#yeah i just got super inspired by getting my teeth yanked out of my head... SAID NO ONE EVER

[choirboi]

this boything i let hit the other day was literally drool worthy can i say. i love the boys i fuck that have hardly been with boys before me, and i love the ones that are just now trying all their kinky fantasies with me for the first time but... he'd been there done that and knew what he wanted and it was soooo... good. like firstly hello, i love not feeling like i have to be the one to introduce all the new ideas. and secondly, it sort of made me understand why people get into kink in the first place. its nice to have these fetishes in a vaccuum, but when looking at someone inspires the want to act them out? knowing you're the subject of that, even if it's just basic bdsm 101? magical.

regardless. we'd been just friends before this, in fact, he's close friends with my boyfriend, so i came to him about a lot of stuff regarding him. he comes over to my place and i see him in person in full for the first time and im like woah bc he's bigger than i thought he'd be. bulkier, really? and superrrr tall. from the pics alone i expected him to be sort of waify. he tells me he's 6'2 and im like... nooo youre fucking with me. and he proves it and i got like... dizzyingly turned on. so in my head im already thinking yeahhhh put that onnn me. yk?

anyway we were chatting laying around in my bed and somehow started talking about how i naturally smelled sweet, and i joked he could shove his face somewhere to see for himself if he wanted. and he absolutely did, with zero hesitation, shove his nose right into my crotch. i'm sorta flustered and awkward and tease him, say like "what, do you have a huffing kink or something, you freak?" you know, like some dumb porno line. and he hits me back with "yeah. obviously" without even kind of losing his flow. which btw i LOVE when a guy doesnt get thrown off when i get flustered-- usually im the one leading and they start to falter when i do, but when they double down??? when it makes them more confident?? oooh it hits somewhere sweet

but yeah so he looks up at me from between my legs and makes eye contact-- I SHOULD HAVE DESCRIBED HIM let me do that. 6'2 industrial goth. GODLY thighs. amazing ass. smudgy black eyeliner and eyeshadow. pale as shit. black dreadhawk, chelsea burns. gorgeous pale blue eyes. as i was saying ahem anyway so i call him a freak through my teeth. he looks up at me and kinda grins and says "ohh, so im not the only one with that fetish. right? why are you shaming me for having it, then?" and i go quiet bc that's what i do when i'm turned on.

after a while he says "fuck it" under his breath and yanks my shorts n underwear down without a word from me. im scrambling to try and help him kick them off and theyre basically hanging off of one ankle still when he pulls my thighs over his shoulders. i think i was making commentary about how he was sick for wanting to blow me after i spent so much time telling him about mine and my boyfriend's relationship problems, and the idea of that sorta went to both of our dicks.

i'm pretty used to the boys on my contact list being so-so at head, improving on a scale from being with me. but he was good at it which was notable immediately. such pretty lips that felt so good wrapped around the base, super tongue forward. he sucked dick like his priority was to suffocate himself in my bush, which, naturally it was. and i was happy to help him with the endeavor with my fist in his pretty hair. i thought about flipping him over and seeing what his eyes would look like rolling back when he lost air on my cock but. the priority after he swallowed my load was teasing him for the cocks hes sucked before mine.

he sits up and is all out of breath with his chin and lips covered in pre and drool and ugh he looked so good. such broad shoulders, such nice hips. he was talking about wanting to frot against me but i had already decided i wanted him on me, and i told him as much. he all but moaned, told me his ideas were all shit anyway, shoved his over complicated pants down and wrapped my legs around his hips.

id had the foresight that day to lube and plug myself that morning, and at the sight of it, his eyes practically rolled into the back of his head. "youre so fucking hot." thank you. he mused about how for all the talk of them in the scene, in his time, no one really used butt plugs much, as he reached down to pump it in and out of me. something about hearing his experience in the cruising scene went straight to my dick. ugh. its knowing you're in good hands i think, knowing someone isn't just all talk. the casual confidence, the discussion of sex as if it were the air.

to add to that, after it was removed, he lined himself up with me-- "you have to be quick about these things," said with the same casual note of experience he'd carried all this time. enough, enough! i'm already dead. no crazy width or anything, but some length, symmetrical with his height. but the notable part? he pulled my hips up off of the bed and held them against him as he fucked me-- rightttt there. you know where.

i think i just about wore out every swear word i knew. definitely my best stroker on the list. what a man.

[hotdamnhunnam]

I Wanna Be Your Slave

A/N: Here’s the next requested fic from my Dirty Little Secret – Super Kinky List! In which you and Jax are locked in a cellar and he ties you to a whipping post and whips your ass lol. Master/slave roleplay but in this fic (unlike some of my other Kinkfest fics...) Jax is actually a good guy not an absolute asshole. Title is inspired by the Måneskin song at the below link! **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, light choking, degradation, dom!Jax, bondage, master/slave kink, spanking, whipping Request: This Dirty Little Secret request (anon)

Word Count: ~3.8k

Note: As explained in this post, this ‘Dirty Little Secret’ series consists of fics that I had originally written for another character/celebrity, which I’m repurposing for characters of Charlie! So if the characterization ever seems a little off please don’t judge me too harshly 🙂 ALSO note that this fic is just straight up shitty – I wrote most of it years ago without giving a fuck and am not bothering with improving the quality, I sort of used to rhyme back then but not consistently so it’s a shitshow really, I’m just shoving Jax into the setup for this fic with zero context literally, and I realize that the kinks in this fic are totally not mainstream and super filthy, so for once it’s really refreshing that I’m not gonna be sitting around hoping that people will shower my writing with praises or that this fic will explode in popularity 🙃

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…

***************

You're trapped in a cellar. 

With Jax Fucking Teller.

There's a whole fucking story behind how the two of you got here—some shit involving stolen guns, some rival gang that hates the Sons, your father being all politically significant and powerful enough that you're now being held as ransom—and honestly you should be crippled with fear. But this tall blonde bastard is so fucking handsome. You've been crushing on him for years. And nothing else matters right now when you're so fucking horny for him that you're damn near to tears.

He looks and smells goddamn divine. You know that's not the kind of thought that should be running through your mind. Not here, stricken with fear for your safety. It's crazy. But losing yourself in desire for Jax just feels... fucking unreal. So damn good. Better than it should. It's comforting, or something. Dangerously comforting. In his presence, you don't even care if it doesn't make sense.

Ever since you got stuck in this mess, you've been clinging to him in the darkness. Clutching his flannel-clad arms in a tight grasp which quickly turns into a desperate caress. Through the cloth you can feel the incredible bulge of his biceps and God it's just...

"It's okay, darlin'," he says. Shifts to give you the comfort you crave as you bury your face in his broad sculpted chest. Presence warming and calming. Even after what's happened this morning, you somehow feel safe in the arms of the crown prince of Charming. It's totally fucked to be honest. "Hey, I'll get us out of this. Promise."

The silent answer in your head is beyond shameless. But here with your cheek pressed against his firm pecs... shuddering in bliss as you breathe in his mouthwatering manly essence... flooding between your legs, 'cause he is pure fucking sex... you could honestly just live and die in this man's godlike presence. You bite your tongue to fight the shit you really want to say, keeping it back. Please don't, Jax... don't get us out of this—I want to stay...

Neither of you has any clue yet that you're bound to serve Jax Teller in this cellar as his filthy little slave today.

With one hand still gripping his strong upper arm you reach up with the other, wrapping it over his leather-bound shoulder, clasping at the back of his neck and clinging to his strong sturdy body like ivy to brick. You can feel a faint layer of sweat on his neck that you're instantly dying to lick.

Your senses are reeling. Here, with him as you give voice to a wild irrational fear, you can't deny that dread isn't the only thing you're feeling. You'll take life-threatening danger if it comes with the reward of you and Jax fucking. "... are they gonna sell us as sex slaves or something?"

The hottest sound you've ever heard bursts softly from his throat. It's low and quiet, caught between a breathy laugh and breathless groan. You bite down on your lip then to stifle your own slutty moan. His bright blue eyes meet yours and you can feel the heat burning beneath, and from the way his tongue traces along the edges of his teeth, you can tell the answer to your question is no.

That's not the answer you want, though. It's precious that Jax doesn't already know. Some part of him probably does but hell if it won't take a little more for him to let it show.

You're gonna give him more than just a little more.

With a bat of your lashes, your flirtiest dirtiest smile flashes; you drop to your knees before him like a whore.

"Oh f—" he mutter, too shocked to even utter the full curse, sapphire eyes wide in wonder, "what are..."

"Practice," you purr as you lick your lips, eager hands framing his hips. "If I'm gonna be a sex slave then I think I should practice performing... service..."

Jax sucks in a sharp hiss as you bury your face in the crotch of his jeans, massaging his dick through the denim with your doting mouth till he's harder than he's ever been.

"Practice makes... perfect, doesn't it?" you say as you savor the smell and the feel of his meat. Good enough to eat. "Though you already are, Jax. Every inch of you is perfect. That's a hard fucking fact."

Jax throws his head back, huge cock throbbing with a luscious twitch. "Son of a bitch..."

"Mmm, make me your bitch, Jax. Please. I wanna be your slave. Serve you in every way. It's what the slut inside me needs... and craves..." you shamelessly confess as your hands set to work on his fly to unleash the glory of Jax Teller. "Nothing else even matters today. We're here now all alone together, in this shady little cellar..."

When his cock springs free you could swear that this piece of meat is your entire life's purpose. All set to be worshiped and serviced, because his delicious existence demands and deserves it. He's so. Fucking. Perfect.

You gaze up at his gorgeous face as you melt in his presence, and finish your sentence. "... so let's make it fucking worth it."

*************** 

The first order you take from Jax Teller, as he finally falls into his role as your master right here in this cellar... is to get your filthy hands off of his dick. You are not to touch it till you've fucking earned it. Like a dog, like the bitch that you are, he tells you to just sit. 

To stay down on your knees and to not move an inch, not even turn your head as he strides toward the far wall behind you, brutally keeping his beautiful self beyond your field of vision for a minute. 

You bite your lip, listening to the footsteps and movements that he won't let you witness. Rustling noises. You hope that he's stripping off his stupid clothes. That when you see him next, he'll be towering over you gorgeously naked.

And God yes, he is, when he returns at last to stand before his bitch. You groan in sheer bliss as your awestruck eyes try to take in every last flawless inch of his smooth, glowing skin. There is just... too much perfection. You couldn't even process the divine glory of Jax in a whole damn lifetime, let alone one split second.

Hypnotized though you are by him, your gaze then shifts to notice what he's holding, and... holy shit. Apparently he hadn't gone to the far wall just to undress. 

He had taken stock of the supplies and other items stored down in this shady cellar and he has returned bearing gifts: a coil of rope, long and thick, and a wicked-looking leather whip.

"Like what you see, huh?" he taunts, no doubt referring to both his new toys and his nude body, especially his dick. "Kinky little bitch. Now get up and strip."

"Yes, Master," you blurt out, rising to your feet, hastening to obey his order.

"Bad slave. You are not to speak until I say you can," Jax commands, taking a deliberate step toward you. With both rope and whip clutched in one fist, he reaches to cup your chin with his other hand. "Do you fucking understand?"

Fighting your burning urge to scream yes sir, somehow you keep your lips sealed and just nod your head.

Jax's blazing blue gaze devours your face as his fingers descend to frame your jawbone, then to close around your throat. "That's a good slut. Keep that dirty mouth shut. Or else you're gonna suffer some serious punishment."

Fuck—hearing him talk like this, while he strangles your neck in his dominant fist, is too much. You've become a trembling mess beneath his touch.

"Mmm, look at you shaking. Desperate piece of shit. I'm starting to think that maybe punishment…" he whispers in your ear as he tightens his grip around your neck, "...is what you fucking want."

Oh God, your inner voice grunts, struggling not to say it aloud. In the most painfully perfect way, the fact that he's choking you now actually makes it easier to stay silent.

His husky growl and twisted words are sending waves of pleasure through your body, hitting all the spots you never knew you had and soaking up your cunt.

"Yeah, you're begging for it. Already ignoring your master's orders. Disobedient bitch," he scoffs, shoving you up against a nearby wall, his every movement rough and quick. "Didn't I tell you to strip?"

Before you can even manage to nod at him, still just staring, Jax's hand drops from your neck down to the fabric of the fancy buttoned cardigan you're wearing. Your daddy is rich, so you typically dress like a spoiled little bitch.

"Need me to show you how to do it? You that fucking stupid?" he sneers, suddenly yanking it off you with just a few effortless jerks of his wrist. "Now take off the rest. And then go stand against that beam. Hands on the wood, head down, with your ass facing me."

Jax steps away, sharp blue glare dark and daunting as he watches his slave scurry to obey. In a matter of seconds, your clothes and shoes have been flung off, and you practically throw yourself against the wooden beam, grabbing the jagged surface desperately, wincing as the splinters graze your fingers. Even that sharp little sting feels good, because this is what Jax wanted.

You keep your head bent low, bowed submissively per your master's orders, breathing shallow as you feel his presence coming toward you from behind, steady and slow. A gasp slips past your throat when you feel his calloused hands upon your wrists, binding your hands to the beam with the thick, heavy rope. The knots securing you in place are strong and tight, expertly tied. This must not be his first time doing this, you realize, beyond turned on by his well-practiced dominance. By just what a masterful master he is.

"Mmm. You look so fucking pretty like this," he rasps, leaning over your body with his massive cock grinding into your ass, sliding against the crack so that you can feel the tip of it, swollen and wet, hovering over the small of your back. One of his hands tugs at your hair, arching your neck backward a bit as his lips attack the soft skin of your throat in a harsh, biting kiss. "Beautiful baby girl, all bound up naked and aching to be punished. You gonna take it? Good and hard, just like the slave you know you are? Gonna be a good little bitch?"

His hot mouth teases at the corner of your lips, knowing how badly you want to kiss him, to taste him, fucking torturing you with it. Though his firm grip on your hair is anchoring your head right where he pleases, you're sure that he can feel the way you struggle now to bob it up and down, to give him your wholehearted yes.

"Yeah, that's it. Ever done this before, you dirty whore? This sweet ass ever taken a beating?"

You're not quite sure how to answer that—certain guys from your past have given your ass a few smacks, here and there, when you asked... but you don't know if that kind of thing really counts as a beating. The dynamic with them was never nearly as brutal and degrading. And they had only ever used their hands; no toys or torture instruments.

"Can't even answer the question? Dumb little bitch," Jax snickers as his face moves away from your neck, standing to his full height behind you, then stepping back so that his dick is no longer brushing against your crack, leaving you feeling emptier than ever at his absence. "Not that it matters. 'Cause I'm sure you ain't ever been beaten like this."

Ohhh shit, you think, inhaling through your teeth with a loud hiss as you feel the first soft touch of leather on your skin, his wicked fucking whip. For now he is just devilishly teasing you with it, tracing lines down your back with the tip.

"This what you want, slut? Gonna need to hear you beg for it," he orders, his other hand still tangled in your hair, pulling your skull more sharply back. "Go on. Open that filthy fucking mouth and tell me what you want."

"Thank you, Master," you whimper, letting all your shameless words fall out. "I want you. God, I want you to beat me. Hurt me. Please. I want pain, if it will bring you pleasure, sir. I want my punishment."

"Mmmmn," Jax growls, clearly incredibly aroused, and you could seriously cum just from that sound. "Bet you do, bitch. Let's see just how bad you want it, huh? See how wet you've gotten. Needy little cunt."

You've already been dripping now, for more minutes than you can count. The next sound you hear is a soft thud, which you're guessing is the whip having been cast down to the ground. Jax needs his right hand free to start going to town on your pussy.

The words that have just come out of his mouth, coupled with the feeling of his fingers making contact with your slick mound, sliding over your clit, slipping into your slit and stirring you up, swirling your wet heat around, then plunging three digits in knuckles deep, pushing in and back out slowly first before he starts to fucking pound... this just brings all the walls inside you crashing down. Floodgates in you burst open on the instant as your arousal uncontrollably gushes out. It's killing you to stay silent through all of this, but you don't dare disobey his orders, don't dare make a sound.

"Holy fuuuck," Jax grunts as he pulls his hand off of your cunt. "So wet. Tight pussy squirting all over your master. Such a dirty fucking slut."

He reaches over you to shove his sloppy, sticky fingers in your mouth, your cheek pressing against the wooden beam, as you obediently suck them clean. You're not usually one to enjoy your own flavor that much, but fuck, it tastes better than ever now that you are being fed by him, the sex god of your dreams.

Then as soon as his fingers pull out, he leans in and angles your head toward him so that he can kiss your mouth, and holy—wow. 

You know right away that you could never get enough of the feel of his full, luscious lips against yours, the taste of his talented tongue as it fucking invades and explores. He hums and groans into the kiss, sending resonant vibrations of his dominance down your throat and all over your mouth, and damn, you kind of really want to die right now.

But you don't. Of course, not yet. More than anything you're still desperate for your punishment.

"Fucking perfect little slave," Jax snarls as he pulls away, and you can hear him squatting down behind you to pick up his whip. 

Before he does, while he's down there on his haunches, he takes the chance to manhandle your ass cheeks, groping firmly and then biting down on one of them, pausing to admire the mark that he made on your flesh with his ravenous teeth, then giving that spot a wet, open-mouthed kiss, and finally a sharp, stinging slap. Your knees buckle from how much you fucking liked that.

"Slut," he chuckles as he gives that cheek a few more smacks, each harder than the last. He makes sure to give the same sweet kinky treatment to the other cheek, biting and kissing then spanking both halves with his big, sturdy hands before he finally picks up his whip, one palm still groping your ass as he stands.

"Ready to feel this whip lashing your pretty little ass?" Jax dominantly asks. "Tell me, slave. How many do you want."

You're so blissed out right now that you barely have control over your lolling tongue. "Uh... uh—a lot."

"That's not a number, slut. Give me a number you can fucking count."

"Ughhhh..." you groan out as he trails the strip of leather wickedly against your ass, "...umm, a hundred?"

A soft laugh escapes his throat. "That's cute. You must be new to this, darlin'. I'm not about to beat you dead."

Some part of you right now kind of likes the sound of that. Which is maybe... sort of... bad? Jax is still talking, so for better or for worse, you don't have time to dwell on that.

"I can do a hundred. But only if each one is... weak... and soft..." he tells you, bending over your body to press his lips against your face again, kissing your cheek, tender and sweet. "Is that what you want? Or does this filthy bitch want it hard?"

His mouth has descended to bite down on your neck as he says it, causing you to cry out in bliss. "Fuck yes, please—hard!"

Jax huffs out another sexy little laugh. "That's what I fucking thought. I'm gonna give you ten to start," he offers, leaving wet kisses on the smooth skin that he'd bitten. "Ten nice and hard. That sound good, baby girl? And you just tell me if you want more. Or... if it's too much, if you ever want me to lighten up, or stop—"

"I won't," you blurt out. "God, Jax, I want... I need you to just fucking beat my ass off."

"Mmmn. Babe, you are fucking amazing, you know that?" he growls, fondly nuzzling your neck for a second before he pulls back, standing behind you, with his rock hard cock once again hovering over your crack. "But Jax ain't my name right now. Is it. What do you call me, slut."

You cringe at your own unforgivable error. "Master. I'm so sorry, sir."

"Yeah, you better be, bitch," he snarls, as the whip that has been gliding delicately over your body suddenly lifts away from your skin. "Fucking take it."

Holy—fucking—shit. The sharp, searing pain that you feel in that instant is so goddamn perfect. Electric, explosive, exquisite. Everything Jax is. Your life as you know it is finished; you live only to serve and to worship this god of a man who deals out such sweet punishment. You love it. You love him.

The rugged velvet sound of his voice in this moment just deepens your love for him, heightens your pleasure. "Count 'em for me, whore," he orders ruthlessly. "Want more?"

"One... Thank you, sir," you sigh, hazy from the incredible high. "Please, Master. More."

For a hell of a long time, Jax gives you everything you beg him for. And every second of the pleasurable pain is so damn dirty, so damn pure, completely perfect. But you both know that, given what a desperate slut and dedicated slave you are, you will literally never want him to stop. So Jax is the one who hits pause, when he decides he should. 

You never wanted it to end, but this is what your master wants—so as much as it saddens you, still you just give in, and still it feels good.

"Damn, baby," he breathes, dropping the whip, gently kneading your ass as he leans down to leave a trail of kisses up your spine with his soft, sinful lips. "Guess I should've known better than to ask you for a number. Such a good little slave. But we're gonna stop here, okay?"

"Yes, Master," you whisper.

"You know why we're gonna stop?" he teases as his mouth reaches the back of your neck. "It's not just because I'm done with beating you. Nah, the real reason is that... there's something even better I've been dying to do."

Part of you already knows what it is. And all of you wants it. Needs it.

Jax tilts your head to claim your mouth in a kiss, as his huge dick aligns with your soaking wet slit. "Mmmn. That's it, bitch," he moans into your lips. "Gonna fucking fuck you."

Every damn thing about Jax Teller is literally magic. So, as his massive cock basically breaks your body in half, as his heavy balls slap up against your cunt with each ferocious thrust so hard and fast, as his dominant hands grope and grab all over your just beaten ass... every inch of you feels so damn blessed upon contact. 

You can't imagine any better way to recover from your punishment. Not that you ever really want to recover from it—mostly you just want more and more of it—but no matter what you want, healing is what you need. 

And Jax heals just as well as he hurts. Even better, in fact. 

Once he's done fucking your pussy rough and dirty, shooting his divine cum deep inside you just the way you beg him to, he unties your ropes and then spends the next hour or so kissing and caressing and cuddling with you, massaging your ravaged ass cheeks with his hands and mouth, taking you to heaven when that sweet mouth eats you out, and even when he lets you worship his cock the way you've been dying to do, even when he grabs your head and fucks your face before he explodes down your throat, even then it still feels like healing. You both really needed that feeling.

He lifts you up to kiss you, deep and slow, on the lips before you are even done swallowing his cum. You let yourself drown in that beautiful face, hoping that Jax knows how damn good he tastes. How perfect he is in every way. That he is a fucking god, that everyone on earth should kneel before him as his slave.

When the kiss finally ends, as you both try to catch your breath for a few seconds, the cold hard fact of your predicament sets in again.

"We should probably put some clothes on, babe," he says, coming down from the high of his sex-heated haze. "Then I've gotta work out a way to escape."

You can tell that Jax sincerely meant it, when he'd promised he would save you from this place, and you don't doubt it for a minute. 

Still, there's no denying that you two are stuck in the middle of some serious deep shit. But after having experienced such punishment and pain and pleasure, such submission and service, such sex and love with Jax Teller, today down in this cellar—which you're pretty sure would not have happened under any other circumstances ever...

"Well," you sigh, breathing in his scent for what you hope won't have to be the final time before you die, "whatever happens next, Jax, this was..."

"Definitely," he cuts in to interrupt you with a few passionate kisses, then smiles down at you so devilishly it's delicious. So hellish it's heavenly. Finishes your sentence and it's just so fucking perfect. "Fucking worth it."

***************

… Sooo I know that was SUPER kinky shit, but I hope there are some filthy bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️

– Main Masterlist

– Dirty Little Secret Masterlist

***************

Kinkfest Tag List – Join Here!*

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[there-must-be-a-lock]

For Us Sinners

Soulless Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~4130

Warnings: This is 100% pure smutty religion-themed filth. Sam is dressed as a priest. There’s sex in a confessional, severe perversion of the Hail Mary prayer, and a lot of blasphemy happening. Like. A lot. Orgasm denial. Squirting. Non-explicit mentions of Winchester threesomes, gun play, and knife play. 

A/N: For @stusbunker​‘s “Jam Basket” fic exchange! This is for the lovely @rockhoochie​. I managed to squeeze a decent amount of her jams in here. Sarah, my dear, I hope this makes you even a little bit as happy as your friendship makes me. 

Thanks to @cracksinthewalls​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ and @fookinghelljensensthighs​ for lore, encouragement, and inspiration! 

You’re frowning at the trunk arsenal, wondering if it’s possible to sharpen a machete too much, when movement catches your eye. Sam rounds the corner of the old warehouse, and you grab a knife and a whetstone just to have something to focus on that’s not him and his stupid smirky face or the way his shoulders look in that suit. 

The whole priest thing is a really good look on him. 

“Dean’s not back yet?” he asks, without preamble, sitting on the edge of the trunk next to you. You focus very intently on your knife. 

“Nice to see you too, Sam,” you snark, to cover the way you’re blushing. “Why yes, I did have a super fun afternoon of doing fucking nothing! Waiting around for you two is exactly how I wanted to spend the last three hours, thanks for asking.” 

He laughs. “Weren’t you just telling me that I should stop pretending to be normal polite Sam?” 

“Whatever,” you mutter. 

“Lemme see that,” he says abruptly, and plucks the knife from your grip before you can protest. He takes one look at it and laughs at you, twirling the blade in his fingers. “Working out some frustration, huh?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“What’s really going on? You’re only like this when you’re hungry or horny.” 

“Bullshit,” you snap, but he’s totally fucking right. He’s way too perceptive these days. 

You’ve been refusing to play poker with him ever since this whole soulless deal came to light. He’s like a walking polygraph test… a very attractive, muscled polygraph who’s really good in the sack. 

He’s analyzing your expression with his head cocked. “The knife thing?” 

“I don’t know what you’re — that’s not—”

He holds the tip of the blade to your throat, and you stop stammering immediately. You close your eyes and swallow hard. 

“That’s not new, though,” he says thoughtfully. 

When you open your eyes, ready to protest, he’s tucking the knife back in its sheath and twisting to set it in the trunk. 

“How’d you know about that?” you ask reluctantly. 

He just smirks, that godawful not-Sam not-smile, with his dimples popping and his eyes glittering. 

“One of these days you’re going to realize that I’ll never judge you,” he says, low and sly. “C’mon. Tell me.” He puts on a prim, sanctimonious face, pointing at the collar, and says, “Confess your sins and all will be forgiven.” 

He ruins the pious effect by licking his lips and aggressively eye-fucking you. 

You try to laugh, but it comes out all squeaky. You’ve never been good at poker, and if Sam’s smirk is anything to go by, he can see exactly what’s written all over your face. 

“Shut up,” you say preemptively. “Asshole.” 

“This is totally doing it for you, isn’t it?” Sam asks. 

“Shut up.” 

His smile is gleeful. “Oh my god, it is!” 

“That’s not — I’m not—” 

You grit your teeth and stand up abruptly, and it’s not like you can go anywhere but you need to move; it’s impossible to think straight when he’s right there and he smells so good. 

He gets up so quickly you barely have time to blink before he’s in your space. He backs you against the warm metal of the door, caging you in with one big hand planted on either side of your head, and you have to tilt your chin up to meet his wickedly sparkling eyes. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, soft and heated, lips curling up in a familiar dangerous smile. “Lying is a sin.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you huff, but you can’t stop staring at his mouth. 

“Besides, I can always tell. Admit it.” 

“You are so fucking—”

Without warning, he’s tugging at your zipper, yanking the button open, and shoving a hand roughly down the front of your jeans as he murmurs, “You are so fucking into this.” 

Before you can protest (not that you’d really want to) he’s got two fingers sliding into you, curling sweet and easy where you’re ridiculously, undeniably, outrageously into this. 

“Maybe a little bit,” you sigh. 

He’s just smiling, watching you squirm, playing with you like a cat might play with a mouse, and as much as you’d like to be angry about it, he knows exactly how to use those clever fingers. Then — 

“Dean’s back,” he says calmly, and before you can even process that, he’s sucking his fingers clean and walking around the car to greet his brother. 

You have about three seconds to button your pants, thank your lucky stars that you were on this side of the car, and generally get your shit together before it’s back to business. 

“It’s a goddamn garden statue,” Dean is saying. “Some crazy old bat donated it to the church and then just up and left town. First person disappeared the next day.” 

“So we wait til dark, take it down, break the curse.” Sam shrugs. “Easy enough.” 

“Like a chant ‘n’ smash,” you offer. Both the boys give you blank looks, and you try to pretend like your brain isn’t totally scrambled. “You know. Like a salt and burn. A good old-fashioned chant and smash… no? Okay, whatever.” 

Sam is barely containing his laughter. Asshole. 

“I could use a nap before we do that, I’m wiped,” Dean grumbles, taking off his clerical collar as he slides into the driver’s seat. Sam keeps his on. 

As you’re all getting buckled, he says, “Why don’t you just let us handle this one, Dean? You should take the night off.” 

“If you guys want some privacy to bone, you can just say so,” Dean grouches. “But get another motel room, don’t bring Baby into it.” 

“Yeah, we know. We will,” Sam reassures him. 

Dean does not seem reassured. He looks at Sam suspiciously. “So, what, you’re just being nice?”  

“Oh, absolutely not,” Sam says bluntly. “You look like shit and I don’t want you hunting with me when you’re this sleep-deprived.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, that I buy. Man, this whole soul-free honesty shit is gonna take some getting used to.” 

“You and me both,” you sigh, and Sam gives you a wink in the rearview mirror. 

 * * *

“That is the creepiest-looking angel I’ve ever seen,” Sam comments, striking a match. “And l’m including Zachariah in that. Okay, here we go.” 

He lights up the little bowl of herbs he’s concocted and says a few things in Latin, and then the smoke coming up from the bowl turns eerie green and seems to sink into the worn concrete. 

“Is that it?” you ask dubiously. “How do we smash it?” 

“That’s the fun part,” Sam says. He attaches a silencer and loads his gun, quick and practiced, and when you’re both out of shrapnel range he aims almost lazily while you try not to stare at his fingers. Bad enough that he’s still wearing the priest getup. Watching him shatter an angel with a few perfect shots shouldn’t be a turn-on, but…  

“Shouldn’t” is one of those words that lost most of its meaning when you and Sam started fucking. In the last two weeks, he’s managed to discover kinks you’ve never even admitted to yourself. 

Speaking of — 

“C’mon,” he says, and when the gun is deposited safely back in the arsenal, he grabs your hand without waiting for an answer, leading you around to a side door. The door isn’t even locked. Sam’s smile is gleeful in the moonlight. 

“What are we doing?” you ask, as he leads you inside. 

It’s almost completely dark, just a faint glow from the emergency exit signs to light the sanctum, until Sam takes out his matches and lights a few of the tall pillar candles that are arranged in nooks around the altar. The golden glow flickers and dances on the walls. 

Sam grabs you by the wrist, and you halfheartedly attempt to tug your hand away. He’s got that glint in his eye that can only mean trouble. 

“We really shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, as he pulls you over to the confessional. 

“What are they gonna do, condemn my soul to hell?” he says flatly, and you stifle a giggle. “We established a while ago that my immortal soul is fucked.” 

“Mine isn’t,” you mutter. 

He looks at you with another of those smirks and says, “That’s why you’re the one who needs to confess.” 

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” you sigh, but instead of answering, he crowds in close, pressing you up against the smooth dark wood of the confessional, and kisses you, all teeth and tongue and liquefying heat, until your lips feel bruised and your entire body is tingling. 

“Confess,” he whispers, and with one last grin, he points you toward one curtain and slips behind the other. 

If you’ve learned anything about Sam over the years, soul or no, it’s that there’s no point arguing when he’s made up his mind about something. 

Sam seems to have made up his mind. 

You pull the curtain closed behind you and sit on the little bench, and you have to breathe through some long-buried memories before the words come to your lips. 

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you whisper.  “It has been… a long time since my last confession.” 

The flickering candlelight cuts through small gaps around the curtain, casting dancing shadows through the cramped space. Your cheeks are burning. 

“Sam?” you ask tentatively. “This feels stupid.” 

He lets out a low, cocky chuckle, and his voice is all sorts of promising when he replies, “Trust me, I’ll make it worth your while. Play along for me.” 

Fine. 

“Where do I start?” you mumble. “I drink, frequently. I have been dishonest. I gamble, and I do not dress modestly, and — I don’t know. What else?” 

“Do you have impure thoughts?” You can hear the smile in Sam’s voice. 

“Yes.”

“About what?” 

You swallow hard, closing your eyes, thinking about the way he looks right now. No preacher has ever looked so good in that black suit. “About… about you.” 

“Go on.” 

“About the way you feel inside me. About the way you fuck me.” 

“What did you think about last time you touched yourself?” 

Your breath hitches. “I thought… I imagined that you —” 

“Lying is a sin.” 

Fuck. 

That’s the thing about Sam; he won’t let you get away with politeness, or with half-truths, or with telling him what most guys would want to hear. 

Fuck him and his creepy polygraph spidey senses. 

“I imagined that it was Dean,” you whisper, cheeks burning. 

“And how did that go, in your fantasy?” There’s no trace of surprise or hesitation in his voice. 

“I was — he bent me over the hood of the car.” 

“That’s not the first time you’ve thought about him, is it?” 

“Sam, I don’t — this is weird,” you say, squirming slightly. 

“Why?” he says, and you keep waiting for the jealousy or the disgust to color his words, but all you can hear is curiosity. “Do you think about him while I’m fucking you?” 

You let out a long, measured exhale. “Yes.” 

“Have you thought about him walking in? Listening to us?”

“Yes. Sam, I don’t—” 

“Were you thinking about him a couple days ago, in the middle of the night? When you couldn’t seem to keep quiet?”

You shudder, pressing your thighs together. “Yes.” 

“Tell me.” When you hesitate, he continues, “I wondered… felt the way you were squeezing around my cock every time it got too loud. You wanted him to hear.” 

“I wanted him to — to imagine. I hoped he was awake, and that he was turned on, and—” 

“You wanted him to join in,” Sam supplies, when you falter. His voice sounds husky, now. “You were imagining both of us, huh? What else?” 

“Sitting in your lap, in the backseat, while he watches in the rearview,” you mumble, and now that you’ve started talking, it’s hard to stop: “I think about getting on my knees for both of you. Letting him have my mouth while you fuck me, or… one of you holding me down.” 

“Have you imagined us handcuffing you? Taking turns with you?” he asks calmly. 

“Well now I’m imagining it,” you huff, and your nervous giggle breaks the tension for a moment. 

“I know you’re holding out on me,” Sam purrs, when the silence starts to stretch. “Leave my brother out of it, if you’re getting all hung up on that. What else?” 

“I don’t know,” you mumble. 

“Trust me. God isn’t judging you and neither am I. Tell me what you want me to do to you.” 

You can’t bring yourself to spit it out, even like this. “That’s it.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice is silk and steel now. “Why don’t I take a guess?” 

“Fine.”  

“Knives,” he says bluntly, and your inhale is too sharp to be innocent. “You like the way a knife looks in my hands, the way it’d be dangerous if I didn’t know what I was doing.” 

“Yes.” 

“You want to know what it’d be like: cold metal on your skin. A knife at your throat, or... a gun to your temple.” 

You’re shaking. 

“How’d you know?” you whisper. 

“I pay attention,” he says simply, voice ragged, and then there’s a long pause before he asks, “Is that the end of your confession?” 

You’d almost forgotten where you are. You’re grateful the screen is still between you and Sam. 

“Yes,” you say, and because old habits die hard, you add, “I am sorry for these and all the sins of my past lives.” 

“As for penance…” You can hear the teasing note in it, and some of your self-consciousness dissipates. “You can begin by taking off your clothes.” 

“Here?” you laugh. “Sam…” 

“Here. Now.” 

You let out a tiny, nervous whine of protest, but you’re too turned on to care, not when you’ve already crossed so many lines tonight. 

Then you strip, taking off your clothes with shaking hands and setting them in a neat-ish pile in one corner of the tiny booth. It’s chilly, and you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling goosebumps run down your bare skin. 

“Okay,” you say softly. 

“Now... you can say ten Hail Marys,” Sam says, with that smirk in his voice again. 

“I — really?” you ask. 

Just as you’re thinking that’s all?, Sam is ducking through the curtain of the confessional, crowding you in and pushing on your shoulder until you sit back down on the narrow bench. Even in the barely-there flickers of light you can see the wicked smile on his face as he drops to his knees in front of you.  

“And you may not come until you’re finished,” he orders coolly. 

Then he’s hooking his arms under your knees, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you forward so that he can get that filthy smirking mouth on you. He licks a hot slick stripe up your center, swirling his tongue over your throbbing clit, and —

“Holy fucking shit,” you gasp, letting your head fall back against the wood with an echoing thunk, because whatever Sam’s doing with his lips is sending sweet fluttering waves of heat through your belly. “Oh my God, Sam, that’s—” 

“If you keep taking the Lord’s name in vain,” he growls, nipping at your inner thigh, “I’ll double it.” 

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee,” you start, and it’s been a while; Sam’s not the only reason you have to pause. “Fuck. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the — the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now—” Your voice breaks as you whimper, and you finish in one long rushed breath: “— and at the hour of our death, amen.”

“There you go,” Sam says, practically moaning the words against slick skin. You’re already having trouble thinking straight. 

You start all over again, trying to rush through it as quickly as possible, but you stutter as Sam fucks you shallowly with his tongue.  

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Sam says, curling two long fingers into you.

Except it’s bad. In the short time you’ve been doing this, Sam has learned your sweet spots like nobody’s ever learned them before, and he’s not touching them now. This is barely a tease, compared to what you know he can do to you. It’s bad, and it’s going to get so much worse. 

You start to stammer through the third prayer. You’re so wet — from the thrill of the setting, as much as what he’s doing with his tongue — you can hear the slick thrust of his fingers inside you, dirty and distracting. 

When you pause for breath between “Mary” and “mother of God,” Sam hums low against your cunt, and you know he enjoys this, you know he gets off on it, but he lets out these noises that never fail to make you feel feverish, and now is no exception. It doesn’t feel chilly any more. By “amen,” you’re burning up. 

“Three down,” Sam murmurs. 

On the fourth “grace,” he closes his lips around your clit and sucks gently, and you make a high, squeaky, mortifyingly desperate sound. Your voice keeps breaking as you stumble through the next lines, until you end on a long, relieved groan. 

“Good girl,” he croons. “Six more.” 

“I can’t,” you hiss. 

“You can. And you will.” 

On “full,” Sam twists his knuckles, and you gasp, arching your back, squirming. He fucks you in the same rhythm as your words, dragging friction across your g-spot with every syllable, and when you try to speed up, rushing through it, you can’t even get to “sinners” without breaking off in a moan. He stops completely as you pant for breath, and as you mumble through the last lines, painfully slow, you’re rolling your hips, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, desperate for more. 

“That’s five,” Sam says. “I’ll give you a second to catch your breath.” 

With his free hand, he grabs one of your wrists, guiding your hand to the back of his head. His eyes flick up to you, watching hungrily, until you slide your fingers through the silky strands and tug lightly. 

You sigh. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

“Hope not,” he says, smirking against the crease of your thigh. “I’m into some weird shit, but I like ‘em warm and breathing.” 

“Ha fucking ha, Sam, that’s — fuck,” you choke, as he fits his mouth to your clit again, and this time he sucks lightly in time with the slow thrusts of his fingers.  You forget what you’re saying, somewhere around “God,” and stumble to the end in bits and incoherent pieces. 

“Six.” You realize you’ve got a death grip on his hair, all your muscles tensed-up and rigid with electricity that’s got nowhere else to go, but when you ease up, he pumps his fingers in deep and growls, “Harder.” 

He adds a third finger, and it’s so fucking good, so fucking much, filling you with fizzing pressure, and it takes most of your willpower to stop yourself from going under. 

You grit out, “HailMaryfullofgrace.” Lightning lances up your belly, and you squirm— “TheLordiswiththee.” — twist your fingers in Sam’s hair— “Blessedartthouamongwomen.” — muscles quaking, cunt clenching around perfectly curled fingers— “Blessedisthe. Fuck. Fruitofthywomb. Fuck — Jesus!” — tension surging and swelling  — “Holy Mary, mother of God, prayforussinnersnow, fuck, Sam!” — you’re almost there, almost, and he stops, refusing to give you what you want as you gasp out, “And —at the— the hour of our death, amen.” 

“Seven,” he says harshly, and you can feel him breathing hard, damp hot air teasing your slick swollen skin, and his mouth is so close to where you want it. He gives you a second and then: “Keep going.” 

You babble out a few words at a time, and your voice is ragged and broken, but it must sound close enough to what he wants; he’s winding you up again, fingers crooking expertly against that sweet spot. The heel of his other hand digs into your lower belly, right over that point of white heat, and it’s so intense, suddenly, that everything goes sparkly and distant.  

“Pray for us,” you groan, and he sucks, fast and hard. “Pray for us — us sinners —” 

There’s this pressure, right there, right where his fingers are stoking a fire, and it’s blazing, and —

“Sam, I can’t. I can’t, I’m gonna—” 

He’s not holding back, and you can’t either. You buck helplessly against the incredible suction of his mouth, holding him with both hands fisted in his hair as you bow up and cry out. All that pressure peaks, crashing down in wave after wave of relief, pulling you under like a rip tide as you come dripping-wet and messy. 

It blinds you, for a moment. You’re out of your body for who knows how long, lit-up and paralyzed by the high-voltage shock of it. 

When you come back to yourself, Sam is scooping you up and swapping places with you in one smooth movement, manhandling you so that you’re straddling him; he’s got his pants open just enough, can’t seem to wait any longer, and the breathless urgency is so unusual for him that your head spins. 

You’re still clenching through the lingering quakes of your orgasm, trembling, boneless like a rag doll, and it’s not you sinking down on his cock so much as him pulling you, filling you up inch by inch as you squeeze and quiver around the thick length of him. 

When he’s as deep as he can be, his arms wrapped around you and practically crushing you to his chest, you both pause and take a ragged gulp of air. 

“What even was that?” you slur, bracing yourself with a hand against the wall and trying to adjust. He lets out a rough groan through gritted teeth. 

“That is what I’ll be seeing every time I look at a confessional now,” he pants, starting to rock up into you. “Never gonna be able to walk into a church without getting hard.” 

He wraps an arm around your ribs, and the heat of his splayed hand on your shoulder feels like it spans half your back. Your naked skin seems even more obscene as it brushes the stiff cloth of his suit, and you can feel your own wetness soaking the fabric in places. You shiver, roll your hips, and you can feel the way he reacts, shuddering under you. 

“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes this a little too much,” you say, breathless. 

“Who said anything about too much? No such thing.” He barks out a laugh, bucking up in a way that makes you moan. “I’ve been to heaven, and trust me when I say, this right here—” He twists his hips viciously to emphasize the word. “— this is so much better.”

“God, this is so —” you whimper. He fists a hand in your hair and bites your neck, and you jerk helplessly against him. 

“God doesn’t care,” he growls. “God wasn’t listening to you just now.” 

“That’s not —” You’re pretty sure he’s missing the point, but with the way your cunt is throbbing at every perfect thrust, you can’t remember what that point is; you can’t remember anything. 

“God’s not going to answer those prayers,” he says hoarsely. “I’m the one who’s going to handcuff you and bend you over the hood of the car and fuck you until your legs give out.” 

“Holy shit, Sam.” Your brain is shorting out. 

“I’m going to make sure Dean sees you when you’re all strung-out and begging for it,” he promises. He jerks up with a vicious twist of his hips, and you grind down to meet him, every inch of your skin singing. “I’m going to hold a gun to your head while you ride me. I’m going to give you anything you want.” 

“Please.” Your moan sounds more like a sob, and you can’t see straight anymore; it’s all going distant, until the only thing that feels real is the aching, pulsing heat of him inside you. 

Sam claws at your back, dragging his open mouth up the side of your neck until he can snarl against your ear: “God doesn’t answer prayers, but I do.” 

He surges up to meet you one last time. Your vision flashes bright white as you come, one exquisite pulse after another rolling through you, and it feels like a purer sort of ecstasy than any religious experience you’ve had in a church.

This is worth a little hellfire. 

.

.

.

There is now a follow-up drabble here!

[theroyalsavage]

four down

Summary: In which Nico gets his wisdom teeth removed (as well as a couple inhibitions) and Will’s just trying to get them both home without crashing the car.

By the time Will walks into the operating room, Nico’s already upright, sitting straight-backed in the dentist’s chair and tapping his hands on his knees in a sharply quick rhythm. Will suppresses a smile at the way Nico’s looking at the nurse as she gently opens his mouth to put gauze in, like he’s not sure whether all this is fight-or-flight worthy or absolutely hilarious.

Will taps the doorframe as he walks in, and the nurse looks up and nods at him. “The receptionist sent me in,” he says, nearing the chair and giving Nico a gentle nudge on the shoulder. “How’d you do, Nico? Anything hurting?”

Nico’s just blinking at him, eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed, mouth hanging open a little, so Will laughs and looks to the nurse. She walks him through recovery details, hands him a pamphlet of instructions and a prescription for painkillers, and then helps him guide Nico up and out of the chair.

Nico giggles, swaying a little on his feet, so Will snags him around the waist. Nico immediately goes quiet, shooting Will a startled little look out of the side of his eyes, and Will just winks at him and squeezes once before they take off towards the parking lot.

They’re in Will’s car, waving the nurse off as she retreats back into the building, when Nico whips around and points a finger in Will’s face. His face is already a little swollen, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“Who are you?” he demands, voice thick through the gauze in his mouth, and Will snorts.

“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Don’t remember me?”

“Do I know you?” Nico asks, in that same tone of astonished disbelief.

Will smiles at Nico and brushes his bangs out of his eyes. Nico’s eyes go even rounder at his touch. “You do. I’m Will. And you’re Nico. Those names ringing any bells?”

“I’m not an idiot. I know my own name, obviously,” Nico says, attempting to push out his lower lip with little to no success. The nurse said he’d be numb along his jaw for at least the rest of the day.

“Not mine?” Will teases, as he turns the car on and begins to pull out of the parking lot.

“I don’t know you. If I knew you, I’d remember,” Nico says confidently. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

Will has to stop himself from slamming on the breaks. He can feel the tips of his ears go hot, wishes desperately modern medicine had developed a cure for the common blush.

They’ve come a long way since Nico stumbled out of the Camp Half-Blood shadows with a Roman praetor and a mythic statue in tow, but Nico’s always been reserved with his affection: careful, hesitant, even-keeled. Will’s used to Nico allowing their hands to twine together, used to Nico instigating the occasional kiss or, if he’s feeling bold, tracing his hands up beneath the hem of Will’s shirt to drag along his skin.

He’s not used to this, though, to the way Nico’s looking at him warm and amazed and incautious, like he’s never seen anything more radiant than Will in his life and he can’t bring himself to look away.

You’re fucking gorgeous.

“Am I?” Will finally manages, in a tone of forced neutrality, and Nico makes a sound like, duh.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” Nico says, confident, like when he’s talking to Hazel or helping Will with his swordfighting technique or telling someone the best way to give a treat to Mrs. O’Leary. “Did you ever play Mythomagic? You look like the Apollo card. Wait, I think I don’t usually talk about that. Do I usually talk about that?”

Will gives a surprised laugh - the Apollo card, seriously, his dad would have a field day with this - and says, “Yikes,” but Nico’s still going.

“I don’t know. Fuck. You look like a... like a sunrise, or something. Your hair looks like sunlight. You’re gorgeous. Did I already say that?”

“Yes, you did mention it.”

“Are you single?” Nico asks, leaning back in his seat, and Will has to fight the urge to stop the car and kiss him on the mouth right then, swollen cheeks and all.

“No,” he says, instead, “I am not.”

Nico shakes his head. “Dude, whoever’s dating you should try the lottery or something. God. Look at you.”

“Sounds like you’re a pretty lucky man, then, Nico di Angelo,” Will laughs, and he laughs even harder at the dumbfounded expression on Nico’s face.

“I’m dating you?” he gasps. “Me?”

“You,” Will confirms, and Nico bursts out into giggles again.

“Oh, man,” he says, “holy shit. What the fuck did I do to deserve you?”

“I mean, you did save the world a couple times,” Will says, and he reaches over and grabs Nico’s hand, brushes a kiss to the knuckles. “And you’re not too bad-looking yourself, you know.”

Nico gives him another dazed, slow blink, the twists of gold in his eyes catching the sun, eyelashes fanning black-black-black against the warm brown of his cheeks.

“I’m dating you,” he repeats, in a tone of extreme wonder. And then he darts over, faster than Will’s eyes can track - Chiron’s combat training paying off, thank you, Chiron - and presses a clumsy kiss to the place where Will’s neck meets his shoulder. Will goes still, feels Nico’s breathing on his skin, tries to keep his eyes trained on the road.

“That hurt my mouth,” Nico whimpers when he pulls back, and Will snorts.

“Let’s get you home, then,” he says, and Nico beams at him, unreserved, the way he had when they were kids and he’d just arrived at camp, all big-eyes and inky curls and unreserved wonder.

“Will,” he says, and Will lifts an eyebrow at him. “I think I might love you.”

And if Will speeds the rest of the way home and swings into a parking space at maximum overdrive; if he leans over as soon as they’re in park to pepper petal-light kisses across Nico’s face, his eyelids, his nose, his throat; if he runs his nose slow and steady along Nico’s jaw, careful to avoid the swollen parts of his cheek, well.

That’s between him and Nico, he thinks.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 278: MOMO IN CHARGE

Previously on BnHA: Deku and Kacchan were all “SIR, THAT’S OUR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SENSEI” and got really ferocious and made a very passionate attempt to blow Tomura up and it was great. It basically did nothing, but it was still great. AFO was all “COME HERE LIL BRO”, and Tomura was all “silly Sensei, you can’t just take over my mind and body just like that”, and he was very confident of this despite there really being no evidence to back it up, but okay! Gran was all “time to make the fandom mad at me” and grabbed Tomura by the collar and yelled at him about Nana a bit, and then Bakugou and Endeavor made an even MORE passionate attempt to blow up Tomura, which may or may not have done some actual damage. The chapter ended with Gigantomachia battling Mt. Lady, just kinda out of the blue, which is FINE, but she had better be all right, though!

Today on BnHA: Everyone is all “WAUGHH IT’S GIGANTOMACHIA” and running around freaking out about it. The U.A. alums all kick some ass, and pretty much everyone else not from U.A. does jack fucking shit. Mt. Lady, who I plan on naming all of my future children after, does her best to stop Machia but he keeps flinging her aside. Kamui Woods is all “here I come with Midnight to put Gigantomachia to sleep!” and is PROMPTLY FUCKING MURDERED!? by Dabi because he’s a flammable tree man, and so Midnight falls all the way to the ground and is badly injured. So then she’s all “well I better call the most competent person I can think of to fix this mess” and dials up YAOYOROZU FUCKING MOMO, who proceeds to take charge LIKE THE BOSS SHE IS, and mobilizes the rest of the kids. And honestly I have more faith in them than in any of the adults at this point, so yeah, you know what? Let’s do this.

so I am possibly a bit spoiled on this chapter because I did a “top five predictions” post earlier this week, and someone replied to that yesterday on Thursday saying that they were mostly correct. I don’t know exactly how close to the mark I was though, and in any case most of the predictions were just “so-and-so shows up, probably”, so it’s not too bad. we’ll see how it goes!

OH THANK GOD MY BABIES ARE SAFE

I mean, CLEARLY they’re all about to be in horrible danger, seeing as Jirou is about to inform them of the whole “THE BIG GUY EVERYONE WAS AFRAID ABOUT WAKING UP WOKE UP” thing, but in the meantime at least Kami and Toadette and Honenuki made it back to the group safely

also Kaminari’s use of “Jirou-Jack” here is fucking inspired and I want him to teach a class on nicknames. isn’t he the one who coined “Yaomomo” as well? this boy has a gift and it needs to be appreciated

so Jirou is all “SOMETHING REALLY BIG IS COMING”, and actually she says “INSANELY HUGE”, which if anything is still an understatement, hard as it is to believe

WOW

“A BAD GUY IS HEADING THIS WAY?? SOUNDS LIKE IT’S TIME TO ABANDON THE CHILDREN IN THE WOODS” kjlfakh okay you know what?? fine!! you weren’t even going to do anything anyway so let’s not pretend!!

holy shit it’s like Mt. Lady isn’t even there

look at those speed lines!! goddamn. I just felt this huge rush of empathy for Mt. Lady though. like can you imagine growing up with this super-destructive quirk, and managing to become a hero with it against all odds, and having to put up with the manga making fun of you all the time just because sometimes you have a tendency to DESTROY A LOT OF STUFF, but it’s not like you can help it!! but the upside has always been that when your quirk is on, you are fucking UNSTOPPABLE though. so even though it’s been a hell of a rough ride for you, it’s worth it because you’re a complete badass and the number of people who can beat you out in terms of sheer physical strength is probably in the single digits. and you’re working really hard too, and lately you’ve been moving up through the ranks and actually becoming a damn fine hero if I do say so myself (and I do), and it’s like, about time though?? like finally, finally it is all starting to come together for you. and then this snarling trashrock person suddenly comes stampeding along and you put your all into trying to stop him, and it doesn’t even do a damn thing. like, holy shit. that’s just not fucking fair and YOU DESERVE BETTER, MT. LADY

anyway so she’s still hanging in there for now though so let’s check in with our villain squad riding on his back

lmaooo they’re all “I don’t even understand what is going on here”

YOU GUYS, THIS IMPLIES THAT THEY WERE ALL PLUCKED OFF THE GROUND BY THE SCRUFFS OF THEIR NECKS AND THEY HAD ABSOLUTELY NO SAY IN THE MATTER OMG. like I’m picturing Spinner being held by his cape pinched in between Machia’s thumb and forefinger, and awkwardly trying to lecture him like a mom with his hands on his hips all, “BAD GIGANTOMACHIA! NO! NOOOUAGH -- !” and cutting off with a yelp as he’s dropped onto his back

and I am glad they got Toga some clothes! I like to think Gigantomachia grabbed those for her as well. so thoughtful

wow Skeptic actually wants to go back to Re-Destro??

color me legit impressed. I underestimated your loyalty my dude. and let me also just take this moment to extend my gratitude toward Horikoshi for leaving the rest of the MLA out of it because good fucking riddance to them, goodbye forever hopefully!!

I guess they’ll be needing Skeptic’s quirk down the line for some reason? maybe he is meant to be like a new, less out-of-control Twice. smdh y’all out here trying to replace your dead buddy like a pet goldfish

who is this “they” Dabi is referring to

do you mean the heroes? lol yeah I guess they’re pretty distracted by the literal fucking kaijuu you’re currently piggybacking on

SIGH

“the Jakku team must’ve made a mistake” BOY, I’LL SAY. you know what, don’t even talk to me about that yet. it’s still too fresh. suffice it to say that your suspicions are correct and things in Jakku are not very daijobu right about now

anyway here’s a closeup of this bubble person just cuz

they are everything and I want them to be my friend. also there’s a squid person a few paces behind them who can probably do anything a squid can do. or they might actually be a shark person, actually. I don’t know. either way I love them

GETEN PLEASE GO AWAY

WE ARE PHASING OUT THE MLA!! MOVING FORWARD IT’S ORIGINAL LOV ONLY!! I’M SORRY BUT YOU DIDN’T MAKE THE CUT. we already have an ice character so shoo

OH DAMN MY MAN CEMENTOSS HAS HAD ENOUGH OF HIS NONSENSE TOO AHHHH YESS

1) hey so Cementoss is legit terrifying who’d’ve thought

and 2), did Cementoss always have a mouthful of gigantic perfect teeth each the size of a slice of bread, or is this just something I’m only noticing now because I’m behind the curve. either way, let me just say sincerely, DKJDLKFJLSKJG

RE-DESTRO YOU GO AWAY TOO!!

@waywardfacegarden​ you asked the other day which are the characters I actually dislike, and this is one of them lol. he’s just a big ol’ prick, and on top of that has the audacity to not even be interesting in any way so as to balance it out. anyway so apologies to any Re-Destro stans out there but I basically spend every panel he’s in hoping that someone will punch him in the face hard enough to finally make him shut up

anyway so my man Edgeshot is here though, finally!! but of all the people for him to fight! this is a real predicament for me. the most soothing character in the series contrasted with the character who grates my nerves the most. Edgeshot’s sexy ASMR voice is gonna be drowned out by all of RD’s punching and self-important ranting in the anime and I’m lowkey devastated but I’m gonna pull myself together and read on

SPEAKING OF SELF-IMPORTANT RANTING

Edge, if you can liberate us from having to put up with his insufferable ass once and for all I will be so grateful to you. can you do this. please. for me

and it looks like some other boring MLA villains are following along behind Machia so I’m gonna need someone to kick their asses as well. please

-- YESSSSSS

okay so now I see what that comment on my prediction post was referring to lol. I did indeed have my fingers crossed that these two would show up again, and sure enough! THE GANG’S ALL HERE YAY

and Mt. Lady is being sumoed aside!

anyone want tonight’s lotto numbers. during this brief fleeting moment of having my predictions be actually credible, I would just like to say that Hagakure is the U.A. traitor. thank you and goodnight

OH NO KAMUI IS WORRIED

HE LOOKS SO PANICKED?? OUT OF THE BLUE I SHIP IT SO MUCH?? I keep forgetting they’re on the same team and stuff and wow, I need to calm down

LOL MIDNIGHT IS ALL “NO TIME FOR SHIPS!!”

I wonder if her quirk will actually be enough to take him down? this is something I’ve been itching to see for a long time, actually. just how powerful is she? we know her quirk is more effective on males than females, but is anyone actually capable of resisting it? imagine if she really did just knock Gigantomachia out after all of this buildup. that would be some god-tier shit omg, DO IT

(ETA: I am just going to assume that since Horikoshi had to go to elaborate lengths to take her out of the fight, this means that her quirk really was capable of knocking them all out. another tragic case of Too Badass For The Plot. y’all better respect Midnight.)

YESSSSSSSS

is she stripping. you know what -- don’t think about it. I won’t let you ruin this for me Horikoshi. Midnight’s gonna be a badass because the ladies are fucking ruling this arc and that’s all there is to it

NOOOOOO

DABI GET BACK HERE I JUST WANT TO TALK!!

oh thank god, she’s all right. BUT KAMUI ISN’T THOUGH DLKJSFLKSJDG??!

did Kamui Woods just... die

(ETA: okay but for real, is there an actual curse in effect on the Billboard Top Ten right now, though?? did one of them accidentally disturb the tomb of some ancient king??)

...

( ･ั﹏･ั)

oH MY GOD!?!

NOOOOOOO WHY ARE YOU SO QUICK TO SLEEP ON MAJESTIC, LET’S SEE IF THEY CAN DO IT!! GIVE US MAJESTIC GOD DAMMIT

(ETA: Horikoshi is seriously just yanking our chain at this point. when Majestic finally does show up, he or she better have the coolest fucking quirk of all time, that’s all I’m saying.)

okay how badly injured is Midnight here, though?? she just fell all that way?? DO I NEED TO BE REALLY MAD. I CAN WORK MY WAY UP TO IT PRETTY QUICKLY, JUST SAY THE WORD. I’M ALREADY HALFWAY THERE HONESTLY. WHERE’S KAMUI WOODS

!!!!!!!!!!!

AND JUST LIKE THAT MY ANGER EVAPORATES INTO THE NIGHT, YESSSSSSSSS!! MOMOOOOO

holy shit. “a quirk that can stop that thing,” she says. and goes and calls YAOYOROZU FUCKING MOMO y’all I am barely holding myself back from SCREAMING right now I...

you guys

you guys. if Midnight and Yaomomo team up to take down Gigantofuckingmachia using some sort of MOMO MADE A MACHINE TO SPREAD MIDNIGHT’S QUIRK strategy, or whatnot?? I will fucking die on the spot. you can end the manga right there. Kacchan you can keep your quirk I don’t even care

“IT MIGHT BE AGAINST THE LAW” lmaooooo insert John Mulaney “WE’RE WELL PAST THAT” gif here. holy shit. listen, that is fine. if anything it’s even better

WHAT THE FUCK

DO I NEED TO START GETTING REALLY MAD AGAIN!?!?! FUCKING WHIPLASH, IS WHAT THIS IS, BUT YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT SORT OF OVER-THE-TOP REACTION IS NEEDED HERE AND I’LL GO FOR IT

(((( ;°Д°))))

[GRABS HORIKOSHI BY THE COLLAR] listen, you. if you only just now, for the first time ever, gave us a lady hero actually mentoring another lady hero, which we have somehow NEVER HAD BEFORE in almost three hundred chapters, only for you to then KILL OFF THE MENTOR IN THE MIDDLE OF HER GODDAMN SPEECH TO THE MENTOREE, I will... there’s... I’ll... okay, listen. DON’T. THERE WILL BE A RECKONING. CAPSLOCK SUCH AS THIS WORLD HAS NEVER WITNESSED!!

ヽ(#ﾟДﾟ)ﾉ┌┛

I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO REACT TO ANYTHING IN THIS CHAPTER AND I’M LOSING MY MIND OVER IT

so the other kids are all “what the fuck” and “so Momo’s in charge??” which, YES!!! IT’S THE ONE GOOD PART ABOUT ALL THIS SO DON’T YOU DARE QUESTION IT

MOMO NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE CRIPPLED BY YOUR ANXIETY, YOU CAN DO THIS GIRL I BELIEVE IN YOU

hell, it’s not even just an “I believe in you” thing, because it’s not just belief, it’s fact. you motherfucking can do this, you are the most capable and brilliant student in 1-A, you just gotta have faith and let yourself shine!!

so now there are some more panels of Machia running and the villains and heroes fighting, blah blah blah. and Momo screwing up her face as she makes her decision...

YESSSSSSSSS

my baby girl is all grown up and TAKING THESE MOTHERFUCKIN REINS and MOMO I WILL LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU JUST SAY THE WORD!!

lol she’s all “Jirou use your ears and scientifically calculate how long it’ll take him to get here”, and Jirou is all “I can literally fucking see him, he’s gonna be on top of us in like two seconds” WELL OKAY THEN

thank god there are no adult pros left to fuck this up. is that weird that this is a real and honest and completely sincere thought that just ran through my head? like, at this point if any of the adults were around I’d just be afraid of them dying honestly. but with the kids I actually feel real hope that they’re somehow gonna do this. of course it helps that unlike the adults they’re pretty safe from being killed off

also! way to represent the entirety of class 1-B there Honenuki lulz. sorry, The Rest of Class 1-B

OH MY GOD

MT. LADY I WILL LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU AS WELL!! YOU HAVE MY LOVE AND FEALTY!!

I’M STANNING HER SO HARD I’M GONNA EXPLODE SOMEBODY HELP!?!

JIROU SAYS THAT MACHIA HAS SLOWED DOWN!! YOU GUYS I’M ABOUT TO GET “MT. LADY FOR PRESIDENT” TATTOOED ACROSS MY FOREHEAD

lmao at Shouji using his power of “putting some extra eyeballs on my arms” to inform everyone that Gigantomachia is Right Over There and Very Big

good job Shouji

oh my glob I have so much love for Momo right now that it can’t even fucking be contained. brb wildly flailing my hands around a little to try and release some of this excess excitement

maybe Momo can be president instead and Mt. Lady can be the vice president

NO THE CHAPTER IS ENDING I’M NOT READY

AND JUMP IS ON BREAK AGAIN NEXT WEEK TOO, FML!!

okay!!

Kaminari is so fucking brave right now I just want to crush him in a hug?! we know he’s still scared!! look at his eyes!! and he was freaking the hell out earlier too, and now the situation is much worse! but he doesn’t give a fuck because his friends need him! he is ready to be a hero, my little baby boy is all grown up and I’m so proud??

Mineta’s face in the bottom right corner is everything. I know, I know, boooo Mineta, but that’s still the best face anyone has made in the entirety of this manga

Tetsutetsu’s out here all “I humbly request to also represent class 1-B” and Momo is all “okay fine I guess we can have two of you guys”

can we all just stop for a moment to appreciate how KamiJirouMomo is alive and well. like, we had interactions between all three of them in this chapter, in all possible permutations? do you know how happy this makes me?? I am vibrating with joy??!

I really can’t stress this enough -- I have no clue at all what these little soda can things are (anesthetic, I guess??? you know, like how you sometimes buy cans of anesthetic at the supermarket?? what do you mean you don’t do that??), or what they’re gonna do with them. I have like negative clues. but DAMNED IF I GIVE ONE SINGLE FUCK. the next chapter can be them all fucking hurling them at his face for all I care. THE DETAILS OF HOW SHE KICKS HIS ASS DO NOT MATTER!! GOOD MORNING TO YAOMOMO AND YAOMOMO ONLY!! MY MOMO ACADEMIA

[sunmoonandeddie]

i don’t need a roof

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,496

summary: Bucky thinks he’s running out of time, and needs to make sure his girl knows she’s taken care.

warnings: Bad words, almost death

a/n:  So this was inspired by this song from Big Fish the Musical.  There are lyrics from the song in the dialogue.  Also, this is the brownstone they were talking about.  Also I’m so sorry if this hurts, but there is a happy ending.

Bucky was cold.  In all the time that you’d known him (three years and four months, actually), he’d never once been cold.  He’d always been your own personal space heater, even before the two of you started dating.

But as you held him in your arms, his head on your chest, you were struck with the fact that he was cold.

The HYDRA agents that were holding you had injected him with something a few days ago, some glowing liquid that made a weight appear in the pit of your stomach.  But you could only watch as they injected it into his bloodstream.  You were too weak to do anything, too weak to protect the love of your life.

When the agent holding you had let you go, letting your kneecaps hit the concrete floor with a thud, you’d rushed to him, holding him as close as you could.

You’d never seen him in so much physical pain.  The super soldier serum was trying it’s best to keep up with whatever he’d been injected with, but it was like it set his blood on fire.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered as you rocked him back and forth, your head resting on top of his.  You didn’t realize you were crying until you tasted the saltiness of your tears on your lips.  It was all your fault.  You were the reason that you two got captured, and had been held in this cell for at least a week.

At least they hadn’t separated you.  You would’ve gone absolutely feral if they had even tried that, not to mention what Bucky would have done.

“Agent Twelve, on your right!  Incoming!”

You turned to see a HYDRA agent with his knife in hand, ready to strike.  You waited for just a second for him to get close enough, before ducking and sweeping out his legs in the same motion, catching his own knife in your hand and shoving it into his throat.  “Got him,” you said, yanking the knife out with a wince.

The sound of someone choking on their own blood as they died was never one you could get used to.

This was supposed to be an in and out mission.  An hour or two, tops, with minimal fighting.

But your intel was wrong, and you’d been led into the trap.

It felt like with every agent you took down, two more appeared.  They kept multiplying, like bunnies.

“No, not like bunnies,” you mused to yourself as you fought off two more agents.  “I like bunnies.  These guys—”  You grunted as you wrapped your legs around one of the guy’s heads, squeezing and twisting just as Natasha taught you to do.  “These guys are fuckin’ rats!”

You could hear Bucky snorting on the commlink, and spotted him shaking his head in amusement as he took down three separate agents at once across the airfield you two were currently fighting on.

God, your man was fucking hot.

An entire year, eleven months, and twenty-four days together, and he still made you sweat like a teenager going through puberty anytime you saw him.

Which reminded you.  You had your two-year anniversary in, like, six days.  You knew that he definitely had something special planned, the secret romantic that he was.  Fuck, you needed something to do for him.  Despite the fact that he always said you didn’t have to, you wanted to.  You wanted to make your man feel just as special as he made you feel.

Flowers.  You could start with flowers.  People were always so surprised to find that your boyfriend loved flowers, but he did.  It was sweet.  His absolute favorites were pink begonias, since they reminded him of his mother’s garden.  Well, the flower box she kept on the window sill, since they didn’t have the space or money for a full garden.

What else?  You couldn’t just get him flowers.  Two years was a big deal!  Especially considering the kind of people you two were!  The both of you were stubborn as an ox and lacked communication skills.  You were both used to doing things on your own, and dealing with issues without asking for help.

But that doesn’t work in a relationship.

You knew a lot of people thought you wouldn’t make it a month, and they were almost right since you two had your first fight at three weeks and a day, but then something happened.

Bucky stopped in the middle of the fight, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh came from his bones, and said, “I’m not doing this.  I love you too much to let something as stupid as this ruin us.”

It had been the first time he’d said ‘I love you.’

And you hadn’t heard him at first and kept yelling, before abruptly stopping and staring at him like he’d grown two heads.  “I’m sorry.  What?  You…  You love me?”

And he’d simply nodded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I…  I love you, too,” you said, clearing your throat as you shuffled your feet.

After that, you two decided to go see Donna, a couple’s therapist.  You were both already going to therapy separately, but going together was an entirely new ball game.

And it worked.  Sure, it wasn’t always smooth sailing, but it wasn’t like you were screaming and shouting at each other.  You handled your problems like a team, because that’s what you were.

You could always get one of those little USO showgirl uniforms…  As much as you hated Amazon, their Prime feature really was a godsend for times like these.

Or maybe you could pay a shit ton of money for someone to make it in five days or less, since you had money now.  It’d be worth it, and there were thousands upon thousands of costume designers and seamstresses in New York City, the world capital of theatre.

And you still had that red lingerie he loved so much that you could wear underneath it…

“TWELVE!”

You shook yourself out of your daze just in time for a HYDRA agent to plunge a needle into your neck, black quickly overtaking your vision as you passed out.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasped out as you held Bucky that much closer.  It hadn’t been hard for you to connect the dots once you’d woken up in the tiny concrete room, a steel door being the only way out.  Bucky had been captured because he’d been trying to save your ass.

He grunted as he moved, his eyes squeezing shut in pain.  “It ain’t your fault, baby doll,” he said, his hand grasping onto your forearm.  “Stop blaming yourself.”  He leaned his head slightly to the side so he could look at you, reaching up to wipe your tears.  “Wipe that frown off your pretty face.  ‘M right here.”

“Yeah, but—”  You were cut off by him placing a finger over your mouth.

He took a deep breath before he spoke, his face pale.  “Now, baby doll…  I need you to listen real good, okay?”  He waited for you to squeeze his hand in confirmation.  “There’s a brownstone at 154 Hicks Street, Brooklyn,” he said, wincing with the effort it took to talk.  “Now, I know it’s in Brooklyn, and you love Manhattan, but—”

Brows furrowed, you cupped his cheek in your hand.  “Brooklyn is just fine, but what are you talking about?”

You could visibly see the cogs turning in his head as he carefully chose his words.  “I already paid for it in full, so no need to worry about that.  Sam knows where the keys are.  And—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said, cutting him off.  “Why are you talking like this?”

His flesh hand reached up and cupped your chin, his thumb running over your bottom lip.  “You always said you’ve never had a home, but you wouldn’t mind having one with me,” he said, his voice barely audible.  “So I got you one.  It’s got a garden and everything, so you can plant flowers and... and a peach tree.  ‘Cause I know just how much you like peaches.”

“Then stop talking about Sam knowing where the keys are,” you chided.  “You can show me the garden yourself.”  You knew where he was going with this, but you didn’t want him to.  You didn’t want him to say it, because then that might make it real.

“Baby doll, I don’t think I’m gonna make it out of here,” he said as gently as possible, his voice cracking.  “So you gotta listen to me.  It’s all paid for.  Every penny.  The papers are in my desk in our room, the second drawer from the top.”  He took in a shaky breath, trying to hide the pain.  “There’s a ring there, too.  It’s yours, but I thought you might wanna live together for at least six months before I popped the question on ya.”

“Stop it,” you said, leaning your forehead against his.  “You can propose whenever you want, but you gotta stop talking like that.”  Your nose nudged against his as you tried to hold back a fresh wave of tears, though you were quickly finding that was impossible.  “Stop talking like you’re not getting out of here, too.  We’re gonna make it out of here, okay?  And then you can show me the brownstone with the garden in Brooklyn.  So stop talking like you’re going to die because you’re not.”

“My stubborn girl,” he said with a weak laugh, his smile watery.  “I got you a home.  For our two year anniversary, which...”  His brows furrowed, his head cocking to the side a little.  “I think it was four days ago?”

Sniffling, you grabbed his face a little tighter, leaning back so you could look in his eyes.  “Don’t you get it?  You’re my home.”  Letting out a huff, you wiped a tear from his face.  “In your face, I see a lifetime.  In this place…”  You pressed your hand to his heart, feeling the slow but steady beat under your palm, through his thin white undershirt.  “I feel at ease.”

He looked at you like he wanted to interject, but didn’t, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

“Wallpaper peeling, paint wearing thin,” you said, teasing him a little about his age like you always did.  “Here’s where I end and begin.”  In his eyes, you could see all the trouble of his past, swirling in those brilliant blue depths.  “I don’t need a roof to say, ‘I’m covered.’  I don’t need a roof to know I’m home.”  You curled up on his chest, right where your hand had been.  It was much nicer to be able to hear it as well as feel it.  If you closed your eyes, you could imagine you were in your bed at the Tower, going to bed together like any other night.  “There could be a single shingle dangling overhead.  I don’t need a roof to make my bed.”  Fingers running up and down his flesh arm, you tried to get him to relax.  “Close your eyes, I’m still beside you.  No goodbyes needed today.”

Thunder cracked outside, and if you listened close enough, you could hear the soft pitter patter on the roof.  His breathing was starting to even out, and you didn’t know if it was because he was calming down or if he was actually starting to go.

“Hear what the rain says, know what it knows.  After the rain, something grows.”  Your fingers intertwined with his as tears ran slowly down your cheeks, and you squeezed softly.  His metal arm wrapped around your waist, holding you between his legs.  “I don’t need a roof to say, ‘I love you.’  I don’t need a roof to call you mine.”

If you got out of this, you were retiring, and you’d make him retire, too.  You wanted to live a life with him without worrying about possibly dying before you got a chance to see him go gray.

If you had children, you wanted to be alive to see them grow up.

You’d give up being an agent.  You’d become just a consultant, or you’d give that up, too.  You didn’t care.  You’d just be Mrs. Barnes for the rest of your life, and you’d be perfectly happy with that.

“I don’t need adventure in some far away frontier.  I don’t need a roof to feel you near,” you said, starting to get choked up.

He was definitely fading.  His vibranium arm around your waist was starting to go limp, his grip on your hand loosening.

A lump formed in your throat as you clutched onto him that much tighter.  “All I need is you and you forever.  All I feel is true and absolute.”  You leaned back, holding his face in your hand.

His blue eyes fluttered open as he tried to stay awake for you, tried to fight the darkness overcoming him.

Your lower lip wobbled as you ran your thumb over a cut on his cheek bone.  “I don’t need a legal deed to help me play my part.  I don’t need a roof to hold my heart.”  You leaned in and pressed your lips to his.  “Stay with me,” you whispered against his lips, desperately.  You could taste the mix of your tears and his.  “Stay with me.”

But god, he was in so much pain.  You could see it in his face, feel it in the way his grip on your hand readjusted, like it was taking up all of his energy just to hold on.

It probably was.

Swallowing down the sob that was threatening to come out, you said, “It’s okay, Bucky.  It’s okay.  I’m here.”  You pulled his head to your chest, so he could hear your heartbeat in return.  Your fingers worked their way through his tangled hair.  “You’re my home, Bucky.  It’s you.  Please, stay with me.”  But you knew he was close to the end, and the likelihood of him making it out of there was getting smaller and smaller with each passing second.  “I’m here, love.  I’m here.”

Your mouth opened in a silent sob as you felt him go still, your nails unintentionally digging into his arms.  Small puffs of air were still coming from his nose, but his heart was maybe going at five beats per minute, if that.  Your body shook as you rocked him back and forth, unable to let go.

The love of your life was leaving you.  You were feeling him slip away in your arms.

“Bucky?” You whispered, almost afraid to speak at all.  “Baby?  Bucky, please…  Please, stay with me.”  Your voice cracked as you buried your face in his greasy hair.

You didn’t want a brownstone or a ring if you didn’t have Bucky.  You didn’t want anything if you didn’t have him.

You squeezed your eyes shut, kissing his hair.  “I love you.  I love you.  Please, Bucky.  Please.”

The faint sound of footsteps approaching the door made you raise your head, and you steeled yourself, ready to fight back against the HYDRA agents that had no doubt been watching the two of you.  The monsters were just waiting for him to die, and then they were going to take him from you.

Not if you had anything to say about it.

You tightened your grip around him, not bothering to hide your tears.  There was no point.  A lack of tears wouldn’t help you.

The footsteps stopped outside the door, and there was a pause.

Then it blasted open with a bang that startled both you and Bucky, who’s heart rate picked up just a little bit at the sound.

You cried out with relief as you saw Tony standing there in his full Iron Man suit.  “TONY, HELP HIM, PLEASE!” You begged, urging him to take Bucky from your arms.  “HELP HIM!”  Sobs wracked your body as the man nodded, taking him without hesitation, and getting out of there.

Despite their past, Tony loved you, and had learned to love the super soldier by extension.

You sat on your knees, your forehead resting against the ground.  “Please, please, save him,” you cried, your nails dragging painfully against the concrete floor.  Your heart was in absolute shreds.

You had no idea who you were praying to, or even if you were praying at all.  You didn’t know if he could be saved at this point, but you were willing to ask every deity you could think of.

“Twelve?  Twelve, come on.”

Strong hands gently pulled you up, and you found Natasha guiding you towards the door.  “You have to help him, Natasha,” you croaked, dazed and stumbling over your own two feet as you walked forward.  “You have to save him.”

“I know,” she said quietly, her own voice thick with tears as she held you up, making sure you didn’t collapse in the middle of a HYDRA base.  “We’re gonna try, okay?  It’ll all be okay.”

You weren’t able to go to the brownstone with the garden in Brooklyn for three weeks.

You couldn’t leave Bucky’s side.

Tony had gotten him to New York City in record time, and had immediately thrown him into Doctor Cho’s cradle.

He was in there for thirteen days straight as his body fought the new serum, the cradle being the only thing keeping him alive.  It kept his heart and other organs working, his brain functioning.

After two days of you sitting in a chair by the cradle, unable to do anything else but wait, someone wheeled in a hospital bed for you to sleep on.  You’d actually been asleep when he woke up.

And then, when you finally did wake up, the first thing he said to you, his voice muffled by the glass, was, “How long has it been since you showered?  You smell worse than Sam after the gym.”

The absolute asshole.  He almost died and he had the nerve to get onto you about how much you smelled.

It had taken everything in you not to throw yourself at him.  You scrambled off the bed, clinging to the side of the cradle as you looked down at him, frantically hitting the button to get the lid off.  “Bucky,” you said, reaching down to touch his face.  You almost pulled it back, afraid that if you touched him, he’d disappear.

But he simply pushed himself up onto his elbows with a wince, leaning his face into your hand.

“You almost died,” you said, letting out a weak laugh as you rested your chin on the edge of the cradle.

He looked up at you then, his blue eyes just as bright as they always had been, even if they looked a little pained at seeing you such a wreck.  “We’re gonna have to talk to Donna about that, huh?”

A little over a week later, and he was cleared to go home with you.  He was still weak—that serum did take a lot out of him—but he was alive.  And according to every single doctor Tony brought in, there was no chance of him just dropping dead now.

And if they were wrong about that, they’d have you to deal with.  And they all knew that the new Mrs. Barnes was no one to trifle with.

“You got it, baby doll?” Bucky asked as he followed you up the front steps.  He had to take it easy, and you told him that he should consider getting a cane since it was still a little difficult for him to walk.

You were only half kidding about that, though.  They still didn’t know if he still had the original super soldier serum in him after what HYDRA had done, but he was slowly gaining his strength back.  Either way, you didn’t care.  You’d love him with or without his super strength.

“Yeah, I got it,” you said as you slid the shiny gold key into the lock, turning it and opening the door.

The U-Haul truck was sitting on the street, waiting for you two to carry all of your boxes in, but that could wait.

You walked into the front foyer, taking in a deep breath.  It was completely bare, but the furniture that you two had ordered while sitting in his hospital room together was in the U-Haul as well, ready to be arranged.  Sun was streaming in through the large windows, giving a warmth to the house that you couldn’t find at Tower.

“Welcome home, baby doll,” Bucky said as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.  His chin rested on your shoulder, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

Your eyes pricked with tears as your hands grasped his forearms, making sure he was there with you.  A large diamond ring glittered in the late morning light on your left hand.  “Welcome home, Bucky.”

[punkrock-writer]

Space Cowboy- part 5

Never Fight a Man With a Perm

Pairing- Din Djarin x F!OC 

Warnings- Swearing, Mentions Blood, Canon Typical Violence. The Gang from Chapter 6 are dicks. 

A/N- Howdy!! I’m so sorry this took so long to come out. I had a bad case of brain rot this past week and did not want to type, but it’s here and I hope ya’ll like it! I’m kind of nervous about this chapter because this was the situation that inspired the entire story, so please let me know what you think! 

I’m going to try to have the next chapter out quicker! Put who knows, I got worms in my brain! 

Masterlist AO3 

After almost taking another roll around the ship — thanks to Din's lack of a warning — Sedona was now aware of what hyperspace felt like. It was actually rather calm, quiet, and still. She wished she could see it, but she didn't really know if she should attempt to enter the cockpit. Instead, turning to face her bags, she figured it was a good time to get some real clothes on. The child cooed sadly when she set him down in the sleeping compartment, and though she hated to, she ignored him and knelt by her suitcase. Searching for something somewhat warm through the clothes that were packed for Florida was proving difficult. She settled on black leggings, an old grey Ron Jon Surf Shop hoodie, and a pair of soft crew socks. A sports bra and a fresh pair of underwear completed the 'look' and she gathered her things and headed to the shower room.

Not before quickly turning back and grabbing her deodorant, because, yuck.

With a deep breath, she decided it was finally time to look at herself.

Nothing was exciting or truly different to note about the person reflected back to her in the foggy mirror. It was the same girl, blue eyes, short brown hair, but now there was a brand new massive bruise on her left temple. Her dark circles were deeper, and her eyes were tired. But other than the wound there was nothing new. She discarded her pajamas, and slipped into the clean clothes, she never thought it would feel this good to be fully covered. Her arms all the way to her toes now concealed in comfortable fabric, and she was grateful. She quickly put her hair into a folded bun, and set to her second task, putting that extra bacta patch on her head.

Peli made it look much easier. Whatever it was, was slimy and hard to get a grip on, but once it was placed, it stuck. So now she had a slightly lopsided, oversized band-aid on her head. And she knew it was going to hurt like a bitch to yank out of her hair. Taking one last look in the mirror, she sighed.

Honestly, she looked like she was about to go take a plane trip back home, and it tugged her heart a little bit.

Shaking her head she picked her things back up and opened the door to exit into the hull. A shiny helmet of beskar startled her, he must've just jumped down from the cockpit, as he was facing her through the ladder. She tried not to think too much about the way he stared for a bit too long, most likely just assessing her change in appearance. Before she could say anything he turned sharply, stepping over to where the child pouted in the sleeping compartment. She scooted by them, heading to put her things back in her bag. And when she straightened up to see what he was doing, he was already halfway up the ladder, taking the child with him.

Sedona tried not to dwell on it too much, it's not like he knew her, he barely even trusted her. He didn't owe her any more kindness than he was already giving her. But it really didn't help when she felt like she knew him. She needed to get that idea out of her head, she didn't know jack shit about what went through his head. Seeing someone on screen is so much different than actually being around them, and Sedona had to make sure she didn't get too comfortable too fast— she couldn't afford any slip-ups. So for now she would take it slow, tiptoe around the Crest, and do what she needed to do when called.

In pursuit of being quiet, she decided now might be a good time to check her phone. She settled herself in the sleeping compartment, purse in her lap, and plucked it from the bag. The time read 10:34 am, and obviously, there was no way of telling if that was right. Her calendar read two days since she had been ripped from her hotel room, and she was pretty sure that would be reliable. As long as she had some way of knowing how long she'd been here, she could keep herself grounded.

It didn't even cross her mind that she should try to find some way to get back home.

Sedona dozed off after a while, curled around her purse in the sleeping compartment. Her circadian rhythm was thrown off, or maybe it was like some kind of space-sickness. She was just tired, and she didn't know what else to do. The plot was getting scrambled in her head, and until Din jogged her mind in some way, she wasn't going to risk getting a headache thinking about it.

So she slept, the soft hum of hyperspace lulling her into relaxation, no matter how uncomfortable the bed was.

~o~o~o~

That was how Din found her a few hours later. Curled like a lothcat around one of her smaller bags. The child gurgled in happiness at the sight of her— he was the reason they were down there, wailing incessantly at the ladder. He didn't understand why he liked her so much, but if he trusted anyone, it was the child. So he set him down next to her knees, a position they had just recently been in. The child began climbing up her legs, and Din could only look on in amusement as she grumbled something incoherent.

The toddler reached his intended destination, her shoulder, and began to tap his tiny hands on her cheek. Din couldn't stop a small smile from breaking his features, thankful for the helmet once again. Her eyes popped open, panic clear on her features as she turned to look at what was tapping her face, and a smile overtook her.

"Hey little guy, how'd you get up there." Din pretended not to notice the roughness of her voice or the sleepy smile that turned to face him. "Oh I see now, you had an accomplice."

She slowly sat up, taking care to hold the child steady. She folded her legs in front of her, setting him in her lap. The child smiled up at him, and before he could stop himself, a gloved hand reached out and stroked his ear. Din wasn't used to showing affection in front of others, especially people he didn't fully trust. But the atmosphere was so relaxed, and it seems his body reacted before his mind could stop it.

"Did we stop somewhere?" Her quiet voice broke him out of his trance, his head snapped back up to meet hers. She looked worried, her eyes searched the helmet, and her teeth caught her bottom lip. Din told himself he was just observing a possible threat, analyzing her tells.

Subconsciously, that was a different story.

"No," he paused to clear his throat when it came out in a whisper. "I've picked up a job, I'm changing our course, and we'll be there in an hour... I just—" well Din didn't really know why exactly he felt the need to warn her. "I just wanted to know if you had... anything to tell me." Right, just trying to get information. Her eyes seemed to light up in recognition, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Who- or what is the job exactly." She looked confused still, her eyes zoned in on something in the distance, deep in thought.

"It's with an old... acquaintance of mine." His voice was rougher than he intended, still not really enjoying the idea of the job. But by the way her eyes darkened, he knew it was probably going to be a big mistake.

~o~o~o~

Sedona's mind instantly hooked onto the information and dragged it from the depths of the scramble. This situation, she knew well. This episode, she had watched, many times. For the plot... not for the way the red lights danced off beskar or the amazingly hot fight scenes.

No for the plot.

She knew what she needed to do.

"They betray you, they're going to try and shove you in a cell and leave you there... and a droid tries to shoot the baby— and they're all massive dicks, every one of them." Okay. That sounded crazy, she didn't mean for everything to tumble out like that. According to the way Din suddenly stood straight and alert, she probably didn't say the right things. "Wait... but you get out of it, no one gets hurt— except for the assholes— but they deserved it a-and you get money."

He just stood there, still as a rock. She couldn't imagine how all of that sounded to him. He probably didn't even know what the mission was supposed to be, and she had already informed him it was doomed from the start.

Yeah, I gotta work on the info delivery.

He let out a long sigh. His fingers twitched at his side, he probably would've rubbed his forehead in frustration if he could. She could feel herself shrinking in the silence, she unconsciously held onto the baby in her lap a little tighter. He cooed at her, seemingly sensing her anxiety. His little 3 clawed hands tapped at hers that held his waist.

"Well... like I said, an hour." He then turned and quickly made his way to the ladder. Climbing into the cockpit in almost record time. Sedona let a long sigh escape her, bringing one hand up to rub her eyes. She wasn't tired anymore, anxiety had squandered that quickly.

She had to either, A. Figure out some way to keep Din from being tricked and captured. Or B. Make sure Grogu doesn't alert the droid of his presence. For some reason, the situation felt wrong. She knew this mission was on course to go sour, but there was a bad feeling whispering at the edges of her mind.

Everything was feeling super, extra, bad and it was making her stomach hurt.

Or maybe she was just fucking starving.

Sedona realized she had never eaten the 'bar' Peli had given her. And an all-liquid diet the day before probably wasn't helping her whole, situation. Moving the child from her lap, she placed her feet on the ground. Thankful for her socks as the cold of the metal seeped through the fabric. She walked over to her suitcase— not really remembering where she had put the food— the entire evening leading up to her fight with Toro was a blur. When she didn't find it in her purse, she searched through her suitcase. Her hands touched the foil wrapping, and suddenly there was another presence at her side.

The little green gremlin was a bloodhound for food, it was like he read her mind and teleported to her. Letting out an excited squeal when she brought the bar into view, Sedona couldn't help but laugh with him. Sitting cross-legged in front of her suitcase she invited him to sit with her. And with more adorable grunts and snorts he sat down in between her legs, eyes never leaving the bar.

"Okay we can share, but don't tell your dad" she whispered, he made a soft coo in response. The bar looked like someone had put a granola bar through a grinder, and then reformed it back into a bar. Not exactly the most appetizing thing, but food was food, and the little guy seemed excited. She broke off a small piece— yes she had witnessed the child swallow a frog whole— but he was so little in front of her, so she went by baby rules and gave him something small. He grabbed it in his little hands, and then she broke off a piece for herself.

It was dry, and tasted kind of like a protein bar, but not at all like a protein bar. It was just different, but with the way the child inhaled it, she knew it was probably worth eating. They carried on like this till it was gone, Grogu munching happily, not minding the crumbs that fell into his lap. She was able to choke it down with the assistance of the water bottle that still sat in her purse. But eating didn't seem to help the way her stomach twisted in worry. When she wasn't distracting herself by watching the child, her mind wandered dangerously.

She couldn't tell if the walls her mind had put up the moment she dropped on the Crest were finally crumbling. Or if something was actually wrong. Her head was starting to hurt again, and now with a stomach ache, she felt like she was starting to break down. She needed another distraction.

Crumbling up the wrapper she turned to her suitcase. The child babbled a little, probably wondering if she had more food. Instead, she was just looking for anything; she moved through everything in the bag, toiletries, bras, a journal. And then she felt something solid. Her boots! She had honestly figured she didn't have any shoes here. Those had been the first thing to come out of her suitcase when she got to her hotel. But now, pulling her work boots from the depths, it was the first time she had actually been excited to see them. They were beat up hiking boots, with the perfect amount of ankle support and non-slip bottom to make it in space.

"Well, are you gonna let me put these on or what?" She said to the child in her lap, he tilted his head with a coo. She slowly started to straighten her legs, he made a squeal and then started to wiggle away from her. She laughed, helping him get off her lap and setting him to the side. He grunted, loudly, instantly very mad at her. She chuckled again, trying not to notice the way her hands shook as she began to lace up her boots.

Grogu toddled over to the ladder, reaching his arms up toward the cockpit. She couldn't help the smile, she finished tying her boots, standing, and headed over to the child. He was hanging from the 3rd rung of the ladder, obviously getting his speed from his father, she was able to catch him just as his 3 fingers slid off the metal. She rose and looked up with anticipation, obviously he wanted to go up there, and that meant she would have to... talk to Din.

She swallowed, but the baby in her arms let out an impatient squeal, reaching his arms up. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Um... D-Mando" she called, catching herself on the name quickly. "G-The kid wants to come up, i-is it alright if I bring him up." She hated the way she was stumbling through this, it shouldn't be that difficult to ask, but she almost shaking in fear at the prospect of being dropped off on the next planet. Her subconscious was telling her the Din she knew wouldn't do that, but this wasn't the Din she 'knew', this was a stranger. God, why did this have to be so complicated?

There was a long daunting pause. "Just don't touch anything." She let out a sigh of relief, and quickly attempted the climb to the cockpit. Proving to be much trickier with one hand. Her head breached the hole, and in front of her was something amazing. The cockpit of the Razor Crest lit up with the blue streaks of hyperspace. She stopped, awestruck at all of the buttons and levers, all of the details laid out before her. She didn't even notice the child wiggling out of her grasp.

It was beautiful, but also so terrifying. She watched the expanse of space whiz by, something her mind could've never been able to comprehend. And as she stared, she didn't notice when the pilot's chair slowly turned.

"You can come inside." She jumped at his voice, eyes meeting the helmet she didn't know was facing her. She quickly shut her mouth, just now realizing Grogu had made his way to Din's lap. Slowly, she finished the climb up the ladder and found herself at the door to the cockpit. Tentatively she stepped inside, eyes still wide in wonder, and made her way to the chair behind Din's left shoulder. He turned back to the controls, or more back to making sure the child didn't touch anything. She sat down slowly, still not entirely certain this was all real.

Swirling blue was constantly moving above and before her, it was mesmerizing, she felt herself getting lost in it. She could probably look at it for the rest of her life. It was the perfect distraction. Or until someone broke her from her daze, but she didn't expect that to happen anytime soon. Instead, she sat quietly, trying to take up as little space in the room as she could. Her thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind, she was allowed this brief moment of peace.

Sedona had held it together surprisingly well, though it was more likely she was in shock. Numb is what she would call it, seeing everything moving around her, but she didn't really feel it. A mild form of disassociation is probably what a therapist would tell her, her body was in survival mode while her brain just followed, screaming from the shadows. But at this current moment, her mind was quiet, the rolling blue was enough.

Comfortable silence, the baby sleeping, his snores being the only thing breaking through the hum of hyperspace. The pair sat quietly for what seemed to be a long time. It was the first moments of calm both had experienced at the same time, hopefully, it wouldn't be the last. In the past, the silence would have irked her, gnawed at her stomach. She probably would've started a conversation with anyone in the room. But now, it felt okay, her mind felt at ease for the first time since she'd got here. She ignored the voice that whispered, maybe it's him.

A sudden beeping broke through the serene atmosphere, Sedona jumped, while Din only moved his helmet. His hands reached out to flick some switches and punch some buttons.

She secretly wished she might be able to figure out what it all meant, but she wasn't going to get her hopes up.

"We're dropping out of hyperspace, hold on." It was an off-hand comment she realized because she didn't even have time to straighten in her spine when the ship seemed to lurch forward. Her hands flew to her sides, gripping the seat quickly. With the sudden movement, all of her anxieties flew into her throat. And as another giant space ship came into view, another emotion came forward.

Rage.

"Oh, those fuckers." The words were growled out before she even knew her mouth was open. Her eyes widening in surprise as a T-shaped visor snapped to face her. She could only shrug in response, it was the truth. Deep down, she was glad to know her shock-induced state hadn't taken everything from her, she could still talk some smack.

That was going to cause problems.

"You're staying on the ship, with the child." He had turned back to the controls, grasping the handles with gloved hands. The child in question had just woken up, cooing curiously at the scene change. "Make sure he doesn't cause any trouble, or whatever you said happens." She heard him and understood. But she was focused on trying to figure out how the hell she was going to hold her tongue when she knew what was about to happen. Din seemed to notice her unease, his helmet shifted slightly toward her, most likely confused by the white-knuckle grip she still had on the seat.

"You're going to have to gag me." The realization came suddenly, it was the only way, she did not trust herself to keep quiet. Din fully spun to face her now, even without seeing his face she could tell he was surprised and mad. She aimed for his eyes beneath the black visor, "It's the only way to shut me up." He let out a long sigh, that ended more in a frustrated growl.

"Are you serious?" His voice was sharp, serious disbelief. She nodded, it was ridiculous she knew, but with all the choice words swirling in her head, and the way she didn't have full control of herself, it really was the only way. With another growl-sigh he leaned down, ripping off a strip of material from his cape, and handed it to her, then he more or less shoved the child in her lap. "Just go— take him to the sleeping compartment, and... do it yourself."

She stood and left quickly, not wanting to anger him further. She staggered her way down the ladder, Grogu laughing at her struggles. She was panicking, her eyes darted over everything quickly, setting the child in the compartment she went over to her things. She zipped her suitcase closed, then hooked the handle to one of the nets that hung on the wall, hoping that would keep it out of way. Then with her purse, she made her way over to Grogu and climbed in after him. He babbled excitedly, not picking up on the frazzled emotions that were rolling off her in waves.

"We are going to have a totally chill time in here." She said to the child, though it was also mostly to herself. She adjusted till her back was against the wall, and allowed Grogu to clamber onto her lap. "It's gonna be totally cool and nothing bad is going to happen, alright?" Her voice had risen multiple octaves, and it seemed the gremlin had finally caught on to her panic. He tilted his head at her, making a much smaller, almost sadder sound. She instantly felt bad; making shushing noises, she rubbed his little back as he pouted up at her. The ship started to wobble, Din was maneuvering it into the bigger space ship, she held onto the little creature. And with a big thump, they were stopped.

Sedona let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Grogu's ears seemed to perk up at that, he settled down onto her lap. Listening carefully to the noises above her, she could hear Din moving around before steps began to descend on the ladder. He paused in front of the compartment, carefully observing the situation. Sedona could only stare back, doing her best not to let him know how scared she was, but he probably had a fear sensor on his helmet. Before he could turn away her voice betrayed her again.

"Di-Mando... could I have a weapon." It was a whisper, she was doing the best she could to hold herself together. But this was becoming more and more real by the second. He stared at her for much longer than she wanted, even Grogu made a small whine at the atmosphere. Then his hand moved to his wrist, tapping something, and a compartment opened adjacent to the one she was in. She peaked around the corner, eyes widening at all of the weapons laid out. And she almost laughed at the sight of her pink taser, placed there among all of the space gadgets. He grabbed that, setting it in front of her.

Without a word, he turned, fingers working at his wrist again. Almost simultaneously, the weapons doors and the door to her compartment shut. While the side ship door opened. She and Grogu were alone in the dimly lit compartment. He turned to look at her, head tilting in confusion. And she could only shrug in response.

There was silence on the ship for what felt like hours. Sedona and Grogu sat quietly, only the child breaking the silence with his babbles. She would shush him quickly; not really knowing when the crew would be joining the ship, and she didn't want their cover blown sooner than it needed to be. When his fussing became a bit more persistent, she gave him her keys that were still tucked in her purse. His big eyes widened further, entranced by the shiny metal and jingles.

Because how else do you calm a baby you don't know what to do with, you give it your keys. Fuck.

A heavy sigh passed through her as she leaned her head back against the wall. She's trying desperately to keep her emotions under control, obviously, Grogu could sense them, so if she was calm, he was calm. And that was most important right now. Her mind was constantly on edge, just waiting for something to happen. She didn't want to tie her mouth yet, fearing it would startle the child. Instead, she chewed on her lip, distracted by the soft tinkling of her keys.

The wait was soon over.

Metallic footsteps were making their way up the ramp. Thinking fast she tied the strip of fabric around her mouth, then held the child close. He cooed, moving his head up to face her before his ears flicked up in surprise. She tried to give him a smile.

It definitely looked absolutely horrifying.

His little features contorted into a frown, and a whimper was heard before the footsteps on the ship drew closer. They both snapped their heads to stare at the unmoving compartment door. Ears perked, listening closely as she heard someone ascend to the cockpit. There were noises outside of the ship, people were gathering, she felt her heart rate increase sharply. She squeezed them further into the corner of the compartment. The mattress creaked so loudly in the silence, but thankfully the noises coming from above them seemed to drown it out.

Her brain had ceased its flow of information. She wasn't sure who entered the ship first, it could be Din for all she knew. But she knew there were about to be a lot more people, and then shit was going to go down. Her mouth had gone dry thanks to the fabric, and the child had started to whine. She tried to shush him, but it came out more in weird hissing sounds. His eyes bugged out as he looked at her in fear, pushing his arms against her chest. She moved to set him down behind her, pretending her heart didn't break at the sight. She maneuvered herself more to the front of the compartment, leaving the keys behind for him.

She almost didn't notice the grumbling that followed the metallic clink of someone leaving the ship. The person was complaining, aggressively, but the voice was definitely not human.

Of course. That shitty droid.

The one emotion that had been hardest to keep at bay was rising up again. It coiled in her throat, sharpening her tongue with nasty thoughts. She hated this group, and all the shit they say to Din and the violent betrayal. She didn't know how she was going to be able to handle it if it happens right in front of her— the fabric in her mouth was going to be her saving grace. She really did not want to risk making this even worse for Din than it already would be.

And sure, she knows they get their due karma in the end. But the nagging pit in her stomach, the feeling of wrong, was eating her alive. She reached for the taser that sat at the front of the compartment and maneuvered her back to Grogu. If that compartment opens, she was going to fight like hell.

And that's how she waited.

And waited.

Back turned to the child as he jangled her keys around. She waited as voices crept closer to the Crest. As someone made their way up the ramp, then another. Until something was set down with a heavy thump, and a murmur of voices filled the hull. No one was really saying anything of importance, just fighting about who got to sit where. Sedona turned her head back to the child, who was now also listening attentively. His ears perked, owlish eyes met hers, the keys now forgotten in his little hands. He made a small 'ooo' sound and pointed to the compartment door, and she shrugged, holding her finger up to her mouth in a shushing motion.

Then there was the sound of the hatch closing, her head snapped back to the door. Trying to picture the scene behind the metal. She heard someone climbing the ladder, and then there was more grumbling. It wasn't long after, the ship began to move, she braced her hands behind her back as the compartment rocked. She looked back at the child, who was now back to jangling the keys around, she tried not to cringe at the sound, hoping they couldn't hear it.

She couldn't help thinking how insane this was. She was sitting in a space ship with a little green alien, gagged, and listening to other aliens argue. Her breath had started to quicken, and she could feel her pulse thumping in her neck.

This is so fucked up. What the hell am I even doing here. I'm going crazy-

Her spiraling thoughts were cut off when she felt a small hand on her back. She turned, blinking away a tear that had formed in her eye. Grogu made a tiny coo, his eyes wide. She instantly felt bad, he could sense her distress and it was making him feel bad. But she almost let out a sob when the little creature leaned forward, setting both his arms on her back in a tiny hug. A strangled noise tore through her throat, lifting one of her hands to pat his wrinkled little head. He made a snorting noise, one of the cutest things in the world, before plopping down and playing with the keys again. The interaction so small, but it had immediately calmed her down.

God, I can see why everyone loves this little shit.

She felt the atmosphere speed up, and the telltale feeling of hyperspace overtook the ship. A sound she recognized made her snap her head back to the door. The weapons hold adjacent to the sleeping compartment was open. She hadn't even heard their earlier conversations, too entranced by the little guy. She couldn't remember who had opened the door, but from the grumbling, it sounded like the one she hated most. Everything was happening much faster, but it felt as if time had slowed. She distantly registered the thump of someone jumping down the ladder, then the doors closing, and someone immediately hitting them.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay. Okay. Okay, I get it. I'm a little particular about my personal space too." That voice, God she knew that voice. Her blood boiled as she listened further. "So let's just do this job. We get in, we get out, and you don't have to see our faces anymore."

How ironic, she almost rolled her eyes.

"Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian." The voice was much closer than she wanted it to be.

"Well, apparently they're the greatest warriors in the galaxy." There was a pause, Sedona gritted her teeth around the cloth. "So they say"

"Then why are they all dead"

And there was laughter. She heard a sharp giggle, the kind that makes your lip curl. And she felt herself shaking— she wanted to say something so fucking bad. She didn't know how Din could just take all of this.

"Well, you flew with him, Xi'an— Is he as good as they say?"

"Ask him about the job on Alzoc 111." Their voices grated her ears. Subconsciously she really did want to know what happened on Alzoc 111"

"I did what I had to." But this voice, with his calculated roughness, broke her heart. She didn't know how much more she could take before words started leaving her mouth. She heard a female voice, and her hands curled into fists behind her. She could hear what they were saying, but it wasn't fully registering anymore. Her ears rung with rage, the feeling of the child still leaning against her back was the only thing keeping her from ripping off the gag and screaming.  

Her eyes narrowed at the continued jeering and insults. She tried to blink away the tears of anger that burned her eyes. Pressing all of her weight into her arms, her muscles tense. Ready for what was coming next.

The ringing in her ears didn't stop, even as a fistfight took place outside her door.

Only when she was suddenly faced by the people she did not want to see, did everything come crashing back to the surface.

The trio looked at her in shock, Din out of her view. She sees Mayfield's mouth moving as he walks closer to her, but she only picked up the last of his sentence.

"— you get lonely up here buddy? Huh." He stepped up to the compartment, Xi'an sauntered after him. Sedona tried not to focus on the way the other woman's gaze twisted into disgust. She turned her head to meet all 3 of their eyes, Burg looking even more devil-like up close.

"Why do you have your bed warmer tied up like that huh?" Din didn't answer Mayfield, she couldn't even see him, but with the way Burg had his arm locked out of view, he was probably being held back. "Is that how he kept you, huh, Xi'an? Is that how he likes 'em?" The woman in question hissed in response, and she settled herself against the door. Knife still held loosely in her hand.

"Didn't take you for the type." She snarled at Din, her eyes predatory as they shifted away from Sedona. "Maybe that code of yours has made you soft."

And suddenly there was another voice. Though not really a voice, instead it's sounded like an angry cat in the other room. Muffled, and full of rage.

It wasn't till she noticed the others were just staring at her in silence, that she realized it was her. She was snarling like a rabid dog, her mouth has developed a mind of its own. Thankfully all the words were swallowed by the cloth.

"Well let's see what she has to say," Xi'an said with a sickening smile, sharpened yellow teeth on full display. The next actions happened so quickly, Sedona honestly didn't realize what transpired. There was a flash of metal, as Xi'an's hand darted out like a snake. A searing pain appeared on her left cheek, and the cloth holding her words in fell away. She felt herself gasp, her hand instantly flying up to cradle her cheek. And then there was laughing, the trio laughed at her pain, and it only made her angrier.

"I said," She placed her hand, now sticky with blood, behind her back. Bracing herself. "I've got a penchant for smokes and kicking douches in the mouth. Sadly for you, my last cigarette's gone out."

And with that statement, her right foot flew out. Connecting with Burg's jaw, a sickening crack rang through the hull.

Then there was chaos.

The Devaronian stumbled back, his own hand coming up to clutch his jaw with a growl. Mayfield and Xi'an jumped for their weapons. But before anyone else could cross the threshold of the sleeping compartment, there was a blaster shot— and the metal door collapsed shut. Din had shot the control panel to the door, no one could get in, or get out without the use of his fancy wrist control. There was aggressive banging on the door, Sedona feared it might dent. She could hear swearing and shouting from the other side, but she wasn't done. She sat up on her knees, slamming her hands against the metal a few times. If Din wasn't going to say it, she would.

"Fuck you Xi'an! I wanted to be your friend so bad!" She could hear an aggressive snarl over the other commotion. Burg roared, and then there was a particularly loud thump against the door.

"Fuck you, Burg! Your breath fucking reeks!" Her voice had a heavy growl in it, all of the rage she could muster put behind her words.

"And fuck you, Mayfield! Prison is going to make you it's bitch!" Her voice had risen to a scream to counteract the noise. And with a few more slaps against the metal, she sat back down. Her hand coming up to the cut on her cheek. Xi'an's blades were so sharp, they cut deep and thin. A perfect slice, that was going to leave a nasty scar. It was then she realized the other creature in the room.

Grogu let out soft whimpers at the commotion, he was trying to hide behind her purse. Her stomach dropped at the sight, instantly letting out a soft coo of her own, she reached her hand out to him, trying to let him know it would be okay. But another voice broke through the pandemonium.

"Dropping out of hyperspace now." She scooped up Grogu, and he let out a small cry of protest. But she knew what was coming next. The ship lurched foreword suddenly. "Commencing final approach now."

"Cloaking signal now" Grogu let out a scream as they were suddenly airborne. Sedona's head crashed against the ceiling of the compartment with a thump. They slammed back down, the wind getting knocked out of her lungs. Trying to catch her breath she glanced down at the child, who was relatively fine. Just panicking by the way his massive eyes stared up at her. The ship stopped with a heavy crash, and she heard the droid speaking again. But she was far more distracted by the little green hand straining to reach her cheek.

"I'll be okay buddy" she whispered, bringing her hand up to gently grab his. He frowned, babbling urgently at her. She gave him as much of a smile she could muster, hoping he accepted it. "You don't have to heal me, I'm all right." Truthfully, she wasn't really all right. Her cheek was burning, and from what she could feel, the cut ran from just under her jaw bone, all the way up to her cheekbone. A neat slice, that was still steadily leaking blood. She set Grogu to the side and reached for her purse, fishing out the travel pack of tissues, and holding one to the cut. It wasn't stitches or magical healing space goo, but she hoped it would at least stop her from bleeding all over Din's bed. A loud smack interrupted their tentative peace. Mayfield's voice followed.

"Don't think we forgot about you girl, we'll be back for you!" There was laughing, and for the first time since the door had opened, the wrongness flooded back to her stomach. She focused on taking deep even breaths, for the sake of the child who whimpered beside her. She heard a fast beeping, and then someone jumping from the ship. They were leaving, and her heart only seemed to race faster. She waited till she heard the particularly loud thump of Burg.

"Din," she cleared her throat, voice coming out raw. "Don't let them capture you." She wasn't sure if she was just talking to an empty hull, or if the Mandalorian could even hear her raspy voice. 

She just hoped desperately if he had, he would listen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist- 

I’ve never done this before! But please message me if you’d like to be tagged, and I’ll try to figure it out along the way! 

@thekingofthegoats @cosmicbreathe @daddydjarinxx @gallowsjoker 

[romaxnogersav]

Sassy girl, special girl

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: angst, some cursing, violence, injury, fluff

Word count: 4510

Summary: You and Steve are out on a mission that turns wary really fast. It takes you getting injured for Steve to finally take a step forward and say how he feels.

Prompt: “for once…..I was right”

Tags: @et-lesailes​ and thank you for your advice <3

A/N: Well this is my first time writing something for Tumblr, so I really hope it’s good. I started my first fic (one shot) off of a prompt, but I kind of ignored it at some point and started writing freely out of inspiration and this came to life. It still follows the prompt though so I really hope it turned out good because I feel really insecure about my writing. Well, enjoy <3

also the gif isn’t mine!

It was you and Steve this time. It was only a small mission, nothing too hard to deal with. Get in, get the information, get out. Easy as ever, or so you thought.

Not even five minutes after getting into the building things had gone to shit.

Steve had had a bad feeling about this ever since you had gotten to Cuba where a lone Hydra facility was located.

He wanted to call off the mission, or at least get backup, he wanted to call Bucky or Natasha and get a team here before going in, but you had stopped him.

“We’ve got this, just like every other time” you had said with a smile, putting your suit on, zipping the front.

Steve had shaken his head, but dropped the subject, yet you suspected he was onto something, you wouldn’t put it past him.

Now here you were, surrounded by Hydra agents, trying to fight your way through over a dozen of them with a gun, hand to hand combat and a very angry looking super soldier by your side.

He sent you a glare, seemingly more angry with you than the enemy, then took a fighting stance, ready to flung at the first person that went for him.

“Okay, okay, I get it Captain Angry, it’s my fault, can you channel that anger toward the enemy and not me?” You asked tightly, dodging a punch headed for your face.

Steve and you had never been close, you didn’t dislike or hate each other per se, but you could never seem to see eye to eye on things.

Ever since you joined the Avengers over a year and a half ago, you were in a bickering relationship with the team’s leader. It was mostly for fun on your part but you could feel that Steve didn’t appreciate it that much, but he would mostly brush it off, or strike back for the fun of it.

You were also a bit more reckless for his liking, you weren’t one to keep your mouth shut and you never backed down from anything, especially Steve Rogers.

It was kind of hilarious seeing him all angry at you at times, he’d get this little crease right between his brows that would also furrow in frustration, his mouth would get in a full straight line, and his cheeks would reddened from the fuming of his dislike towards something you did or say.

Granted, you were a good damn team when it came to getting the job done. Steve partnered well with everyone as it seems, and you thought you’d be the exception at first, but fate had other plans.

You partnered incredibly well on the field, it was easy to move around one another and read what the other person was about to do.

You knew all of Steve’s moves before he even made them, and the same counted for him. You could work with one another with ease and always seemed to find a way to silently communicate on working the right plan whatever the case scenario.

That’s why maybe Steve was one of your favorites to do missions with. Job got done fast, there wasn’t much talk needed and you never had to worry about watching your back, because he was the one doing it for you most of the time.

It’s wasn’t like you hated doing missions with Nat or even Tony, but it was easier with Steve in some kind of way that was hard for you to express. He knew your body language, to put it simply.

He knew what your mind was working on long before you even went through with what you had in mind, it was just easy.

It didn’t help that the man was as built as a fucking tree if you were honest with yourself. You had gotten a glimpse or two of what goes under that suit, and boy was it something worth laying your eyes on.

You also never allowed yourself to think about Steve in that way, or anyone else on the team for that matter. He was a great partner on missions, and he was funny to bicker around with, and he was also maybe a friend, but that’s all, and you were totally okay with that.

Sure you’ve had an innocent little thought here and there, but you had given up on relationships long ago, so everything you might have felt was long gone the same moment it had come.

Everything you did was either on a strictly professional level, or as one friend to another, if you were even friends to begin with.

When you looked back at Steve, he was handling five agents at once. You on your end were up against three. There were more coming, and the wheels started turning in your head.

“They know we are here.” you yelled to Steve, which made him turn your way and give you a look before he dodged a knee headed for his abdomen and used his elbow to knock out one of the agents.

“Yeah I can see that” he remarked, he swung his shield and hit an agent square in the face.

You swung your fist in one of the agent’s gut, trying to shake another one off your left side. When the first one hugged his middle in pain, you hit him in the head with the back of your gun, successfully knocking him out.

“Save your damn snarky remarks Rogers” you breathed out, finally getting a clear shot at one of the agents coming, and pulling the trigger, the bullet piercing right through his middle.

You were sure Steve was giving the back of your head a glare from across the room, but you didn’t give one damn.

More agents were making their way over, you were able to count seven or eight from your place, but you knew there were probably more.

You heard the vibranium of Steve’s shield clank against something, and you turned to see one of the agents with a taser in their hand, almost getting Steve in the chest.

Five agents surrounded you now, two in front, one behind and one on each side of you.

This mission was turning into one big shit show really fast, faster for your liking.

A part of you felt more than guilty now, because of what you told Steve. You were really starting to regret not listening to him now.

The trust that he had in you might slowly peel away after all that had happened ever since you had gotten in the premises.

Suddenly a hand wrapped around your middle, holding onto you with force. You tried to fight your way out of the grip on your middle, unsuccessfully. When another agent knocked the air out of you with a kick to the stomach you almost dropped your gun. Another kick landed on your wrist, this time really knocking it out of your grip.

Another hand fisted your hair, your head leaning back, a grunt escaping your throat. Steve turned your way at the sound, eyeing you with an expression you couldn’t really read.

He straightened his posture, every agent around him long forgotten, his eyes focusing on you.

He sat like that for just a second before he tightened his shield and spoke.

“Let her go” he said through his teeth, making you lift a brow his way.

“Put the shield down” the agent holding your hair said, pulling your head back even more, making you flinch in pain.

Something cold pressed against the back of your head, the barrel of a gun if you had to guess.

Steve’s eyes hardened even more, his jaw clenching violently, his lips pressed in a tight flat line.

It wasn’t unusual for Steve to act like this when one of his teammates was caught in a hold, he got defensive and every plan of getting them out was swirling in his head. His mind worked fast forming a plan of attack in a way that would allow his partner to get out and carry on with the mission.

However, you had never seen him like this, he looked about ready to launch forward and kill every agent that had a hand on you in an instant. He almost looked like a wild animal set free from his cage.

His eyes seemed almost blank.

The barrel pressed harder against your head and your hair was yanked back again. Your feet twitched for just a second and so did Steve’s hands.

You weren’t afraid, not of the gun, not of the situation, and not of death. Risks came with the job, and it was a thing you’ve gotten over with a long time ago. You knew Steve would do what’s necessary, so you weren’t scared of how things would play out.

You felt unsettled, because this wasn’t the scenario you pictured yourself giving your live in, but you quickly banished those thoughts.

Steve’s got this.

You repeated that over and over again as you watched the super soldier weight down his options.

You saw him tighten his hold on the shield even more as he looked up at you.

“Let her go, final warning” the words left his mouth in a slow growl. His lips twitched, as if trying to maintain its position.

“Put the shield down, final warning” the man holding your hair back growled back at Steve with force.

“Very well then” Steve straightened himself even more, head held high when his eyes locked with yours. You send him a questioning look as you saw him ease back a bit.

“I hope you remember that night in Malta” he said to you and for a single moment you thought that he must be kidding. You were literally at gun point, with the end of the barrel pressed in your hair and he was hoping that you remembered something that didn’t even happen, but then your mind caught up with it.

Ever since being partnered, both you and Steve found it necessary to have some kind of code to communicate with when you were send out on a mission together.

You had a lot of different types of codes for different occasions, words or sentences.

This particular one came to you after a mission similar to this when you were captured for a couple of days.

Steve had been able to send a distress signal just before you got captured. A rescue team consisting of Sam, Clint and Natasha had come to your rescue, but due to being moved out of the location it had taken them a few days to find you.

You were being separated, and repeatedly beaten so you had no idea if someone was even coming to rescue you, but when the door cracked open, and Clint waltzed in with Natasha on watch and Sam supporting Steve’s weight against the wall outside, you knew that Steve was the one that had saved you both.

You had never been to Malta, but Malta used in a sentence meant that there was someone on the way to you. The full sentence that Steve had just used meant that backup was already here and ready to get in on Steve’s command.

You forced yourself to calm down, pulling a light smile on.

“Yeah, I do” you breathed out with ease, and a smirk started forming on Steve’s lips.

“Good, because I do too”

At that exact same moment, a bullet flew through the window behind Steve, shattering it to pieces, and shooting the man fisting your hair, right between the eyes.

Natasha and Sam emerged from down the hall, Natasha with her widow’s bites charged, and Sam with a gun aimed forward.

You kicked back, releasing from the strong hold on your middle. Turning around you aimed a punch at the agent and struck him in the face. He lost his balance, taking a few steps back, falling to the floor. Two others launched at you with force.

A couple of seconds later another set of footsteps was heard, making you turn back for just a moment to spot Bucky making his way over.

“I didn’t miss the party, did I?” He remarked, landing a punch with his metal arm at a nearby agent’s jaw.

“Right on time, Sergeant” you teased and turned to continue on putting down the enemy.

You were able to retrieve your gun from the ground at some point, taking three more agents down. Sam and Natasha had a handful to deal with, and so did Steve and Bucky.

There was a mere number of agents left, most of them were either dead by now, knocked out, or fled the building at one point.

Natasha had just taken down two Hydra agents, when you aimed your gun forward, ready to take down one more headed for Bucky, when a pang of pain hit just below your ribcage.

Suddenly your legs were giving up on you, your breath coming in and our slower than normal. You leaned against a wall on your left, trying your best to stay upright for just a bit longer.

You looked up in the direction of the person closest to you, a certain super soldier.

“Steve” you breathed out.

You saw him turn towards you, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in shock. Your body gave out and you felt yourself going down, but your motionless body never hit the hard floor, instead it fell right in someone’s hold. With your vision blurring out, you could make Steve’s silhouette, one hand supporting your back, the other one on your hip, slowly lowering you down.

“Hey, Y/N don’t fall asleep okay?” He said, lightly tapping your cheek. You felt pressure where the bullet had hit, Steve’s hand pressing down on the wound.

“Not on that hard floor no, only on my comfy bed” you tried to laugh, but that only made the pain worse, making you cough as well.

“Stop being sassy for once” he said looking up at Natasha that was suddenly on his side, handling him some gauze to cover your wound with.

“Friday is autopilotting the quinjet here. It’s around two minutes out” she said looking Steve and then you.

“That’s not how I imagined dying” another cough escaped your throat, eyes being more unfocused now.

“Cut the bullshit, you aren’t dying, not today, and not here” he cut you right off, as if the words scared him, as if seeing you talking like that unsettled him.

Steve had seen enough dead in his life, one more wouldn’t matter much now would it? Wrong, it would, and it would affect him too.

The truth was, Steve Rogers was a damn moron, that couldn’t save his life around you, even if he wanted to. He liked you, he liked you a lot, he trusted you, but most of all he respected you, and that was something that spoke on its own. People thought earning Captain America’s respect was hard, but no, what was harder was earning Steve Rogers’ respect, and you had that, you’ve had it since the beginning. You were something else in Steve’s book, an enigma.

You challenged him in a way no one else had, not Natasha, not Peggy, not Bucky.

There was something about the way you spoke to him, not like he was a leader, an Avenger, or a national figure, he was just…himself. You teased him about a lot of things, being Cap, being old, being grumpy, but underneath you saw Steve as a person, not as a fighter, not as a WW2 veteran, just Steve, and that meant something to him, it meant a lot to him.

He kept quiet though, having something outside of the world you were all living in felt terrifying, unreal. It takes something to take that fear and make it seem real, thank God it didn’t take longer.

Steve knew that now, no more waiting, not after today.

You were in between consciousness, all you saw were shadows, then you felt yourself being lifted by someone, Steve if your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you.

“Hey, hey Y/N keep your eyes open, come on just a bit more” he urged you, but you couldn’t, everything felt light, except your eyelids.

“M'tired” you barely mumbled but Steve was still able to pick it up.

“I know pretty girl, I know, just don’t close your eyes m'okay?” He cooed to you, and if your mind was working properly you might have made some witty remark about being called pretty, or send your mind wonder for a second but you couldn’t. You were out of it.

“Can’t…” you mumbled before you lost consciousness in Steve’s arms.

 —–

Steve was sat outside of the medical wing in the Compound. He had taken a quick shower and changed out of his uniform and was waiting for Doctor Cho to inform him of your condition.

You were in and out of consciousness on the way to New York, and had lost some blood in the process, but other than that, they said you’d be fine once the bullet is out.

There was really no need for Steve to sit there and wait, he could go rest after the day you’ve had, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to make sure you were really okay first.

The sound of light footsteps pulled him from his thoughts and he looked up to see doctor Cho making her way over to him, hands in her medical coat pockets.

“Hey how is she?” He asked getting up from the seat he had taken a bit earlier.

“She is okay and stable. I told you there was nothing to worry about. We took the bullet out and stitched her up. We are currently making a blood transfusion, she lost quite a bit on the way and while we were operating, but other than that she is fine. She will be as good as new in the next week, maybe two. She just has to take it easy at first” she smiled and patted Steve’s arm.

He breathed a sigh in relief, he knew there was nothing serious, yet he couldn’t help but worry.

“Is she awake?” He asked motioning to the hall behind the petite woman

“Not right now, but she will be any minute now. You can go in if you want. Down the hall, turn left, third door to the right” she said and patted his arm again before excusing herself and leaving him alone.

He made his way over to the room, giving the lightest of knocks before opening the door.

You were lying on the bed, a hospital gown on and a thin blanket pulled to bellow your chest. There was a nasty gash on your arm and a light bruise on your cheek, but other than that you looked okay.

He took a chair from across the room and sat it next to the bed, seating on it.

He sat there for a couple minutes wondering what to do, what he was doing here.

Was he ready to talk to you, tell you about his little liking towards you, he wasn’t actually sure now.

He hadn’t lost you, thank God, but with the risks that come with the job, he might have, or might in the future. Would he be okay with something happening, and you not knowing that he cared? That he cared a great deal about you? He wouldn’t, because he kind of wanted you to know.

He liked to bicker with you, he liked missions with you, but you weren’t that close for some reason, and Steve wanted you to be. He wanted you to know that he didn’t dislike you because of your teasing, quite the opposite actually.

His thoughts were interrupted by your small voice filling the room.

“Hi Gramps” you said, eyes half closed.

Steve chuckled and leaned forward in his chair.

“Hey there sassy girl” he said reaching forward, taking your hand in his without a second thought.

You felt light, but you remembered everything. Cuba, the mission, being held back, the Malta code, Nat, Sam and Bucky, being shot, but you also remembered being called a certain something by the super soldier that was currently holding your right hand.

“How long was I out?” You asked unsure.

“A couple of hours”

You gave him a little squeeze that was barely there, looking down at your hand in his.

“What’s that about?” You asked tilting your head to the side, gusting to your hands.

He looked down as well, moving his thumb over the back of your hand, then looking back up at you.

“It feels right” he said matter-of-factly and shrugged his shoulders.

“Does it now?” You asked back teasingly, trying to sit up a bit. Steve got up from his chair and reached to pull the pillow up a bit, then helped you sit up.

He sat back down and nodded to answer your question, reaching for your hand again.

“How come?” You asked again, more serious this time. As far as you knew, you and Steve were barely friends, teammates who bickered a lot, and to hear that holding your hand felt right to him had you taken aback.

He sat there thinking for a second before he spoke again.

“Do you remember what you told me when you got shot?” He asked more serious than ever now, making you track your brain.

“A bit, why?”

He looked at you, an emotion evident in his eyes, one you couldn’t read that well. Sadness? Lost? Hurt?

“You told me that that’s not how you imagined you will die.” he said serious, the hurt now evident in his eyes.

You huffed a laugh, wincing at the light pain in your abdomen. Sure you said it, but you only meant it as a joke, you weren’t serious.

“God Steve, it was a joke” you said seriously.

“Not to me it wasn’t” he said right back, giving your hand another squeeze, bowing his head a bit.

“What are you implying here?” You asked annoyed, yet unsure. What was he trying to say? What did he mean? Surely it was just the leader in him that was going to lecture you about being stupid, and not careful, that death wasn’t something you joke about.

He took a deep breath and sighed, lifting his head and looking you right in the eyes again. His held sadness once more, but a hint of fear too.

“I can’t believe it took seeing you bleeding out in my arms for me to finally decide to tell you” he tilted his head to side, looking around for a second.

You were still confused, a questioning look on your face. Surely he didn’t mean what you thought he meant, right?

“Tell me what Steve?” You whispered, your voice barely audible, thank God for Steve’s super hearing otherwise he wouldn’t have heard you at all.

He took another deep breath, bringing his other hand to take yours in his too, and looked you in eyes with a wary smile.

“You are one of the most stubborn, reckless and fierce women I’ve seen in my whole life, one of the very few. You are strong and intelligent, bright and kindhearted. You aren’t afraid to stand up to anyone, you aren’t afraid to disobey my orders, putting yourself in danger for the sake of others. You are an enigma, but I guess that’s what makes you special.” He paused to take a breath, looking your face over then continuing.

“I started respecting you the moment I saw you take down that gang in Puerto Rico alongside Natasha and Clint. I trust you with my whole, and I always thought you were someone special to me, I guess I was right” he finished, cheeks red, eyes small and the look on his face made it hard for you to breath.

He looked like he had just revealed the biggest secret he has been keeping, he looked relieved. Your eyes were a bit unfocused, slightly wet, but you would blame that on the anaesthesia.

“And what are you trying to say?” You asked, voice small, your lips twitching.

“I’m saying that I like you Y/N, I really, really like you” he said, boylish smile spreading on his face, eyes lighting up.

Your own lips curled in a sheepish smile, face lighting up. Well would you look at that, Steve Rogers liked you, he really liked you.

He liked you as an individual, as someone more than a friend, partner, teammate. He liked you for what you were, and that was, that was nice. Steve liked you. Your mind continued to repeat that for a few seconds before you looked back at him, still smiling at you.

“So you like me huh?” You seemed to stick to questions, teasing him like always, just to see his reaction.

“I do pretty girl, I do like you, a lot actually” his smile only grew bigger if that was even possible. You sat up just a bit more looking him over.

“How about you show me Rogers?” you teased again, but in a serious way, waiting for him to move.

He stood from his chair, sitting beside you on the bed.

“Okay” he breathed out, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss started slow and gentle, his lips were soft against yours, a warmth radiating from them. They moved gently for a couple of moments then his tongue brushed your lower lip, and you opened your mouth to deepen the kiss. One of his hands was sat atop your right thigh, while the other made its way over to the side of your head, tilting it a bit upward, and settling it on your cheek. Your right hand was under his on your thigh, with your left on the back of his neck, lightly pulling at the hair at the base.

With your tongues in sync, mouths pressed together, hands together, holding one another, you felt content and comfortable, way more than you would have been had it been someone else you were kissing now.

With a nib at your lower lip, he pulled away, pressing three last small kisses before he pulled for good, forehead pressing against yours.

You both stood like that for a while, trying to catch your breath, relishing in each other’s warmth and comfort. Your eyes were closed, but you could feel Steve leaning back a bit, and when you opened them, he was looking at you, a content look on his face, lips swollen but still curled up in that beautiful smile you liked.

“Go on a date with me” he said to you, taking your hand from your tight again, kissing your knuckles, while the other still held your cheek.

You looked him right in the eyes, ready to melt under his gaze.

“Yeah, okay” you breathed out and leaned in pressing your lips to his once more.

[gemstoneconstellations]

He Fucked Up

Summary: Bakugo carelessly hurts his s/o’s feelings without realizing it.

Wordcount: 2583

“Hey ___! What are you doing here? You look cozy.” Kaminari and Kirishima sat down on either side of you. Well, tried to. You were currently in a nest of multiple warm fluffy blankets that didn’t leave much space for anyone to get close to you. “Where’s your Pomeranian boyfriend?” Kaminari joked as Kirishima let out a deep belly laugh.

You smirked at Bakugo’s friends; they were feeling a bit bold since King Explosion Murder wasn’t around. “He went to get some training in. When he is done, he promised to watch a movie with me before he starts on homework. I’m sure he’ll make fun of me since it’s a cartoon movie, but I like them and I want to sit with him. You know, couple-y kind of stuff, since we don’t get a lot of time to be alone together and enjoy each other’s company.” You could feel a small blush form on your cheeks. Missing your boyfriend has put you in a cuddly mood. So even if you only get two hours, you’ll take it.

 “I have a hard time picturing Bakugo snuggling and watching cartoons… wait, didn’t we see Bakugo in the gym like three hours ago? Have you been waiting this whole time?” Kirishima raised an eyebrow at you, concerned.

 You gave him a shrug. “I’ll wait as long as it takes if it means I can spend some time with him.” Kirishima nodded, understanding where you were coming from and stating that they would leave when Bakugo shows up.

 Kaminari leaned back with his hands hooked behind his head, letting out a grunty sigh. “Ah man, I’m super jealous now! I wish I had a cute girlfriend who would do that for me!”

 “Like anyone would want to date you, Dunce Face!” Bakugo came walking in the common room, drinking from his water bottle. He was wearing some sweats and a tank top. His hair seemed to be damp so he most likely took a shower before coming over. You were absolutely beaming with excitement at finally getting to see his face!

 “Hurtful!” Kaminari complained but Bakugo kept walking to the kitchen, not caring.

 You smiled at Bakugo. “Welcome back, Katsuki. You have fun at the gym?” He just grunted at you from the kitchen. You could hear him pulling out random items. “Are you ready for the movie?” You lower the blankets, preparing to let your boyfriend enter your nest and assume the cuddle position.

 Bakugo came back from the kitchen eating a protein bar, a scowl on his face. “I don’t feel like watching some shitty movie.” Your heart drops. His tone was harsh and didn’t leave much room to argue.

 “What? But you said you would a few hours ago… you promised…” You pulled your knees to your chest, not able to look him in the face suddenly.

 “Yeah, well now I feel fucking tired. I’m going to finish up my homework and then go to bed.”

 You scoffed at him as you stood up, eyes on your feet, trying not to cry. “So you don’t feel like watching a movie with me and just want to go to your room to sleep?” Your voice came out more aggressive than you meant it to be, but there were too many emotions swirling inside you at the moment to control it.

 “That’s what I fucking said, I don’t want to watch some stupid kids’ movie. What’s your deal?” His words were like punches to your gut. You sucked in air through your teeth, trying to bite back words that you know will make the situation worse but you want to say them so badly.

 You began to fold your blankets and place them in your bag, packing away your things. “Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m fine.” You were completely and utterly done. Ironically, you were no longer in the mood to watch a movie either. Or see your stupid boyfriend’s face.

 “Bro… not cool.” Kirishima whispered to Bakugo, shaking his head.

 Before Bakugo could respond, you shoved the blankets that you took from Bakugo’s room into his arms. “Here, go sleep.”

 “Oi!” You ran out of the room with your things, not even caring that you were only in your pajamas. Bakugo shouted at you, but you didn’t look back and ran to your own dorm. Bakugo looked at the blankets in his hands and then at Kirishima and Kaminari. “What the fuck was that?”

 Kirishima just sighed, shaking his head and walking towards the elevators. Kaminari patted Bakugo on the shoulder as he walked by, following Kirishima. “And you guys call me the idiot. Even I’m not that stupid.”

 ~

 Bakugo was confused about what was going on with you. You had suddenly stopped texting him. Usually he would get at least three texts a day, whether he responded or not. You always said good morning, good night, and told him about the projects you were working on that day in your support classes. He didn’t think anything of it; sometimes you would disappear when you had some inspiration on a project. There have been times when you wouldn’t even leave the lab for days working on some support item.

 But there you were, sitting across the cafeteria, eating lunch with a group of extras he didn’t recognize. Not even a glance towards him. Normally by the time he got dragged into the cafeteria by Kirishima and the rest of the idiots, you would come up to him and pester him about eating together. Bakugo was starting to get an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach; he didn’t like it and it was pissing him off. He stared you down from his place in line, willing you to look up and make eye contact with him. After a few minutes, someone noticed him staring at you and pointed him out to you. You shook your head at them and continued to eat.

 Fine, if you wanted to sulk over some fucking movie then he’ll just ignore you as well till you stop being a damn brat. Bakugo grunted as he turned back away from you to get his food. He made sure to not look at you as he made his way to sit with the idiots that insisted on hanging around him for some reason.

 “No ___ today either? I misssss herrrr!” Mina pouted as Bakugo sat down, laying her head on the table with her arms spread out. His eyebrow twitched at her whining voice.

 Sero smirked at Bakugo as he patted Mina on the back. “What did you do now?”

 “Shut up Soy Sauce! I didn’t fucking do anything!” Bakugo slammed his fists on the table, his rage aura pouring out of his pores now.

 “He fucked up.” Kaminari stated a matter-of-factly; Kirishima nodded in agreement.

 Bakugo glared at the redhead, daring him to say something as well. He turned his attention to Kaminari, who continued to eat his lunch, not caring that Bakugo was giving him a death glare. “I said shut the fuck up Dunce Face! You don’t know anything!”

 Kaminari scoffed at him, letting Bakugo’s outburst just roll off him before pointing his chopsticks at Bakugo accusingly. “I know more about ___ than you apparently.”

 “What do you mean by that?!”

 “Use that smart brain of yours and figure it out.”

 Bakugo was adamant that he hadn’t done anything wrong; he was sure that you would come back. Everything would go back to normal once you get over whatever the fuck it was. But a few days turned into a week, then two weeks, without a single word from you and he was starting to falter. He was becoming more irritable (if that was possible for him) and his classmates were beginning to keep their distance, not wanting an explosion in their face.

 “Bakubro, dude, you need to man up and go talk to her already.” Kirishima threw an arm on Bakugo’s shoulders, the only one brave enough to do it as of late. Bakugo growled at him in response. He knew the redhead was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. Kirishima sighed at him. Why must his best bro be so stubborn?

 “How about this? I need to make some modifications to my costume. Come with me. If she’s there, talk to her about some modifications you want and then about what’s going on. She can’t turn you down if it’s about your costume.”

 With a groan, Bakugo started walking down to the hall, not caring if Kirishima was walking with him are not. Bakugo stormed into the support lab only to freeze when he saw Pikachu-reject already talking to you. His eye twitched as Sparky casually draped his arm around your waist as you were sketching out a blueprint. “So ___, since you and King Explosion Murder are on a break, why don’t we go get some food? I’ll give you a shoulder to cry on… or anything else you want to do. My body is at your service.”

 And to Bakugo’s horror, you didn’t push his arm off and actually fucking giggled. “Thanks, but I’m okay with just free food.” The next moment, the ash blond stormed over, yanked Kaminari’s arm off of you and dangerously twisted it behind Kaminari’s back as he slammed him down into the workstation. You yelped at the swift action and loud sound, looking at him in shock. Before you could even blink, Bakugo was dragging you out of the room. His grip on you didn’t let up as he kept pulling you along.

 Kaminari slumped to the floor, clutching his shoulder that had been so close to being dislocated. Kirishima squatted down beside him to see how he was doing. “Remind me never to hit on Bakugo’s girlfriend again? Also, I will never be part of your plans again.”

 “It worked, didn’t it? He just needed a little push. Thanks for risking your life… do you need to see Recovery Girl?”

 ~

 “Hey! Let go already!” You stumble into Bakugo’s dorm building. He didn’t let go until the doors of the elevator shut. You made a point not to look at him as you rub your wrist. Bakugo began to mumble beside you. “What?”

 This time he reached out for your hand, weaving his fingers through yours gently. “We aren’t on a break. No way in hell will I let you go out with anyone that isn’t me, especially not Dunce Face.” His hand quickly squeezed yours. “Can you tell me what the fuck is going on already? Is this all because of a stupid movie?!”

 You huffed angrily, turning away from him. “Of course it isn’t about a goddamn movie.” The elevator door opened and you were being pulled again, more gently than before.

 Bakugo didn’t say anything till you were both in his room and the door shut behind him. He leaned back on the door and crossed his arms, his stance challenging you to try and get away. “Talk.”

 You mimicked him by crossing your arms, closing yourself off from him. For a few moments, the room was silent, the both of you staring each other down. The question that had been bouncing around your head for the last few days finally broke the silence. “Why are you even dating me?”

 Not being around him hadn’t felt much different than when you were on speaking terms, only the loneliness increased as you avoided every opportunity to spend time with him that you would have killed to have before.

 His jaw dropped and his eyes widened in shock. Bakugo’s defensive stance faltered as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Haaah?!”

 Dragging your hands down your face, you let out a loud groan of frustration. “It’s like I have to twist your arm to spend time with you. What’s the point of being in a relationship if I only see you the few times you come to the support shop for mods for your hero gear?” You gestured to your support team jumper suit. Most of your conversations in the past have primarily during lunch and at the support shop.

 Bakugo rolled his shoulders as he let out a long sigh. “I’m aiming to be on the top, to be the number one hero. Of course I’m going to be fucking busy-”

 You interrupted him before he could continue a rant you have heard a million times. In the past you would admire his passion, just not right now. “Yeah! I get it! I know! I’m busy too, ya know! My to do list never seems to have less things on it despite how much I cross off. I still find time that’s just for you during my day. But you can’t even spare maybe an hour or two just to sit with me, maybe cuddle while watching a movie, and just enjoy each other’s company. All your focus on is being a hero, so what’s the point of dating me then?” It’s like you are the only one putting any effort into the relationship; all of his goes to becoming a hero, none left over for you.

 Bakugo scowled at you as he took a few steps toward you, his face becoming red. “Cause I fucking care about you, dipshit!”

 You blink at him, taken aback slightly before you crossed your arms. Turning away from him you mumbled. “Really? Could have fooled me.”

 It was silent in the room again; you kept your eyes busy by looking around his room. Not much has changed. “Do… you really think I don’t care?” Bakugo spoke so quietly, you barely heard him. Without glancing at him, you gave a small shrug.

 Next thing you know, you are being lifted in the air and then thrown on top of Bakugo’s bed. “Wha-What are you doing?!”

 “Shut up and fucking cuddle me!” Bakugo laid beside you, pulling you against his chest with his face pressed into the top of your head. His arms caged you in, wrapping around your shoulders and squeezed. After a minute, you slowly slid your arms around his waist, gripping at the back of his school uniform. His arms let up once he realized that you weren’t going anywhere. “Maybe… I could… do more. We could study together. Can’t really help with homework since we are in different courses, but…” He whispered into your hair, hesitant and unsure that you accept his attempt at an apology.

 You thought about it for a moment. This was him, in a way apologizing (though it would be nice to hear him say the actual words) and finding a compromise. And okay, you totally cutting him off without even saying what was wrong was probably not the best move either. You rub your face into his strong chest, taking in his burnt sugar scent. “Could we do this afterwards?” You look up at him with a small smile.

 The tension melted away from Bakugo’s face as he began to smirk. He pinched at your sides, making you giggle. “As long as you don’t pull another shitty stunt like what you’ve been doing for the last two fucking weeks.”

 You bury yourself into his chest again, hugging him tighter and closing your eyes as you enjoyed his warmth. “Deal.”

 “Also, don’t ever fucking let Drooly touch you again. I’m going to kill him later. You only need me to comfort you. I’m your fucking boyfriend, not him.”

 “I missed you too, Katsuki.”

[gingerwritess]

I was watching Brooklyn 99 and felt inspired by the dialogue. “Am I just a piece of meat to you?” “Yes. Now put on a smile, pork chop.” I just got strong pre dating idiots vibes when I thought about it.

“You.”

Tony Stark slams his hands down on the bar top.

“You are the one dating Dr. Who, yes?”

“Actually,” you sigh and take a sip of your beer, “I’m one of your employees, thank you very much, and you recently promoted me.”

“Well of course I know that.” He chuckles and slides into the seat next to you, raising a finger at the bartender. “I don’t mean that in any disrespect. I hear you’re a whiz in the language department?”

“One of my stronger suits, I guess.”

“We’re thinking of moving you up a few more levels.” The bartender slides him a glass; Stark clinks it against your bottle with a small smile. “I’m…not supposed to tell you yet.”

Stay cool. Stay cool.

“That’s neat.” You laugh nervously—what the hell are you supposed to say to that?? “I appreciate it, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony,” he corrects with a smile. “Thing is, you’d be working at the same level as loverboy over there, which from what I’ve heard, is quite the workplace love story?”

He tips his glass towards Loki—Laing—who seems to have decided that standing in a corner alone, watching everyone else mill about while still wearing his lab coat, is normal human behaviour.

Well…okay, maybe he’s not too far off. Dr. Banner is doing the same thing over in that other corner.

“We’ll just break up,” you blurt before you can stop yourself—then mentally slap yourself across the face.

“Wow. Okay, well, uh, that’s unnecessary,” Tony laughs. “Unless you’re looking for a way out, all you’ve gotta do is fill out a quick form just for HR to keep on record. Y’know, just to make sure he’s not using our rooms, equipment to give you any private checkups…”

You choke on your drink, spewing beer across the bar top.

“That’s not gonna happen,” you cough, furiously shaking your head. “Really, I swear, we don’t—no, god, no, we don’t do that.”

Tony’s eyebrow quirks. “Sure. Just fill out the form for me and we’ll get you movin’ as soon as we can, alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, of course! Thank you, Tony!”

He winks and pushes off the bar, heading back out into the crowd—stopping to shake Laing’s hand and engage him in a quick little conversation.

Oh, if only he knew.

You’ve been trying to avoid him all night, trying to make this first little (okay, unnecessarily giant) staff “meet your bosses” party as enjoyable and progressive to your career as possible.

Judging from the fact that you just spoke to the boss of all bosses over a beer about your love life…things are going pretty well.

Yeah, you can risk a quick chance to mock how awkward Loki looks at this party.

“Hey, loverboy.”

You slide up next to him and bump his hip with yours.

He just nods.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Shaking his head, he brings his glass of dark liquor to his lips and downs it in one gulp.

“Holy shit,” you laugh as he lowers the glass. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s been an interesting night,” he sighs, running a hand through his blond hair.

“Same here. I got promoted, like, a week and a half ago, and Tony Stark just told me they’re moving me up even higher.”

He glances over at you, finger tapping the rim of his glass. “You, too?”

“What?”

“I was promoted as well,” he explains, pushing off the wall and heading back towards the bar, you trailing not far behind. “I now have access to the scans of the brain belonging to a certain super soldier.”

Your jaw drops. “You’re joking.”

“Afraid not.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe, mind spinning. “You’ve barely been here a month, how the hell did you pull that off??”

Glass refilled, he raises it and clinks it against your half-finished beer with a lopsided grin. “I have my ways, darling.”

“Nuh-uh, tell me how you did that.”

“Robert Laing is the most qualified person in this building,” he chuckles, clearly enjoying your bewilderment. “I have…eight? Eight PhD’s, putting me even over our beloved Dr. Banner, and I may have told them I’ve worked for SHIELD for over a decade.”

“God of lies,” you mutter, spinning back around on your stool to slump against the bar top. “So that’s why I’m getting promoted, too, right? What’d you tell them about me?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“I got promoted to the same level as you. You lied about me, too, right? Said I worked with Howard Stark or some shit, just to help your little charade?”

“No…” he slowly shakes his head. “You earned your promotion by your own hand. All I’ve ever said about you is that you’re good in bed, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Y’know, sometimes I forget I hate you. Then you remind me.”

Loki raises his hands with a laugh. “Only speculating. I have to act the part, don’t I?”

“Robert Laing doesn’t need to be a class A douche,” you groan, dropping your head to your hands. “How about you make your fake self a sweet, dorky guy with a soft heart? Not some dick who’s only with his girl for the sex?”

“He’s a minimal effort character,” Loki replies smoothly. “Being two people at once is rather trying. If I spend too much time trying to be Robert, I could lose focus and let my duplicate slip.”

“And how terrible would that be—”

“Careful,” he cuts in, leaning towards you to speak low in your ear; “do I need to remind you what could happen if you intervene with my cover?”

“I know who you are,” you snap, grabbing a fork off the bar top and jabbing it into his stomach—he’s a little too close. Two can play this game. “And you just got yourself promoted to work right alongside your big bro. All it’ll take is one good yell from me and you’re back where you started, Loki.”

He scowls, teeth gritting in your ear. “Go on. Stab me, right here. Tell my brother the truth, show everyone here who I really am.”

“Maybe I will,” you hiss, pushing the fork into his gut a little harder. His fingers wrap around your bicep and squeeze as he starts to laugh, quiet and low, his breath tickling your neck.

“So fearsome.”

You grab his glass and slosh the drink in his face, dripping down the front of his precious lab coat.

“Aren’t I?”

With that, you hop off your seat and wrench your arm from his grip, leaving him sputtering at the bar behind you.

Of course, your smug satisfaction is momentary, screeching to a stop when a large hand wraps around your bicep again and with a sudden gust of wind, you’re no longer walking away from the bar.

“Not another word,” Loki hisses, fingers still tight around your arm. “Seems that I haven’t made myself clear enough as to the discretion our little arrangement.”

Your back hits a wall—and something else, crashing to the floor as you try to yank your arm out of his grip.

Ah. Mops.

“You are so—hmph—predictable,” you grit out, struggling to find your footing amidst the dark janitors closet. “You’d be a wonderful fanfiction character from 2012, whisking damsels off to dark closets—”

“Romantic, I know. Now stop—moving—” Loki grabs your other arm when you punch him in the gut and try to duck away, pushing you back against the wall—ooh, he’s almost sort-of panting. Guess he’s not invincible after all.

You stick your nose in the air, stomping your foot with a small huff of annoyance when you find you can’t cross your arms. “What now, Robbie? Gonna kill me or kiss me?”

“Robbie—oh, kill you. Definitely, without a moment’s hesitation, kill you.”

The knife to your throat was expected. So far almost every interaction you’ve had with this lovely old god has ended with one of you at the other’s throat, so you’re not exactly surprised.

You clear your throat, attempting to roll your eyes at the god pinning you to the wall. “Predictable,” you mutter, kicking pointlessly at his knees.

His eyes narrow, jaw clenches, fingers tighten around your arm…and he lets go.

He heaves a huge sigh, twirls the knife around his finger and pockets it, stepping away from you.

“Contrary to popular belief,” he says, long fingers pressing to his chest, “I don’t actually crave blood on my hands.”

“Couldn’t tell,” you scowl, rubbing your neck and shoving past him to the door of the little closet. Oh, perfect.

Locked.

“You planned this, didn’t you.”

Loki smiles. “Makes you more likely to listen to me, doesn’t it?”

That might be your best glare yet. Not that he could see it, with how dark it is in here, but it still counts.

“I was trying to not have to threaten you for silence,” he sighs, having the nerve to sound annoyed with you. “But it seems that you’re not overly fond of me nor the other version of me, so you really have no one to blame but yourself.”

“You self-righteous son of a—”

“You don’t have to like me,” he cuts in, lifting his hands in front of him. “I just need you to cooperate. Otherwise…you know too much to be kept alive.”

“Y’know, if this is how you present yourself to everyone new you meet, I’m not—ugh, surprised—no one likes you.” Giving the doorknob one last helpless yank, you bang your forehead against the wall with a huff of defeat. “You’re the worst.”

“So I’ve heard.” 

He steps closer, hands still raised, palms open to you. Good, no knife this time.

This “relationship” is so screwed up that you’re almost touched by the fact that this time, he’s not trying to kill you. 

“Can I trust you? Or do I have to silence you myself?” 

You sigh, loud and exaggerated beyond belief just so he knows you’re not happy about it.

“Fine.”

“Good girl.” 

A shocked, indignant little sound leaving your throat, you immediately raise your hand to slap the everloving shit out of him for that, but he chuckles and the lock on the door clicks.

“After you, darling.” He shifts back into Dr. Laing and opens the door for you with a wave of his hand.

“I’m not your d—”

“Having fun in there?”

Okay, mental note to tell Loki that the next time he picks a random closet to teleport to, don’t pick one in the restricted levels locker rooms.

“I-I’m so sorry, we got lost,” you stammer, not expecting to have ever run into the Black Widow in a locker room at work—she and the other avengers aren’t exactly at your paygrade.  

“Lost,” she repeats, an amused grin tugging at her lips. “Okay. Laing, zip up and get out of here before I have to escort you.” 

You spin on your heel to find Loki—once again your fake doctor-lover—slipping out of the little closet, a hand in front of his crotch zipping his pants, sheepishly grinning as he tucks his shirt into the waistband of his pants.

Oh, the little shit.

“You can’t blame me,” he chuckles, grabbing your hand and squeezing—he must’ve guessed you were about to slap him, for real this time. “Actually, you can’t blame her, either…can’t resist, what can I say?”

“Sorry. We’re leaving now,” you mutter, storming out of the locker room and dragging Loki along behind you before he gets any more detailed.

“You’re doing better already,” Loki laughs as you round a corner and practically shove him into the elevator, waiting until the second the door closes to bitch-slap him right across the face.

There’s a moment of shocked silence—you’ll treasure that forever. But then…

“…was that supposed to hurt?”

For the record, it hurt your hand more than it probably hurt his annoyingly defined cheekbones, but man, did that feel good.

“No,” you growl, turning around and crossing your arms as the elevator drops. “Just wanted you to know that I could do it.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” 

You can hear the patronising amusement laced into his voice.

“You’re the single worst person I’ve ever met.” 

He smiles, glancing over at you. “You’ve mentioned, and yet you still play along with my charade.”

“Only because you threaten to kill me!”

“I think you like it,” he hums, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You’ve at least dressed your part tonight. You could pass for a love interest.”

“So that’s it? I’m just a piece of meat to you?”

“Yes.” The elevator dings and the door slides open, the staff party still in full swing. “Now put on a smile, pork chop.”

SMACK. 

As long as you get to keep slapping him whenever he pisses you off, this little fake-lationship might just last long enough for Loki to leave. 

If anything, seeing his stunned, flushed face after your palm meets his cheek is doing wonders for your confidence.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

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[ceruleanmusings]

bike built for two | scott x tessa

Because I couldn’t come up with a better title. Anyway! A little gift for @isaaclahys​ because apparently it’s super easy for me to write when I’m not agonizing writing my own ships. Somehow after sharing my writing woes with you and creating a writing plan, this idea smacked me upside the head and I had to bang it out while I have the inspiration. So have Scott and Tessa being all cute on a nice bike ride! (Also tagging @sgtbuckyybarnes​ for a few Perrie mentions.)

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The heavy thud of a helmet dropping onto the table jerked Tessa out of her advanced placement biology haze, yanking her out of the riveting world of enzymes. Her fisted hand, which had previously been acting as a pseudo pillow on her cheek, landed on the table as she jerked upright, startled. Eyes wide, lips parting in a ready effort to apologize to the librarian, her panicked disposition eased at the sight of Scott’s lopsided smile.

“What’re you doing here?” Tessa asked, leaning back in her chair, arms stretched above her head. She sighed at the cracks and pops that ran up her stretched spine. Geeze, how long had she been sitting in that chair?

“Liam said you were studying and may need a ride home,” he explained, drumming his fingers on the crown of the helmet. What once used to be stark white was now mottled with dirt smears and cracks.

She froze midway through a yawn, her face sticking mid-contort with her tongue sticking out. His smile pulled back further on the side and he pushed a laugh through his nose. A burning flush crept up her neck and she leaned forward, settling her chair back on four legs. “Did he?” she mumbled, reaching for her phone. She noticed the little blue light blinking in the top left corner and then remembered. Her phone was on silent. She always silences her phone when she’s studying AP Bio. Because even though she needed the class it could still kiss her ass.

Swiping the screen with her thumb, she unlocked it and read the message Liam had sent an hour and a half ago, judging by the time stamp:

Nvm got a ride home frm Mase Don’t study 2 hard I’m sndin Scott if u don’t hve a ride

Tessa’s eyelid twitched, whether it was at the sight of Liam’s horrendous texting shortcuts or from the weight of studying for so long smacking into her, she didn’t know. Letting out a long breath, she rubbed at her eyes and then turned a smile up at Scott. “I appreciate it. You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“Oh, uhm, I kind of didn’t.” At her probing gaze, Scott rubbed the back of his neck. The thick denim material of his favorite riding jacket strained beneath his flexing arm. Tessa’s eyes traced the curve of the bulge a few seconds too long. “I kind of had detention.”

“You?” Her head tilted to the side. “All the teachers love you. What did you do?”

“I kind of fell asleep in English class.” His smile, so sheepish, pulled his lower lip in between his teeth and Tessa had a flash of wondering what that lip would feel like between her teeth. With a good shake of her head and a plastered on smile she forced that thought away, hoping beyond hope that her increased heartbeat didn’t

“Yeah, well, you get a werewolf pass due to your extracurriculars.”

“Not from Mr. Brady. Anyway…I came to see if you were still here. I called your name a couple times. Guess you didn’t hear me. Ap Bio’s rough, huh?”

“Yeah but…” she shrugged, “if I want to be anything like my dad, I need to take the class.”

Scott nodded. “I get it.”

And she knew he did. Wanting to become a veterinarian himself wasn’t an easy feat. She wasn’t as surprised as Kira and Lydia were when he first dropped into the seat next to her on the first day of classes. They even spoke about it when picking classes last semester, before the school year ended. He’d been going back and forth about it for ages, whether to stay on the normal science track or take the risk and try for the advanced placement. He didn’t feel like he was fit for it, smart for it, right for it. Tessa had no problems telling him all the ways he was wrong. It took her two hours by phone and she missed her nightly skype call with Perrie to do it but it was worth it. It was worth Perrie’s (exaggerated) wrath of being slighted to see the pride in his eye when he managed an A-minus on their first test. Scott didn’t have enough faith in himself; if she needed to slap him with a good dose of faith, so be it.

“So.” He tapped an uneven beat on his helmet and then picked it up, spinning it between his fingers. “Ready to go?”

“Home. Right, yes!” Tessa squeezed her eyes shut and quelled another yawn. Huh, maybe he came at the right time. “Just let me stop by my locker first.”

“No problem. Take your time.”

Tessa gathered up her books and, standing, nestled them into the crook of her elbow. She quickly glanced around the table, ensuring that she snatched up the candy bar wrapper that she left behind before the librarian saw it. (She was a total stickler for the rules, no eating or drinking being the biggest one. She apparently didn’t care when they were all biting their nails as exams came around.) As she lifted her backpack off the back of the chair her hair fell into her face. She blew it away a couple of times, grumbling as she lifted her strap up to her shoulder.

Fingers brushed against her cheek. She froze, a stirring kicking around in her stomach as she followed the fingers up to a palm and then down the denim-clad arm up to Scott’s smiling face. A shiver rolled down her spine at his gentle touch, as he pushed her hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing against her cheek. Her quick choice of a half-updo that morning came with more benefits than just appearing put together at the last minute, apparently.

“Thanks,” she said, managing a smile.

Scott shrugged a shoulder. “No problem.”

No problem. As if he were helping out a friend. Of course. Because that’s what they were. Just friends.

They walked shoulder to shoulder out of the library and through the different levels of the school until they reached the bank of senior lockers. Tessa quickly spun the dial on her metallic red lock to Liam’s numbers—09 for his lacrosse number, 27 for the day he was born, and 02 for being the second favorite child in the family—and threw her books in. She could deal without AP Bio for one night. She could only hope Ms. Finch didn’t throw a pop quiz at them.

Unzipping her bag, she swapped out a few of her notebooks, double checked she had her calculator for math, crossed off the day on her mini magnetic calendar hanging amongst the pictures of her and her friends, grabbed the jacket she’d borrowed from Lydia, making a mental note to clean it and bring it back the next day, and shoved it unceremoniously into her bag. (Another note: get out the wrinkles before Lydia stabs you with a heel). When she turned, Scott’s eyebrows lifted.

“Ready?” he asked, spinning his keys around his finger.

She nodded. “Ready.”

Except what she wasn’t ready for was approaching the lone motorcycle in the parking lot and suddenly remembering that—duh!—it was what he’d taken today and she’d have to get on it. Her fingers tightened against the strap of her bag and her lips pressed together. How the entire existence of his helmet wasn’t a clue to her made her mentally slap herself and tell herself that maybe Perrie was right and she did need a break from studying. How could she miss that?

Scott loved that bike. He kept it clean and kept up with the oil change and the maintenance and made sure to get the inspection done as early as possible. Even if a little bug got smashed on the number plate at the front he’d be sure it was gone before his next trip. As if sensing her growing apprehension Scott flashed a smile at her over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, I’m a safe driver.”

“Great.”

It wasn’t him she was worried about; it was everyone else. Everyone else and their blind spots. Everyone else and their blind spots and the sheer statistics of motorcycle accidents that her father had drilled into her head ever since she brought up the idea of following in his medical footsteps. Because she needed to see the reality of the world, he’d said. Needed to know what happens when people play games in traffic, he said. Needed to really get what could happen when no one was paying attention, he said.

She saw it, she knew it, she got it. And it’s why she’d avoided getting on that thing ever since the moment Scott walked away from Crowe’s Nest Cycles with keys in his tight fist. Since then, as far as she knew, only Isaac and Kira got rides on it. Hell, if Stiles wouldn’t sit on it she wouldn’t either (hey, he had to be right about something sometime.)

But then Scott flashed that smile at her and she felt her resolve crumbling. Scott wouldn’t let her get hurt, she told herself as she watched him lift the bike seat to bring out another helmet. This one was red. She’d seen Kira in it before. Her mouth twisted for a brief moment at the thought and then pushed it away. They were good. They were friends. No sense in getting bent out of shape. Before you get bent up being flung over the handlebars! her mind screamed. She batted that away.

“You have a jacket right? That one from your locker?” Scott asked her. She nodded. “You might want to put that on. Just in case. Not that I don’t like your shirt.” He nodded towards her scoop neck tie-dye tee; an afternoon diy stress reliever she made with Perrie, Kira, and Mel. Hers was the only one that ended up looking like an actual tie dye shirt compared to their blotted creations. “But, I mean, it looks a lot better when you don’t have road rash.”

She nodded but couldn’t unlock her elbows from being pinned to her sides as she stared at the green bike. Statistics flashed through her mind. Did you know motorcyclists face more injuries and fatalities than cars? Did you know motorcycles make up 14% of all traffic deaths? Did you know in 42% of all fatal car accidents the vehicle was turning left when a biker was overtaking? Sheesh, if her father wanted to scare her away from something, he really knew how to make a lasting impression.

“Hey.” The tender tone to Scott’s words made her blink and then suck in a breath. He stood so close; she could almost feel the heat radiating off his skin. She could smell the distinct spicy scent of his body wash wafting off him, crashing over her. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay?” He grasped her elbows and gave them a squeeze. “I’ll drive slow.”

His thumbs rubbing over the joints of her elbows—or the lateral condyle as her bio book said—and that was it. She came undone. “Okay,” she said, nodding, swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat.

“Okay,” he repeated. He stepped away and she almost made a noise at the lack of heat near her. Get a grip, Dunbar. This isn’t friend behavior! She turned away from him, ducking her head to wiggle the jacket out of her backpack. She zipped it back up and put it on. It was a little thick for April but it would do on short notice. He held out the spare helmet to her and she took it, briefly look at her reflection in the visor and pulled it down over her head.

The cushioned inside squeezed her face but after a few seconds it grew comfortable. Scott stepped forward and adjusted the strap and then wiggled her head, making sure it fit properly. When he was satisfied, he gave a thumbs up which she mimicked. He slid his helmet over his head with ease, keeping the visor open as he went back to the bike. He stuck the keys in the ignition, swung his leg over the bike, settled on, turned it on, lifted the kickstand, and—

Tessa jumped when the motorcycle roared to life, easing into a settled purr a few seconds later. He pulled on some gloves and then turned to Tessa. “Okay,” he called out over the noise, “you’re going to get on the back. Your feet go here; keep them there. Don’t take them off unless I’m stopped. Don’t touch the exhaust pipe or muffler, you’ll get burned. It gets pretty hot.”

I bet it does, she thought, her eyes roaming Scott from head to toe. It was one thing seeing him ride around on the bike it was another to…experience that up close. The air of danger that came of him in waves and called out to her, dare her to get closer.

“…and lean when I lean. Got it?”

“Oh, yeah! Got it!” Tessa blinked and shook her head and approached the vibrating bike. She eyed where he said to put her feet and, after taking a breath, mounted. It wasn’t too graceful, she felt like a dog lifting their leg for a moment, but managed to settle on and scooted forward until she was comfortable enough in the seat. The vibrating metal beneath her matched the vibrating in her heart as her knees rested on either side of his thighs.

“You’re gonna need to hold on,” Scott called out.

Hold on. Right. Easy enough. She breathed out, breathed in, and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his midsection, pressing into his back. She thanked god for having the helmet on to cover the bright blush that pooled into her cheeks as she felt his stomach expand and contract with every breath.

Reaching down, Scott patted her crossed arms and then lowered his visor with a snap. “Here we go!” He said and, with a twist of the throttle, he hit the gas.

A little shriek escaped her throat as they gained speed in what felt like the space of a blink, feeling the pull of drag on her body. She held on tighter, the thought of how is this slow? raced through her mind as he pulled out of the school parking lot and took off down the street.

Beacon Hills by motorcycle may as well be a different world than Beacon Hills by car. Being out on the road, wind and scenery rushing by them, her heart thumping beneath the roar of the engine. It was…exhilarating, actually. Nothing around but the road and the lush green trees and the jewel toned sky and the boy with a soft heart. A grin split her face and she rested against his back, tense muscles relaxing.

It wasn’t until they finally came across a red light, the same one she, Lydia, and Allison stopped at the night of the deer accident, that reality came back to her. She tapped him on the shoulder and Scott’s helmeted head turned sideways. “I don’t live this way!” she called to him.

“I know,” he called back. “I’m taking the long way. You doin’ okay?”

Doing okay? She was…she was…hmm. She was with Scott, riding around the empty streets on the edge of Beacon Hills, not being peeled off the ground. And he was taking the long way. To make her more comfortable or just to spend extra time with her, either way, it was sweet, and she was going to recount every minute to Perrie for sure.

In short: she was awesome.

“So, uh…since we’re taking the long way…do you think we could make a pitstop?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Any place in particular?”

“Ruby’s?” Her stomach growled at the thought of going to the city’s teen hangout, a diner in downtown Beacon Hills that had the best shakes and burgers to offer. “My treat.”

He shook his head. “My mom wouldn’t let me take you home and eat with you without offering my share. My treat.”

“Fine.” Tessa’s hidden smile magnified her words. “Then I get the tip.”

“Deal.”

The light turned green and Scott surged forward. This time Tessa let out a little laugh, the noise being carried away by the wind as she held on a little tighter.

[cookiedoughmeagain]

Haven DVD commentaries: 5.03 - Spotlight

Commentary with Lucas Bryant and Emily Rose.

So, I love these two but the levels of ridiculousness that tend to enter their conversations are hard for me to capture in text, so this doesn’t necessarily cover everything. And I make no guarantees as to how much of the time Lucas is being serious, because let’s face it; it is sometimes hard to tell.

[Nathan’s Previously On Haven] LB: You hear that voice? ER: That was good, did you practice that? LB: Nope. ER: Because I did. I thought, Oh you’ve got a TV show, now you’ve got to practice your ‘previously on’ LB: Yeah you’ve got ...Oooh nice one! You just stuck a pencil in someone’s eye. I haven’t seen that. ER: So this is Dwight, played by the wonderful … LB: Holy Moly his clothes are coming off. Oh my goodness. Do you know how many times Dwight has his clothes off when he’s on the phone with Nathan? ER: Oh it was requested wasn’t it? LB: Yeah, I think they were just trying to get Dwight’s top off.

[As Duke is bringing Nathan supplies and Mara is trying to eavesdrop in the background] LB: You’re so good. ER: I actually really had fun doing this scene because I just got to be a brat in the background. Which I know you would say is an everyday occurrence, but they actually allowed it to stay on film. LB: Right. I remember looking over occasionally at you and just shaking my head. ER: Yeah. I was really happy. I just wanted to make faces behind you all, and when Balfour would walk by I’d kick him or something. I just never knew what you were saying though, I just had to wait until I saw movement so I knew you were talking. I don’t think they showed me kicking him here though, I just got to stare back at you.

ER: Oh, there’s the old footage of the boat, because it had sunk. LB: Right, that’s recycled footage of the Cape Rouge. Now Duke here is lost. [as Duke grabs the scissors] This was a big To Do. ER: Yeah I think you even suggested a scene like this, right? LB: Well we were talking for a long time about the possibilities of how we could move from Duke’s long hair to short hair, and that was it. It was good, they used scissors.

[As Nathan brings a coffee to Mara chained to the picnic bench] LB: Remember this dumb day? ER: This was freaking cold. LB: uh huh. And for some reason I was completely … [Mara spits out her coffee] That was really good. I just like watching you. But I just remember this day for some reason we laughed our … parts off. A lot. ER: Yeah. It was pretty early on, I mean not super early but it was sort of early on in the whole Mara take, so I was starting to really enjoy being a total jerk. LB: Right, you were just really sinking your teeth into it. ER: I was. It’s fun actually to be able to do different things. I think you probably experienced that in the switcheroo episode LB: Yes. That was a real blast. But I was trying to perform a part that had been previously established by Balfour. You get to … Ah that’s my man Mitchell; that’s Paul, he’s hilarious and awesome. [As Mitchell grabs Mara] ER: I remember we worked on this too. This was when stunt rehearsals moved to the day before and we worked out this turn. [As Mara gets the chain around Mitchell’s neck] You know, all the boys on this show really love the fact that I get to visually kick ass. LB: I think this is the first Mara strangle. Is it? No, it’s not; you strangled me already. ER: Yeah. LB: So there you’re just perfecting. You have how many strangles this season? ER: I have a lot of emasculating in this. LB: Yeah, you do!

LB: So tell me about, what was the inspiration for Mara’s voice? ER: Mara’s voice? That’s a good question. LB: Other than me. Did it come out of a character exploration? Or was there a specific idea? ER: I think it came out of trying to be a bit more commanding than Audrey was going to get to be because she … actually no. Matt and Gab and I had conversations about this before the season started and we talked about Blacklist and James Spader. And I watched him a bit. And I think it just came out of sheer enjoyment and pleasure. Oh, this is the laser belly. LB: Laser boobs. Oh sorry, laser belly. But this is an example of one of those things that was totally ridonculous in the script and then pretty ridonculous in the shooting of it too, right? Because the lasers don’t exist when you’re shooting it. And thankfully, Lucia went totally for it and I think ... ER: She did a great job. LB: She did a fantastic job and it actually came together being pretty cool! I don’t want to say that I don’t believe that everything’s going to turn out being totally cool, but sometimes I have a little … yeah I’m not fully convinced. ER: Well because then you make the mistake sometimes when you think something’s going to turn out awesome and then it doesn’t. LB: Right. Like they tell you that there’s going to be these lasers shooting out of your eyes but by the time you do it they’re not lasers, it’s small little -

[As Nathan is handcuffing Mitchell and getting ready to leave with Mara] ER: This leads up to a massive chunk of blooper reel time because we started laughing hysterically. LB: Right. ER: Was it you that was losing it on this one? LB: It was because I was an idiot. You kept walking away … you were doing good acting [where Mara makes to go over to Mitchell but Nathan yanks her back with the chain], but I kept forgetting to pull you back with the chain so you just sort of walked, and I just stood there. And you can see how super serious we are here because we’re finally trying. ER: Well and half the time when I look away it’s because I’m trying to help us both not crack up. You’re about to lose it right there! LB: We’re trying to super, super keep it together. Because I think we were in trouble by that point. It was getting to the point where it wasn’t good. ER: Yeah like season one and two everyone laughs along with you. Season 5, everyone is losing their crap if you lose it on set. LB: Right. ER: Like ‘time is money!!’ LB: Yeah, and this is TW Peacock who is one of our very favourite people and directors who works on Haven. ER: Yes. He’s fantastic. LB: So I think he lets us play a little bit, and then sometimes he has to growl at us to pull it back together a little bit.

LB: This is actually looking really great. I like this. ER: Oh the cabin. LB: Yeah. Daddy’s cabin. ER: This was probably one of our favourite sets I think, of the season. LB: Totally. ER: Jennifer Stewart and her team did an incredible job. LB: Incredible! This is not a cabin that exists. This is a cabin that was built in the studio. ER: We’re in a hockey rink at this point. With beautiful lighting by Eric Cayla. He’s fantastic. LB: But this was really, I was very excited because a lot of this scene, or I mean a lot of this episode and the next episode … [pause while they both laugh at Mara insulting Nathan] ER: Yeah these were really fun because the thing that’s great about TW is that he comes from a massive theatre background and family. So he’s a great actor’s director. To be able to work with him on these amazing long theatre scenes - because we were working on two episodes at the same time, so we’re doing everything that’s in the cabin in the same day. So you get a good progression of what’s happening. LB: Right.

[Another pause as they apparently laugh at Mara’s antics on screen] ER: We just took a photo, if you were wondering what was happening. LB: Yeah. That was the sound of a selfie. What’s a double selfie. ER: What? Another selfie? LB: No, I mean like there are two people in it. Is it still just a selfie? ER: Oh, that’s true. Selvsies???

ER: Oh this was an interesting moment. Why did you make that psychological gesture there? Do you know why you made that, with your hand on your face? [Mara is getting bored and Nathan is watching her] Because then I mirrored you in that moment. LB: Oh, I probably did it because … I was watching you earlier … and you …. No, I don’t know. ER: No, I copied you. It was very specific, I remember it was a very specific choice. LB: ... ER: Now, this was tricky, having to do cats cradle at the same as my lines. LB: You’re so great. ER: Oh stop it Lucas. LB: You are! It was so fun and so easy to work with you because it was just a pleasure to watch. And it was, I remember thinking, because we spent the whole day I think doing these scenes and it was like - Ah that was so fun. Because rarely do you get to actually do something that lasts longer than 15 seconds ER: It was really cool. [As Mara talks about the Russian name for cats cradle] That was actually inspired by my dear friend Stretch, in between takes. I can’t take credit for that one. LB: It’s a group effort. ER: It is! It’s a collaboration. It was really cool to get to see you play so strong Lucas. LB: As opposed to when I normally …  what in god’s name is this? [on screen we’ve flash back to Nathan and Audrey in the cabin and Nathan pulling her shirt off] ER: Oh dear god. LB: Oh I didn’t know this was happening. ER: This is the awkward part. LB: Right. ER: We could talk about the awkwardness of doing these together, these kinds of scenes. LB: It’s just really like … a part of the world … that um ER: Yes. LB: … needs no further explanation ER: No further talking.

[As the action moves to Gloria and her stressball] ER: What … Oh my gosh I love Jayne. We are so lucky to have people like Jayne Eastwood on our show. She’s incredible. I mean I always knew she was great but because I didn’t grow up Canadian I didn’t fully understand how fantastic she is. LB: Right. ER: It’s just so great to be able to watch her. And I’m so glad that we never killed her off and she didn’t disappear because she is a great asset to the show. LB: Totally.

[As Duke is talking to Charlotte in the station] ER: Is it just me or did you feel like our office got kind of sparsed down this season? LB: Yeah. I think they sold off some of the props that used to be there, and the set dressing. Now how crazy is this; Chenise - I never even met her. Did you? ER: No. LB: Because we were in the cabin, and they were doing this on some other day. ER: Right, so I guess that’s something we can talk about production wise, because we were in the cabin, I think we did those scenes for three days straight or something like that. It was long. But then you’d have these days where you’d have breaks, so blocks. So Balfour’s doing his story line and we’re doing our storyline. And it’s helpful because this season we did something we’ve never done before, which was doing two episodes at a time. Which was complicated. Because we did 13 episodes all the prior seasons, and this year we were asked to do 26 episodes which is no freaking joke. I think it may have killed me at the end. LB: I think … yeah. You are slightly dead.

[As Duke walks in to Dwights office] LB: See? Where’s all our stuff? ER: Well this is Dwight’s office, right? LB: Well. ER: Dwight took your office. How do you feel about Dwight taking your office? You kind of went off the reservation and they just sort of replaced you. LB: Yeah. He fits better in that chair, that’s really what it was. ER: It doesn’t look as large behind him. LB: What? No. I actually, am too big for that chair.

[As we’re back with Mara and Nathan in the cabin] ER: I would like to add a shout out to Joanne Stamp and Dorothy who did my hair and makeup here. And because we didn’t want to go back and forth with dying hair for blonde and brunette, we actually did a wig. LB: You’re wearing a wig? Right now in this TV show? That’s a wig? ER: Yeah. Yes. Don’t you remember? LB: Not really. ER: You don’t remember that?! That was definitely a technicality of making out on the floor, was; Don’t touch the wig! LB: Oh yes that’s right. Don’t touch the hair. ER: But our best wig tip actually came from you Lucas. LB: Why? ER: Because you had just completed a film. LB: Oh that’s right. See, I don’t even remember my own life. ER: No you don’t. LB: It’s a good thing we have these conversations. ER: So you suggested, which was good, and Joanne figured out with her masterful skills, that if you shift the wig back a bit and use my own hair the blend is fantastic. And it was so good. So I wore a wig for Mara and it was really cool.

[As Nathan’s unchaining Mara to take her over to the bed] ER: Wait, this scene did we do a rehearsal of it, or was this one where we just did it and TW was super happy with it? LB: Um, we just kinda went for it. Because I remember initially reading it, being like; What the f- … I’m … Because, if you haven’t seen the episode already, here’s a spoiler; Nathan and Mara kiss in a minute. And I was like; How, in God’s name, can that happen. Like, this is ... I was … I couldn’t ... ER: But we talked a lot about that idea of having someone in front of you that you recognise fully and you should be close with, but that person not really being … LB: That person not really being the person! And they’re kind of like, Well it’s hard because she’s the person but she’s not the person. ER: Exactly. LB: But I’m like; He’s not an idiot! He can’t just like go … But then we decided eventually I think that in some … ER: Sick way? LB: … weird way, he’s hoping that this will bring her [Audrey] out. ER: And that’s what you settled on. LB: Yeah. And Matt and Gab were like, you just gotta trust us on this, the fans are going to love this. And I was like, I am going to reluctantly trust you, because I don’t know what .... But… I think they did. I think they were right. I was wrong. ER: I think it’s interesting from Mara’s point of view, because in a way it felt like Mara was doing this to you. You know? Playing and toying, and I think that’s kind of her sort of power, in a way is she’s been around for a long time and so I feel like she’s just way more visceral and just sort of going at everything. Which I’m not going to lie to you, I just completely struggle with as an actor, because when a character that I’m playing has a completely different point of view to me as a person, it’s really hard for me to wrap my head around how to access it. But you have to sort of blackout as a person and just go with it. LB: Right. But you find me disgusting and utterly vomit worthy in real life, so. ER: No but what you were talking about, I agree with you. Because I’ve played Audrey for so long, I don’t understand why Nathan would do that either. LB: Right. ER: So it’s hard for me to say; Sure, let’s go ahead with the scene. LB: Totally. But I think it did make sense. ER: And I absolutely loved actually, that we had to create the illusion that Mara was able to get those tar balls without you seeing. And it kind of forced you into this psychological place of looking down [where Nathan has his head in his hands] and I thought that was really great. LB: Right.

[As we see Duke and Dwight in the furniture warehouse] LB: And then there’s this stuff. I’ve never even … ER: Did you even watch these episodes? LB: No. I haven’t seen this. ER: You haven’t?! LB: No. ER: You haven’t seen these episodes?! LB: I’ve seen our stuff. I haven’t this bit. *whispers* I don’t watch their stuff. ER: Wow. I watched them in Nova Scotia while we were filming. LB: It’s good. It’s really good.

ER: I remember Lucas, since we’re sitting here patting each other’s backs, I remember being really nervous about how Mara was turning out. So, I think the first couple seasons you guys were into watching the dailies a little bit. I still was into watching dailies by the end here in season 5. But you all weren’t as worried about it. But I remember watching dailies from these scenes [Nathan and Mara in the cabin] and trying to gage where I was at with her, and thinking; Wow, why is Lucas so freaking good! LB: Oh come on. ER: No I’m serious.

ER: Now the funny thing to me about this, is I’m supposed to take my bra off in this scene, but what you don’t see is Eddie and Stretch and two camera guys behind me (so they can get your close ups). So to be able to do all of this bra stuff, practically topless but not, and having to deal with … This is the thing; you’re doing your acting scene, and Mara’s being confident and sexy, and Emily’s inside going; How do I get this bra off with all my crew guy friends behind me? How do I do this? LB: Right. You did it. ER: I did it. But I probably had a strapless bra on underneath. LB: You probably had a t-shirt on underneath. ER: *laughs* It was really fun though. You’re so good Lucas, there’s another great little gesture. You don’t get to see Nathan be this … because he’s such the action man all the time, it’s really cool to see you actually think and freak out about stuff, and for them to give you the time to do it. LB: Yeah, thanks. It was, I remember feeling really good. It felt like being an actor, you know? I mean we do this wild stuff all the time and it’s an honour and we’re blessed to be able to do it, but it is rare that you do … Maybe it shouldn’t be so rare, maybe it’s my own fault, but. It’s not all the time that you finish a day and you feel like; That is why I got into this in the first place, I loved that, that was so fun. ER: Totally. And I remember Matt and Gab talking about how they were so excited to actually write some scenes that got to just live in one place for a while. Because, our show is very action packed and there’s stuff happening all the time and we have to be rescuing people. LB: Always leaving somewhere and arriving somewhere. *laughs* I just don’t want to leave and arrive, can we just do an episode where we just, stay.

[As we see Audrey come out while Mara’s asleep] LB: This is so good and so weird. Look at you. ER: I remember being freaked out about this because I was like; I don’t know how to be Audrey any more.

LB: And I’ve got to fire up my dad’s old computer here. ER: Oh yeah, you were like; So wait, in order to get ahold of people I have to go to my dad’s old computer and not my cell phone? And then they get it on their cell phones?? LB: It’s a good thing that we kept up the bill for the internet there at the cabin, the old dial up. ER: Why couldn’t we insert the modem going… *dial up modem impressions from both of them* LB: Yeah. What’s my password? ER: Bronco78 LB: Yeah! Good one. That probaby would be it. ER: BlueBronco78 LB: Nathan123 ER: 1983Wuornos LB: Ahh and then it might have been one of those ones where I needed to use a capital N. 1983Wuronos.

[As we’re back with Duke and Dwight and Jody in the furniture warehouse] ER: Oh the lights are flickering. Wait wasn’t she related to the other lights flickering girl, or was that different? With the electricity? LB: Um, no. Not related. ER: We used that one later on. That was one of the fun things about this season was bringing back old characters and their family. LB: Yeah. And recycling Troubles. ER: Every sci-fi show’s got to have some light sabres coming from somewhere. LB: Yeah. It’s good. They really made it work. ER: And obviously, major kudos to all three actors here; Balfour, Copeland, and Lucia. Because it’s really not easy to be acting all these things that you don’t see on the day. LB: Totally. ER: Balfour’s always been really really great about just … you believe him. So much so. LB: Yeah, he’s really excellent about throwing himself into those absurd situations and making it work. ER: Yeah. And our dear friend Mr. Copeland. Talk about rising to the occasion. LB: Kicking ass.

[As we see Mara waking up] ER: Oh this was fun. LB: That’s my thing. ER: Pancakes. LB: Yep. ER: I just liked that little baby scene because Nathan had some hope and he was getting to play his happy self, which you don’t see him getting to do so often. And Mara was showing she’s not a morning person which was really funny. LB: Right. Because you could really relate to that. ER: I could so relate to that. You know, there’s two things in my life I didn’t want out of a job; homework and getting up early. And my job requires both of them. LB: Right. Accounting though, you’re avoiding that. That was the other thing right? ER: Thank god I don’t have to do that.

[As Nathan is trying to get Mara to eat pancakes and she is being a jerk about it] ER: I had so many of my friends say; It was so fun to watch you do that. I will say too, I really like Dorothy’s make up on this. Because I think after I was done playing Mara, we were both just sad that we didn’t get to use eyeliner all the time. LB: When did you first feel like you found her. ER: That’s tricky, um, I would say probably, the Mara images that I have in my head that are really strong memory-wise would have been the first episode when you and I are having that face off in the woods with the bronco behind and Vickie’s in it. And I hear her and I whirl around and I slam her hand in the door; fierceness. I was like; Audrey would never, in a million year. And I think wearing those boots. I remember one scene they tried to give me flatter boots and I asked them to redo the take and put me in the heels again because it didn’t feel like her. Like, she’s so powerful and so tall and so regal and so in charge, that it really bothered me. The coat really helped and the boots really helped, and the vest. LB: So was that the same day, I think it was, where we did, at the end of the day (we’re talking about other episodes now) that scene where you handcuffed me to the fence, that was the same day of shooting right? Because we were right there next to the woods. ER: Right, yes. Where you think it’s Audrey and then find out it’s Mara. LB: Yeah. Because I remember that day and I remember being like; Wow, this is crazy. ER: It was fun. LB: But I remember seeing you play around with what she was going to be, and find all sorts of different things. And there was this great, I think it ended up getting cut out sadly, but this great line about … ER: Oh that’s right! What was that line? LB: It was about … Oh yeah, I realised you weren’t Audrey, I realised you were Mara and you were talking about how Audrey was such an idiot. ER: Oh about how she dances! LB: You said; Do you have any idea what it’s like to be inside Audrey when she dances? ER: Yeah! I loved that line and they took it out. And I had a huge phone call about that asking them to put it back. I think that is a line that sums up Mara in a lot of ways. LB: Right, you did a little vomit in your mouth thing and I remember thinking; Oh this chick is nuts - this is great. ER: Well it was fun getting to be this person because I did get to play around so much but what’s so cool is when we introduce … you know everybody’s so familiar with the fabric of Haven and how it operates. So for example this scene [on screen is Nathan getting Mara to dance with him] is so fun because you know what it would be like if it was Audrey and Nathan. But now with a new set of variables in there it’s fun. It changes your [ie Lucas’s] performance, it changes how you would normally act. It changes so much which is an enjoyable thing. But what’s fun too is that Mara is in control so much that in this moment here with the dancing I remember thinking; I’m not in control in this moment. Like, he’s actually really getting to her. [As Nathan is tickling Mara/Audrey on the floor]: ER: Another piece of Haven trivial - you could play a drinking game with how many times can you spot that rug. And this was a really fun turn because we had hope in between and it really felt like we were getting somewhere and I remember with Balfour coming in and just being able to switch on a dime. LB: Balfour coming in and ruining everything. That’s so Duke. Dude, your timing is just so… ER: Come on bro. LB: He comes in and he’s just all worried about his own shit. [Duke; “What … what … what is this?”] ER: He’s so good. LB: He’s so funny. And so good. ER: We always have to wrestle with these scenes where we’re having these conversations just feet from one another [Where Duke and Nathan are talking about Mara even though she’s right there] LB: But really; poor Duke, has lost a lot recently. ER: I really enjoyed saying that line; “You look like your head is about to pop off”. And this is where Mara’s fascination with Duke begins. And this was fun because Duke is such a strong character, to see him face off with Mara was interesting. LB: Yeah, your guys stuff later on in the season in the boat was fantastic. LB: I’m pretty sure that I said Mara there in ADR. “Why would you do that for him? … Mara?” ER: That’s another good fun drinking game; see if you can spot the ADR lines. LB: Yeah I should do a little survey here. All you people watching here, if I hadn’t said ‘Mara’ there, do you think you would have known who I was talking to? Just a question. There are these people, somewhere, that are more important than me, that tell me that I have to add a name to the beginning and end of every sentence. Because you people otherwise won’t know who I’m talking to.

ER: There are these points in commentaries all the time where things get quiet because the commenters just start watching the show. I’m always listening to commentaries going; Say something! What else? Say something! LB: I just look so handsome from that angle. ER: Do you think you’d consider this a bottle episode? LB: Hmm, well. ER: Or do you want to tell us what a bottle episode is? LB: Usually a bottle episode from production terms is to save money, an episode that takes place in one location with just a couple of characters, very controlled production schedule. [As we flash back to that Moment in Colorado] Look at 14 year old Duke! Aw! And look at you! What! What is this? ER: You haven’t seen this? This is the flashback where Mara is just enjoying all of her past loves. LB: So, I don’t think this would be a bottle episode, because you’ve got laser belly. And then you have all these people outside. If it was just me and you in the thing for the whole thing then yes. But this is not a cheap episode. They had to spend money on the pancakes, maple syrup. They had to get that rug from the other location. ER: They had to get those cards. I was using the deck of cards here and I remember that TW every time he’d come up to direct me was playing with his own deck of cards. [As Mara stands up closer to Duke] Again, these are these scenes where it’s so not Emily at all that I had to just go for it, it was so scary. And I guess these are these moments, I mean granted you have a group of friends you’ve been playing with for the last 5 years so, scene work is like getting thrown overboard when they yell action. And you’re looking for the other person in the scene that you’re swimming with and trying to stay above water the whole time. And I think that I’m so fortunate to have both of you guys as scene partners because it’s not scary if you have another person that’s actually willing to swim with you. LB: And not just like kick your face ER: Or pull you down. LB: Or hold you under. Yeah, it’s true. And back at you.

[As Dwight comes in] ER: And so obviously we’re in the [set in the] hockey rink, so these [shots of Dwight in the doorway] are separate shots. [To the background of Emily singing along with the theme tune] LB: But it played like it was in the same place. That’s the magic of movies.

[meshkol-creations]

Day 23 of Kinktober 2019: Corset

Tags: corset, slight D/s dynamics

Pairing: Kurtbastian

Notes: Day 23. Er. Oops. I just...really had no inspiration (or time) to get to this unfinished fest, and this small fic was kind of half-finished but the muse was gone so it just sat on my hard-drive for ages. Finally half-heartedly finished it, so I'm not super happy with it, but eh. I'd like to finish this fest at some point, preferably before I move in the next few weeks. Anyway, enjoy this unbeta'd thing.

*

“Okay, so that’s hot.”

Kurt throws Sebastian a look that practically drips with exasperated annoyance, but who can really blame Sebastian really? Kurt Hummel in general is a wet dream itself, but Kurt Hummel in a corset? Yeah, who the fuck can blame him? And it’s pretty too: a silky blue that is fucking gorgeous against his pale skin, black ribbons laced along his lean but muscular back, the waist trimmed with silk lace.

“No, it’s, like, seriously hot,” Sebastian says, and the earnestness he was aiming for is replaced by total awe. “Seriously, majorly hot. When the fuck did you get so hot?”

“I’ve always been this hot,” Kurt says with a truly spectacular eye roll, eyes green from purple and black eye makeup and so fucking pretty that Sebastian kind of wants to die. “It’s not my fault that you were an idiot in high school and didn’t realise this fact.”

He intends to say something along the lines of ‘I’ve always thought you were hot’, which is both accurate and something Sebastian has reiterated constantly since they’ve been doing the whole dating thing as a form of apologetic and genuine reinforcement, but instead what comes out is: “You are so hot.”

Kurt rolls his eyes again. “You’ve seen me in more flattering and revealing outfits, Sebastian, and you’ve also seen me naked. A lot. As in every day for the past year. I have it on good authority that you vastly prefer me without clothes, so why is this breaking your brain?”

Sebastian decisively does not have a good response for that, so instead he gives up on putting on the rest of his Hallowe’en costume so he can drop to his knees, yanking Kurt towards him by his hips and mouthing at the sheer knickers he’s wearing. Seems like an absolute shame that he’s going to be covering these black scraps of lace up with literally anything else; if it was up to Sebastian, Kurt would wear this corset, these knickers, some black stockings with lacy garters, and six-inch heeled boots that will do wonders for his arse and legs. Not that Kurt really needs the help in that area – Sebastian’s slept with an obscene amount of people in his dedicated career in fucking, but no one holds a candle to Kurt Hummel’s arse.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Sebastian mumbles, getting the fabric wet and delighting at the soft moan of surprised arousal Kurt lets out as his prick starts to fatten up against Sebastian’s lips. He’s half-tempted to just yank them down and slip that lovely, delicious prick into his mouth and suck him into full hardness, but he supposes that they do have to leave so they’re not even more late to Jesse St James’s party than they already are.

Which Kurt mentions, albeit breathlessly: “We are already two hours late.”

Sebastian whines in the back of his throat, still mouthing at the stiffening prick through the sheer fabric, and he feels Kurt’s fingers wind into his short hair, just enough grip to physically pull his head away. Sebastian whines again, mouth watering with want, but he still goes pliant in Kurt’s grip, not bothering to conceal his frown of disappointment.

“If you’re good tonight, I’ll fuck you while I’m wearing this corset,” Kurt offers, voice rough and enticing, then continues, “but if you’re bad, I’ll tie you up and get myself off without touching you. Understand?”

Sebastian swallows thickly, nearly blind with arousal, and manages to husk out, “Yes.”

Kurt grins at him, a mischievous and devilish flash of teeth, and then says, “Up you get, pet. We’ve got a party to get to.”

Sebastian groans, but follows Kurt’s order in a daze, already looking forward to his reward.

---

also read on ao3

[shinyportalsandthings]

The Error of Your Ways - a Shang Tsung x Reader story

Seeing that Shang Tsung’s Mortal Kombat 11 design is based on the actor who portrayed him in the movie, I got very inspired. Thus, here’s a story for those of you think Shang is The Hot Stuff (note that this is based on a merging of the MK11 and movie versions and he may be a bit...more gentle but still stabby). If you like sassy, powerful sorcerers, this one’s for you.

Summary: You had an invitation and you showed up to the destination. The invitation was meant for someone else and the destination...another planet entirely. You are now a combatant despite having no martial arts ability and your only hope is to figure out a way to open the portal back to earth. That sorcerer, Shang Tsung, has your attention...and you, his. Can you use that to your advantage? Should you?

Warnings: Some violence, language, naughtiness. But it’s not SUPER naughty. Female protagonist.

* * *

The smile was cruel, practiced; it did not reach his dark eyes which were fixed unnervingly upon you. He stood with perfect posture, hands behind his back, long black hair pushed behind his ears. "A mistake?" the low voice rolled out. The ornate gold and plum armor did nothing to hide muscular arms. Surely those arms had throttled many a sarcastic warrior.

"Yes," you steeled yourself, willing your hands not to shake - at least for the moment. You gestured to the glowing doorway that, even now, slowly dimmed. "I was just…I was helping my friend, you see. He was the one who got the invite. I have it here." You unfurled the scroll and held it up. Truthfully, your best friend bribed you to see what the invitation was about as he was - shall we say - indisposed with his partner. Though he'd made it sound like they were on the brink of a love session, you know they were likely just watching Netflix and binging on ice cream after your friend won the state martial arts championship. How far away his cozy, nerdy apartment seemed now…

"Well," Shang Tsung said, "You possess the invitation, therefore, you are admitted to the tournament."

"But I don't want to be admitted to the tournament!" you yelped. "I don't practice any martial arts!"

His smile widened, showing teeth. "Well, then, this will be a short contest, will it not?" His eyes twinkled with dark amusement.

You already knew this was unlike any tournament on earth - the portal alone gave that way, as well as the strange warmth of the invitation's paper. Was it paper? Or leather? Difficult to tell but the ink glimmered unnaturally even when held still.

"But I'm not Darius," you said, waving the invite around.

Shang Tsung stepped towards you and held out his hand. You placed the invitation in his palm and his brows rose. He held it up, inspected it from all angles, and then rolled it back up. "I see no reference to the name Darius anywhere. Or any name at all."

You stared at him. "Shit." Thoughts whirling, you pointed to the portal, now a faint circle. "Can't you just throw me back?"

"Oh, I think not," he said, shaking his head. He placed one edge of the rolled invitation below your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "But I'll make you an offer."

His eyes held yours as you nodded slightly. "Ok, what…what kind of offer?"

"You may be the final combatant. Perhaps watching the others battle will give you some sense of strategy. And after that, you will fight…me." He smiled, lowering the invitation from your chin.

"I can't fight," you said quietly, heart hammering in your chest. Your curiosity had melted away to fear.

"Then I suggest you start learning." He laughed low, turning away and raising his hand in a half-wave.

* * *

"Are you..taking notes?" The tallest of the two brothers asked, pausing with his foot outstretched to his brother's face.

"Yes, yes," you nodded, hastily scrawling down the series of moves that got them to that position. You'd attended enough martial events that you had a general idea of most movements though never experienced the timing yourself.

The brothers looked scary in the traditional sense, with dark red claw marks on their arms (reminiscent of blood) and sharp armor protruding from their shoulders and knees. Their masks hid the upper portion of their faces, short metal horns protruding at the top. They knew your situation - in fact, everyone did. One woman scoffed openly at you and a tall, masked warrior said he looked forward to watching your skin melt. Thankfully, the brothers had been reasonably friendly.

The brothers in question looked at each other for a moment, then motioned you to join them. You eagerly set down your scroll and quilled pen (what was this place, evil Hogwarts?) and bounded over.

"Yeah, writing won't do you no good. Gotta get in there," short brother said. "I'm Gim. This here's Arch. You can call him Archie."

"No she can't," Arch groaned. "Stop it. It's Arch. Like Arch-Nemesis!" He struck a fanciful pose, one knee raised and his arms akimbo, chin raised and head turned to the side.

Gim sighed. "Yeah, anyway, heard about what happened. Sucks. Lemme show you some moves."

"Oh I bet you will," a voice said from behind them. In unison, they turned to see a shirtless, smirking warrior. A smooth metal patch covered the right side of his face, a softly glowing red eye punctuated the menacing look.

"Fuck off, Kano," Arch said, "Get out of here."

Kano grinned, then nodded to you. "See you later, sweet cakes. I'll be the one to fight you." He turned and sauntered off while the brothers glowered at his back.

"Stay away from that guy," Gim said.

"Don't have to tell me," you replied, shaking your head. "Bad vibes."  

As if on cue, you glanced over to a hill and there upon it was Shang Tsung, eyes trained to you and the brothers. He stood perfectly still and kept staring until you lost your nerve and looked away. When you looked back, he was gone.

"Hey," Arch said, waving a hand in front of your face to get your attention, "Let's do this thing."

The brothers did their best to give you a a rough overview of moves…but time was not on your side.

* * *

There was no small amount of food: fresh fruits, flavored waters, skewered meats. The festive platters and decorative ferns belied the nastiness of the situation: Most of the tournament battles would end in death. Oh, there was a choice, but according to the brothers, most of the combatants chose a fatality for their defeated opponent. Ruthless.

The tournament itself had already begun, though you did not attend the battles. Two warriors down already, many more to go. You heard the cheering just over the hill.

"So this is it? This is how I go?" Your fingers brushed over one of the island's flowering bushes.

"Perhaps," a voice said behind you. You spun around and came face to uncomfortably close face with Shang Tsung.  "Or perhaps not."

Scowling, and feeling particularly gutsy, you jabbed a finger at his chest. "You're a cruel monster!"

He glanced down at your finger, then back to your face. "Is that so?" he asked, but the voice carried no malice. Just amusement.

You really, really wanted to punch his stupid smirk. Instead, you jabbed his chest again. "Yes! You know full well I can't-"

His fingers wrapped around your hand, pulling it away from his chest. "Please don't do that." He said simply. "I'd not have the other combatants think such behavior is appropriate."

"What." Your face flushed as your gaze flickered to your hands, then back to him. He had not yet released your hand. "I, uh," you stammered, then yanked your hand from his grasp. He was handsome, dangerously so, and that only made the embarrassment worse.

His lips quirked into a smile, which made your face burn even more red. "It would seem you haven't watched any of the matches. A shame, it's quite entertaining."

"For psychos!" you barked louder than intended.

"Please," he drolled, "tell me what you really think."

Your hands balled into fists. You would not be treated so cavalierly, certainly not when there were men and women fighting for their lives (though Arch said many fought simply for glory and power). Gim had successfully taught you a punch move which you had perfected to the best of your ability (such as it was). You decided to use that newfound power and threw a fist directly at Shang's face.

So fast you barely registered the movement, Shang's hand caught your fist, twisted your arm behind your back, and yanked you close. Your eyes widened as your chest pressed to his.

"I think you need more practice," he said with an infuriating smirk as he looked down at you.

"Let me go," you said, mouth dry.

"As you wish," he replied, releasing his grip.

You rubbed your arm though it did not hurt, and took a few steps back, glaring, waiting for him to speak. Your anger had cooled significantly.

"Join me," he smiled slightly and held out his hand, "as I watch the next battle. I think you'll find it most invigorating."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Of course," his brows rose. "There's always a choice, my dear."

You placed your hand in his and allowed him to lead you towards the tournament site.

* * *

Your breath caught in your throat as Kano circled Arch, whose armor had done little to thwart the rough kicks and powerful punches. The brother was down on one knee, now, and struggled to stand.

Kano wiped some blood off his nose, grinning. "Got you right where I want you, fancy boy." He kicked at Arch's face, sending the helmet flying and Arch falling onto his back.

Arch's eyes held fire as he looked up at the bigger man. "Kiss my entire ass."

With that, Kano's upper lip curled and he raised his fists for the killing blow.

"STOP!" you yelled, leaping to your feet. Shang Tsung remained seated, slowly turning to watch you. You froze, unsure what to do now that you had the attention of Kano, Arch and the entire crowd. "Please! Don't kill him," you said more quietly.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Kano barked. "It's my right!"

"Please!" You held up your hand and squeezed between some benches as you approached the men. "You don't…you don't have to kill him," you said. "He's beaten. It's over." Once, a long time ago, you'd talked a friend out of violence using this same tone of voice. It worked then, surely it would work now?

It would seem not. Kano laughed, full and loudly, then brought down his fists.

You did the only thing you could in that instant: You launched yourself at him, plowing into his dense form, and managed, through sheer luck and surprise, to knock him over.  The spectators let out a righteous yell, some booing, others cheering. Kano immediately leapt up, trying to kick at you, but you rolled away, then scrambled to your feet. He snarled, then launched himself at you - only stopped, at the last moment, by a firm hand on his chest.

Shang Tsung shook his head. "It's over, Kano. You won. She is not your opponent today."

"Like hell she ain't! I'm gonna tear her hair off and shove it up her-"

"Quiet," came Shang's command. Kano glowered at you, chest heaving, looking rather like a rabid dog straining against its collar. He backed off, however, and was declared the victor.

Shaking, you turned to watch as Gim helped Arch to his feet. They both looked your away and nodded their thanks as Arch dragged his foot behind him; surely it was broken. Lots of him was broken but he was alive. Gim might not be so lucky.

The crowd slowly disbursed, some looking at you and whispering to each other. A few shook their heads in disappointment for the lack of bloodsport. You sunk onto a bench and looked at your hands; they trembled.

"Here," came Shang's voice. You looked over to see he had produced a kerchief. "For your wounds."

Wounds? Oh yes. Skinned knees and elbows. You took the kerchief and winced, brushing away the grit and slight blood. "Thanks."

He sat beside you and leaned over, watching you. "A very brave act for someone who claims she has no fight."

You opened your mouth to say something rude, then thought better of it. Perhaps he had brought you to that fight to help somehow, or perhaps it was just chance. Either way, he hadn't let Kano pummel you to death. "I have fight, I just don't FIGHT-fight." You sighed and closed your eyes. "I like the brothers, they're nice. I couldn't let him die like that." You opened your eyes and looked at Shang for a moment, then continued. "Here," you said, offering the kerchief back.

"Keep it," he said, holding up his hand. "You might need it again." With that he rose, put his hands behind his back, and strode away.

You tucked the cloth into your pocket and sat for a while, alone, and listened as the wind moved softly through the plants and reeds. After a little while, you rose and found that the scratches on your knees and elbow had healed.

* * *

Four days. Four days you'd been at the tournament, eating your fill and sleeping fitfully in the dark castle-temple. Each combatant had their own room but there were no true doors. Surely some shady business occurred from time to time.

And just how did time work in this strange place? Four days here could be four minutes on earth…or four years. There was no way to know except to ask someone and the only two friendly faces were nowhere to be found.

You tried to make a new friend. "Excuse me, ma'am? Miss?" With her back turned, you couldn't tell the age. The woman slowly turned, eyes blazing red and mouth filled with monstrous teeth.  "Do…you…know…when uhhhh the next battle is?" Surely it wouldn't do to run away in fear.

"Nnnnnow," the mouth said, jaw moving strangely and fangs glimmering in the light.

You nodded and stepped backwards, managing to wheeze out a "thanks" before hurrying around a corner.

Pushing your hair back, you meandered through the halls, at last arriving to the conclusion you were frightfully lost. The building hadn't looked this large from the outside but this was, probably, the least surprising thing that had happened so far.  Well, time to backtrack-

A hand gripped your throat like a steel vice and slammed you against a wall. One glowing red eye blazed against the wane light, a sneer on Kano's lips as he leaned in close. "Gotcha."

You couldn't yell, could barely breathe as you clawed at his hand. He smelled like blood, though his face was clean.

"See, I thought all day what I should do to you." His fingers tightened their grip, "And then I thought…yeah. A shiv would be nice."  

With that, he released your neck but even as you gulped down air, your eyes widened. A sharp, cold sensation entered your abdomen, followed by a searing pain you had never before experienced. You looked down to see a knife sticking out of your side, your own blood seeping down.  Kano released the handle and grinned at you. Your knees wobbled, then gave out entirely and you fell to the ground.

"You look good in red, sweet cakes." He tapped his chin with one finger, a little of your blood staining his skin. "Think I'm gonna see how much red you got."

There he paused, however, the smug expression melting off his face as though he'd seen a horrific creature just beyond your edge of vision. He slowly looked down and put his hands over his stomach, where five blades emerged. He coughed, blood spurting forth from his lips, eyes wide with surprise. As he crumpled to the ground, Shang Tsung stood behind him.

He took a deep breath, then said without humor, "Fatality." With that, he scooped you up and proceeded to walk steadily and speedily down the hall.

The pain made your vision hazy but you knew full well that it wasn't safe to be in this position. Each step he took also caused the knife to jostle, bringing fresh sensations. "Put…me down," you gasped; talking was almost enough to cause you to pass out entirely.

"Nonsense," he said. "That is not a simple blade, it is magical and we must treat it with magical means."

"Magical," you whispered, "What, how?"

"It will leave a scar. Consider it a gift of survival."

"Please…" you started to say but the world fell dark and you could speak no longer.

* * *

You awakened with a gasp. You were yet clothed in the same outfit (desperately in need of a wash) and lay comfortably on a chaise in a reading room. The shelves were lined with books of many shapes and languages, most you did not recognize; did most cultures have the concept of a book?

The wound! You lifted your shirt - indeed, there was a bright pink scar a couple inches from your bellybutton. If Kano missed your intestines, it was luck. If he hadn't, and you were healed, it was certainly magic and skill. You felt none the worse for wear and sat up, then hopped to your feet….

…much too quickly. White dots flickered in your vision and you stumbled. Strong hands grabbed your shoulders and guided you back down to sit on the chaise.

You looked up at Shang Tsung; his eyes didn't seem to hold any worry or concern but his hands lingered on your shoulders overlong.

"Did you…" you waved vaguely at your abdomen.

"Of course not," he said sharply. "You may think me a monster but no real man would-"

"No, no, that's not what I meant! I meant, heal. Heal this. Me."

"Oh. Yes." He sat down beside you. Instead of his usual golden armor, he was clad in a long, black leather jacket, simple black shirt and dark plum pants.

"Thanks."

"I've brought you clothing," he said, and gestured to a folded pile on a table.

"I'm not going to wear one of those ridiculous skin-tight bathing suits."

His lips quirked into a subtle smile and an eyebrow raised. "I would expect not. No, I think you'll find these suitable though they are to…my tastes."

You were very curious as to the clothing - black and grey it would seem - but sat still for a little while longer. "Kano, he…" your voice drifted off.

"He was an evil man and died fittingly." Shang's shoulders lifted in a shrug.

"I feel like I should say thanks but you're also the one that brought him here." You looked at him pointedly.

"I did, yes." His eyes flickered briefly over your face.

"Why do you do this?" Your voice was soft; you genuinely wanted to know.

He seemed to choose his words carefully. "I have no choice."

"You said there's always a choice," you pointed out helpfully.

"Not for everyone. Not for me." With that he stood and held out his hand. "Come, you should rest further in your room."

* * *

You admired yourself in the mirror. While he might be mysterious and terrible, Shang Tsung certainly knew how to select an outfit. The sleeveless shift held leather panels at the front and back, which arched over your shoulders. The cloth was soft, black and came to a pointed V in the back, right at the midpoint of your calves. The bodice held a V though not nearly as daring as you might have liked. You smiled a little at the reflection, turning this way and that. Slightly intimidating, certainly comfortable and very-

"Breathtaking," came Shang's voice beside you.  

You startled, turning towards him, having heard neither footfalls nor movement.

His eyes trailed slowly over you. "I'm glad to see it fits so well."

Cheeks turning a particularly vibrant shade of crimson, you turned away from him and to the mirror. "I like it, I have to admit."

"You'll find that the cloth provides more protection than you might expect." He reached up, tracing a finger along the edge of the leather at your shoulder. He didn't touch your skin, but he might as well have for the shiver it gave you. "Magical, of course."

"Of course." You wondered if he'd truly let you die at the hands of a combatant. Perhaps not, since he saved you from Kano, and yet…there was much to consider. Not the least of which was the sensation you felt when he stared at you. "I should go," you said awkwardly. "To watch the contestants." That made them sound like they were in a pageant. You winced slightly and pivoted on your heel - the boots were also new, black, and delightful.

You felt his eyes upon you as you left.

* * *

"I heard he killed 100 men and drank their blood!"

"Nah, he's not a vampire."

"You sure?"

The combatant shrugged. "I'm not."

You smiled, listening into their conversation. You couldn't be certain Shang wasn't a vampire but their conversation gave you an idea. The next battle, you would sneak into his bedroom - assuming you could find it - and see what information you could find. That was, of course, even assuming he didn't invite you to sit beside him for the battle.

Fifteen battles, now. The stakes were becoming higher. You'd lowered your guard but hearing the guttural sound of someone's life being choked out of them, well, it had a tendency to bring everything back to laser-like focus. Your only chance now was if Gim was your opponent - or maybe that slightly friendly, monster-mouth woman.  

"Are you looking for something?"

The voice startled you from your thoughts and you spun to see one of the bare-chested, masked helper warriors. They didn't seem to have names. Maybe you'd give this one a fun name, like Bob.

"Yes," you said, feigning confidence. "I'm looking for Shang Tsung's room." You paused, then added, "I'm going to leave a present," and gave your best lewd wink.

Though you couldn't see the warrior's face, you had the distinct impression he looked confused. After a moment's hesitation, he replied, "Yes, this way."

He led you down a hall that seemed to go on for a mile. At last, you reached the end and gazed upon two ornate wooden doors. A dragon and a cobra were carved into the wood, interlocked in some eternal struggle. The warrior gestured to the door and gave a slight bow.

"Thanks," you said as you planted a hand on the doorhandle, then added, "Oh, you can go. Now. You can go now. Thanks."

Instead of leaving, however, something quite miraculous and terrifying happened. The warrior's form shifted, as though a mist was blowing away, and there before you stood Shang Tsung.

Your stomach gave an uncomfortable heave and panic trickled up your spine, coursing its way along every nerve. Your jaw dropped, eyes widened.

"Tell me," Shang said nonchalantly, inspecting his fingernails before looking up to meet your gaze. "What of this present?"

Caught. Completely and utterly caught in the act. He was no fool, surely he knew what you'd planned. You wracked your brain for some meager excuse. "I was..just…" you gestured futilely to the door. "Cleaning! Going to clean your room. Bet you didn't expect that." You smiled broadly, hoping the bead of sweat that trickled down your brow wasn't evident.

"Is that so," he said, then planted a hand beside your head, against the door, locking you in. He leaned closer. "Why would you do that?"

"As thanks. You know, for healing me. I assume you're a bachelor, I mean, there aren't a lot of women here who won't try to kill you, so you probably have a very messy room." Far, far too much babbling. Keep it simple, stupid.

His lips quirked into a small smile, eyes crinkling with delight. He said nothing.

"And I just thought well, I can help! I can do that." STOP TALKING. "You know, to….yeah." Your voice trailed off.

He took a deep breath, then laughed once, straightening and dropping his hand from near your head. You felt both relief and disappointment in equal measure.

"Well, you're neither a good thief nor a good liar. I hope you have another plan," he smiled slightly.

"Fine," you said, "Fine, I was trying to get into your bedroom to see if you had some documentation about the portal. OK?"

"You might have simply asked."

"Asked for the documentation?"

"Asked to enter my bedroom."  His lips quirked; truly he enjoyed watching you squirm.

"I," you started and looked away, "wouldn't know how to ask that."  The hallway had become unbearably warm all of a sudden. Didn't they have A/C?

He laughed again and turned, gesturing for you to follow him back down the hall. You fumed at his response, marching after him, hands balled into fists. Neither of you said anything as you exited; you sped past him and he grinned after you.

* * *

He had a silly name, The Shockening, but his attacks were devastating to his opponent. He seemed to evaporate into the ground, then reappear behind - what was his name? oh yes - Bexas, pummeling him with a flurry of fists.

Bexas' main weapon was a magical chain. It appeared to do his bidding when he whispered to it - sometimes it behaved like a javelin, other times a lariat. Shang seemed particularly interested in the weapon, eyes following its every move.

Unfortunately for Bexas, the chain, however magical, was still comprised of metal. The Shockening let loose his namesake power, sending a ferocious bolt of electricity up the chain and to Bexas' hand.  He convulsed, but did not let go. The Shockening grabbed the chain and whirled it up, sending Bexas flying directly into the crowd.

His smoking form landed at your feet - you were far too annoyed at Shang to sit next to him this time - and he lifted his head. You leaned down, a little afraid to touch him as a few tiny bolts of electricity trickled off him.

"Th…the name," he rasped quietly, "Wind…Windwillow." And with that, he gave his last breath.

You blinked, staring at his form, then looked up as Shang gleefully declared a victory…and fatality at that. He picked up the chain and roped it around his arm.

So, the name of the magical chain. You tucked that away in case it might be useful. What a lovely name for something so violent.

The crowd roared its approval and The Shockening paraded around the circle, arms held high. The nameless warriors quickly came to retrieve the body at your feet.

"I trust you are unharmed?" came Shang's voice.

You nodded. "He didn't land on me. Thankfully." You watched the warriors walk away. "Why do you do this? Really, Shang. Please tell me." You turned your gaze to meet his.

He took a deep breath and sat beside you. "Power. I wanted it so desperately."

"That doesn't really answer my question." The crowd had filtered out. You were alone with him now.

"There are powers well beyond that of human understanding," he said, looking over to the temple. "Events set into motion for millennia, every small decision an adjustment to the cogs."

You shook your head "I don't really get it but can't you just…leave? Stop doing this?"

He smiled slightly though it didn't reach his eyes. "Leave all this?" he gestured to the expanse of the island. "Whatever for?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

"Ah. It is not so simple," he said and turned to look at you again, "for me. I made my choice and this is my…" his voice hesitated.

"Punishment?"

"Trajectory," he said, then patted your hand. "I appreciate your concern."

"Well, I could be very wrong but I don't think you're nearly the monster you pretend to be," you said quietly.

You then sucked in your breath as his fingertips traced over your knuckles. Your cheeks again reddened.

He smiled lightly, arching a brow. "Are you certain?"

"N-no," you stammered.

His hand came to rest over yours, fingers interlocked. You cleared your throat, pretending not to notice. It did no good. "Maybe you just need a nice hug and you'll come to your senses," you joked.

He stood. "Is that your present to me, then?" That smirk, back again.

You stood, too. "What? No! I was kidding."

"I wasn't," he said. His eyes twinkled with delight, a more real delight than he seemed to exhibit at the end of gruesome matches.

"Fine," you said, cursing yourself for wanting to go through with it. "Maybe it will help." You stepped up in front of him and, before you could lose your nerve, wrapped your arms around him.

His hands alighted on your bare arms, then slid along and up them until they were solidly around you. He felt warm and far, far too good in this position. You rested your head against his neck and hoped he couldn't hear the hammering of your heart. You felt, rather than saw him smile.

"Is it helping?" you asked quietly after a little while, not yet ready to pull away.

"It may be," he replied and tightened his grip ever so slightly. His hands rested chastely at your back though your mind betrayed you terribly with thoughts of where they might go. Where you wanted them to go. Obviously, it was time to release him but you…couldn't yet bring yourself to do so. He was solid and warm, his cheek now resting against the top of your head and you felt your body might melt into a puddle.

His hand slid up to rest on the back of your neck. You pulled away a bit then, looking up at him, alarmed, confused, and uncomfortably aroused.

Blessedly (or cursedly), your eyes caught sight of movement off to the side: one of the warrior minions come to give a report on something of importance.

Shang's upper lip twitched in annoyance as he released you to deal with the intrusion.

"I should…I should find Gim! Make sure he's OK!" You immediately regretted your outburst but hurried away before you had to answer to Shang's incoming question.

* * *

Gim, as it turns out, had been training hard. He, too, knew the odds were not in his favor, and with his favorite sparring partner unable to spar (with seven broken bones, no less), he resigned himself to exercising constantly. He'd thanked you, grimly and profusely, for saving Arch. He told you he was filled with regret it hadn't been him - he was convinced if he interfered, Arch would be killed anyway. Afterwards, he survived two matches against truly vile opponents. You made another acquaintance, a woman, blond and strong but reasonably kind.

This, in turn, filled you with regret. What had you been doing with your time? Fraternizing with the enemy? Maybe even…flirting? You needed to remind yourself that he was, for all intents and purposes, truly wicked. Probably.

Eleven combatants left and no more would be arriving to the island. This was it. If there was a move to make, it had to be now.

* * *

You had a plan. No, you had five plans. Plan one: sneak into Shang's bedroom by climbing on some ledge (somewhere) from some other open window. Plan two: bribe a combatant to distract him; though he could change shape, he couldn't be in two places at once (that you knew of) and if you kept your eyes on him while bribing someone, well… plan three: some variation of plans one and two. Plan three: ask to go into Shang's bedroom and clobber him over the head. OK, you had two plans.

None of this prepared you for stepping out of your room and being cornered by Shang. He walked up to you, and you retreated until your back hit a wide column.

"Enough," he said and, before you could ask what he meant, slid his hands to either side of your face and leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You were completely unprepared for the ravenous kiss he bestowed, the way his hands flowed down your face, over your neck, grazing your breasts, and encircled your waist to pull you close. You were also unprepared for how your body reacted of its own accord, returning that kiss with just as much passion, fingers curling around the lapels of his jacket. You lifted your knee slightly and his hand whipped down to catch it, pulling it up and pressing you against the column. You felt him, from lips to chest to shin, felt his hunger and need pressing to you.

You pulled back slightly, broke the kiss, and stared at him momentarily, panting. "Bedroom," you whispered.

He didn't even nod, but you felt a cool mist along your skin and the area around you seemed to speed by. So that's how he got around…. in just a moment, you both alighted inside his bedroom.

You'd expected sumptuous bedding, skulls and candles, but only one of those was correct. Indeed, the circular bed, pushed up against the wall, was adorned with a red quilt. The headboard was simple: bars that held up a plain, rounded, thick wood board. The walls were decorated with a few sparse tapestries and many, many bookshelves. The far wall displayed weapons of various types, presumably from fallen warriors. A table nearby held a couple blades, including the one used to stab you, and Bexas' chains. No candles but instead magical lights that floated in place, dimming now.

After glancing around, you looked back to him. He seemed to be waiting…perhaps for you? You answered him by grabbing the front of his coat and shoving it off his shoulders. He smiled momentarily, shrugging off the fine leather and throwing it onto a chair. His hand found your jaw, holding you still for a moment as his eyes trailed over your features. He then leaned to your ear and whispered, "Magnificent," before nibbling at your earlobe.

You giggled, ticklish, and squirmed against him, which he clearly found delightful. His lips then found your neck - not ticklish there - causing you to gasp and then let out a small, unexpected moan.

"Yes," he whispered to your neck, hands fiddling with the bindings of your shift, "You will be mine."

Emboldened, you pushed him towards the bed but just before it seemed like he would fall backwards upon it, he spun you and pushed you down gently, hands planted to either side of you. He smiled lightly, legs between yours as his gaze trickled over your form. "Again, and again." He placed a finger at the demure V of your bodice and pulled down lightly. Apparently, it held some secret, for it gave way at his touch, his fingers trailing over the space between your breasts, pulling it down all the way to your bellybutton. You were surprised…but delighted.

He did not push the shift apart, so you reached up to work his shirt out of his pants and tug it upwards. He obliged, pulling it up and off, revealing what you already knew to be true - he was exceptionally built. Lean, hard muscles, a few interesting scars, and all his attention focused on you.

But there it was: The chain, catching your attention on the table, beckoning. You didn't want to, wanted instead to simply enjoy time in this most primal of dances. But this was it. This had to be.

You sat up and planted your hands on his chest, guiding him to the side and rolling him onto his back. He looked surprised, eyebrows raising, but offered no resistance. You grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head - obviously no danger to him but he also clearly liked where this was going. You put a finger to his lips and then held up the finger while you hopped off the bed and grabbed the chains.

He looked quite surprised indeed but remained as he was even as you returned and clambered onto the bed. The chains were much lighter than you feared, making the next part of this easy - from the physical perspective.

You pulled away and turned, just barely whispered "Windwillow" to the chains. The flickered with light. With that, you wrapped one end around his wrist. He started to sit up, so you sat on his hips - again, certainly no challenge for him but quite interesting. He smiled, one brow quirked, as you looped the chain through the headboard and brought the other end back through.

Here, you hesitated. This isn't want you wanted, not really. You undulated a little on his lap while you worked up the nerve to bind his other wrist. He hissed, pushing his hips upward and you genuinely considered giving up the plan and having your way with him right there.

And yet.

Swallowing hard, you created a chain loop around his other wrist, effectively keeping him in place. You leaned down and kissed him - hard. Soft. You slowly pulled back up.

"Whatever you want," he whispered hoarsely.

You hesitated only briefly. Then: "Tell me how to open the portal."

"What?" he said sharply, going still.

"The portal. Tell me how to open it. Please. After I do it, I'll come back and let you go. I promise." Even knowing he'd probably kill you for it.

His lip curled into a snarl. "Is this a jest?"  He yanked hard on the chains but they would not budge.

"No. Please tell me." You felt tears stinging your eyes.

His lips pressed firmly together before he snarled, voice low, "You will pay for this. I assure you."

You nodded.

And so he told you the words to whisper to the portal to take you back to your world - at least you assumed it was your world. Surely you couldn't stay here regardless.

"I'm sorry," you said as you slid off him, fastening your shift. He looked completely enraged, unsurprisingly, laying there prone and painfully aroused. "I promise I'll come back."

You hurried away and dared not look back.

* * *

Well, it was done. You told the other combatants they had the option to leave and return to their respective worlds - six took you up on the offer, including Gim (carrying his brother), the blond, and the toothy woman. Five stayed behind, excited to claw their way to victory.

You returned to Shang's room and were only slightly surprised to find a broken headboard and no sorcerer. The chains were also missing. This sent a feral surge of fear along every nerve. You hurriedly made your way back to the portal, looking around every moment, wary.

Of course he would wait until you'd whispered the opening words to the portal and the destination. Of course he would.

You heard the crunch of footfalls on rock behind you. Slowly, you turned. He stood with his hands behind his back, face stoic except for the slight frown-sneer. Goosebumps rose on your arms.

"You betrayed my trust," he said.

You nodded. "I did." There was no arguing it.

You stared at each other for a while until at last you broke the eye contact and looked away. "I'm sorry. I really am. I wasn't…I didn't intend for it to be that way but I had to save them."

He snorted.

You looked back to him. "Come with me." You held out a hand, inviting.

His eyes dropped to stare at your hand for a moment. Then, he let his hands fall from his back and rest at his sides. He slowly stepped towards you, not unlike a predatory animal approaching its prey.

Your hand trembled slightly. "You can start over. With…..with me." Why? Why offer that to him? Surely these few meager days weren't enough to justify such an offer. And yet.

He raised his hands and put them on the tops of your shoulders. His grip was strong. You weren't sure if he was going to draw you into a hug or reach up and throttle you so you let  your hand fall to your side.

Without another word, he shoved you backwards, into the portal and the last thing you saw was his scowl.

* * *

You awoke with a start. Where-? There on your couch, morning seeping in through the blinds. You let out a slow, shaky breath. In your hand, a crumpled flyer with crude lettering: Mortal Kombat!!! Fight and win!!! Come to the arena at Central! Personalities welcome.

So….so that was it. A dream, a nightmare, something. Had to be it. Had to.

You slowly rose and trudged to the bathroom to take a shower, stripping off your shirt and shorts. Looking in the mirror, your breath caught in your throat: There, on your side, a pink scar line, freshly healed where none had existed before.

* * *

Three months passed.

Darius proposed to his partner, won three more championships, and thought you were a complete nutso but loved you anyway. The season edged towards fall. You sorted your scarves and fall clothes, started to box away the skimpiest of summer clothing. The scar faded to a faint, angry white line.

Now you sat at a sushi bar, poking some edamame and considering your food options. The tea had long since grown cold.

Someone sat two stools down. You glanced over and gave a nod of acknowledgment, then did a double-take: By the Gods, he was a doppelgänger for Shang. The hair was shorter, pulled into a ponytail, and the build a bit lighter, but the face? The face was the same, the posture the same, even the slightly-arrogant eyebrows…the same. He wore dark pants and a fine, light grey collared shirt.

You gasped and stared brazenly.

He ordered a tea, then set about looking at the menu. Still, you stared. At last, he set down the menu and turned to look at you. "Hello, miss. Can I help you?" The voice was similar - not entirely the same, but so very close.

"I'm…I'm sorry," you started. "You looked like someone I know. Knew." You glanced away.

He must have felt sorry for you because his eyebrows raised. "Oh? How disappointing for you if it makes you look so sad."

"No," you held up a hand, "not at all. Sad yes, disappointed no. It's hard to explain." You considered your options - sound a bit crazy or a lot crazy. You opted for both. "I had an elaborate dream and it's bonkers. There was a man in the dream who looked just like you."

The Not-Shang smiled a little. "Oh? Well then, tell me about it. I'm very curious now." He swiveled fully on the stool to face you.

You took a deep breath. Hey, it's not like you'd ever see this guy again, maybe it would do some good to get this off your chest. You didn't dare truly explain to your friends. "I accidentally took the place of my friend in a martial arts championship on another world. Yes, I know, why another world? No idea. Dreams, am I right? Anyway, the man who ran the tournament knew I couldn't fight. I thought I'd die, then I thought I might not die, then I realized that I….well, I was drawn to him. We started to become intimate, and.." you paused here, clearing your throat.

The Not-Shang arched a brow and waited for you to continue.

"I tricked him. I tricked him and opened the portal and while I saved some of the warriors, I think I hurt him more than I realized."

"Oh, I see," he said simply.

"And, I think I really…came to care for him." You looked away, at the cup of cold tea. "I wanted to save him, too, but he wouldn't let me."

"That's a very sad dream," he said. "I can see why it stayed with you."

You nodded, feeling a surge of embarrassment. "Right," you blurted and slapped your hands on the bar. "I should go. Nice talking to you." You stood and gathered your things, then dropped some money on the plate.

"Hmm," he said, "As long as you're here, why don't you come to dinner with me, [Y/N]?"

You froze in place. "I didn't tell you my name."

"Oh? Well, how interesting. Lucky guess, I suppose."

You slowly turned and stared at him, unsure what to do or say.

He stood and smiled slightly. "One hour, I'll pick you up." With that, he turned, leaving you confused and alarmed.

* * *

The doorbell rang. You'd hoped he'd sweep you into his arms but no such dramatic event occurred. He was probably still mad and had questions or concerns. Still, he arrived dressed to impress in a black suit, black shirt and dark red tie. You'd rightly assumed he'd use the occasion to dress up so you chose a suitably sultry dress, one that draped low in the back and skimmed above your knees.

His eyes trailed over you and you felt your skin prickle. "A lovely dress," he said, brows raising.

You smiled a little. "Thank you."

"But not," he continued, "the kind one wears for very long. Shall we?" he extended his elbow and you wondered if you were overthinking his meaning.

He did not have a car, which was probably just as well since he wouldn't likely know how to drive it, so you took a taxi to a nearby restaurant. It was cozy, dimly lit, and provided a modicum of privacy.

You felt strange asking him about what happened so left that off your conversation. He asked you about Darius, and you told him, asked about your job, and you explained it.

Too much small talk. You brushed your leg against his calf. His eyes raised from the plate before him and held your gaze. Your lips quirked. "Oops. Sorry."

He nodded, then steepled his fingers and leaned in. "Tell me more about this dream. You say you came to care for the man?"

Your fork clanked on the plate with surprise. "Yes. I didn't know him long but I liked his company. A lot. Liked his spirit."

You glanced away, then, before slipping off your shoe and sliding it up his calf. "And of course, I enjoyed the way he looked at me."

"I see," he said, seemingly ignoring your ministrations. "Perhaps he was fond of you, too. However, from what you say, you betrayed his trust."

Your foot dropped back to the floor. "Yes," you let out a slow breath. "I did. That wasn't my plan at the start. I was going to…."

He raised his brows, awaiting your answer.

"Have my way with him."

Likely-Shang chuckled and lowered his hands to the table. "How bold. I can see why he liked you."

"Yes," you said, "maybe so, but he still shoved me back to earth."

"Maybe he didn't know what to do with you. Perhaps he wishes he had not done so. Perhaps he is still learning to tame his brash decisions."

You felt his foot slide along your calf.

"I think," you began, "he should still make some brash decisions."

Likely-Shang's lips quirked for a moment and he flagged down the waiter. "Check."

You kept your hands off him on the ride back to your apartment. He kept his hands chastely on his lap. As soon as your door was closed, however, he grabbed your shoulders and pushed you to the wall. He slid a knee between yours. You could feel the heat emanating off him.  You still had questions, many of them, but your head was fuzzy with his nearness and all of those thoughts could wait.

"Shang," you said, eyes flickering down to his lips and back up to his gaze.

"Yes?"

"Is this revenge?" you managed to say, placing your hands on his chest.

"Absolutely," he smiled and leaned down, kissing you with that familiar hunger as he slowly eased the dress off your shoulders.

And he did enact his revenge, several times, in fact.

* * *

So it was that you took the time to know him quite well after indulging your desires, and found that he was an equal match for you in most respects. But time was never on your side and soon enough, you would need to help protect him from those who claimed him as their own.

The End…for now

[jupibu]

“I am that bitch” Playlist

Here is a description of an all women playlist featuring super varied genres and feels for dancing and raging to all at once. No boys allowed! (in the list of artists. All can feel free to enjoy the jams!)

1. Little Simz - Venom

Song description: Little Simz is a highly skilled UK rapper who has been killing it for quite some time now (“do you want to see a dead body? prolly not”). This track features some spooky strings and a beat you can bounce to while you smolder with rage. What’s not to love? This and the rest of the album, Grey Area, are absolutely fantastic.

Choice lyrics: They would never wanna admit I’m the best here from the mere fact that I’ve got ovaries. It’s a woman’s world, so to speak. Pussy, you sour, never givin’ credit where it’s due ‘cause you don’t like pussy in power. VENOM.

2. Poppy - Bite Your Teeth

Song description: Switching gears to some heavy metal (forgive me if this characterization is off, rock sub-genres are very difficult to tease out if you’re not paying close enough attention). This soft spoken lady will rock your face off with very to-the-point lyrics. Though Poppy is a bit of a controversial figure, I salute her emancipation from the clutches of a shitty dude and bow down to the achievement that is her most recent album, I Disagree.

Choice lyrics: Bite your own teeth, don’t cry just bite your own teeth. Don’t cry, keep on trying. Don’t cry, keep on trying to bite. Creeps are creeping, teeth are sinking into my teeth.

3. Saweetie & GALXARA - Sway With Me

Song description: From the Birds of Prey soundtrack (which may have served as a bit of inspiration for this playlist) this pop banger is too much fun. You can imagine yourself kicking ass and taking names with Harley and the crew. Saweetie and GALXARA are awesome together and make you want to dance.

Choice lyrics: Tell your people to call me if it is ‘bout that chicken, the most wanted in Gotham, all your diamonds is missing!

4. The Like - What I Say and What I Mean

Song description: A little early 2000s indie rock from girl group, The Like has fun crunchy guitar chords and a couple cool harmonies for jumping around and shout singing along to. Rock on, girls!

Choice lyrics: Never going back and forth I’m only going forward, that’s what I keep saying. Never going back and forth I’m only going back, that’s what I mean. Something haunts my dreams. Don’t know what it means.

5. SOPHIE - HARD

Song description: Deranged electronic music is what this is. Just industrial, sexually charged, clanging metal and snapping polymers to oppress the senses. SOPHIE’s music is excellent and interesting. Her songs almost always have fun juxtapositions like the sweet little voice in this track against the noise that is the beat. Shout out to all the trans ladies!

Choice lyrics: Latex gloves, smack so hard, PVC, I get so hard. Platform shoes kick so hard, ponytail, yank so hard.

6. Doja Cat - Rules

Song description: Meme goddess and all around fun artist, Doja Cat has a very eclectic style. This track features a sexy, laid back vibe, and Doja just has the coolest attitude on it. (She also has a club banger on the Birds of Prey soundtrack!)

Choice lyrics: Look at me like I’m alien, bitch, I’m fucking reptilian. Bitch, bitch, ah. All y’all bitches was wrong, talkin’ bout how I fell off, you ain’t even get on. Bitch, bitch, ah.

7. Amy Winehouse - Me & Mr. Jones

Song description: A swinging, slower-tempo, horn band backing Amy’s fabulous vocals and attitude-filled lyrics. She is that bitch. Rest in peace, girl.

Choice lyrics: What kind of fuckery is this? You made me miss the Slick Rick gig.

8. Lily Allen - Insincerely Yours

Song description: The anthem for an office party where you resent your bosses for making you work long hours and not recognizing you. Lily Allen may have a sweet voice but she cuts right through bullshit and makes it clear why she’s at this lame event anyway on this track. This pop tune features a smooth R&B feeling beat accompanied with very jaded lyrics. Everyone can relate.

Choice lyrics: I’m not your friend and I can’t pretend, I ain’t being funny, funny. Let’s be clear, I’m here, I’m here to make money money money. If I force a smile I can make it worth while. Don’t touch me honey, honey. Let’s be clear, I’m here, I’m here to make money money money.

9. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Heads Will Roll

Song description: Another early 2000s indie rock song but with a very different feel to The Like. What can I say? When Karen O says that heads will roll, you believe it, and it makes you want to dance!

Choice lyrics: Off with your head, dance ‘til you’re dead. Heads will roll, heads will roll, heads will roll, on the floor.

10. Beyonce - Formation

Song description: I mean come on, it’s Beyonce. This track in particular has such a weird beat that I love and the predominant mood here is “I slay.”

Choice lyrics: Always stay gracious, best revenge is your paper.

Enjoy!

[fandomblues]

Project Best Friend [Billy Hargrove]

Fandom ; Stranger Things

Pairings ; Billy Hargrove x Harrington!Reader

Summary ; The thought of hating Billy Hargrove had been ingrained into your mind by your brother, but after being forced to spend time with the boy you were supposedly supposed to dislike, it became apparent you never really disliked him at all.

Warning(s) ; swearing

Word Count ; 2.9k+

Author’s Note ; i know i’ve been gone forever and this crappy piece of writing probably doesn’t make up for it and i’m really sorry. i’ve been having such writer’s block for the stuff on this blog and i haven’t had much inspiration to write anything especially with stranger things having been gone for so long. i’m a lot more active on my sideblog @cloudfiveclub these days if you guys wanna chat about 5sos/cnco or just in general really xx 

masterlist

this is for @moonstruckhargrove ‘s 1k writing challenge! sorry for such a late submission love 😫

Well, fuck me.

Your eyes shifted from your teacher to the back of a mullet which sat a few desks away from you. You gritted your teeth, eyebrows automatically pulling together at the mention of the boy’s name. As if in slow motion, Billy Hargrove twisted around in his seat, throwing you a smug smile. His tongue slithered out to wet his bottom lip, and his left eye fell shut in a flirtatious wink. 

Your breath hitched in your throat when he did that, and your eyes widened on cue as you glared back at him menacingly. When he caught sight of your reaction, Billy pulled his lips together in a sarcastic pout and frowned; mocking your obvious displeasure at having been paired with him for the project. 

You let out a heavy breath as you gripped the sides of your desk angrily. You felt like you could almost break the wooden table in half in your current state. 

“Miss Harrington? Is it quite alright with you?” your teacher, Mrs Blanchard questioned. She gazed at you over her spectacles, obviously concerned at your reaction. 

Every one of your classmates immediately turned around to face you, and all 26 pairs of eyes were on you. You glanced around the classroom, noting the obvious eagerness in everyone’s eyes as they awaited your answer. 

It wasn’t a secret at Hawkins High that Billy and your brother were archenemies. You had wanted to steer clear of Steve’s drama at the beginning, but your sibling had very selfishly dragged you into his petty feud with the Californian boy, and that was the end of your regular life. And, of course, as the baby sister of Steve Harrington, there was the expectation that you were supposed to hate Billy just like him. You’d never had any personal run-ins with Billy, and he seemed like an unpleasant person on the surface, seeing as how that was the only side you had ever seen of him whenever he came to provoke your brother. 

Your eyes swept across the room nervously once more, before you made eye contact with Billy once again. He raised his eyebrows at you, clearly giving you a “I dare you to say no” look. You shrunk back in your seat when he did that, and kicked yourself mentally for even feeling slightly threatened by him. 

Still, your mouth fell open, and you found yourself telling Mrs Blanchard that everything was fine. 

-

“What?!”

Steve’s face was mere inches away from yours, and his loud protest had startled you dearly. You jumped at the sudden loudness of his voice, grumbling silently as you folded your arms across your chest. 

“It wasn’t my decision...,” you protested weakly, a hint of whine evident in your voice. Steve stared at you with eyes as large as saucers, scoffing in disbelief. He shook his head profusely, slamming his locker shut, which caught the attention of a few students around the both of you. His eyes swept across the hallway, throwing everyone an annoyed look, and immediately everyone turned away from the two of you to mind their own business. 

“Y/N, I am not putting you alone with that douchebag,” he stated simply, lowering his voice so no one else could hear the both of you. You gritted your teeth as you looked up at your brother. 

“Steve, I don’t have a choice! Mrs Blanchard won’t let me change partners this far into the day!” you whisper-shouted back. 

“You know how Billy is, he’s going to take liberties with you and there is no way in hell I’m-”

“-Steve, it’s only for like two weeks. I promise I’ll be careful and it’s going to be over really fast. I-”

“What are you two talking about?”

Billy interjected your conversation with Steve, coming up behind you like a ninja and immediately slinging his arm around your shoulders. Neither you nor Steve had even noticed him; who knew how long he had even been listening in on your discussion. 

Your brother breathed out heavily as he expressed his annoyance at Billy’s actions wordlessly. He reached out, yanking you forward and away from the denim-clad boy roughly as he attempted to put distance between the both of you. You let out a yelp when he did so, but failed to make any sort of protest. 

“Nothing that concerns you,” Steve said between clenched teeth, staring the other boy down. Billy snorted, but failed to make any comeback. 

“Well, I’m just here to collect your sister because if you haven’t already heard, Harrington, we have a project to work on together that is thirty percent of our final grade. So if you would very kindly-”

“Yeah, like I’m going to just hand her over and leave her alone with someone like you, Hargrove,” Steve interrupted meanly. 

Billy’s eyes widened as if on cue, and he took an intimidating step forward, hands balling into fists in anger. 

“Someone like me? What’s that supposed to mean, Harrington?” he questioned lowly. You could almost hear the growl in his voice, and before things could escalate, you hopped out of Steve’s grasp anxiously. You threw him a warning glare and wedged yourself between the both of them to stop any fists from flying, laughing nervously. 

“Alright, that’s enough. I’ll see you at home, Steve,” you rushed out, grabbing Billy’s arm and pulling him away from your sibling. You rushed your partner out the building before Steve could start complaining about anything.

-

“Ooh, aren’t you eager to get me alone?” Billy teased as you slowed to a stop in front of his car that was parked in the usual spot. The parking lot had been mostly cleared by this time, so Billy and you were the only two people there at the moment. 

You huffed, letting his arm go and rolling your eyes. 

“Don’t keep deluding yourself, Hargrove. I just hate my brother’s over-protectiveness as much as you do,” you replied, stepping away from him and making your way over to the passenger side. 

You saw him roll his eyes out of the corner of yours, but he unlocked his car anyway and climbed into the driver’s side. You pulled the passenger door and got in with him, and an almost awkward silence settled between the both of you. 

You had never been alone with Billy at all, in fact, you barely knew him. The only conversations you had ever had with him were never the good ones; you only ever talked to him to stand up for your brother. But now, you had to do a whole school assignment with him then would eventually contribute to the decision of whether you could advance to senior year or not.

Billy broke the silence first by breathing out deeply. 

“So where we heading?” he asked as he started up his car, revving up the engine. 

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Uh, the library, I guess. We can source for information there first,” you half-suggested. 

Billy then frowned, turning to face you. “Wait, you were serious about working on the project?” 

Your jaw dropped when he said that. You scoffed in disbelief, shaking your head. But honestly, why were you even surprised? This was Billy Hargrove you were working with. If anything, you should be surprised he even bothered to come and look for you to at least suggest getting to work.

Yeah right, Y/N, you know he really just wants to get in your pants. 

You pushed that last thought out of your head, and threw him a “duh” look anyway. 

“Yes, Billy, you said it yourself that it carries thirty percent of our final grade so it’s important. And two weeks can actually go by really fast so we shouldn’t waste anytime,” you pointed out, placing emphasis on his name. 

He cocked an eyebrow but uncharacteristically kept his mouth shut, simply speeding off towards the library. 

-

“You know, you actually look like an aardvark when you’re upside down.”

You gritted your teeth in annoyance at Billy’s dumb comment, turning around to glare at your partner. He laid upside down on his bed, feet leaning up against the wall and head dangling off the edge as he stared at you, head tilted slightly in amusement. 

God, you would never admit it to yourself but Billy was super attractive. Especially with him looking at you like that. But still, just because he was being cute you couldn’t let him slack. 

“Can you just get down here and help me out?” you demanded, facing your work again as you extended the line of your timeline. Your hand twitched, and the ruler shifted slightly, causing you to mess up the perfect line you had been attempting to draw. 

You two had been tasked with coming up with an essay and clear explanation on the cause of The Great Depression and the first few days were spent at the library, collecting information and borrowing necessary materials. But then the both of you got into a whole series of dumb arguments every half an hour. You had caused such a ruckus the librarian banned you from the library after a string of repeated warnings. 

So that paved the way to the argument on whether the two of you should work on the project at your house or Billy’s. Both of you didn’t want to go to each other’s place and neither of you were very willing to compromise, but after almost a whole hour of tantrums, you decided to toss in the towel and agreed to head to his place. 

So that’s where you were at the moment. And unfortunately for you, Billy was near impossible to work with. He got distracted every ten seconds and you had no idea how you were going to get through working with him for another twelve days. The only good side you could see to this arrangement was that he was nice to look at, which would help your brain relax after thinking about such a depressive event for such a long time. 

“Oh, so bossy,” Billy joked as he rolled over, sliding down onto the floor to sit next to you. He leaned over your shoulder as he watched you correct your line, breathing heavily against your hair annoyingly on purpose. He seemed to love getting under your skin.

You jerked your shoulder to push him away, but it only threw him off for a moment before he went back to irritating you. 

“Look, Billy, why don’t you make yourself useful?” You said in a huff, reaching across the paper to grab a borrowed book to toss it at him. “Pick out the important keywords. Important years or dates. Draft up the first version of our essay. Whatever, I don’t know.” 

You heard him sigh heavily behind you, followed by the flipping of several pages and the scratching of pencil lead against paper. You sighed quietly in relief at the prospect of finally having gotten Billy to contribute to your work. Both of you worked in silence for a while, before Billy tapped you on your shoulder to get your attention. 

You turned to face him, only to be greeted by him shoving the book in your face. You blinked in surprise, withdrawing back to get a clearer look at what he was trying to show you. Scribbled on the bottom right corner of the borrowed library book, was a tiny doodle of you. Your head been drawn large and wide, disproportionate to your cartoon body. Billy had drawn your eyes large and bug-like, and had over-exaggerated your curls. The only way you could identify that it was even a drawing of you was the distinctive and very accurately drawn angry frown that was plastered on your face, the same frown that you so often threw Billy. 

You gasped all too loudly, snatching the book from Billy hurriedly as he snorted. “Billy! This is public property!” You squeaked. You thought you would’ve been steaming mad, but for some odd reason, you couldn’t help the dumb smiled that crawled onto your face. The drawing was so fucking pathetic but hilarious. 

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. 

You coughed when you realised you had let a grin slip through, and you re-wore your annoyed look, tossing a glare at Billy. But he had seen your smile; he had gotten you to stop being so pissy and serious about everything. You huffed, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared him down. He had that stupid smile on his charming face. 

“Ha! So you do know how to smile, Harrington. For a second I thought you were only engineered to be mad all the time,” he teased. This time, you let the giggle escape, and you doubled over, clenching your stomach as you laughed alongside with Billy. 

-

Fast forward two weeks, you were starting to realise you liked Billy a little too much. 

But in your defence, he was charming as hell. You did try finding excuses to dislike him at least a little, but each time nothing came up and instead, your heart gave you reason to find ways to spend more time with him, much to Steve’s dismay especially. Sure, you guys had that project to work on together, but you found yourself more and more unwilling to actually leave him after you guys were done for the day. You started looking forward to school just because you knew you would see him.

And really, after actually bothering to get to know him and spend a few days with him, you realised he was pretty nice company to have around. He wasn’t as rowdy or asshole-like as people said he was. He was actually nice to you. Sure, he liked annoying you and messing with you, but you knew it was all in good fun. 

Plus, once you started being less serious, you strangely noticed, Billy was more willing to put in effort into the project. And you guys actually made a pretty decent team, and you were actually proud of how you stuff turned out. So came the deadline and you turned your work in, hoping that Mrs Blanchard would give you guys a good grade. The lesson went by ordinarily, but Billy caught you on the way out. 

“Hey, Harrington. Good job on that project,” he congratulated, slinging his arm carelessly over your shoulders. You laughed, steering him to the side and down the hallway so as not to block the other students who were exiting the class. You noted the strange looks people tossed you; confused as to how Steve Harrington’s sister was getting along so well with Billy Hargrove himself. 

“Don’t get your hopes up so high. I think we did a good job, but Mrs Blanchard may think differently,” you pointed out as the both of you made your way to your locker. He waved your concerns off, plastering a smug smile on his face. 

“I think we’ll do amazingly. We make a great team, don’t you think?” he asked. You raised your eyebrows, pink tinting your cheeks at his question and you nodded along hesitantly. “So my place as usual?”

You stopped abruptly in the middle of the corridor, turning to face him in confusion. “But we’re done with the project,” you told him, although your tone made it come out sounding more like a question.

“So?” he snorted as he resumed walking, pulling you along with him. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends. The word seemed to roll so nicely and naturally off his tongue. He seemed so comfortable saying it, and it sort of hit you at that moment that it seemed that Billy actually really, genuinely liked hanging around you. Not like how he pretended with Tommy and Carol and a few others. He had confessed this to you when you both were taking a break from working a few days ago. 

But as much as it made you feel special, you still couldn’t help the disappointment. But why the hell were you even disappointed? Still, you threw Billy a grin, nodding in agreement. 

“Of course we are.” 

The both of you stopped at your locker and he leaned against the one next to yours. You were very fully aware of how his eyes were on you the whole time you were getting your stuff, but you chose to ignore it. Billy did a lot of stuff you could never really explain, so you just left it. 

“You know, Max is actually staying back for a few today,” Billy suddenly said. You quirked an eyebrow when he said that as you shelved a textbook in your locker. 

“So do you want to just drive around for a while?” he continued, drumming his fingers against the locker door next to yours, softly creating a clanging sound. You narrowed your eyes at him. There was a suspicious feeling you couldn’t shake, but you had no idea what it was. But you shrugged anyway, agreeing to his suggestion. 

“Why not?” You said, before looking around playfully. “Just make sure Steve doesn’t see us,” you teased. Billy couldn’t resist rolling his eyes at the mention of your brother. You were well aware he still hated him to the core although he considered the both of you as friends. 

“Fuck him,” Billy said crudely, earning a warning but playful glare from you. He smirked at you and brought his face a little closer to yours. “Should I fuck you too?”

Classic Billy. You knew he was joking, but you still blushed. “Ha Ha, very funny,” you said sarcastically. “I hate you.” 

You closed your locker and slung your bag on, only for Billy to swoop in and place his arm round your shoulder again. 

“Yeah, tell me again,” he joked, bringing you closer to him as the two of you stumbled down the hallway. “You love me,” he added on, almost like an afterthought.  

You rolled your eyes when he said that but laughed anyway. 

“Keep telling yourself that, Hargrove.” 

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@dacremontgomerylover @so-not-hotmess @moonstruckhargrove