logan. Neither of you spoke again until he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours briefly. “I like this.” Humming back at him, you waited for him to continue. “A lot.” Like what, Logan? Going to bed next to me? The way you feel right now? I don’t…  His face was close to yours on the pillows, and though he didn’t say anything else, his breathing evening out quickly as he wound down, you knew that with time, you’d know what he meant. With one last look at him, you closed your eyes, letting out a breath and pressing your cheek harder against the towel-covered pillow.. 

 “Goodnight, Logan.” I like this too. 

---

[heartjwi]

black magic ☞ nct dream

GENRE | fluff ! nct dream x reader

THEME | witch!au

DISCLAIMER | insp. from black magic by little mix

SUMMARY | 6 boys happen to find a magical book in the middle of the library and promised each other they would only use their powers for the greater good.

A/N | first work here on my new blog heheheeheh also my entry for spooktober! + mentions of bullying!

once upon a time

soooo

theres this specific group of kids in high school right

they’re kinda known as the nobodies in general

literally because they don’t talk to anyone outside their friend group

which makes the popular kids pick on them since they’re easy targets n such

their names were: renjun, jeno, donghyuck, jaemin, chenle and jisung

the 4 of them consisted of seniors

and one of the two were either a sophomore and a junior

there have been multiple occasions during lunch where the bullies would purposely stick their feet out when they were walking in their direction

causing them to trip and drop their food trays :-(

if it wasn’t for donghyuck’s snarky attitude, they would’ve been the laughing stock of the school

despite that, the bullies made it their mission to give their life a living hell

the bullies would pull pranks on them

till their youngest had enough

jisung surprisingly towered majority of the bullies and confronted them

“h-hey!” jisung stutters

which made renjun, jeno, jaemin facepalmed

donghyuck was too busy distracting chenle who was sweating and shaking too much

“guys look pipsqueak is trying to say something!” one of the bullies announces to their group

renjun was getting angrier by the minute just watching the bullies poke fun on jisung

“stop making fun of us, it’s not funny anymore” jisung tells the group, his deep voice surprising everyone

“make us, pipsqueak” the group leader pokes a finger on jisung’s chest making him walk backwards

renjun got fed up watching everyone laugh at them and runs up to the leader

“dude what are you doing!” jeno panicks, pulling his sleeve a little bit too late

“hey” renjun grabs the leader’s shoulder

“wha-”

before the leader could finish his sentence, renjun punches him square at the jaw

sending the leader to fall down on the floor

“what the fuck”

and everyone swings

sending both groups to detention

“maybe if one of us just kept our hands to ourselves, this wouldn’t have happened” jaemin smiles sarcastically at his friends

renjun grumbles and turned his back on jaemin

“hyung, renjun hyung had to do something” chenle speaks up

“not gonna lie, that was pretty bad ass coming from him” donghyuck laughs, patting renjun at the back

it could be seen that renjun was trying to contain his smile 

but he failed to do so

jeno then walks out of the principal’s office with 6 excuse passes on his hand

“the principal says we’re good kids but that doesn’t mean he’d let us off of the detention we’re serving” jeno starts

the 5 boys sigh in unison 

“but he says unlike the other group, they would be cleaning under the tables in the cafeteria, we are on library duty” jeno finishes

“that’s so boring” donghyuck whines, leaning on chenle

“its better than cleaning dried gum” jaemin flicks his forhead

the boys finally arrive in the library when it was closing time

“i’ll leave the keys here and make sure you lock the doors once you finish okay? i’ll be going now” the librarian smiles and waves goodbye at them

“great now we’re spending our friday night in a damn library” hyuck yells out

“i thought we were having a sleepover today?” jeno asks hyuck who was grabbing the left over books on the tables

“we are. i’m just overreacting” he shrugs

a little after that, the boys start cleaning everything at once

chenle was dusting the books that hasn’t been touched in years

jisung was sweeping the floor

renjun was rearranging the books by order

jaemin was wiping the tables

jeno and donghyuck were on cart duty

suddenly, as chenle was sweeping the bookshelves

a book fell on his head

“ouch!” he yelps, catching the attention of everyone

“you good lele?” jeno comes to his aid

chenle rubs his head, “yeah.. that fell on me” he points at a glowing book just a few feet away from them

“what’s this?” jisung picks up the book

“careful there jisung” jaemin warns him

renjun pushes past everyone to see the book, scanning it back to back

“it’s in latin” he tells everyone

he grabs his phone and opens google translate

“it means magic” hyuck reads his phone out loud

“did we just find a magical book?!” chenle squeals

renjun shushes him and tells everyone to hurry up with their work so they could go home

“guys let’s finish everything now so we can play with this book later, okay? chop chop” renjun orders

fast forward now everything in that library was clean 

the boys are now at hyuck’s place with the book they found in the middle of their circle

“are we gonna become witches?” hyuck giggles

“probably? i mean it does say magic on the front” jeno explains

“ok y’all i can’t wait much longer lets bippity boppity boo this shit! lets all hold hands around it” jaemin grabs jisung and jeno’s hands

and the rest do the same

now the book is glowing again, it was a mix of purple and blue sparkles

the 6 boys start levitating from the ground

hyuck’s things were flying all over the place

and the lights were flickering

the book opens itself and individually gave everyone in the circle their powers

which was telekinesis

and the power to do whatever they want 

basically they can form or do anything their mind tells them to

pretty cool

“this shit is fucking amazing” chenle screams as he made the bed levitate 

“holy fuck” jeno muses as he made a cat appear in the room

“guys i’m gonna set hyuck’s desk on fire!” jisung motions his hand at hyuck’s desk 

and suddenly, it was on fire

“jesus christ dude!” hyuck puts the fire down with his hands

“holy shit.. we’re witches!” the group claps for themselves

after everyone calms down, renjun announces something 

“we should make a pact that we will only use our powers for the greater good” renjun announces,

everyone was listening intently 

“we should make sure that we must not let that ugly group make fun of other people anymore” renjun adds

the boys agreed and went to bed after that

time skip on monday

you were a new student in school

you just moved from a whole different country so you were struggling with korean

and needless to say, you first day was absolutely shit

you were the new laughing stock of the school

especially with your speaking skills

hardly anyone speaks english in your new school

they only know certain phrases and often used body language to tell you shit

which made you a bit sad cause that basically means you didn’t really have friends

it was your second day in and someone vandalised your locker

which made the nearby students stifle in their laughter

to your luck, donghyuck happened to be one of the students nearby

he felt pity towards you

knowing you were a new student

while everyone was busy amongst themselves, 

he used a bit of magic to erase the writing on your locker

after you gathered your stuff, you noticed your locker door was good as new

you looked around if anyone wiped it off but nothing

except for a boy who winked at you and blue and purple sparkles were evident in their eyes

the bell rang and everyone rushed to their classrooms

it was history class and you had a pretest yesterday 

and it was about the history of korea too

meaning you didn’t too well

you had a big, red F on the corner of your test paper

your classmates were again, laughing at you quietly

even hearing some of them muttering “stupid”

you hung your head low and sat down on your chair

next to renjun

renjun felt bad for you and made everyone who made a comment bang their head against the table

seeing what happened to the students, it made you giggle a bit

making renjun smile at you

finally it was lunch time 

you were walking towards an empty lunch table in the middle of the cafeteria

carrying your lunch tray filled with food

suddenly one of the people who were bullying you made you trip

you spilled your food and caused a scene

everyone in the cafeteria watching everything

laughing and taking videos of you

you wanted to cry on the spot

but suddenly you hear spluttering and something smelly hit your nose

you see chenle and jisung helping you up

“sorry for your clothes, noona” jisung helps you up

“i can help!” chenle giggles and suddenly you were in new clothes

“woah how did you do that” you asked, covering your mouth in shock

“it’s a secret” jisung giggles

“ah shit, i have to clean up the mess” you cursed, kneeling down taking the plates you dropped

“no worries, we’ll do it for you” jaemin butts in and just like what chenle did, the mess on the floor disappeared 

you stared at him in shock and he just winks at you making your cheeks flush

and just a few feet away from you four, donghyuck, jeno and renjun were almost punishing the bullies after what they did to you

“WHY DO WE KEEP SHITTING OUR PANTS” one of the bullies cried out, shit coming out of their pants

and there was donghyuck laughing uncontrollably in the background

the leader turned to him and stomped his way over to him despite him shitting his pants

“YOU!” he yelled but he slipped on his own shit

making donghyuck double over laughing

renjun rolls his eyes, “okay playtime’s over, to the closet you fuckers go” he snaps his fingers and in a flash, the bullies got pushed into their own gym lockers, locked inside while being knocked out cold.

the 3 boys run back to you and checks if you have any bruises or cuts on your arms and legs

“i’m alright guys, thank you for defending me” you nervously scratched the back of your neck

“no worries! if they bother you again just call us and we’ll be there to save the day” jeno gives you his infamous eye smile

which was prone to melting hearts heh

“or better yet, why won’t you join us?” renjun invites you to their friend group

“m-me?” you stuttered, pointing to yourself 

everyone nods in unison

“i mean, you do know our little secret so” donghyuck fakes his voice in a serious tone making you scared a bit

“aish hyuck stop you’re scaring her” jaemin smacks his head

“i’ll beat your ass motherfucker-” he tried to scramble towards jaemin but jeno ended up pulling his ear

“ooOOWWW” he screeched holding his now red ear

“shit we forgot to ask her name.. what’s your name?” chenle asks, staring at you intently

“i’m y/n” you say shyly, avoiding eye contact from everyone

renjun, jeno, haechan, jaemin, chenle & jisung look at each other and smiled

“welcome to our group, y/n” they all yell, engulfing you into a hug

the end!

[what-the--curtains]

Braving the Elements

Chapter 15: Roman Defeated

Tw: Violence, Blood, Swearing

When you enter the facility

When the fight starts

A few days pass and with no activity on your monitors, you and Nat enter Romans cabin and remove any paper files marked as “Project X” from his office. You proceed to retrieve the surveillance cameras and pack up the truck to leave. You and Bucky hadn’t talked about the night you spent together. Neither of you knew why. You hoped he didn’t regret it, you knew you didn’t. You spend most of the ride home and most of the next day asleep, tired from the long shifts. Waking up at around 2pm you check your face in the mirror. The mark he'd left on your neck, the last bit of physical evidence of that night, has faded away. You make your way into the kitchen in sweatpants and a matching cropped sweater, hair done up in a bun. You find everyone else scattered between the kitchen and the living room. It seems like the missions went relatively smoothly, Roman hadn’t been at any of the houses. Though apparently Italy had had some problems based on the few bruises you can see on Sam and Clint's arms. Everyone’s managed to find the hard copies of the previously deleted files of which there were at least 60. At around 4PM you’re all called into the meeting room. Tony had sent copies of the files off to SHIELD in hopes that they would be able to piece them into a coherent report, but the originals were in the conference room spread across the long table. Taking a seat next to Wanda, you pick up a few of the files. You’re skimming through them when Shuri enters the room and pulls up a holographic of what appears to be the blueprints for some kind of fancy building.

“What is that?” you ask.

“That. Is what I found on one of those encrypted files you stole. It looks like it’s some kind of underground bunker.” she replies. “There’s two levels, the upper part seems to be various facilities, living rooms, gyms, bathrooms, etcetera, but the lower level is where they’re keeping the laboratories and medical bays.”

“Hidden in plain sight, allows him to do whatever he wants no questions asked.” You murmur.

“Do we know where it is?” Clint asks.

“Based on some shipment receipts we have a general idea, but we’ll need Sam to scan the area to get the proper locates. Now finding it should be easy enough, and since we have a floor plan of the facility we may even have an upper hand.” Tony explains.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever had the upper hand on Roman.” You state.

“You’re right we need to be prepared for anything.” Steve says.

“If we can bring him in alive, we could figure out where all the mutants in these files have gone.” Tony says, looking at you pointedly before repeating the word alive a decibel louder, but you’re not paying attention, you’ve noticed something in the files.

“There all alphas, looks like he’s even got some omegas.” you say skimming through the files

“They’re all what?” Vision asks, looking to Wanda for an explanation.

“The government classifies mutants into six general groups, epsilons,” Wanda starts

“Mutants with little to no powers but major physical presentation of the x-gene you’ll recognize them a mile away.” You explain.

“Deltas,” Wanda says, pausing in order to continue the back and forth exchange.

“Human presenting mutants with low level powers most of them don’t even know they have the gene. Asymptomatic carries if you will”

“Gammas”

“This is the base level of powerful mutants. They have powers yes, but they also have a distinct phenotypic presentation of the x-gene.” You see some of the people in the room looking confused “Phenotypic presentation meaning they present distinct physical traits. They’re often the most ostracized by you non-mutants. Think Beast, Mystic or Nightcrawler.” You clarify, unsure if the team knows who they are.

“Betas” Wanda continues.

“They’re just as powerful as Gamma’s, but they only have minor physical drawbacks, ones you won’t notice until you’re close up, like Wolverine, or Gambit.”

“Alphas,”

“Very powerful mutants with no phenotypic presentation of the gene some consider them to be the most dangerous because you can’t identify them, Wanda or myself, for example.” You smile at her.

“Then, then there’s omegas.” Wanda says

“These are mutants with the highest level of power. They’re also usually the ones with the hardest powers to control. The most dangerous of the alphas if you will. Jean, Magneto, Charles and Storm are all omegas, powerful ones.” You stop.

“So what does this mean? He’s gathering all the strongest mutants?” Sam asks.

“Looks that way.” Wanda says

“We’re going to need to take extra safety precautions. If they’re fighting with Roman they’ll be looking to kill, not wound, anyone who gets in there way” Tony says

“And what if they’re being held as prisoners?” Bucky asks, beating you to your own question.

“If they’re being held captive they may be angry, untrusting and ready to destroy anyone even if it's people looking to help.” You say “They’ll be scared and fear is dangerous, be careful when approaching them”

“Do we have any way of protecting ourselves?” Nat asks

“Yes,” Shuri pulls out a box with metal collars and a box of ammunition.

“These collars will ensure that whoever is wearing them has their powers disabled” she sees you give her a concerned look “just until we take them off I promise” she reassures. “Meanwhile, these are soaked with a heavy tranquilizer that knocks anyone out in seconds. I’ve hooked them up to best suit your weapons of choice.”

“How do we know it’ll knock out a mutant?” Peter asks.

“Well I tested it on my brother and it knocked him out for a good 5 hours, superpowers and all.” She says grinning from ear to ear causing you all to laugh.

Steve goes over the plans. “Alright troops, we’ll be proceeding into the building through the four main entrances as indicated on the map. We want to make sure that each team has at least one person trained in military combat leading the attack. So, Y/N you’ll go ahead with Wanda and Peter through the back entrance here. Myself and Tony will enter from the left, while Bucky and Sam will come up on the right. Nat, you’ll take Clint and Vision through the front. We’ll maneuver through our quadrants before meeting back here, at the center of the second level. From there we can continue our sweep of the building. Remember, we are not going in to kill, we need Roman alive in order to get information. Any prisoners are not to be harmed, you find them, you wait and Y/N and Wanda will go and make the call. Get your stuff together, we fly in 15.”

Throwing your arsenal into a bag and getting changed you make your way over to the jet.

You throw your duffel bag up to Sam, and he almost drops it underestimating how heavy it was going to be.

“Jesus what’s in here? A body?” he huffs.

“A lady never reveals her secrets” you say, placing your finger over your lips and making a shushing gesture causing Sam and Peter to giggle. You go to hoist yourself up but struggle as the jets entrance was higher off the ground than you had anticipated. Suddenly, two hands grab your waist and lift you up with familiar ease allowing you to reach Sam’s hand. He pulls you up asking you what’s got you all hot and bothered. You shoot him a death stare, leading him to lift his hands up as he walks away mumbling about how he was sorry for asking. You turn around and pull Bucky up “Didn’t think anything could fluster you.” he said quietly with a smile as he passes by, causing you to become even more flustered. What the hell was that all about? You think taking your seat next to Tony and clipping in your seatbelt.

“How was Russia?” Wanda asks while sitting with Visions arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“Fucking cold.” you reply, not making eye contact with Bucky, Nat or Steve afraid you may reveal yourself “Next time Tony we’re pulling name outta a hat so you can’t rig it.” He laughs and the flight takes off

“So what can we expect with this guy Roman?” Peter inquires.

“Well he doesn’t fight fair that’s for sure, but he never does any of his own dirty work he likes to be kept clean I honestly think he’s a germaphobe but I digress. Lots of brutes, usually without superpowers unless bashing someone head in with a baseball bat counts as a power. I don’t know if he’ll even be there.” You say tightening the strap of the holsters around your thighs and clipping your arm bands into place.

The jet lands a few blocks away from the supposed site. It’s a ghost town, run-down buildings that have been partially destroyed, potholes, broken glass, overlapping graffiti on every surface. This wasn’t Romans usual extravagant taste. What was he up to? He always wanted his accomplishments to be on display. Why was he hiding this one?

“Sam, you see anything up there?” Tony asks.

“Scanning one sec. Alright we’ve got a hit, under the old movie theater by the looks of it.” He responds, landing next to you.

“Get into teams, let’s get this asshole.” Bucky says, loading up his machine gun with the knockout bullets Shuri had made. Before you split up he looks over to you,

“Don’t do anything stupid, lots of people here would miss you if you died.”

“Are you including yourself on that list?” you ask, as you load up your own gun. He walks behind you placing a hand on your waist and whispers “What the hell do you think.” Before walking off towards Sam.

You, Wanda and Peter enter from the back. You lead them through the maze of hallways wielding a machine gun checking left and right into any doorways. You knock out the guards with the tranquilizer bullets and once they’re down Peter webs them up to the wall, ensuring they won’t be going anywhere. No signs of any mutants yet. You reach a hallway that diverts off to the side. Holding up your fist you stop before motioning to your two teammates to continue up the hallway while you check it out. You're about to clear the hall when you feel something thwack you in the back of the head, you must have missed a door. You drop your gun and turn around to see none other than your old driver Calvin holding a pistol to your head.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to do this.” He smiles cocking the gun. Before he can pull the trigger a ball of light hits him in the back. You look up to see Wanda standing behind him. You grab your gun and she pulls you up “Old friend of yours?” she asks, while Peter webs up Calvin. You exit the hallway and continue down your path until you reach a door that none of you recognize from the blueprints. “Sam you there?” Wanda asks into the earpiece

“What’s up.” He whispers.

“Send us your scan of the building we’ve reached undocumented territory.”

Wanda pulls up the blueprints. “It looks like this leads to a lower level.”

“Alright, were going in.” you say

“Be careful. Once we're done we’ll head your way. Send us your current location.” Steve’s voice commands.

“Copy.” you respond. Lifting your gun you proceed down the narrow hallway, single file.

You turn the corner, another door, you open it quickly scanning the room for potential threats. You turn on the lights revealing a large empty room, lowering your weapon you take in your surroundings. Then, you hear a clatter and fog canisters roll out in front of you reducing your visibility now unable to see even a few feet in front of you. You hear a crash and see a burst of red light in the fog. “Wanda” you whisper yell “Peter?”. You don’t shoot at the noise, not wanting to hit your two friends. The fog slowly begins to lift revealing Wanda and Peter chained to the floor by their wrists. You bend over to try and break them, but you can’t.

“Look out!” Peter warns. You turn around to see a man, you recognize his face but couldn’t quite remember his name. You blink and then there's 15 of him, carbon copies encircling you.

“ What the…” you start before being interrupted by the echo of slow claps coming from behind the multiples.

“Together at last! How I’ve missed you my freak of nature” a familiar voice calls out

“Now Romy is that any way to speak to an old friend?” you say through gritted teeth, standing up to face him.

“Friends don’t burn down each other’s building, steal from them and kill their guards” he shouts

“Ouf well I guess friends don’t really own each other either?” you snap back.

“Agree to disagree.” he says, finally appearing behind the multiples, sending him? them? back out to guard the door. The 15 men turn back to 1 and exit the room.

“Why are you even here Romy? It’s not like you to do grunt work. And besides, you know you can’t beat me” You exclaim raising your gun and taking aim.

“Maybe not under the usual circumstances, but recently I’ve been feeling like I’ve turned over a new leaf” he says. A burst of light leaves his hands and hits you hard in the stomach knocking the wind out of you. You topple over dropping the gun as you fall.

“But you see your powers are useless here, no water, no fire, no earth in sight.” He continues, kicking down hard on your back, splaying you across the floor. “And my new powers allow me to use electrical energy as a weapon. Isn’t that just so fun!” he kicks the gun away from your reach and lifts your chin up with the tip of his shoe

“Impossible.” You mutter trying to understand what you had just seen, he wasn’t a mutant.

“Not when you know the right people.” he laughs.

“I didn’t miss a room, you gave Calvin powers as well, how?”

“All in good time, but for now you’re going to come with me or I’m going to kill your little friends here as well as all the others currently sweeping the upper levels.” He says as you push yourself off the floor.

“Alright go ahead,” you stand up and make your way over to the door, “see if I care. You obviously need me alive so i'm gonna walk right outta here unharmed”

“Guess you’re still only looking out for number one” he says following behind you

“Always have been” you say, grabbing the handle of the door. “Oh and Romy.” you turn to face him

“Yes darling?” He asks with a snarl.

“Are you really as stupid as you look?” you ask.

“What?” he scowls.

“Do you really think we showed up here without a backup plan?” You knock him down with a gust of air, as he hits the floor he yells for his guards. One tries to grab the door handle, but you ignite your arm bands and touch the knob scolding the man’s hand badly, you can smell the burnt flesh as you let go. Using the water converter technology installed into your suit by Shuri you throw water over the chains confining your two friends, freezing it as it hits the metal. You walk over whacking the chains with the butt of your gun causing them to shatter. You help them up. “Nice acting.” Wanda says rubbing her wrists “Seriously where’s your Oscar?” Peter asks. “Aww thanks guys, you know maybe I should quit my day job!” you start, but quickly realize you have bigger fish to fry as the multiplier and several others enter into the room.

Wanda knocks down three of them with a single blast as Peter works on taking down another two. You're squaring off against a guy who must have superhuman strength, based on his height and intense muscles. “You know there is such a thing as too much of a good thing, seriously what are you on steroids?” You shoot at him but he catches the bullet and crushes it proving your theory. You drop the gun and run at him. Sliding between his legs you jump on his back , pulling out your knife you jab it into his shoulder and he lets out a yelp of pain. At least you knew he could bleed. You manage to wrestle off his helmet, as he reaches around to pull you off, you bite him. This makes him even angrier. He grabs you off his back and throws you against the wall. He’s learning over you as you attempt to make a grab at a knife, he steps on your wrist lifting his foot he aims at your head, you brace for impact. All of a sudden you hear a gun fire and the guy turns to face the shooter, Bucky. The rest of the crew have arrived just in time to help with the other guards. While the muscle man starts towards the winter soldier you grab the knife on the floor and slash the guy's Achilles causing him to fall to the ground. “Thanks for that.” you say wiping the blood of your knife “Right back at you, I was 10 seconds away from being a pancake.” he smiles at you before shooting down two of the guards. It doesn’t take long for you guys to take the rest of them out. Roman’s started moving towards the door amidst the chaos but he doesn't get far before one of Clint's arrows hits him in the leg. Still trying to drag his body out of the room you walk over to him and lift up his head by his hair “You seriously thought you and your run of the mill abusers could take down a team of nine superheroes.”

“Hero? Is that what you think you are? Your hubris will be your downfall.” He says spitting in your face before passing out.

“You get your touch for the dramatic from him?” Sam chuckles.

“Did you know he had powers?” Peter asks, while Bucky lifts up Romans limp body.

“That’s the thing he didn’t use too. Wanda, did you see any doors in that hallway where Calvin tried to kill me?” You say wiping the spit off your face.

“Where who tried to do what to you?” Bucky asks loudly.

“No. You think he had them as well?” Wanda responds, ignoring Bucky’s concern. You shrug.

“So how did he...” Tony starts.

”I don’t know.” you shake your head in confusion. “Someone call Shuri. I have a feeling she’s the only one who can crack this.”

[lovemesomerafael]

Others Like Me                              Chapter 15:  Confidences

     Chapters 1-10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12  Chapter 13  

                        Chapter 14  Read It On AO3

Both Barnes and Bucky are off the medical floor after one day, and back to normal after a week.

It takes only a few days for Tony to replace the gym.  It will be much longer than that before Tony stops complaining about having to replace the gym.  He tells Barnes and Bucky that the new gym exists only because the other Avengers asked for it and need it, and that the next items they damage will be the last, because if they ever break anything in there again, so help him, blah, blah, blah.

The biggest change, however, is that after that, Bucky is no longer restricted to his cell.  In fact, he’s moved into other quarters, real quarters, where he isn’t monitored and none of the walls is a transparent barrier.  He’s still restricted as to where he can go in the tower, but his choices are much wider now and include the common areas of the residences and even the landing platform.  

He knows this new freedom is Barnes’s doing. He also knows that neither Tony Stark nor Natasha Romanoff approve.  For whatever reason, though, Tony has chosen not to use his authority to prohibit it.

Bucky doesn’t push it.  Instead of trying to engage the team members, he waits for them to approach him.  He hasn’t been invited to join any team meals, but that doesn’t mean he’s alone much. Sam, Clint, and Bruce have declared their belief that he is trustworthy, that he is who he says he is.  They act accordingly.  The four of them, usually along with Barnes, work out and have frequent meals together.  They spend quite a bit of leisure time together, as well.  Bucky’s told them about their counterparts in his universe, and they’ve confirmed that their lives are pretty much the same here, which gives Bucky a welcome, comfortable sense of familiarity.  In fact, he’s becoming closer to them in this universe than he ever was in his.  Than you ever bothered to be, he tells himself. In many ways, this feels like a second chance.  A chance to get it right.  

Still, he has a long way to go.  Although Bucky is welcome in Bruce’s lab, both Tony and Barnes are blunt about the fact that, if he’s ever found in there alone, things will get ugly fast.  The same is true of any of the places he’s still forbidden to go.  

It hurts to be an outsider in this familiar setting, with these people he cares so much for.  It especially hurts to be so close to Tony and Natasha again, but to have them openly mistrustful, even hostile sometimes.  Bucky tries to be patient, to remind himself that they’re protecting themselves, and each other, as they should.  He gives them all the slack he can.  It helps to remember that he would do the same thing.  In fact, he knows that he would be far more suspicious than these guys are.  These Avengers never knew Hydra.  Because they haven’t lived through the experiences that his Avengers have, they aren’t hard like he is.  Like Steve was.  Even Marya is hard, in her way.  It’s a large part of the reason she still can’t believe he is who he is.  

He doesn’t know what these Avengers will do if they decide he’s a threat.  But knows that the team from his universe, including Marya, would kill him.  They’d have to.

Bucky thinks that’s why Marya’s been so compliant with the restrictions on her ability to see him.  Because he can see she’s struggling with them.  She watches him.  Although the Avengers make sure that he never gets too close to her, he feels her eyes on him constantly whenever they’re in the same room.  Just as he’s entirely aware of her.  And when she is allowed to talk to him - always with team members close by - she talks only to him.  It’s everywhere in her body language and he can hear it in her voice: she wants to be closer to him.  Only her loyalty to the team, and her deference to Stark’s and Barnes’s authority are holding her back.  That, and her loyalty to the Sergeant Barnes she is in love with, whom she can’t be sure is the one now claiming to be him.

The new gym has some upgrades from the old.  For one thing, the new equipment is even heavier-duty.  Bucky thinks that might be a subtle fuck you from Tony, but he appreciates it anyway. He knows Barnes does, too.  They both know the frustration of not being able to train full-out because no equipment can withstand the punishment an enhanced supersoldier can deliver.  It’s nice to use a heavy bag that will actually survive an entire workout.  

This morning, he and Barnes are side by side, punching and kicking at some new training dummies that are supposed to be the most durable ever made.  It was a little hard, getting started, because they both kept laughing, thinking about how they’d destroyed the old ones during their calamitous sparring match, in what basically boiled down to a really strange version of jousting.  One of the old dummies had ended up embedded in the ceiling, which Tony had threatened to leave there as a reminder of their bad behavior.  The only reason he hadn’t was that they both wanted him to.  

Jarvis is putting Barnes and Bucky through training drills, using a program that was designed especially for Steve and Barnes.  Jarvis calls out the strikes they’re to deliver to the training dummies: crosses, uppercuts, roundhouse kicks, hook kicks...  In this universe, both Steve and Barnes had been chosen for Project Rebirth, which means that they both had the same need for a training regimen that was simply not possible for an unenhanced person.  This program delivers it.  The serum Hydra gave Bucky and Marya was similar enough that both of them can do the program, too, although Bucky is working harder right now than Barnes is.  Marya, as a woman, simply doesn’t have the strength the men do, but she has more stamina. She can’t destroy the training dummy as quickly, but she can keep going with the program longer.  

Today, though, Marya is not training with Barnes and Bucky. At Barnes’s insistence, she’s across the gym with Clint, spotting one another as they do gymnastics.  Which puts her behind Barnes and Bucky, so Barnes can’t see her greedily watching Bucky.  But Clint can.

“C’mon, kid,” he complains.  “Pay attention so I don’t fall on my pretty face.”

“I’m sorry, Clint.  I’ll do better.”

Clint leans in and speaks sympathetically, too quietly for supersoldier hearing to pick up so far across the room.  “You better.  Barnes catches you ogling Bucky like that, he’s gonna forbid you to see him at all.  You know that’s what Tony wants him to do.”

Little frown lines between Marya’s eyebrows deepen as she looks between the supersoldiers and Clint.  “Actually, it’s not quite what you think.  I was thinking that maybe I should spar with Bucky.  My Sergeant and I used to spar; it could be a way to test whether it’s really him.  I will recognize how he fights, things we taught each other.”

Clint raises an eyebrow.  “You know, for an excuse, that’s not half bad.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“Sure it is,” Clint winks.  “But I’m on your side.  His side, too, for that matter.  Let’s go talk to Barnes.”

 “I don’t think so, Marya.  Too dangerous,” Barnes says, toweling sweat from his hair.

“Don’t you think I can protect myself?”

“I know you can protect yourself.  Not that kind of dangerous.”

Right on cue, Bucky watches that adorable stubborn look come over Marya’s face.  “How, exactly, do you expect him to hypnotize me or seduce me or whatever, while I’m punching him and throwing him around?”

Barnes laughs, although he’s well aware she’s not exactly making a joke.  “We’ve had this conversation.”

“C’mon, Barnes,” Clint urges.  “Let them try it.  What if she’s right?  You said fighting with him is how you knew he was you.  Maybe fighting is how she’ll be able to tell if he’s the right you.”  

Barnes sighs in disgust, muttering, “When do I start having all this authority I was supposed to get as Captain America?”  

“Good man!”  Clint smiles hugely and claps him on the back.  

“No talking,” Barnes growls at Bucky and Marya. “Just spar.”

“No talking?”  Bucky mocks.  “I never met anyone talks as much as you do during a fight.  Well, one guy, but he’s just a kid.”

“Take it or leave it.”

“We’ll take it,” Marya announces, turning decisively toward the sparring mat as Bucky watches Barnes react to the “we”.  Oof.   Poor fucker.

Bucky follows her, more slowly, Clint and Barnes a few steps behind.  They come to stand next to a padded wall, six feet or so from where Marya and Bucky square off.  

“How do you wanna start?”  Bucky asks, suddenly feeling a little awkward, although he’s looking forward to this.  He takes a moment to re-wrap the low ponytail holding his hair back.

“Just start.  Come at me.”

Bucky finishes with his hair, shrugs and, without warning, lunges at Marya.  She jumps at the last instant, placing her hands on his shoulders and pushing off, so that he ends up grabbing thin air, and she vaults over him, twisting to land behind him, facing him.  Before he has a chance to catch himself and turn around, she’s on him, tripping him with a foot around his ankle and grabbing his right wrist as he falls, so that he lands face down with her on top of him, one knee on the mat, the other on the back of his neck, and his right arm twisted behind him.

Barnes and Clint grin.  Bucky laughs out loud.

“That’s new!”

“Yes, it is,” she smiles.  “Clint’s.”

She lets Bucky up and he salutes Clint.  “Nice.”

“Again,” Barnes grunts.

This time, Bucky tells Marya to attack.  She starts with a flying kick, but he catches her leg, pushing so that her momentum goes to the side.  He’s just about to grab her around the middle when she uses the momentum from his push to twist out of his reach.  She lands, briefly, and jumps toward him, throwing all of her weight against him and knocking him backward.  While he’s off balance, she sweeps his feet out from under him.  She’s on top of him as soon as he crashes to the floor, kneeling on his chest, her hands around his throat.  

Clint and Barnes once again chuckle, but Marya isn’t smiling.  She’s mad. She stands and moves away, not even helping Bucky up.  When he’s standing, she says, “Really? If I wanted a sparring dummy, I’d use one.”

Clint and Barnes begin to laugh, but recognize quickly that she’s not trash talking, because her posture is angry, and Bucky looks sheepish.

“Sorry,” he says.  “Forgot how much you hate someone taking it easy on you.”

That answer seems to satisfy her, and she nods in acceptance.  Her frown lines disappear, although she doesn’t smile.  In fact, she cocks her head and smirks a little as she says, “You said you want to prove you’re my Sergeant.  So, prove it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Bucky says, and it’s anybody’s guess whether he’s needling her back.

“I’m not worried about it,” she responds, and that is definitely a jab.

He starts moving, stalking really, and she goes into a defensive crouch, waiting to see what he’ll do.  She circles as they get close to the wall, and he continues to simply come at her.  Barnes knows what he’s doing, but apparently Marya doesn’t, because she goes for what she thinks is a surprise attack, crouching low and trying to get under his center of gravity so she can knock him off his feet.  He simply catches her and stands up.  The next thing she knows, he’s holding her by her torso, one arm across her hips and one across her chest.  She’s upside-down, and can’t really do much of anything.

She tries kicking her legs, using her weight to pull herself out of his arms, but he’s much too strong.  Her position is undignified as hell, and he’s laughing, so she does the only thing she can do.  

She kicks him, hard, in the face.  

It would work on a normal man, but Bucky’s enhanced, and he’s also no stranger to pain.  A bloody nose isn’t such a big deal.  He’d prefer not to have her do it again, though, so he lets go with one arm and wraps it around her thighs, falling to the mat as he twists her right-side-up, and ends up lying full-length on top of her.  It knocks the breath out of her with a hard grunt, and she struggles beneath him, but there’s nothing she can do to escape.  She can’t breathe, and he’s simply too heavy.

After lying there just long enough to make it clear that she’s pinned, he lifts some of his weight onto his arms so that she can breathe.

“You OK?”

“You’re… bleeding on… me,” she gasps.

“Whose fault is that?”

“No talking!”  Barnes shouts, and moves in.  He kneels down to help Marya sit up, although she grumbles that she can get up by herself.  

Bucky just sits nearby, smiling and holding the hem of his T-shirt to his bloody nose.  Clint steps over, grinning, and hands him a towel.  

“Thanks, man,” Bucky grunts.  

Marya turns toward him, frowning at his smile. His stomach does a little flip-flop. She’s never been a particularly gracious loser, and he’d forgotten how fucking cute it is.

“You wanna go again?”  He asks.

“Yes!”

Barnes puts a hand on her shoulder.  “Marya…”

“Captain, don’t baby me.  I’m not the one who is bleeding, am I?”

Barnes shrugs and stands, extending a hand to help her up.

Bucky and Marya go back to the center of the mat, while Clint and Barnes resume their places by the wall.  Marya looks crookedly at Bucky then, a calculating gleam in her eye.  “Drax the Destroyer?”

For a moment, Bucky blinks stupidly.  Then, just as Marya’s face begins to fall, his mind clicks onto what she’s talking about.  He realizes it’s a test, and also realizes, joyfully, that he’s about to pass it. Bucky cocks his head.  “You sure?  You never could defend that.”

She likes that answer.  “Try it now.”

He goes down to one knee and extends his right arm. She grins maliciously as she steps over to him, circling until she is behind him with her left arm around his neck, taking his wrist and gently moving his arm until it is twisted behind his back.  He wraps his left hand around her arm.  

“Ready?”  He asks.

“Whenever you-“

And with that, he twists to his left, into her, taking his left hand from her arm at his neck and plunging it between them to encircle her left calf.  The twist yanks his right arm from her grip and suddenly, instead of her holding his wrist, he’s holding hers.  From there, he simply pushes to his feet and he’s holding her by her right arm and her left leg over his shoulder.  For a moment, it seems as though he has her in a hold she can’t escape, and can either toss her to the floor or simply carry her away, whichever he chooses.  But his victory is short-lived, because he gets careless, thinking she still can’t escape this hold.  

He’s about to make fun of her when she yanks her wrist as hard as she can.  He’s made the mistake of relaxing his arm, but he’s not so unaware that he doesn’t immediately clamp his hand harder around it.  It doesn’t matter, though, because she’s pulled their arms up far enough that she can get her elbow over his head.  Since she twists her body as she does it, she ends up hanging with all her weight at an angle that means he can’t keep hold of her in his left arm.  Essentially, she’s snaked out of his hold and is suddenly standing, with his hand holding her wrist, and easily gets under him to throw him over her shoulder and to the floor.  

She moves to run a few steps, thinking to turn and resume a defensive stance but his hand streaks out, whip-fast, and grabs her ankle.  She falls forward.  He scrambles to his hands and knees and frog-leaps to land on top of her, but she’s had time to flip over, so his chest meets her foot, her leg bent between them. She pushes him back and to the side, off of her, and rolls away.  Again, she leaps to her feet and tries to put some distance between them.  He kicks himself to standing in one move.  She’s faster, but he’s taller with longer arms, so he catches her only a few feet away, before she has time to get far enough away to turn around and defend.  

He doesn’t stop once he gets hold of her, but keeps his forward momentum going, with both arms wrapped tightly around her torso, continuing on until she’s pressed between him and the padded wall. It’s an easy matter to slide his arms up her body so that he catches her arms, and pins them above her head against the wall.  His knee is between her legs, pressing against the wall, and again his weight is too much for her to push off and escape.  He’s been around this particular block, his other foot is far enough back that she can’t stomp his instep or kick his calf hard enough to hurt.  Much.  

They’re breathing hard, he’s pressing his torso full-length against hers, and suddenly he doesn’t particularly want to move. Ever.  He leans his head down to whisper in her ear.

“Give up?”

“Fuck you,” she spits, and tries every kick, twist, and bend she can think of.  Nothing works.  

That feels pretty good, too, so he just keeps her there, letting her wriggle around and try to break his hold or push him off of her.  Or whatever else she wants to do, really, as long as he can keep his nose in her hair and breathe in the achingly familiar scent of her, feel her gasping underneath him again.

“How about now?”  He asks after a minute, smiling now.

“You are a terrible winner,” she grunts, still struggling to find a way to free herself, but he can hear the smile in her voice.  

“And you’re a terrible loser,” he purrs into her ear.  “Which is why I let you win so much.”

She has the expected reaction to that, and he enjoys a few more minutes of feeling her writhing between him and the wall.  He starts to be concerned that, in a minute, things are going to make Barnes even more unhappy about this than he already is.

She stops moving and lets out a frustrated “Aaaaugh!”

“Is that a ‘You win’?”  He can’t resist murmuring that, low and soft.

“Yes, damn you.”

He lets her wrists go and steps back, but only far enough so that she can turn around.  When she does, she’s smiling ear to ear. “You fight like him.”

“I am him,” he says smugly, moving back in so they are almost chest to chest.

She cocks her head, looking into his eyes with a delighted expression.  “Then you won’t be surprised when you look down.”

When he does, he sees that she’s holding a rubber practice knife to his belly.

“You still fight dirty.”

She shrugs happily.

Suddenly, without any intention of doing it, he takes her into his arms and lifts her off her feet, laughing and twirling them around, away from the wall.  She throws her arms around his neck, squeezing tightly and laughing just as hard.

“Knock it off!”  Barnes’s voice cuts through the moment.  

In three long strides, he’s standing between them as they spring apart.  He’s scowling at both of them with barely-contained anger.  “Go take a shower, Marya,” he snarls.

“Yes, Captain.”  

As Marya backs away from them, Bucky sees cold reality slam back down on her.  She’s no longer joyful.  Instead, she’s looking at him with, if possible, even more fear than on the day he’d arrived here.  He’s just come very close to putting something over on her, from which Barnes has narrowly saved her, and the idea terrifies her.  That look, by itself, would probably have been devastating.

But Bucky’s not devastated.  Not at all.  Because that fear doesn’t cover the desire that is equally evident in her face.  Barnes sees it, too.  It’s the reason he’s so angry.  This time, Bucky does recognize hope when he feels it.

Both Barnes and Bucky watch Marya until she’s made it all the way across the floor and out the door, with Clint on her heels.

As they disappear from sight, Barnes turns on Bucky. “You fucking prick,” he hisses.

“What’d I do?”

“You’re supposed to be me, right?  You think I don’t recognize my own moves?  I’m not gonna let you use her for whatever your game is.  That’s the last time you see her.”

“I don’t have a game.  You know that.  That’s not what you’re upset about.  You’re in love with her.”

“Shut the fuck up. I ain’t talkin’ to you about that.”

“Who better to talk about it with? I’m you, dude.”

Barnes gives an ugly laugh. “You’re clearly not me. She loves you.”

Oh.

“So she doesn’t…”

“I told you to shut the fuck up about it.”  Barnes starts across the floor toward the locker room and Bucky falls in beside him.

“I’m sorry. That’s gotta hurt.”

“Fuck you.”

“So what’s the problem? Is it because of Steve?”

“No, genius, it isn’t because of Steve. It’s because of you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means Marya loves some version of me who ain’t me, and I got no idea how I’m supposed to compete with myself.  What even is that?  Why wouldn’t that mean she can’t help but love me?”  It’s clear it’s not even close to the first time Barnes has asked himself these questions.

Bucky tries to be gentle. “I think you know the answer to that, Ace.”

“Because she’s the most loyal woman who ever breathed? Yeah, I figured that out. Doesn’t mean it makes any sense. She knows she won’t ever get back to her universe.  As far as she knows, her Sergeant is with Steve, and that’s where he belongs.”

“I don’t think that’s how she works.”

“Tell me about it,” Barnes sighs.  They don’t say anything more until they reach the locker room entrance.  “I don’t know, man.  Maybe it’s for the best.  Not sure I’m ever gonna get over Steve, anyway.”

Bucky claps a hand on Barnes’s shoulder.

“I’m actually kinda surprised you can,” Barnes continues.  “Yours left you. That’s gotta be worse, in a way.”

“I don’t know.  Maybe it’s just… different.  Least I know he’s alive.  Probably happy.  That matters to me, in the short intervals where I don’t wanna rip him into bloody shreds.”

Barnes actually laughs at that, heavy with emotion though the laugh is.  “Shit, do I know that one. Never been one minute where I didn’t wanna punch his lights out and fuck him senseless at the same time.”

They reach out simultaneously to open lockers, and Bucky gives a low, lascivious laugh.  Barnes looks over to see Bucky’s cocked eyebrow and evil grin, and grins conspiratorially back.

“Yeah, us too. You gotta be the only person who’d ever understand that.”

“Hot as hell, right?”

“Damn straight. We  broke bones a few times; still fucked him into the mattress.”

“Same,” Bucky says, and they laugh quietly, both falling into similar pleasant memories.

 *****

 Late that evening, Bucky’s lying on the couch in his apartment, a book forgotten on his chest while he stares blindly at the ceiling, remembering the way Marya felt against him, the way she smelled. The way she looked at him when they were sparring.  It’s almost painful, the constriction he feels in his chest as he remembers her deep brown eyes, dancing with mischief, and the feeling of utter joy that washed over him as he picked her up and felt her arms clasp him.  It’s not sexual.  OK, it’s totally sexual.  But it’s so much broader and deeper than that.  Bucky realizes, lying in this Stark Tower that isn’t Avengers Tower, that he is not the same man who left that other universe.  That man didn’t care if he lived or died, because he was already pretty much dead, anyway.  

But he’s alive now.  He’s alive and he wants to be a part of this group of Avengers.  He wants to care again, and have people care about him. He wants to fight again, to be part of protecting good people from bad ones.  And he wants Marya.  

He knows it’s her when he hears a knock at his door. He smiles.  He doesn’t know whether she’s there to kiss him or kill him. He’d prefer kissing, of course, but he’s got time.  For now, he’ll take either one.  

When he opens the door, he’s pleasantly surprised to see that she’s calm and, although not exactly smiling, she isn’t looking at him like she had in the gym, either.  

“Everything OK?”  He asks.

“Yes.  I just came because…”  She hesitates.  “I would like to ask you for something.”

“Of course.”  Bucky moves aside, inviting her in, and his heart beats just a little faster when he sees her accept.  When he indicates the couch in silent invitation, Marya takes a seat and he sits, too, turned toward her but not touching.

She begins quietly.  “I would like you to tell me about my brothers and sisters. I know it may all be lies, but you said that they were well. I’ve decided that I want to hear stories about them being well, even if they are lies. I want to know about my true brother.”  She looks up at him.  “Will you tell me about Dmitriy?”

“Marya, of course I will.  And it won’t be lies.  I know you don’t believe that yet, but it just… feels like I should say it.”

She nods and her lips lift a little in a small, regretful smile.  “If you are my Sergeant, I can’t imagine what it is like for you, that I doubt you.”

“Doesn’t feel good, that’s for sure. But I knew this wasn’t going to be easy.”

“It is hard for me, too.  Very hard.”

“I know.  I’m sorry.  For what it’s worth, it’s smart to be careful.  You and I know better than anyone here how smart that is.  We knew Hydra.”

“Do you suppose they will ever stop spoiling our lives?”

Bucky shrugs philosophically.  “They say the best revenge is living well.  We gotta keep tryin’ to give them the finger by being happy.”

Marya gives him a real smile this time.  “Yes.  Let’s do that. And tell me about my brothers and sisters giving Hydra the finger, too.”

An hour later, Bucky has barely stopped talking. He’s told Marya all that he can think of about the progress the Troops have made on their Compound, and in learning to live in the world.  It’s gratifying to see her laugh, and the love and joy shining on her face as she learns how well the Troops, her only family, are doing.  She’s also cried a little, too.  These are the people she was raised with, people with whom she endured slavery and torture, and for whom she willingly sacrificed her life.  She misses them fiercely and constantly, knowing she will never see any of them again.  She loves them so much that she can only express through tears her happiness that they’re truly living now, enjoying and making full use of their freedom.  

“I am so grateful, Sergeant.  I am so grateful to Mr. Stark, and to Dr. Banner and Natasha, and all of you.  I want so much to see their Compound.  To see my brothers and sisters living free, without having to be afraid, I would give a lot for that.”

Bucky doesn’t miss her calling him Sergeant.  But even though it sends lightning shocks through every nerve in his body, he manages not to react.  Not yet.

“It’s not perfect,” he tells her.  They have bad memories, and guilt…  They deal with all of the things you and I do.  But they’re making a life.  And you’d be so proud of Dmitriy.”  Bucky smiles and begins to tell Marya stories about her brother’s life as leader of the Compound, many of which lovingly make fun of him, but most of which are very complimentary.  Bucky’s deep affection for Dmitriy is obvious as he talks.

At one point, Marya narrows her eyes. “Did you and Dmitriy…”

Her question is answered immediately by the look on his face and the change in his posture.

“It didn’t go very far.” To Bucky’s relief, she doesn’t ask why.  For many reasons, he doesn’t explain, either.

“Good. I would be very angry with you if you fell in love with my brother.”

“In my defense, you were dead.”

“As you can see, I am not dead. And it would make me very jealous.”

“You weren’t jealous of Steve,” Bucky prods.

“Of course I was jealous of Captain Rogers! I am a very jealous woman, Sergeant.  I didn’t try to stand between you because he was the one you loved.  But if you don’t think I was jealous, then you are a fool.  Besides, Captain Rogers is not my brother.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry.  Dmitriy is a very good friend, end of story.”

Bucky notices the second time Marya slips and calls him Sergeant.  He’s surprised she can’t see how that affects him.

“Marya, can I ask you a personal question?  There’s something I don’t get.  Me and Barnes, we’re the same guy.  And we’re the guy you were in love with in your universe.  So why aren’t you and he…?”

“Captain Barnes is very important to me. I love him very much.”

“Do you… are you in love with him?”

Marya’s eyes go distant and a sadness creeps into her expression.  “No. He was married to Captain Rogers when I arrived.  It was right, and they were so happy...  And then, when Captain Rogers was killed… For a while, we took turns staying with him, because he was so broken. We were afraid for him.”

“I notice he’s especially protective of you, too.”

“Yes, he is.  I like it.  And I thought, for a while, that maybe we could… But no.”

“Why not?”

“He is not my Sergeant.”

“But if you can never get back to your Sergeant, and you think your Sergeant is with Steve, anyway…?”

“I know, but Captain Barnes… is not my Sergeant.  Anyway, he is worthy of more than being some sort of substitute.”

They simply sit there together for a while, thinking their own thoughts in silence.

“It’s difficult, this being in a different universe,” Marya muses.  “Some things are exactly the same, and some things are very different.  I get surprised by it, still, sometimes.  And I miss everyone very much.”

“There are good things, though.  Here, Tony and Natasha are still alive.”

“Yes, they are gone in your universe.  And if that is my universe as well…”

Bucky hears a catch in Marya’s breath and looks to see tears welling in her eyes.

“I know,” he says quietly and, as naturally as breathing, puts an arm around her to hug her to him.  They both stiffen for a moment, but she doesn’t move away.  

“I know that my Mr. Stark would do what yours did. He was heroic, even though he pretended not to be.”

“He was a lot of things. Complex guy, Tony Stark. But yeah. When it came down to it...”

Marya nods.  “I think Agent Romanoff would be proud of herself.  I am sorry for Mr. Barton, though.  I think her death must have been very hard on him.”

“So he’s Clint here and Mr. Barton there?”

She flicks a somewhat surprised look at him, but all she says is, “He will not let me call him Mr. Barton here.  And Sam will not let me call him Mr. Wilson.”

“Didn’t in our universe, either,” Bucky notes, and again sees something in her eyes.

“No, he didn’t.  Was Mr. Barton all right, after Agent Romanoff’s death?”

“You wouldn’t have wanted to see it, Marya.  Guy was heartbroken.  Barely said three words to any of us after that.  We were all glad he had his family to go home to, ‘cause the life just went out of him.”

“I’m sorry for that. I hope he is happy now.”

“I don’t know that he’s happy. Not yet. He doesn’t communicate with us, but Laura, his wife, sent word that he’s all right.”

“So much loss,” Marya whispers, then turns to look up into Bucky’s face. “No wonder you are so sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Bucky tells her, and his voice has gone as quiet as hers.  “Not anymore. Not really.”

They look at each other for a long time, sitting next to one another with his arm still laid loosely across her shoulders.  Marya sits up a little to move closer so that she can study his face.  She’s frowning as she touches his forehead, running a fingertip lightly up and down the frown lines between his eyebrows. “You still look sad.  And so tired.  I can see that you have been miserable.  That hurts me.  I don’t want you to be sad.”

“No matter who I am?” He teases softly.

“I know that you are James Barnes. That is enough. Captain Barnes is not my Sergeant, but his unhappiness hurts me, too.  I do not want there to be pain in that beautiful face.”  She lays her hand full on his cheek, looking into his eyes.

“I wish you could believe that I’m your Sergeant. I wish I could help you believe that.”

“I do, too.”  Marya’s breath catches again.  “I want him with me.  I miss him so much.”

Wanting to lighten the mood, Bucky cocks an eyebrow. “You have two of us right here, Marya.  Gotta tell ya’, wanting another one, that seems kind of greedy.”

Marya doesn’t laugh.  If anything, she’s closer to tears.  “A room full would not be enough. I don’t just want any Sergeant Barnes. I want him. I want mine.”

“You got me, sweetheart,” Bucky assures her, pulling her closer.  “I’m right here.  I wish you could believe that.  I don’t like to see you hurting, either.”

“I should know whether you are him or not! I thought that, no matter what, I would just feel it.”

“Well, you are right here in my arms. You can’t stay away from me, even though you’re under direct orders not to come here.”

“Yes, but that is just because I don’t know.”

“Is it?”  Bucky asks, tipping her face up with a finger.  “Or is it because you do know?”

Marya freezes, looking up into his eyes.  There’s a flicker of fear in her gaze.

Bucky takes her hand, and she lets him.  He lifts it to his lips, and softly kisses the tops of her fingers.  “I’m sorry.  That wasn’t fair.  I’ll wait until you’re sure, no matter how long it takes.  I love you, Marya.”

Her deep brown eyes bore into his, searching the blue depths as though the answer is there, if she can only find it.  She’s conflicted, that’s clear.  The longing that he first heard in her voice the day he arrived, and that he’s been able to see on her face in unguarded moments since, is undisguised in this moment.  Right now, alone together with his arm around her, she’s letting him see it, communicating it to him rather than trying to hide it.  Asking him to help her give in to it.  

Bucky tightens his arm around her, pulling her closer as he leans in, making it clear that he intends to kiss her.  Marya tilts her head and he sees her close her eyes just before he does.  His lips are so close to hers that he imagines he can already feel the warmth of them when she suddenly sucks in her breath and backs away.

“No, I can’t…” she gasps, pushing against his chest as, quickly and unsteadily, she gets to her feet.

“Please, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have…” Bucky reaches out an arm to her.  “Marya, I promise, I won’t do that again. Just don’t leave. Please.”  

“I’m sorry,” she says, stumbling ungracefully to the door.  He rises but she’s already got the door open and is rushing out before he reaches it. He can hear her ragged breathing as she goes.  

Fuck. 

Bucky stares down the empty hallway long after she’s turned the corner.  He wants to howl and punch his fist through a few brick walls.  Partly to vent his frustration, and partly to punish himself.  He should never have pushed her like that!  He can only imagine how he’s fucking with her carefully rebuilt life here, how upset she must be right this minute, after his selfish, clumsy, ham-fisted attempt to kiss her.

Then again.  

She called him Sergeant at least twice tonight. When she talked about her Sergeant Barnes, she called him “you”.  All night, whether or not she knows it or is ready to accept it, she’s been talking to him as though he’s the real Bucky.  Her Sergeant.

[sabraeal]

Thaumaturge

Part of the Ascend (Series), inspired by @onedivinemisfit‘s Concubine AU

Written for the obiyuki kiss-a-thon, and massively, massively late. YET STILL JUST IN TIME. The prompt was Jealous Kiss

There’s an itch between his shoulder blades while Shirayuki talks with Miss Kiki, heads bent and voices low, one he knows won’t be satisfied with a scratch. It’s got nothing to do with the way his coat stretches over his shoulder, or the way his muscles long for a good spar, and everything to do with the fact that he doesn’t belong here.

Oh, Master might have given him a fancy title, and His Majesty might like dressing him up for these soirees, but none of that makes him one of them, a peer, and everyone knows it.

Sir Hisame smirks at him over the rim of his wine, angling himself closer to Kiki’s side. Obi frowns. Some more than others, it would seem. Doesn’t help that this monkey suit isn’t his, no matter how nice the tailoring. He’s not the sort of man who touches this much cloth-of-gold unless he’s stealing it.

He bites back a smile. Oh, to see the steward’s face when he learned that tidbit. The man wouldn’t put him in a room with so much silver, that’s for sure.

“I see.” Kiki settles back in her hips, mouth bent thoughtfully. “So you’re here to see Lord Eisetsu.” She flicks a wry look at him. “An unusual matter, indeed.”

Hisame hums beside her, wearing the sort of look a cat gets right before you smell the bird on its breath.

“Well now, Miss Kiki,” Obi drawls, “speaking of unusual matters...I’m sure the prince wasn’t invited, but that doesn’t explain the two of you.”

“When Lord Eisetsu visited Wirant to convey his regards, I was at home.” To his horror, Kiki exchanges a look with her...fiancé. “It seems he extended this invitation once he heard of our engagement.”

Once he suspected that Master had lost his long alliance with Seiran’s daughter, more like. “And are the Bergatts here?”

What a party of traitors that might make. Obi restrains himself from slanting a measuring look at the Vice Captain.

“They are not,” Kiki tells him, idly waving the fan in her hands. “Neither Lord Tsuruba nor Sir Tariga.”

“Even if they were invited, they wouldn’t attend,” Sir Hisame says, illustrating his most definitive quality: insinuating himself where he’s least wanted. “They are beyond the pale, so to speak. The only person who could publicly engage with them now is the prince himself.”

Not including the Bergatt staff, of course, or the pages that Tsuruba would be rubbing elbows with in Wirant. Funny how so little people seemed to count for personhood these days.

Obi knows better that to remark on it, not in this crowd. “That’s our young master for you,” he drawls, making a show of mulling over the Vice Captain’s words. “So majestic.”

Sir Hisame’s smile wears thin on his lips. “Quite.”

“And what about tonight?” His gaze cuts to Kiki, serious. “Has anything strange happened?”

“Hard to say.”

The last time a man spoke for Miss Kiki, she had laid him out on the dirt, standing over him with that calm smile of hers as she said, I know how to speak for myself. But the Vice Captain forges ahead, unmolested. A pity. “Although I will note, this is the first time since my debut that no young ladies have approached me.”

Obi knows that Kiki always fights her own battles, but maybe this once--

“Jokes aside.” Hisame’s expression shadows, growing sharp. “You should be aware that even though you have the power of the royals at your back, the fact that you are clustering at the edge of the floor is no doubt sowing seeds of suspicion around you.”

Obi stiffens, casting his gaze around the room. He’s annoyed to find that the Vice Captain’s observation is true; though the glances are surreptitious, tendered over champagne flutes or behind fluttering fans, nearly every lord and lady not occupied with the dance is watching them, watching-- her.

His wife.

“My lady--” he starts, reaching out a hand--

Only for it to be knocked aside by a shoulder. “On that note, Lady Shirayuki.” The serpent bares his fangs as he offers a hand. “Are you able to dance?”

Every line of Shirayuki grows tense, wary. They had met Hisame at a ball like this, years ago, when neither of them were worth more than a pithy comment about the prince’s new pets and an all-too knowing look he dragged up her body. His wife may be forgiving, but it seems she has not forgotten that particular encounter, not even for Miss Kiki’s entirely reformed fiancé.

Her hands curl into stiff fists at her side. “Pardon, my lord?”

“I thought we might emulate Their Majesties--” his hand slithers around hers, pale skin pressed to kid glove-- “and light up the floor with our majestic presence.”

He turns his back to them, ignoring Shirayuki’s stammered protests. “We’ll be back, Miss Kiki.”

And with only that, Sir Snake sweeps his wife out onto the floor, the skirt of her gown belling out behind her. She’s a vision beneath the lamplight, the chandeliers making the golden thread on her dress sparkle and shimmer, as if she were little more than a flame herself, guttering in the breeze.

She casts an alarmed glance over her shoulder, but it is not to beg him for help-- oh no, she spares it only for Miss Kiki, who waves her off with a bored expression. It seems Lady Seiran feels no particular proprietary sense over her snake of a fiancé.

He could stop this himself, of course; he’s her husband. He’d have every right to cut in, to demand this dance, but--

It would cause a scene, one that might make a lord think twice about entering into an already risky venture. Jealous husbands seldom made for easy negotiations. Especially with a man who already showed such enthusiasm for dressing the wife.

So instead, Obi grinds his teeth, watching a gloved hand slither about her waist, drawing her close. Too close. Leave it to a serpent like Luigis to steal a man’s wife for a waltz.

Sir Hisame lifts his chin, meeting his gaze over her shoulder, and-- and smirks.

Obi startles as a hand falls on his wrist. “Careful,” Kiki drawls softly, never taking her gaze from the pair, “that’s crystal.”

He eases his chokehold on the glass. “You’re not going to stop him?”

“He’s right.”

Obi nearly does a double take right there in the ballroom. Kiki Seiran, saying that this man had a point--

“You were drawing attention hovering at the edge of the room like that,” she continues, gaze fixed to where the dancers float across the floor, faint smile firmly in place. “Though I suppose the honeymoon might be over, after--”

“I just don’t like this,” he interjects, darting a pointed glance at the young boy between them. Ryuu’s not paying attention of course, only worrying the sleeves of his borrowed jacket as he eyes the crowd warily, as if someone might ask him to dance at any time. “It’s all a little...neat.”

Her gaze drags to his for a long moment. Sir Hisame, so recently embroiled in the Bergatt incident, now in the room of a man avoiding royal attention. She couldn’t miss the implication.

“He won’t do anything to her,” she says, looking back out to the floor. “It wouldn’t behoove him to lose his fiancée’s good graces so soon after he has won them, would it?”

He grunts into his wine. “Goodness, how highly you think of your betrothed.”

Her mouth hooks into a sharp smile. “He’s only slightly more likely to attempt something than you are.”

His jaw drops. “There’s a child here.”

Ryuu frowns. “I’m not a child, I’m fifteen.”

He has a point, but Obi knows exactly what he was doing at fifteen, and he wouldn’t discuss any of that in Ryuu’s hearing either.

Kiki’s brow arches, too amused. “Oh, is that the excuse you’re using now?”

Obi’s tempted to open his mouth, to inform her that she must have old information, for not only has Shirayuki been in his bed, but also--

Also, he knows the softness of her skin and the way she whines as his hands roam across it, how her breath goes shallow when he kisses at her thighs, the precise shape of her mouth as he licks between them, tasting the sweetness that lies there--

His breath huffs out harshly. He really shouldn’t be thinking of any of that right now. Not when he needs a clear head.

“In any case, he’s the safest partner in this ballroom tonight.” Kiki cuts her gaze toward him and Ryuu. “Present company excluded.”

“I’m not worried that he’s going to whisk her away,” he grumbles, taking another sip from his glass. His aching jaw can attest to how little Shirayuki has to complain. “I’m worried about the sort of poison he could spit in her ear.”

You might try searching a bed for your next assignment. It’s been years since the words were spoken, but they scald him still. That little prick of a clerk is clear in his mind, wielding gossip like a blade, trying to draw first blood. Too bad a clerk did not need his wit so sharp as a concubine in the harem; he’d think twice before trying to cross blades with Shirayuki again. But the Vice Captain...

Well, if his time at Sereg was any indication, Sir Hisame could wield more venom than one inconsequential clerk. And he had Shirayuki at the perfect distance to sink the knife in, with no one being none the wiser.

“Master Ryuu, Sir Obi.”

He doesn’t startle, but it’s a close thing; only the fact that he is here as a knight of the royal circle keeps his heels firmly planted to the parquet.

It does not seem to fool Lugilia’s steward. When he turns to face him, his smug smile is already in place. “Sorry to have kept you.”

He might be new to this whole knight thing, but he’s learned a thing or two from watching Master. Obi lets the apology hand in the air, getting heavy, stale, awkward.

Shou’s smile practically creaks from the weight of it. “He’s had many people keeping him occupied.”

Obi isn’t in the habit of pulling rank-- that’s a good way to get spit with your tea in the morning-- but standing here, dressed in this gaudy monkey suit at a party he’s been press-ganged into-- by proxy, no less--

Well, he’s quickly running out of fucks for this man’s tender feelings. “Meaning we can speak with him now?”

“Indeed.” He mislikes how amused the man sounds. “In fact, he’s already headed Lady Shirayuki’s way.”

“What?” Obi whips his gaze to the floor, but it’s too late, far too late. The band still plays, but the dancing has stopped, every guests’ eye drawn to where a young lord stands at the center of the floor, his arm outstretched--

Holding a flower. A rose, though its crimson petals pale compared to the hair of the woman he offers it to.

His glove creaks at his side. he’s an idiot, letting her leave his side. The steward had tried to separate them once before, back when he got them into these costumes, and Obi’d been wise to it then, but then he let that serpent just take her--

“Who is that?” A lady not far from his squints through the dancers. “That red-haired girl?”

To his other side, a man murmurs, “Does she know Lord Eisetsu?”

Shirayuki is no stranger to this sort of attention; her harem mask is well in place, smile welcoming and body open. But the rest of her is frozen, coiled for flight, like a vixen cornered in her den. And this particularly canny hound has no intention of letting her slip past.

“She must, she must,” laughs a woman, words pitched soft, “or at least, she will by the end of the night.”

“Oh?” It’s a man who answers, confused. “I thought she was already on someone’s arm tonight.”

With a hand that doesn’t shake, she accepts the rose.

“What does that matter?” snickers another guest. “A girl like that couldn’t do better than Eisetsu, and I’m sure her husband knows it!”

Obi shakes himself, loosening his fist. Let them talk. In a few months, all these old dogs will be saying her name like a new trick, this whole night forgotten like a bad dream.

Eisetsu looks up as she cradles the rose to her breast, meeting Obi’s gaze over her shoulder. He expects a nod, a polite acknowledgement of their connection, a tacit question about this approach--

But instead that horse-faced fuck smiles, smiles, like a man who’s already won, like she’s some sort of prize.

“Trust him,” Kiki murmurs, and for a moment he wants to ask her if she’s gone mad, if she can really tell him to trust the man who thinks Shirayuki is an object to be passed from man to man--

Until Hisame steps between them. Or rather, behind Shirayuki, his hand laid protectively over her shoulder, blocking Eisetsu’s gloat.

“He knows how to handle this sort of thing,” Kiki tells him, smoothing down his sleeve.

“I suppose he’d have to,” Obi mutters, “this is just the sort of move he loves to pull.”

Kiki’s mouth tugs into a smile. “Hush.”

Despite his timely help at Sereg, and the miraculous way he has wormed himself into Wistal’s good graces, Sir Snake could only be trusted as far as his leash. A length, Obi thinks, should only be long enough for him to hang himself with.

But he trusts Kiki, and if she thinks they can rely on slithering fiancé for this, well, he’ll--

Call her a fool, because there the fork-tongued little cuss is, fleeing away from the scene as Lord Eisetsu sweeps his wife from the ballroom.

“Son of a bitch,” he hisses. “That rat--”

“Obi, just wait. I’m sure--”

“Oh yes,” he shrugs off her grasp, stepping away, “looks like he clearly has it handled. You should marry him for that display alone.”

She casts him a warning look, arms folded tight against her chest. “Obi...”

“Ah, Sir Obi!” Hisame hails him with a raised hand as he weaves through the crowd, mouth quirked into a smirk. “Just in time. You should--”

Obi shoulders past him. “I don’t need to be told how to deal with my wife, sir.”

The snake’s mouth snaps shut, but there’s no time to enjoy his speechlessness, not when Eisetsu is nearly out the door, tugging a reluctant Shirayuki behind him.

“My lady,” he calls out, unclasping his cape. It slides easier than his others, he notes with no little annoyance. If he makes it through this, he’ll have to ask a man about some clasps.

Shirayuki spins on her heel, relief plain on her face. “Obi!”

He gives her a tight smile, just a bend of his lips. “My lady, you’ll be cold out there.”

With a flick of his wrist the cloak settles on her shoulders, smooth and even as if it had been hers to begin with, another part of her glittering ensemble. He takes a step closer, hands splaying out over her collar, feeling the way she trembles beneath them. “Please wear this.”

“Obi...” she breathes, heat fanning over his lips, and he lifts a hand, curling a smooth, kid-clad finger beneath her chin. Her mouth parts, just slightly, and--

Well, he knows an invitation when he sees one.

His lips brush hers, and that’s all he means it to be, a soft touch to let Eisetsu know that she was not some neglected noble wife, eager to let a more passionate man roll her, but--

But Shirayuki turns into him, clutching his tunic with her kitten claws, and whimpers.

This is, by all accounts, a formal occasion, a private soiree where the guest list has been scrupulously maintained to assure only the outcome most desirable for its host. Obi isn’t sure what they’ve done to earn their place among its honored press, what strange whim has seen them thrown into this kettle of conspirators, but whatever Eisetsu has planned, it can’t have involved a no-name knight and his wife sharing a passionate kiss in front of an utterly silent ballroom.

Good.

His arms cinches around her waist, drawing her tight against him. Her lips part on a gasp, leaving her soft, pliant, and it’s too much to ask him to behave when he remembers how she had looked in the lamplight of his bedroom, head thrown back in abandon as she chased the pleasure only his hands and tongue could give her.

His glove slips from her chin, the whole of his palm sliding along her cheek until he can tangle his fingers deep in the mass of her hair. It’s done up tight, a proper twist for a lady, but in his memory it’s loose, a shining sea of copper curling down the pale skin of her back, and he wants to lose himself it in it, in all of her.

It’s her that opens her mouth, that lets the tip of her tiny tongue dart out, insinuating itself between his lips, and oh, he should have done this sooner--

Someone coughs, awkward. Ah, right. They have an audience.

He steps away, taking in her flushed face, bruise lips, the way her hair has nearly come loose from its clip-- her clip, the one they’d bought only a day ago-- and it takes everything he has in him not to pull her back to him.

“Well.” He retreats another step; a safer distance with the way his blood is thrumming so headily beneath his flesh. “I’ll be waiting inside, my lady.”

She blinks, the heat banking in her eyes as she realizes that they are not alone, that only steps away is the man she needs convince of the Phostyrias’ usefulness. Which she can’t do if her mouth is occupied with his, unfortunately. “T-thank you, Obi.”

He turns to the lord, mouth curving into a satisfied smile as he takes in Eisetsu’s deflated posture. “I leave my wife in your care, Lord Eisetsu.”

The lord startles, giving him a wary, wide-eyed stare. “Yes. I’ll....be sure to get her back before she catches a chill.”

He lets his smile go sharp. “See to it you do.”

[magnetvrs]

my @kyluxsecretsanta fic for @litchi-prince <3 I hope you enjoy!

tags: kylux, HS au, fluff, first kiss

Mr Skywalker was far from Hux’s favourite teacher. He was nice enough but that had never impressed Hux - Hux didn’t really know how to handle nice people, he always felt like he was ready for everyone to bite him and when they didn’t he felt off-balance. 

His room always felt like it had a layer of dust covering everything - the books that lined the walls, crammed in on overburdened shelves and his desk which was covered with knick-knacks that almost drove Hux to distraction with the urge to sweep them all off into a big plastic bin bag and throw them into the bins at the back of the kitchen - just to have a little order in the place. It was really like an emperor's ancient tomb filled with all his worldly possessions and left untouched for centuries, except a little more scatterbrained and untidy. Mr Skywalker himself seemed like a bit of a relic, not just because of his wild hair and weathered face and the strange robes he seemed to favour - sometimes he seemed like he was from a different planet entirely. 

It was a shame really because Hux did love history; he spent many evenings with his nose buried in musty old textbooks in his room, as his only companion. It was his favourite subject, one that he could always pass with his eyes closed even if Mr Skywalker seemed to be able to make everything so boring - with his diplomacy this and his forgiveness that. 

Mr Skywalker did have one redeeming feature, however. 

‘Ben! I won’t tell you again,’ he snapped, turning around from what he was writing on the whiteboard. For all that sometimes he seemed like he was on a different planet, Mr Skywalker did seem to have a sixth sense for Ben Solo and when he was doing something rebellious or obnoxious. Which was, to be fair, almost constantly. 

There was a shuffling sound behind Hux, a few curse words and ‘it’s Kylo’ muttered under his breath before Kylo was slamming his bag down onto the desk next to Hux’s - front and centre, of course. Everything bounced with the force and a few of Kylo’s keychains and pins clattered to the floor but Kylo didn’t seem to notice, slouching down at his desk and picking at his nails. His long hair, streaked obnoxiously with bright colours that Hux was sure didn’t meet school policy - hung like a curtain around Kylo’s face so that Hux couldn’t see his expression. That didn’t stop Hux from aiming a self-satisfied smirk in Kylo’s direction, though. 

Mr Skywalker seemed unsatisfied by this, running his hand through his hair, but doesn’t push it any further. Kylo’s foot was already tapping away underneath the table to some silent beat and Hux watched in sick fascination as the sole of his black converse flopped away from the rest of his shoe with every movement of his foot, as if it might rip off completely. Hux’s own shoes were loafers, black and specifically fitted to his feet that he’d shined that morning. It summed up their entire dynamic really, not exactly enemies but hostile to each other – on complete opposite ends of the social spectrum while both managing to be outcasts. Two extremes.

‘Well, Lei-... Mrs Organa pointed out that a group presentation is a part of your assessment and since you haven’t completed yet…,’ he pauses to clear his throat. ‘I’ve paired you all up and you’ll present your topic to the class next week.’ He picks up a stack of papers and starts placing them on their desks. 

Hux sinks down into his chair as Mr Skywalker places the paper down on his desk. He’s never enjoyed group work, especially not presentations - Hux has either ended up doing all the work himself despite trying to designate it or butting heads when the other group members didn’t like him taking charge. 

He picks up the paper half-heartedly, mentally preparing himself for whatever he’ll have to endure. But when he reads the name, Hux realises that nothing could’ve prepared him. 

**

 ‘Phasma!’ Hux hisses, tugging at her sleeve. ‘Stop staring! He’s going to notice.’

‘I can’t believe Skywalker paired you with him,’ Phasma says, apparently unwilling to drop the subject. But she does at least stop staring and turns back to her own lunch with the barest hint of a smile playing around the corners of her lips. ‘Doesn’t he know you’ll eat him alive?’ 

Hux chokes on his crisps, the sharp pieces scraping the inside of his throat on the way down. ‘What!? Phas?’

Phasma didn’t reply, instead smirking to herself as she ate her pasta.

‘Hey,’ a familiar low pitched voice just over his left shoulder says. Hux wonders, faintly, how long Kylo has been stood there and therefore how much of his panic Kylo had seen. It would certainly be troublesome if Kylo thought he cared about what Kylo thought of him, or had a crush on him or something. Foolish. ‘I guess we’re working together. Skysucker must want you to rescue my grade. You’re top of the class aren’t you?’

Hux takes a moment to cringe at the nickname. 

‘Oh,’ he replies, more snottily than he intended. He sees Phasma silently laughing out of the corner of his eye but elects to ignore her and instead stares steadfastly ahead. 

‘Well, here’s my number if you want to talk about it,’ Kylo says as a hand appears over Hux’s shoulder, holding out a piece of paper. Hux turns to look at Kylo, his gaze sweeping up from Kylo’s outstretched hand to Kylo’s face - where Hux realises, Kylo has a habit of rolling his lip piercing with his tongue. Disgusting. 

‘Yeah,’ he says, snatching the ragged paper from Kylo’s hand and trying not to think about how many germs it could possibly carrying as he shoves it into his pocket. ‘We’ll definitely need to talk. Don’t think that I’m going to work on this on my own, Ben. You don’t get to ride my coattails and half-ass this.’ 

Kylo simply shrugs, obviously unaware of the intimidating aura Hux is attempting to project and heads back to his friends across the cafeteria. 

‘You sure showed him,’ Phasma teases once Kylo is out of earshot. Hux rolls his eyes.

**

His backpack lays discarded on the edge of his bed, the A-Level coursework inside begging to be done - experiment write-ups and graphs and essays that usually Hux would’ve completed with gusto already. Instead Hux stares at his phone, the crumpled sheet of paper clutched between his fingertips. There’s a kind of suffocating anxiety settling in his chest already, at the thought of not having done his work but it’s not getting him to do this any faster. It should be nothing, a string of unconnected numbers shouldn’t intimidate him like this. And yet…

It’s Ben Solo’s number and that alone has Hux frozen, unable to think of anything to write. Was ‘hey’ too simple? Hux isn’t sure that he’s ever said ‘hey’ in his life. Listing off the sections that Hux had already earmarked for Ben seemed a bit too cold and impersonal (not to mention that there were so few of them because Hux wanted to limit the things that Ben would no doubt mess up, and wouldn’t Ben notice that straight away).

There’s no reason to be scared of Ben and his stupid distractingly pale and freckled face, Hux tells himself. He takes a deep breath and starts typing. He’s not used to having someone to text, except for Phasma who he’s known for so long that he doesn’t feel that overwhelming anxiety to keep himself neatly laced up and together around her, as he does around everyone else. 

She’s been there and seen his worst, known his deepest secrets, lived through the terrible haircuts and ache and squeaky voice and come out the other side. She’s practically family so it’s different with her. 

Hello Ben.

He hits send before he can think about it, tossing his phone aside and burying his face in his hands. He thinks that he’d rather die than read Kylo’s reply until his phone actually buzzes and he’s yanking it towards himself without thinking.

Hello Armitage. 

Hux’s teeth sink into his lip and he huffs in annoyance, taking a moment to stare at one of the bare white walls of his bedroom while he composes himself. Kylo is definitely fucking with him.

It’s Hux. I’ll write up the notes since I know more about the Russian Monarchy than you. I’ll send them to you and you can put them into the powerpoint. Do you think you can do that?

He doesn’t leave any room for Kylo to argue with him, simply setting out their roles in this. Hux supposes that if Kylo has a problem with this he’ll no doubt voice it. Sure, it’ll mean Hux doing most of the work but at least he’ll have control and God knows what Kylo would come up with. 

It’s Kylo. Of course, I can. 

Hux snorts in surprise, his fingers playing with a loose thread on his duvet. He’d been expecting Kylo to… well… be more argumentative than that, but it had gone easier than Hux was expecting. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad after all. 

Should I come over to your place?

Hux reads the message over and over again. A noise from downstairs catches his attention, a barely audible sound that could be someone clearing their throat or the scrape of a chair against the floor.

No. The library tomorrow at lunch. 

Hux sets the phone down safely on his bedside table and takes his bag over to his barren desk, pulling out the lab report that has to be done tomorrow and willing himself to concentrate on it -on anything except for Ben Solo. 

**

The library is busy when Hux gets there, so Hux ends up only being able to find a table at the back - squashed between biology textbooks and medical journals, behind a table of Year 7’s being loud and annoying. Hux glares at them as he pulls out his notes from his backpack and lines up his highlighters in colour order and thankfully, they seem to take the hint and head off outside.

He’s almost given up waiting when Kylo finally shows up, after all, there’s only so many times that Hux can rearrange his highlighters and shuffle his notes. Kylo’s swapped his black ripped jeans for tartan today, covered in chains and zips, and a faded band t-shirt. Hux stares for a moment, trying to make out the band before shaking his head at the faded fabric as if it’s personally offended him.

‘You’re late Ben!’

‘It’s Kylo,’ Kylo shouts back and Hux catches the librarian glancing over towards them. He aims his glare squarely at Kylo. Kylo throws his bag down onto the table, sending Hux’s neatly arranged highlighters scattering across the table. He unzips it with an unnecessary flourish and pulls out a giant, ancient and beaten up looking laptop whose fan buzzes loudly when he opens it up. The back is covered by stickers - bands that Hux has never heard of and skulls and pentagrams, scuffed and peeling away. He catches sight of a rainbow on one corner and averts his gaze, heart hammering in his chest. Was that…?

‘I’m not surprised that your laptop looks like that if you throw your things around. Don’t you care about anything?’ Hux snaps back, unable to disguise his envy - his father would never allow him his own private laptop, even though they could most definitely afford one. There’s just something about Kylo like Hux can’t quite control himself around him - every little thing Kylo does just gets under Hux’s skin. Usually Hux would hate it but again with Kylo… with Kylo it almost makes him feel strong. 

‘Can we just get on with this so I can leave?’ Now that he looks at him, Kylo does look as if he’s being followed around by his own personal rain cloud. Or more so than usual at least. His hair hangs limply around his face, grease caking the roots and there are two angry spots of colour high on Kylo’s elegant cheekbones, just below his more smudged than normal eyeliner.

‘Here are my notes,’ Hux says as he pushes them across the table, shifting easily into business mode and turning off those annoying thoughts that are eating away in the back of his mind. ‘I’ve divided them into sections and highlighted the important parts. All you need to do is make each section into a slide,’ he realises suddenly that he’s talking slower than usual - that he’s trying to annoy Kylo, just because he wants to. ‘If you can do that we’ll call it even, we can share the grade. Even though I’ve done all the work.’ 

Kylo splutters angrily but otherwise doesn’t panic, not bothering to glance at Hux as he pulls the notes towards him. Hux’s eyes narrow and he can feel his brow furrowing. Despite the little he knows about Kylo this is definitely not the usual Kylo - always pushing back, trying to get the final word in.

‘Is something…,’ Hux starts to say before he realises how ridiculous and caring he sounds. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s gone soft. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’

‘I have to go see Leia later,’ Kylo grumbles as if that should be enough to answer all of Hux’s questions, not looking up from where he’s furiously typing away on his laptop.

‘Don’t you mean Mrs Organa,’ Hux says, highlighter poised in mid-air. 

‘I definitely mean Leia,’ Kylo says, popping another M&M into his mouth. ‘She’s my mum after all, she doesn’t mind what I call her as long as I’m still talking to her. We agreed.’ 

‘The Head Teacher is… your mum?’ Hux says slowly. Now that Kylo’s said it he can definitely see the similarities there, something in Kylo’s smile and his high cheekbones. Not that Kylo smiles much. Frankly Hux is surprised that he even knows what Kylo’s smile looks like, but he can see it as clear as day in his head so maybe Hux has been looking more than he’d like to admit - more than he’d even realised. ‘You don’t have the same name?’ He blurts before he can stop himself.

‘My family’s pretty dysfunctional,’ Kylo says, leaving it at that. It’s almost like he’s embarrassed about it, apparently unwilling to expand on this any further. He doesn’t need to though because it hits Hux like a ton of bricks, his chest feels tight with understanding and his lips dry; he’s embarrassed to realise that he’s shaking. It feels like the world has shifted on its axis but nobody else seems to have noticed.

There has been a change though, a spark of connection that’s passed unspoken between them. For the first time, Hux understands - understands Ben Solo, understands Kylo Ren. 

Where Hux conforms, wrapping himself in his order and unity, Kylo Ren rebels - pushing against authority, against everyone, making himself The Other that Mr Antilles the English teacher had kept banging on about in Gothic literature. Hux understands.

He glances over at Kylo again, meeting Kylo’s gaze this time. They share a look for a moment, Hux’s chest squeezing until he’s afraid he’s going to suffocate under the weight of that look - of whatever it is that is passing between them.

‘I have to go,’ he says, the words coming out strangled and half-formed. ‘I’ll do the rest at home.’ He takes off, heart-pounding, unwilling to think about what’s just happened.  

**

Hux runs a comb through his hair one last time, securing that a few flyaways are meticulously glued down flat to his head. He admires his reflection for a moment with a critical eye, noting the impressive circles beneath his eyes that surely every A-Level student approaching exam season has as well as the pale, sallow colour of his skin. Apart from his hair and his clothes, Hux has never particularly cared about his appearance. But apparently in the middle of a school bathroom is the moment his mind has decided that he really should do. He leans closer as if examining his skin in more detail will reveal some unknown secrets and his thoughts turn to Kylo Ren. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of that thought but too afraid that he knows exactly why he would care about Kylo Ren’s opinion of his appearance. 

The alarm on his watch goes off - only 10 minutes until class, and so Hux gathers up his things and leaves the bathroom. It’s not like he’s going to be late, there’s no need to rush and yet to Hux not being early is as good as being late. The halls are busy but Hux is used to it, ducking around hordes of Year 8’s with P.E. kits and other Sixth Formers who were totally not mitching off to get McDonald’s for lunch in a completely obvious way. He finally reaches the history department, sinking back into the alcove against the wall between rows of lockers as he waits for the previous class to be over. 

He’s not exactly excited about the presentation per se, he’s always liked public speaking but his classmates weren’t exactly motivating to try and present to. He’s got some kind of strange energy that’s been building in him all day, though, tingling at his fingertips and the back of his neck. Maybe it’s not the presentation he’s excited for… maybe it’s seeing him… Hux swallows thickly, staring down at his USB and pages of notes.

‘Hey so,’ Kylo says as he flops down next to Hux, all limbs and elbows and knees - as if he’d heard Hux’s thoughts. ‘I’m not doing the presentation. Good luck.’ 

Hux swallows, unable to form a coherent thought for a moment. He’s distinctly aware of the sound of blood rushing in his ears and the way his fingertips are tightening around his sheet of notes.

‘You’re… You’re what! Ren! You absolute fucking…. You…. fucking…. Shit…. Fuck…,’ Hux is truly at a loss for words. Somewhere along the line, his mouth seems to have become disconnected from his brain and both of them can only reel at Kylo’s stupidity. ‘You’re not going to do this to me, you prick. You’re not!’’ 

Kylo is silent, his face far less stormy than Hux would’ve thought after that barrage of curses, Hux manages to think through the fog of rage clouding his mind. 

‘You called me Ren,’ Kylo says quietly, after a moment. 

‘Well of course I did! It’s your fucking name isn’t it?’ He shouts back, getting angrier by the second.

‘Thank you,’ Kylo says softly and before Hux can process what’s happening, Kylo is leaning in until their lips are only a few bare inches apart. Oh, Hux realises, he wants to…

Hux realises that he also wants to. He wants to kiss Kylo Ren, for all his stupid haircuts and terrible personality and annoyingly beautiful face. 

Closing the gap is easy, it’s only when their lips meet that Hux starts to panic. Kylo feels warm against him, his lips slightly chapped and rough, and Hux is frozen - taking in the feeling with a kind of distant panic. What if he forgot to brush his teeth that morning, what if he’s no good at kissing, what if….? Luckily, Kylo takes the lead and starts to move his lips softly against Hux’s, tipping Hux’s head back. Hux loses himself in the feeling, kissing back as much as he can. 

When Kylo pulls away Hux decides that it wasn’t terrible all things considered.  

Kylo smiles as he gets up. ‘See you later.’

Hux breathes for a moment, his hand moving towards his lips of its own accord - as if pulled by some invisible magnet. His lips feel the same as always - smooth and soft thanks to a regular Chapstick routine although they tingle slightly at the touch of his fingertips - slightly sensitive now. Once again, the world feels like it’s changed, shifted around the two of them like an alternate reality. Hux wonders how he can ever go back to just ‘being’ now, now that he knows what it’s like to kiss Kylo Ren.

That was… that was…

‘Kylo you bastard!’ He shouts at Kylo’s retreating back. 

‘Armitage!’ Mr Skywalker bursts out of the classroom. ‘I don’t expect that kind of language from you! Is your presentation ready?’ 

[walkerismychoice]

Stripped Bare - Chapter 11 (Bryce x MC AU)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Charlie Hawkins)

Summary: Another day, another ridiculous couples wedding related activity. Will Charlie continue to let her guard down more around Bryce?

Rating: Mature/18+ (Nothing explicitly NSFW but there is mention of mature sexual subject matter)

Word Count: 1979

Wednesday

Charlie wakes up with an unfamiliar weight across her chest, not recalling the night before until she looks and sees Bryce's arm wrapped around her. She just barely remembers snuggling into him and him saying goodnight, feeling safe and content as she almost instantly fell asleep. It appears she hasn’t stirred since, still almost in the exact same position. 

She glances over at Bryce who looks like a literal angel in his sleep. It should come as no surprise, but even his bedhead is flawless, unlike hers which is always some form of a matted mess when she wakes up. She stealthily reaches to grab a hair tie from the nightstand to pull it back into something more presentable. Maybe she can sneak into the bathroom and get ready without waking him since she’s already wide awake. 

Charlie carefully tries to slip out from under his arm, when he suddenly stirs. Bryce lets out a low groan and pulls Charlie back towards him. She feels something hard against her hip, and is it what she thinks it is? Oh god, it is and if she was a braver woman, she’d attempt to act out the dirty thoughts forming in her head. But since she’s not, she panics and quickly moves closer to the edge of the bed so they are no longer touching, and the commotion is enough to wake Bryce up this time.

“Good morning.” Bryce gives her a sleepy eyed smile. 

“Good morning,” she answers back. “I can’t believe we have to do dance lessons for this freaking wedding.”

“Doesn’t every wedding need a choreographed dance routine?” Bryce jokes. “At least I have the best partner.”

Charlie cringes. “You haven’t seen me dance yet.”

“I’m sure you aren’t that bad. Besides you’ll have me to guide you, and I’ve got perfect rhythm if you know what I mean.” He gives her one of his signature winks.

Charlie playfully tosses a pillow at him. "You are terrible, Bryce Lahela.”

Bryce laughs as he stretches out, looking down and seemingly noticing the tenting of the sheet for the first time. "Oh, uh, I'm going to quick take a shower first if you don't mind."

"No problem." Charlie does her best to not acknowledge that she knows what's going on. "I'm going to see if I can figure out that coffee maker."

"Thanks." Bryce swings his legs over the side of the bed and promptly shuffles into the bathroom without looking back.

Charlie stretches and sprawls out on the bed before getting up. She begins to make her way out of the bedroom when her thoughts return to Bryce's "situation." Is he just hoping it resolves itself, or is he in there doing something to help it along? Charlie finds her feet carrying her to the bathroom door and pressing her ear against it, not quite certain what she’s expecting to hear. She hears the water coming down, but not much else.

"What is wrong with you?" She murmurs to herself, shaking her head as she walks out of the room and makes her coffee before heading out to the balcony. But as she leans against the railing overlooking the ocean with her mug in hand, she still can't stop fantasizing about what Bryce may be doing in there. Is he gripping himself with a soap-slicked hand, moving it up and down faster and faster until he can't take anymore? Is he thinking of her while he does it? What would he do if she decided to slip in the shower and join him? Would he press her up against the shower tiles and-

"Hey-"

"Ahhh!" Charlie screams and her mug goes tumbling over the balcony rail, landing on the concrete below with a crash.

"Oh my god." Bryce looks over the edge to survey the damage. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't trying to startle you."

"No, it's my fault." For having such a filthy mind. "I was just lost in thought."

She turns to head inside, her cheeks surely burning bright, but Bryce braces her arms to stop her. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yep, just in desperate need of a shower." A cold shower... or maybe something else...

Bryce chuckles. “Okay, I’ll call the front desk and notify them that someone dropped their coffee mug on the ground.”

~~~

“Good morning everyone!” A petite woman with a strong Jamaican accent greets the wedding party and company. “My name is Lisette and I’ll be your instructor for the wedding party dance. We are going to be doing a waltz with a modern twist, so if everyone would partner up and find some space on the floor, we’ll get started right away.”

Charlie tries to make a point of picking a spot on the opposite side of the room from Katelyn, facing Bryce and waiting for further instructions. “Ever waltzed before, Lahela?”

“Can’t say I have, but it can't be that hard.”

"We'll see about that," Charlie replies skeptically.

"Alright everyone!" Lisette snaps her fingers twice to get everyone's attention. "The foundation of the waltz is a basic box step. Simple, simple. Men you will be leading and ladies your steps will be opposite of the men's'. We'll do it separately at first and then together with your partner. So first things first, men step forward with your left foot, ladies backwards with your right.” Lizette demonstrates the steps as she speaks. “Now bring your other foot across and opposite and step together. Then men right foot back and ladies left foot forward, then other foot to the opposite corner and complete the square with feet together."

Charlie tries to follow along but loses her place halfway through. “Ugh, she might as well be speaking a foreign language.”

“Now men, place your right hand on your partner’s back, and ladies your right hand goes on your partner’s shoulder, then extend your other arms out and clasp your hands together.” Lisette eyes the room. “Very good.”

“Don’t worry, I got you.” Bryce gives Charlie’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Lizette starts the music and counts the beat before instructing them to begin. Charlie tries to remember the steps, taking a step forward colliding right into Bryce.

"Oof! I'm hopeless."

"No you aren't. You just need to get out of your head." Bryce moves his hands to her hips. "Feel the beat instead of focusing on the steps. You are in the arms of a professional, remember?"

Charlie rolls her eyes. "This is not quite the same type of dancing."

Bryce pulls her tight against him, whispering in her ear. “Maybe I can give you a private lesson in our room later on that type of dancing.”

Bryce’s lips brush against her as he speaks, tickling her ear and Charlie pushes him away. “We’re in public!”

Bryce scratches the back of his head. “I thought that was the point.”

Charlie glances around, making sure no one is close enough to hear. “But people might start to wonder why everything you say still makes me blush. I’m beginning to think you’re doing it on purpose.”

“But you look so cute with that rosy glow.” Bryce pinches her cheek and then tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, taking another step closer. “And maybe it turns me on to know how affected you are by me...Yep, just like that.”

“Anyway...” Charlie clears her throat. “Are you going to help me learn this dance or what?”

Bryce smirks. “Sorry, you���re just so distracting.” He puts his arm around her and gets back into position. “Now follow my lead, and don’t overthink it.”

Easy for him to say. Charlie practically has a PhD in overthinking, but she tries anyway. She wait for Bryce's cue, and when he catches the beat, he leans into her as he step forward, and she almost instinctually steps back. She has to recall Lisette's instructions, but remembers to sweep her other leg back and over and bring the right leg to meet it. Once she gets that down, the rest of the square falls into place. They go a couple more times and Charlie pauses with a pleased look on her face. “I guess having a good dancer to lead you does make a difference.”

“You’re getting it, but you’re still a bit stiff. Just go with the flow of the music and follow me...There, that’s it!” Bryce beams at Charlie.

Charlie returns the smile and looks around the room to see how the others are faring.There are varying degrees of success and as Katelyn catches Kyra’s eye she mouths ‘help me’ and then yelps as Bob steps on her foot. Reason number 572 to be thankful Bryce is on this trip with Charlie.

Everyone practices the basic moves for awhile, and then Lisette throws in some spins and turns at various times to make the dance a little more interesting. With Bryce’s help, Charlie’s performance is at least passable, at least she thinks.

Lisette claps her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Okay now, for the final move, the men will dip their partners. I assume we all know what this means, so after your last box step on the count of six you go. 1-2-3-4-5-6 and dip.”

Just as Bryce leans Charlie back and holds her steady with his strong arm, there’s a scream across the room.

“Ouch! What the fuck, Landry?”

Charlie looks over as Bryce sets her upright and see’s Katelyn lying flat on her back.

“Oops, sorry.” Landry offers Katelyn his hand to help her up but she swats it away. 

“Maybe if you spent some of your free time in the gym instead of playing video games, you wouldn’t have dropped me.”

“I just graduated medical school. I’ve been a little busy,” Landry huffs.

Katelyn rolls her eyes. “So did Bryce and it certainly didn’t get in his way. Look at him,” she gestures towards Bryce as everyone else watches in stunned silence.

Lisette clears her throat. “The class is now dismissed. Great job everyone, and I’ll see you all again on Friday for our final rehearsal.”

Everyone jets out of the room leaving Landry and Katelyn to work out whatever is going on between them. Although Charlie’s intention in bringing Bryce along was merely to avoid the humiliation of being single after a failed relationship, she can’t help but feel satisfied every time Katelyn expresses her feelings of inferiority. Charlie knows it's all a ruse, but she’s starting to come around to the idea that it might not have to be. So what if Bryce isn’t really a doctor? He’s still one hundred times the man spineless Landry will ever be and makes her feel better about herself than Andrew ever did.

"Jeez Charlie, can you tell your boyfriend to stop being so hot?" Kyra teases. "He's going to cause Landry and Katelyn's marriage to fall apart before it begins."

Bryce chuckles. "I'll try and work on that. I'll only work out half as hard today."

"Must be nice to have some free time." Charlie sighs. “We have to go straight to the salon now, and of course she's got our day booked solid through the bachelorette party tonight."

"What does Landry have you boys doing?" Kyra asks Bryce.

"Charter fishing this afternoon and then some clubs downtown after dinner."

"That doesn't sound too bad." Kyra suddenly grabs Charlie's arm. "Guess what? I heard there's going to be strippers on our party yacht!"

Charlie discreetly steals a glance at Bryce whose eyes go wide at the news. "That should be...interesting."

"Interesting is one word for it... Anyway, I'm going to head back to the room now, babe. Don't have too much fun without me." Bryce pulls Charlie close and before she realizes what's going on, his lips are on hers. The kiss is brief but passionate, and it leaves Charlie reeling as Bryce walks away.

[texasrcttlesnake]

jay and i are Crying In The Club™ and i must post my crimes

@deadmenanddemons

taker stares hard. studying. searching. analyzing all of shawn's face. he looks terrified, broken, worn down. he did not look like a monster. the undertaker has seen many monsters. the undertaker has been called a monster. maybe he is one, maybe he isn't; but he knows what they look like. he knows what they are. shawn is not a monster. "if he hated you," the deadman begins, “you and i both know i'd be sweeping you into an ash tray. may not seem like it, but he's giving you a second chance." he finally steps away, crossing his arms tight over his chest. never takes his eyes off of shawn. "that was his choice. now, you can stick around, and prove him right," he nods up the stairs, "or you can leave again, and prove yourself right. that's /your/ choice. and then he turns to walk up the stairs himself. shawn's right - kane needs him.

texasrcttlesnake

shawn may not be a monster, but he feels like every bit of one. he won’t ask how long it will take for kane to get his voice out of his head, so tormenting and cruel. he already knows the answer. probably not for a long time. possibly never. another thing he’s ruined. it feels like taker can see right through him and he has to close his eyes. it would be better if he just faded away.

but taker speaks, and yes, shawn knows he’s right. if kane truly hated him, he would not still be breathing. if kane hated him, he wouldn’t have been allowed back in this house. that was the one thing he knew for certain, and he has no idea if that makes it better or worse.

a second chance. shawn breathes, trying to steady himself. his hand is still shaking even as he lifts it to wipe his cheeks, wet with tears and warm with shame. he can’t stand for taker to see him like this. he doesn’t know what to do. 

taker leaves and he feels so empty. it wouldn’t be difficult to climb the steps behind him, gather up everything he could carry in one bag and go… how long would it take for them to notice?

he needs some air. he needs some time to think. the door is pushed open and he steps out onto the porch, already warm with the heat of the day.

“— well, look what the cat dragged home. you really went and stepped in it this time, son.”

it doesn’t sound like pity. it doesn’t sound like anger. steve doesn’t take his eyes away from the backyard, and shawn can’t help wondering how long he’d been listening.

“put my whole foot in it.”

steve smirks and offers a nod, eyes focused on orobas chasing something in the distance. “you’re lucky you’re not wearing my foot up your ass for worrying taker half to death.” and that was fair, shawn supposed. “sit down. quit acting like a damn stranger, and let me tell you a story.”

there’s only a small moment of hesitation before shawn does as he is told. crosses the short distance to settle in next to steve and tries to ignore every urge he has not to lean into his side. it doesn’t work, but steve doesn’t move away. that had to be worth something.

“now, you can sit here and keep feeling sorry for yourself. make up a million reasons for why you shouldn’t stay—”

“i’m not-“

“you are. you’re scared, and i understand that. whether you realize it or not, them boys in there understand too. may not show it, but they have a different way of dealin’ with things. you hurt ‘em bad, shawn. no way around that.”

shawn drops his head, draws in a ragged breath.

“but that doesn’t mean they stopped loving you overnight. it’s not that easy. you fucked up, yeah, but who hasn’t?”

steve finally pulls his attention away from the yard, focusing on the shell of a man next to him. gently raises his arm and rests his hand against shawn’s back.

“when you’re a family, you have to stay and work that shit out. you don’t just cut and run when it gets hard. you want to be forgiven for what you’ve done?”

slowly, shawn nods. once, twice, then leans his head against steve’s shoulder.

“then you have to work for it every day. you have to fix it. you don’t, and this guilt is gonna eat you alive.”

god, shawn is exhausted, and steve is right. but he’s done such terrible things—

steve’s voice is softer when he speaks, a low drawl into shawn’s hair. 

“get yourself cleaned up. get some sleep. be the man you’ve always been, shawn. you’ll figure it out. we’ll be right here waiting for you.”