#Hanger Hill

[dubmill]

Hanger Lane station, London; 24.4.2022

[liauditore]

i forgot what his ingame name was and had to scrub thru a bunch of videos looking for him like a cryptid and i think that's incredibly joe hills of him

[autisticisopod]

I'M GONNA BE MAKING A PYRAMID HEAD COAT HANGER!!! Let's hope it turns out!

[tngrace]

Let's play I spy......

Who's trophy is that?

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 7

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 6 | Series Masterlist | Part 8

Chapter Summary: You meet some of the staff at the club and try to reason with one of Bucky's men about your situation.

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.3k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, mention of stalking, inner conflict, insecurities, manipulation, possessiveness, flirting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren't sure exactly how far the club was from the bookstore, but you didn't say anything for a minute after his declaration. You’d read stories about instalove before, the accelerated trajectory of feelings and relationships. It wasn't something you thought you’d ever be on the receiving end of. That mixed with a dark antihero.

How was this your life?

Bucky chose to break the silence. “You can change here if you want.”

Your heart rate spiked as you stared at the garment bag. There was a chance that the dress was to your liking, your style. But in the car, it wasn't like you could shield yourself if you undressed. He’d see you. Maybe even try to touch you. Was it worth the risk?

Reaching for it, you took a deep breath and curled your fingers around the hanger. The moment you grabbed it though, you set it right back on the hook. You wouldn't bother unzipping it to take a look. You weren't a doll for him to play dress up with.

“Sorry, Bucky,” you began, shifting to face him. “I’m sure it’s a nice dress, but I'm not wearing it.”

“You sure?” He asked. “You haven’t even seen it.”

“I don't need to see it. You got your way about me going to the club and I think it's fair I get my way about the outfit,” you said. “We both know I could've met your friends another time. It didn't have to be tonight. So they'll meet me like this or not at all."

His eyes snapped to you, pinning you in place as you froze. Giving him an ultimatum over something he may consider trivial wasn't a smart move and it wouldn't be a hill you'd die on, but you needed some sort of win. Part of him had to understand that.

Bucky's lips curled in a small smile, but you still swallowed nervously. “You look stunning to me just as you are,” he said, tracing the collar of your shirt with his fingertip. "Perfect even.”

“What?” You asked. You were far from stunning. “You're really okay with me going into your club like this? I don't think it meets the dress code.” You were lucky your black dress was nice enough to get in the first time.

“And? I said in the bookstore that you can wear whatever you want since you look beautiful in anything, so of course I’m okay with it,” he said, his finger gliding down the middle of your chest. “If you're worried about anyone saying anything, don't be. You’re my girl and my friends and I will shut anyone up who tries to make you feel less than perfect.”

Your eyes widened at the casualness of the threat. There was no reason to threaten anyone on your behalf. You could also hear Marc's voice in the back of your mind, reminding you that Bucky was dangerous. “Bucky, you don't have to do anything.”

“If someone upsets or hurts you, yes, I do,” he said.

Addison was the type of person who would defend you if you were upset or hurt. You would do the same for her. A boyfriend type defending you was entirely different. He could've just said that to make you lower your guard or play on your insecurities. So why did it still sound like he meant it?

You gripped his wrist before his touch could move further down your body. “What if you upset or hurt me?” You asked.

Bucky blinked at your question, an unfathomable look in his eyes. “I promised I’d never hurt you,” he whispered. You were the only one safe from his underlying rage, weren't you? Because something was lurking beneath the surface that you hadn't yet witnessed. “But I'd do whatever I could to make you happy again if I upset you.”

“You realize dragging me to your club didn't make me happy?”

“I didn't drag you. You got into the car with my help,” he teased. When you didn't smile, he sighed. “I'm sorry. You told me you wanted a quiet night and I pushed you to go anyway. I just got so excited for everyone to finally meet the girl of my dreams and…” He shook his head. “That doesn't matter. I should've listened.”

The apology sounded so sincere it threw you for a loop. If gaslighting was an Olympic sport, he could take the gold. Everything about the man had you second guessing just about everything. “I appreciate that,” you said, going with a safe response.

He smiled as the car rolled to a stop. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, his gloved hand taking yours.

You wouldn’t ask how he planned to do that. “Wait,” you said, pulling him back slightly before he could open the door. “Can we just sit here for a second?” You weren’t ready to go into the club. Maybe you could buy yourself another minute or two.

“You're stalling,” he smiled. You didn’t disagree. “We can't stall for too long. The longer we stay, the more it pushes back the evening and I promised you’d be in bed by 10.”

“I just want to talk for another minute. I still don’t feel like I know much about you.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“Things like your family? You said there was a story about your mom,” you said.

A swirl of emotions passed in his eyes, a range of sorrow to anger and even hope. “There is, but I want to tell you that story when it’s just us,” he said. Just the two of you. Alone together. “I will say though that the original club belonged to her before I turned it into The 107th. It helps keep part of her memory alive for me.”

“That’s a beautiful thing,” you said honestly. She clearly meant the world to him. “And your dad?”

“He deserved what he got,” he said, not an ounce of pity or sorrow in his voice.

“Oh.” There was no lost love there. You wouldn’t linger on the topic since that was likely another story for another time. “Can you tell me why your left hand is always covered? You said I'd never be a mistress, but are you covering up a wedding ring or something?”

The storm raged in his eyes again and you had to keep yourself from shrinking back when he wrapped a hand around your neck. Your heart pounded as he applied a light amount of pressure, but he didn't squeeze any further. Would anyone help you or care if you tried to scream? “Do you feel a ring beneath the leather?”

“No,” you whispered, your eyes shutting when he leaned in.

His breath fanned across your lips. “I told you before that you’re the only one I see,” he whispered. “So when I do wear a ring on that finger, it’ll be on our wedding day.”

You let out something like a whimper when his thumb rubbed along your pulse. While you wanted to stall before, the car now felt too small. Too hot. You wouldn't be able to breathe if you stayed in there much longer. “I think we waited long enough to go inside,” you whispered.

Both of you sighed when he let go of your neck. “I think we did, too,” he agreed, taking your hand again. “But before I forget, you owe me a picture of you since I found you.”

You glared at him since you hoped he’d forget about that, but he only smirked before he helped you out of the car. Parked right in front of the club, you nearly jumped when you saw Raymond standing close by, his gaze flickering between you and his boss. “Hey, Ray,” you said as Bucky pulled you along.

Raymond said your name in reply as he followed close. There were already a few people lined up to get in, but your attention was on the bright sign of The 107th. It welcomed you. Taunted you. You had a feeling you were going to become very familiar with the ins and outs of this place.

“Let’s go, Kotyonok,” Bucky whispered. You hadn't realized you stopped walking until he slipped his arm around your waist and guided you forward.

Bucky nodded to the doorman and walked tall with you beside him. Of course he wasn't nervous. He had no reason to be. This was one of his castles and he was the king. And he chose a peasant to be by his side. A peasant he wanted to make his queen.

The music vibrated through the floor as you went inside and bypassed the coat check. The sound grew louder as you approached the main floor and watched the crowd, all dressed to impres. The lights bathed everyone in red and it felt like you had walked into a sensual version of Hell. And Bucky, the devil of the establishment, tugged you closer by the waist, but he might as well have put a collar around your neck to show everyone that you were his pet.

“Breathe,” he said close to your ear, making it hard to exhale. You were out of your element, the territory somewhat terrifying since you weren't in the company of your friends this time around. At least your legs weren't shaking. “Would you like a drink?” He asked.

“Maybe later,” you replied over the music.

“Then let me introduce you to some of the staff. And don't worry. They know who you are,” he said. Before you could respond to that and ask what exactly they knew about you, he turned you back toward the way you came and waved a couple of men over. Your breath caught in your throat when they approached. Both wore a black top and pants and were as large as Bucky and looked just as dangerous.

“This is Ari,” Bucky said, nodding to the darker haired man who had a scowl on his handsome face. “And this is Jax.” The blonde smirked when you made eye contact with him. “They’re two of my best bouncers and they’ll help keep an eye on you when you're not with me.”

You scooted closer to Bucky on instinct when both of them stared at you, but you didn't lower your gaze. Their looks could never be as penetrating as the man who owned this place. “Keep an eye on me? Are you my babysitters?” You asked. Would they watch your every move, too, and report back to Bucky?

Ari didn't smile, but the scowl softened. Jax, however, chuckled. “Guess you could say that, but we don't mind,” he said, his grin flirty and eyes twinkling as your cheeks warmed. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you, darlin’.”

“Jax,” was the only thing Bucky said, his fingers digging a bit more into your side. Ray gave the bouncer a warning glance, too.

Jax shrugged. “Just being polite,” he smiled. The man likely had people hanging all over him during his shifts with his charm. He probably wouldn't have looked at you twice under normal circumstances, but you smiled back anyway.

“I appreciate the politeness,” you said.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not being polite. You're flirting with my girl,” he said to Jax, your smile falling immediately when the air around you thickened.

“Just being polite,” he said again, not at all bothered by the look his boss gave him.

“Nice to meet you,” Ari cut in, his voice deep and even. People probably hit on him, too. And as domineering as they were, you felt an odd sense of security.

“It’s nice to meet you both. Hopefully you won't have to babysit me too much,” you said, glancing at Bucky. His fingers were still digging into your side, his muscles tense. Was he jealous? “Breathe,” you urged, giving him the same instruction he gave you moments ago.

The bouncers each had a look of surprise on their faces when Bucky listened and slowly exhaled. “Okay. Thank you,” Ray said, gesturing for them to get back to work. “Boss?”

Bucky’s hold on your relaxed a bit. “Let’s introduce you to Hal and then we’ll go to my office,” he said.

“Office?”

“Quieter than the VIP section,” he explained.

You weren't sure if people recognized Bucky or if it was just the aura of power that he gave off, but people moved out of the way without prompting as he led you toward the bar. He smiled as he did so, completely at ease in his domain. “You know, I don't need babysitters,” you told him.

“You need people to look out for you, especially if you’re with me,” he said.

“Because you’re dangerous,” you said. You’d eventually have to find out why. “Once again, you aren't giving me a choice.”

“When it comes to your safety, I can't,” he stated unapologetically. You grit your teeth as he took you to the bar where a couple of bartenders were working. You didn't pay much attention to the guy at the other end since the one right in front of you had no shirt on, his toned torso on full display.

“This is Hal. Our top bartender.”

“Hey!” The bartender flipped his light brown hair back and flashed you a smile almost as bright as his tan. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Again?” You repeated, nodding as your mind flashed back to Addison’s bachelorette party. “That’s right. You gave my friend a shot before we went into the VIP section. You have a great memory.”

“I’m good with faces and you have a very pretty face,” he smiled.

The attention from his staff was dizzying. It wasn't anything you were used to. What was it going to be like when you met everyone else? You felt so lost.

“First Jax, now you,” Bucky muttered. For a split second, you thought he would try to cover your eyes. “Would you put your fucking shirt back on and stop hitting on my girl?”

“Oh, c’mon. I'll put it on after my shift. This is getting me tons of tips already and will only continue through peak time.” Hal winked at you and you tried to smother a laugh. Between Jax and Hal, you wondered if the two of them had a bet going to see who could make their boss snap. If so, they were brave.

“Bucky, I’m not looking at Hal’s abs,” you said.

The bartender snorted when his boss's eye twitched. “Just get back to work,” he grumbled, stepping a couple of feet away from you to speak to Ray.

“You can look. I won't tell,” Hal smiled, leaning on the bar. “Boss man said you’d make an appearance tonight.”

“And here I am,” you smiled, leaving out that it wasn't by choice.

“Is there anything I can get you? Your drinks are always on the house.”

“I’m fine for-” A man in a blue suit elbowed his way in before you could finish. “Excuse me.”

The guy sneered at you as he gave you a once over. “Ugly underdressed bitch,” he said, making you flinch before he snapped his fingers at Hal.

You glanced down at your clothes, your throat tight. You stubbornly refused to wear the dress Bucky got you on principle, but the jerk’s comment was another reminder that you didn’t belong there. What would prompt someone to be so rude?

“Hey!” The guy snapped at Hal again when he didn’t serve him right away.

The bartender smiled, but it didn't look right as he stood back to his full height. Had he heard what the guy said? “You know, it’s not nice to interrupt a lady, John. Maybe you should apologize.”

“Fuck that,” the guy, John apparently, scoffed. He must’ve frequented the place enough if Hal knew the guy's name and you weren't about to cause a scene. A complete stranger shouldn’t make you feel bad anyway.

Hal’s smile disappeared completely. “Do you know who she’s here with?”

“It’s okay, Hal. Thanks,” you said, your burning eyes on the floor as you moved back to Bucky’s side. You didn't want to be there. You didn’t belong there. Why couldn't you just-

“You okay, Kotyonok?” Bucky asked, lifting your chin with a look of concern. “What’s the matter? What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” you answered, giving him a tight-lipped smile. You just wanted the night to be over. “Can we go to your office, please?”

Bucky intently searched your face, something dark taking over his eyes as your heart raced. “Ray?”

“Boss?”

“Quick change of plans. You take her upstairs and wait outside my office,” he ordered, swiping his thumb along your cheek. “I think Hal and I need to have a quick chat before I join you.”

“Hal didn’t do anything,” you said quickly. He was a sweet guy from what you could tell and he didn’t need to be on the receiving end of Bucky’s anger for something insignificant.

“But someone did,” Bucky guessed, his eyes still dark when you didn’t deny it. “I’ll take care of it,” he promised, ushering you toward Ray.

“Bucky, it’s fine,” you said over your shoulder, but he had already waved Hal over to speak to him.

“This way, please,” Ray said, leading you away from the bar.

Before you knew it, he took you up a flight of stairs and down a corridor, the decor sleeker than the main floor. The closed double doors at the end of the hall you could only assume was Bucky’s office since Ray had you stop just outside of them. You took a breath and leaned against the wall. Though you could feel the beat of the music against your back, it was much quieter. Less crowded. You didn’t feel completely overwhelmed.

“What’s he going to do?”

“Depends on what or who upset you.”

“You’re my girl and my friends and I will shut anyone up who tries to make you feel less than perfect.

You took a moment to look at the bodyguard as he stood against the opposite wall. Stoic. Pristine. “What am I doing here, Ray?” You sighed. This wasn’t your scene. It wasn’t your world.

“Meeting some of the boss’s staff and friends,” he answered.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant… God, I don’t even know what I mean,” you groaned and wondered how long it would be before Bucky joined you. “But I don't belong here.”

“Yes, you do,” he said.

Why in the world would he think that? “How long have you worked for Bucky?” You asked. It wasn’t that you wanted to really talk, but you didn’t want to let your mind race while you waited.

“A few years now,” he replied.

“You’ve seen him date people then. Has he stalked any of his past girlfriends that you’re aware of or am I the unlucky one?” You asked. Bucky told you he tried to go the traditional dating route and that the last woman he saw tried to rob him.

“You’re the only person he has gone to extremes for,” Ray carefully answered.

“Extremes. You mean stalking,” you said. Did that make you feel better or worse that it was just you? “So, you’re fully aware that he stalked me. And that he plans to move me into his place.”

Ray gave you a single nod, though you wouldn’t say he looked proud. “I am.”

“Can you stop him?” Your stomach dropped when he shook his head. “Why not?”

“You can’t stop or delay the inevitable. He wants you and I’m afraid that’s that,” he said.

Incredulity crossed your face. He sounded like Bucky, but this was somehow worse. Did he not see that his inaction helped upheave your life? “Oh, it’s that simple, huh? Bucky wants me, so he gets me? Did you even try to stop him when he began to do ‘research’ on me?”

“No,” he stated. One simple word that held so much weight.

“What the hell?” Fury seared through you as you pushed yourself off the wall. “You didn’t think to step in and at least tell him, I don’t know, that stalking is crazy and wrong and illegal?!”

Ray blinked and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “You think he’d listen to me?”

Your fury didn’t dissipate, but you did step back. “Well. I assumed…”

“That what? That we’re friends? He may respect my opinion from time to time and he may consider me a friend, but he’s my employer first and will not hesitate to remind me of that,” he said, glancing down the hall. “And perhaps it is not my place to say so, but as wrong as it is this is the happiest I've ever seen him. You ground him.”

“So, as long as he’s happy, it doesn’t matter what he does?” You asked, feeling more hopeless by the second. “Why am I bothering? You don’t care.”

There was no reasoning with Bucky nor his men. At this point, you were going around in circles. It was exhausting.

Ray blinked again. “You assume I don't care because I’m not stopping him. His methods are unconventional, sure, but he just wanted your full attention.”

“There are other less creepy ways to get my attention.”

“Are there? You know what we found when we researched you?” He asked rhetorically. “You never go out. You're either home or at work. When you’re at work, you don't give a second glance to any of the men who come in. Where was he supposed to naturally meet you?”

“That doesn't…” Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to weep. Being a homebody shouldn’t be a tool to use against you or used as a means to manipulate you. “I went out with my friends. And he flat out said ‘where’s the fun in that’ when I asked why he didn't just ask me out. Stop making excuses for him.”

It was no wonder Bucky did whatever he wanted unchecked.

“You went out with friends who are all in relationships and aren't interested in meeting anyone. So you didn't go out of your way to meet others which no one is faulting you for. Breaking in was a bit much, but he was desperate and took drastic steps to get to and keep you,” he said. He spoke like it was natural, logical. “You're afraid. I know. But you’re the one in his eyes. If you try to run, we’ll be forced to catch you. Is that really what you want?”

Your hands shook. “I just want normalcy.” Was that so wrong?

“And you wanted someone to love you. So did he,” he said with more gentleness than you expected. “There’s always some madness in love.”

“And between love and madness lies obsession,” you said. That’s what Bucky was to you: obsessed. “Why am I the one? Why is he so desperate to have me?”

The bodyguard considered your question. “Does there have to be one reason? He has no family left. Work and friends can only take so much of the emptiness away,” he said, glancing down the hall again.

You bit your lip. “When you dug into my life, was there something specific that set me apart from anyone else he ever encountered? An incident or anything?”

Bucky convinced himself you were his soulmate, mind, body, heart, and soul. Ray stood across from you and stated he was happy since you were in his life, the happiest he had ever been. But why? Was the man obsessed simply because you were you or was there a piece of the puzzle you were missing?

“That’s not for me to tell, but I can say he’s devoted to you and you only.” He glanced down the hall again before he straightened up. Was there something for Bucky to tell you then? “Be angry with me if you wish, but know that I’m not just looking out for my boss now. I’m looking out for you, too. We all will.”

You heard Bucky’s footsteps as he walked toward you, but your eyes remained on his bodyguard. “Okay,” you whispered. Ray wasn’t going to help you any further. Not tonight.

Bucky stood in front of you, effectively blocking your view of Ray. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“I hope Hal isn’t in any sort of trouble,” you said.

Bucky gave you a wolfish smile, energy buzzing around him. “Not at all. In fact, I’m giving him a raise,” he said, slipping his arm back around you. What did the bartender tell him exactly and what did he do in response? “I do want to warn you before we go in, they may stare since they’re not used to meetings like this.”

“What, they’re not used to you having someone on your arm?” You asked. You found that hard to believe.

“They’re not used to me having someone I’d burn the world down for,” he said proudly, nodding for Ray to open the doors. “All you’d have to do is give me the match.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, gulping when you heard the chatter and laughter inside.

Once again, you were the lamb going into the lion’s den. But you could do this. You just had to mingle a bit longer and then you could go on your way. Bucky swore he’d have you home and you’d hold him to it.

The moment Bucky took you into the office, all conversations ceased. The men appeared relaxed, like they weren't aware of or didn’t care about the aura that surrounded the man beside you. He was right though. They all stared. Including a man with a pair of blue eyes you recognized.

The man who bought tulips from your shop.

“It’s good to see you again,” Steve smiled.

With a sinking heart, you began to accept that there really was no escaping Bucky Barnes.

Sorry to cut this off before meeting the rest of the friends, but it was a natural stopping point. And we'll find out what happens to John in the next part. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[moonstruckme]

Hi omg could I request Remus comforting insecure reader who makes jokes about her looks all the time and stuff and kind of tries to avoid talking deeply about it because it actually really hurts deep down but Remus wants to address it and when he talks to her she’s like “you wouldn’t get what it’s like to be ugly you (as in Remus) have always been beautiful” ? I hope that makes sense 😭Totally understand if you don’t want to write this!

Of course you can lovely! Thank you :)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 884 words

Remus’ self control starts to fray when you discard your third outfit. 

It’s not that he’s impatient to get to the restaurant—you’ve both got plenty of time, and watching you try on clothes for him is a far from unappealing way to pass it. The issue is that you don’t seem to get how fucking phenomenal you look in all of them. 

“Oh my god,” you laugh, making a face at yourself in the mirror before lifting the top over your head. It’s tossed onto the bed, where Remus picks it up to put it back on its hanger. “That color makes me look sickly.” 

“Dove,” he reprimands. “It does not.” 

“Rem,” you mimic his tone teasingly. The late afternoon light filters through the window, and he honestly isn’t sure if the glow he’s seeing is from that or from the smile you give him. “I already look like this, I don’t need to accentuate it.” 

You do that. Self-deprecate. Like it’s anticipatory, like you’re in on a joke that hasn’t been told yet. It makes Remus’ skin prickle. 

“Anyway, I’ll be with you, handsome.” You set one hand on the bed and lean over to peck him on the lips. You take the top with you as you go, hanging it back up in the closet with a nod of thanks to your boyfriend. “I’m not aiming for mind-blowingly gorgeous, but I’d like to look at least remotely in your league, if I can.” 

“You always look mind-blowingly gorgeous,” Remus says softly. His chest aches with earnestness. 

You select a different top, tossing a coy grin over your shoulder. “Thanks, honey.” 

“No, really.” He feels suddenly hot with desperation. Remus doesn’t usually get in your way like this. You make your jokes, he disagrees politely, and he lets you move on. But the need to make you hear him, to talk until you finally get it, see how obsessed he is with you, has been building. If there’s one hill he’s going to die on, he wants this to be it. “You looked lovely in that top, and in everything. You’re exquisite, dove. Do you get that?” 

Your smile falters, and you turn away. You speak into the closet, over the schwick of hangers sliding. “Exquisite.” Humor bends the syllables of the word. “You’re too sweet. Careful, or you’ll give me an ego to eclipse the sun.” 

Remus wishes, but he seriously doubts there’s any danger of that. Your perusal of the closet picks up its pace, criticism a shadowy gray cloud above your head. He stands from the bed and steps forward to wrap his arms around your waist. You still, relaxing into him automatically. 

“I don’t understand why you have to deflect like that,” he says, doing his best to sound kind even as a protective ire burns fiercely in his chest. “You’re always making these cruel jokes about yourself, and you won’t listen when I tell you how wrong you are. Why?” 

“Remus.” It’s hardly a murmur, and yet the plea is clear. “Can we drop this, please?” 

Just like that, the fire in his chest is smothered. A dull ache takes its place. “Not if you’re going to keep doing it,” he says, kissing the nape of your neck. “Just tell me why, please.” 

You clasp your hands over his, seeking comfort even as you stiffen in his arms. “You wouldn't get it.” There’s no venom in your tone, but Remus hears the slight edge. “You don’t know what it’s like to be ugly, Rem. You’ve always been beautiful.” 

A laugh barks out of him, sharper than he means it to be. “I wouldn’t get it?” 

You’re quiet. He takes you by the shoulders, turning you to face him. Your eyes drop to his chin. 

“Do you really think I wouldn’t know how it feels to be insecure?” he asks. “Dove, I grew up with giant tears and scars on my face. People stare at me.” Your eyes flit up to his, shame and apology clear within them. When they go back down, Remus follows, ducking so you can’t hide from his gaze. “I understand that when you feel like something about you is ugly, no one can convince you it’s not. You have to do that on your own, pretty girl.” A flicker of emotion—discomfort, aversion, something else—passes over your face at the endearment. Remus has to swallow against the upset that clogs his throat. “But do you think you could try talking about yourself more kindly? For me, if not for you. It hurts to hear you being so cruel to someone I care about,” he says softly. 

Every line of your face is tense with discomfort at the topic, but you finally meet his eyes. Remus’ smile is reflexive. He’s not sure how you can find things not to love in this face so full of sweetness. 

“Sorry,” you say, sheepish. 

“Don’t be sorry.” He rubs your upper arms affectionately. “I know you don’t do it to spite me, darling.”

You bring your hands up around his neck, hugging him loosely. “You really are beautiful,” you murmur into his sweater. “With the scars, too. I’m not just saying that.” 

“So are you.” Remus kisses the top of your head. Someday, he’ll get you to believe it.

[awritesthings1]

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Wife Reader

Summary: You ask your husband Tommy if he believes in ghosts. The answer might surprise you.

Warnings: dark, angst, spooky.

ao3 link

-

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

It was near the end of winter, and another autumn of earl grey teas and tireless raking of crunchy leaves was fast approaching Arrow House. Tommy’s peaky cap lived on the coat hanger by the front door, dusted in the faint smell of smog. Gone was the silver razor; the Shelby’s were much too respectable for that anymore. In came the monogram initials, all of which had been carefully handstitched onto cuffs and collars to match golden cufflinks, and out came the fine woolen overcoats.

The weather lay thickly that year over the English countryside, enough to invoke a ghostly mist around the trimmed hedges and shorn grass. A stillness crept in as sly as a cat when the fog came down, covering all life with a sheer dew. The garden retired into a dull combination of cool greens and toe-curling crystal air.

It was at this time of year that the monsters came out to play in their ominously shaped shadows and faint howls. Where there was a tick of movement, an airy silence and childhood fear followed. Tommy would have teased you endlessly for your paranoia if he hadn’t suffered through the same fate after the war. You supposed he had more of a right than you because his fears came from a very real place, and yours were out of superstition.

“Spirits,” Tommy clarified. “Yes, it’s in my blood.”

“But have you ever seen one?”

Tommy turns his head to look at you, squeezing you closer to his chest from where you both lay under the covers.

“Why’d you ask?” His accent was thicker in the morning.

If anyone knew anything about spirits, it would be your husband. He was more superstitious than you due to his gypsy blood. The things he told you about the community were nothing short of witchcraft—charming dogs, telling fortunes, and cursing wrong'uns. It puzzled you at first that your seemingly pragmatic, calculating husband believed nothing short of Madame Boswell’s words as nothing but gospel.

You stared out the window, attempting to conjure up the right words, but shivered instead when his fingers ghosted across your back.

“Well… I don’t know. I don’t think I would believe in something until I saw it for sure with my own two eyes.”

He hummed and smiled lazily. “Why do people believe in God, hm?”

You pressed your lips together and shrugged as best you could in his embrace.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Eh?”

“Have you ever seen a spirit?"

Tommy’s eyes glazed over in thought. It was the answer you dreaded.

“Yes.”

“Were you scared?”

He blinked out of the daze.

“No.”

Your hand moved to rest on the cusp of his cheek.

“What happened?”

He cleared his throat and laced his hand with yours there on his face.

“I was nine. Madame Lovell’s nephew drowned in a lake the day before, and then on the day of the funeral, it rained. I was running back from over the hill when I saw him. He stood there staring at me through the spray of rain.”

Your thumb swiped over the tops of Tommy’s cheekbones.

“You’re certain? Maybe the rain got in your eye, and what you saw was a shadow or maybe even an eyelash in your eye. That happens to me sometimes.”

“I know what I saw.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, then tried to picture the scene for yourself. You stood atop some grassy hill, peering down into the valley. Dark plumes of smoke rose from a small coffin stationed at the bottom of the hill, slivering up through the wildflowers and tree branches to where you stood. Then there, through the smoke and rainfall that blinded your eyes, was the boy who drowned.

“Was he scared?”

A pause, then: “no.”

That night, you settled by your vanity, combing out knots and patting lotion onto your skin. The haunted look of that boy Tommy said he saw lingered in the back of your mind, and every vague shape or shadow shifted in the corner of your eye. Paranoia—that's all it was. You didn’t want to be caught staring at a dark corner like some half-mad crook. Tommy would be crossing the threshold into your room any moment now. Maybe if his last-minute business hadn’t held him up in his office, he would be here with you now, and you wouldn’t be glancing over at that suspicious coat hanging up by the wardrobe. The lamps that were lit didn’t stretch far enough to illuminate the monsters from their hiding spots.

It was a trick of the brain, that’s all.

And surely enough, Tommy’s footsteps were heard down the hall. Your shoulders slumped in relief. The autumn season was only one for the dramatics.

Your hand cream pot clattered onto the vanity, swirling in circles until it came to a stop just as you heard Tommy outside the door. But when you stood to greet him with a kiss, the door to your bedroom remained closed, and the doorhandle remained still.

“You can come in!" You laughed, but a sort of coldness seized your heart with terror when you wondered why Tommy was just standing there on the other side.

“Tommy?” You inquired after a painfully thin stretch of silence.

Again, nothing.

You reached for your comb, holding the long, sharp piece you used to part your hair out like a knife. You weren’t naïve. Tommy had enemies, opportunistic ones, too.

And so you stood there, straining to hear any noise beyond your heartbeat that thundered in your ears. You tried slowing your breathing to hear better, but your eyes then began to water from the strain and your refusal to blink. Then it happened, as abruptly as you imagined. The door burst open. Tommy rushed in, slammed the door shut behind him, and stormed over to the closet without so much a look in your direction.

“Tommy?” You squawked, still seized in terror.

He grunted, shrugging on his overcoat and snatching his leather gloves from the tallboy.

“What’s going on?”

Finally, he paused. His eyes were bloodshot and far away. You feared he looked through you rather than at you. He came closer then, pulling you into his arms and laying a warm kiss on your temple.

“Everything’s ok, darling.”

“Where are you going?” Your voice broke. “Did something happen?”

“No…” He hushed. “No.”

“Then where are you going? It’s still dark outside!”

He sighed into your disheveled hair, then pulled away.

“I need to check on one of the horses. Get into bed; I’ll be back soon.”

You clutched his lapels in protest. “No!”

He said your name sternly: “I really need to go. Frances is in her room if you need anything.”

“Tommy, I heard something!” Then, you lowered your voice so only he could hear, “I think someone’s in the house.”

He pulled you in by the scruff of your neck. “No one’s here, love. It’s just us and Frances.”

His boots thud severely against the wooden floor to the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

Begrudgingly, you let him leave and confined yourself to the bed, pulling the covers over your face like a small child afraid of the dark. You left all the lights on, determined to let any intruders know that yes, you were home, and yes, you would see them coming. Tommy would be back soon, and if Tommy didn’t suspect anything amiss, he was probably right.

But the grandfather clock in the other room kept ticking, tick tick tick, and little fairies scampered about in the garden below. The moon’s solemn gaze glared judgingly through the windows, past the squinting shutters, and onto your skin. Ink from family portraits bled into one horrifying mess of shadows. You threw back the hungry covers, which seemed to be swallowing you whole, and knocked your shoulder into the jaw of the door (you had mistaken it for being further than it really was). A teacup flew off a shelf, but you dodged it with one ugly turn of your ankle.

Then you ran down the winding stairs, through the narrowing hallway, and out the chattering front doors of Arrow House. A lustrous mist had fallen over the land, thick enough that your arms whipped around senselessly, blinded by the clouded night, in your attempt to trek to the stables.

The stable gates were banging back and forth by the time you reached them. They whack your behind when you pass them, and you would’ve cried if it weren’t for the airy atmosphere peeling the moisture from your eyes.

“Tommy!”

A clack of hooves answered you.

Your feet burned despite the bitter cold, swelling with each step. Still in your nightgown, the elements worked together, clawing, scratching, and biting at your bare skin. The swell of a draft caught the tip of your nose, and you whipped around just in time to see a coat disappearing around the back of the stable where the paddock was.

Fear acted like a glaze of sweltering iron, hissing the rhythm out of your heart.

“I can see you!” You tried to warn as if you were the hunter and not the hunted.

Leather hands wrapped around your shoulders from behind.

“Are you insane, eh?” Tommy’s gruff voice scolded in your ear.

You turned around to crumple into his embrace.

“Tommy, something’s not right about this house.”

“Is that why you’re out here? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

It could have been a ghost, a careful soulless thing—a soundless haunting memory with no cause for action, warping around the edges of reality. It was then a great whipping lash of winter lakes and violent snowflakes cut into the lines of your knuckles and sliced beneath your skin.

Your lips moved sometime after that, or maybe it was before; you couldn’t remember. Nothing seemed to make sense. The man in the moon wound away your surroundings one by one, like a fisherman with his catch on a hook.

“What?”

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what, Tommy?”

Silence held a knife to your neck.

“Out in the paddock..." His dark, long eyelashes brushed earnestly along his high-cut cheekbones, and you feared the thought that had seemingly paralyzed your husband from saying any more. If it weren’t already dark, a shadow might’ve passed over his features.

A fountain of words prepared to gush out, but you slipped on a puddle that appeared around your feet. You stepped back with a gasp. It wasn’t raining.

“I’m sorry, my love. I should’ve listened to you.”

The puddle kept growing. Words turned into water.

“What the fuck is happening, Tommy?"

His thumb brushed the apple of your cheek.

“I’ll avenge you. I will.”

You cried.

“Shhh, don’t be afraid, darling." Tommy kissed your ice-cold forehead.

You choked. Water: water pooled out of your mouth and suffocated your lungs. You couldn't breathe.

“Go back to bed for me, eh?”

All over your nightgown—water, water, water.

The horse trough out in the paddock, the goldfish swimming past your cheek, straw in your teeth, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, no response, no one, the weight of a hand tangling in your hair, air, air, air, no air.

Drip, drip, drip.

Water in your eyes, ears, nose, mouth—

You never saw them coming.

“I promise, love. I’ll get the bastards that…”

He choked as if he were also choking on water, water, water.

“I never saw them coming, Tommy,” you hiccupped, but it was all water, water, water—

“I know.”

Gurgling.

“I just wanted to find you.”

“I know, I know.”

They pinned your arms back.

“The fucking water trough, Tommy!”

He swallowed painfully.

You couldn’t see him anymore. His face had washed away in your straw, goldfish, blood, water, water, water, tears. Blindly, you traced under his eyes and felt his salty, grief, widowed, water tears.

There’s so much tears and sorrow there in that stable that it begins pouring from outside and through the roof. Most days it was in the paddock, but tonight it was here.

Frances, the housekeeper, watched from her window. On these types of nights, when Arrow House became entrapped in a spell and rain drizzled over the countryside, Thomas Shelby would squelch across the overgrown grass to the paddock behind the stable before disappearing. Where he went, she didn’t know. The hazy sheet of mist left much to the imagination. What he saw out there? She didn’t know either. The poor bastard probably just missed his wife.

Frances briefly left her room to peer into Mr. Shelby’s. Letting out a sigh of relief, the room appeared untouched, still frozen in the state Mrs. Shelby left it when she went out to find her husband that tragic night. The sheets were still tossed aside, the teacup still shattered on the ground, her comb still waiting on the bedside table.

Satisfied with her findings, she turned to leave when—

What’s that?

A puddle.

There must be a leak somewhere.

Oh well, she’ll see to it in the morning.

With that, she quietly crept away to her room and fell back asleep, undisturbed by the chattering shutters or creaking floorboards. Not even the ghostly cries down the hall woke her.

After all, there was no such thing as ghosts, only things that went bump in the night.

-

Taglist: @maliceofwonderland , @fairytale07 , @goblinjnr , @ilovepeoplesdads , @multidimensionalslut , @blogforficslol

[theemporium]

hey bestie, smut prompt 22 for stiles? 🙂

22. “can you feel what your doing to me”

.

It was an incredibly stupid plan—but then again, when wasn’t it when it came to the pack of Beacon Hills?

You couldn’t exactly remember what had led you into this situation, or how you and Stiles got the short-end of the stick to be volunteered into it. But what you did remember was Derek rambling about hunters having a sixth sense for supernatural beings in close vicinity so—as the only two humans in the pack—you and Stiles were thrown in the deep end. 

And now the deep end meant hiding in a really small closet whilst some of the deadliest hunters stood in the room just before you. 

“Can you stop moving? They will hear you rustling.” 

“I can’t!” 

“Oh my god.” 

You were pressed against the door, using a small crack to watch the hunters in the room. You couldn’t really hear what they were saying, but the tables of weapons spread out in front of them was intimidating enough. 

“I’m serious, stop wiggling,” Stiles hissed from behind you, letting out a heavy sigh. 

“Stiles, I can’t,” you hissed back at him. “If you move the hanger that is poking me, maybe I’ll fucking stop.” 

There was a pause before the boy spoke. 

“That’s not a hanger.” 

Your body tensed for a few moments as the boy’s words ran through your head, taking you a few moments to really process his words before you felt your cheeks heating up. 

“Stiles—” 

“I can’t control it,” he grumbled from behind you, letting out a small groan when you tried to move away again, only to push your ass further against him. “Fuck, don’t do that. Can you feel what you're doing to me?” 

“I’m trying to help!” you whisper-yelled under your breath.

“That’s the opposite of helping,” Stiles groaned into your ear, biting down on his lip. His hands found your waist, gripping it tightly in hopes of making you stay still. “Just…stop.”

Your heart was thundering in your chest, your lungs feeling like they were on fire and the last thing you should be focusing on was Stiles’ dick pressing into your ass when your lives were quite literally in danger. 

And yet, it was your only focus. 

Maybe you could blame it on the adrenaline pumping through your body at the risk of getting caught. Maybe you could blame it on a temporary lapse of judgement. Maybe you could even blame it on the crush you had been harbouring for the boy for ages.

Or maybe, you wouldn’t really need a reason as you pushed your ass back into him, rolling your hips against the bulge in his jeans. 

“Shit,” Stiles hissed through clenched teeth and gripped your waist harder. “What are you doing?” 

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help,” you murmured as your arms wound behind your, fingers tangled in his hair as he leaned against your shoulder. “Just keep quiet, Stiles.” 

“Fuck,” he moaned against your shoulder as he began to grind his hip against your ass, something about the action so needy and desperate, and yet it set your whole body on fire. 

Your hands dropped to cover his, slowly guiding them up until they were cupping your tits over your shirts, a pathetic whine leaving the boy’s lips as he continued to rut against your ass. It didn’t take long for muffled curses to leave his lips as he finally came. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he breathlessly chanted as you continued to circle your ass against him, even when he let out a small whine. “I-I can’t, it’s too much.” 

“Such a good boy, Stiles,” you whispered in the closet knowing you still had to find a way out before your luck ran out. “Such a good boy for me.” 

“Just for you,” he whispered, face nuzzled against the crook of your neck as he squeezed your tits, listening to the soft mewls you let out as you both desperately tried to keep your cover from being blown.

.

[odinsblog]

“How do you enjoy life as the world burns? When the planet is on fire, and the country is falling apart, and the cops shoot another teenager, and half your neighbors are getting evicted or deported, and Bill Maher is still speaking out loud on television, what do you do? I go to the water park with my nephew Miles.

Miles is 12 years old. He is a brilliant, bow-legged troublemaker. I love him despite the fact that he's 12 and still has a rat tail. It's really not that cute anymore, dude. We're not related by blood, but Miles' dad, Kevin, is like a brother to me. So Miles calls me Uncle Josh.

Uncle Josh, when are we going to the Warriors game? Uncle Josh, will you show me how to open that car with a hanger again? Uncle Josh, Uncle Josh, since I'm half Black and half Asian, does that make me Blazian? No, Miles, that makes you Oakland.

It's August, and it's hot, which for the Bay Area, means anything above 67. Today, it's 91. I'm over at Kevin and Miles' place, sitting in no AC, in our tank tops and boxers, watching Key and Peele.

I say, guys, we gotta go somewhere to cool off. Cooler than the movie theater, cooler than the mall, I'm gonna take us to East Bay's water world. Miles' face lights up. But then Kevin says, I don't know you guys. I mean, those water parks, you know, they're so wasteful.

My man Kevin is the worst kind of Bay Area environmentalist. He's that type of dude who will come over your house and use the bathroom, not flush, but instead write a note on your toilet paper telling you how much water he just saved you. That's a true story.

I say, Kevin, it's so hot out here, I could fry an egg on your face, which I will if we don't go to East Bay Water World. Miles says, please dad. I say, please dad.

Kevin says, fine. Go have fun at the park, but take my car. It's a hybrid.

I grab the keys and soon me and Miles are driving through Oakland. We pass by the Trilingual Liquor Store, the farmer's market that accepts food stamps and we make our way through the tunnel and the hills. We emerge on the other side in the valley.

The further we get from the coast, the ground is drier and drier, browner and browner. The only green is the manicured lawns of the suburbs, the golf courses, the empty field of the sprawling county jail. And then we see it and we arrive at our Mecca, our oasis in the California desert, East Bay Water World. And it's even more beautiful than I imagined. There's four wave pools, there's a 50-foot water park, the air smells like chlorine and sunscreen and funnel cake. Delicious.

Miles' mouth is wide, staring at all these things he's never seen before. Carnival games, Dippin Dots, girls in bikinis, Uncle Josh, this place is awesome. I know, Miles. I know.

We go and we jump in the wave pool, we float down the lazy river, we spin through the whitewater rapids until we're totally drenched, grinning ear to ear and surprisingly thirsty. So I go to the funnel cake vendor for something to drink.

Can I get a bottle of water, please? He says, no problem. That'll be $7. $7 for a bottle of water? He looks at the bottle. It says, and he literally read off the bottle, it says this here is bottled and purified up near Lake Tahoe.

This is California water. California water. I buy two bottles and walk back to where Miles is pointing up towards the sky. I follow his gaze and then I see it. There, staring down at us from the tallest point in the park is the biggest water slide I've ever seen. The tallest slide in Northern California, the Annihilator.

The Annihilator is a seven-story, 80-foot freefall drop down all in just under five seconds. It's one of those slides that's so vertical, your back comes off the ride when you go down, so you feel like if you lean over just a little bit, you're done. It's the type of slide that's illegal in 27 states and most of the European Union, but hey, this is California.

I look and see Miles. His mouth is watering in anticipation. We go and get in line.

Now, the worst part of the Annihilator isn't the ride down. That's only five seconds. The worst part is the 30-minute wait in line, standing in the stairs watching and hearing every kid go down the slide, hearing every scream, every shriek, every, oh, sweet baby, Purple Jesus. The That's a direct quote from a nine-year-old. Shout out to Purple Jesus.

Miles is nervous. His hand is clenching the railing. Uncle Josh, is this thing safe?

Before I can answer, I hear a voice shouting from the top of the stairs, Hands up! Put your hands up!

Hands up!

It's the lifeguard, a tall white teenager in red shorts. He's yelling at the girl about to go down the slide. I'm telling you, it's way more fun if you put your hands up.

And the words hit me like a tsunami. It's August, two weeks after Ferguson, after Mike Brown. After those words, hands up became the calling cry for a movement.

In Missouri, people are putting their hands up to protest the police murdering another black boy in America. In California, I'm watching kids put their hands up as they go down a water slide called the Annihilator, and my nephew asks me if it's safe here. It's August in America.

In Detroit, they're shutting off poor people's water. California is suffocating of thirst. Half of my friends are putting buckets of ice over their faces on Facebook. Israel is bombing water treatment plants in Gaza, and in America, we have water parks in the desert. Industrial Almond Farms in the desert, prisons in the desert, my family, me and my nephew right here in the desert looking for anything that could be called an oasis. And Miles asked me if it's safe here.

What am I supposed to tell him?

I don't want to lie to my nephew. I want him to know that yes, some people will always see him as a threat, but I also want him to laugh and play and go get on this crazy ass waterslide.

How do you enjoy life as the world is burning? How do you teach your nephew to hate the park but love the ride? The thing is called the Annihilator. I think it might be trying to tell us something.

And now we're next in line. A girl with blonde pigtails is shaking her head. The lifeguard says, it's okay, you don't have to do it.

She backs away and now Miles is up.

He steps to the edge of the slide, puts his feet in the rushing water.

I can see the brown hills in the distance, Oakland and all its beautiful contradictions waiting on the other side. I wave at Miles, say, you got this. You got this, dude.

And he waves back at me, and when he does, he lets go of the railing. His hand shoots up in the air and the rushing water carries him away. He lets go. He shoots out and disappears over the edge. My nephew!

I rush to the side and look over, and there's Miles at the bottom of the slide, safe and alive and pulling up his bathing suit. He jumps up and runs to get back in line, and the cycle continues. Water, blood, life, death, and maybe rebirth.

I'm still on the top platform of the slide.

I walk to the edge, look down at California, lift my hands, and let go.”

—Mr. Josh Healey

[hazbinshusk]

Hi, how about some spicy headcanons of Husk and how he was different in sex as Overlord and currently

I don't really do headcanon posts, but here are some of the ideas I have about the differences between the two sides of husk:

as an overlord, husk was able to indulge pretty much any sexual whim he had on any given night. between the hangers-on and the dancers at the casino and the fact that he could definitely afford to spend his nights with anyone on Valentino's books that he wanted, he was rarely short of company if he so desired.

I do think that husk, even then, would get tired of casual sex - he might not (let himself) realize why, but he'd prefer seeing the same people rather than nameless faces every night. he was more likely to book time on nights that aren't going his way, and nights he's living large and winning big, then he's bringing familiar faces back to his suite.

like I said, as an overlord, husk is able to sample any kind of kink he wants. he's heavier into bdsm, and he values being the dominant. call him 'sir', 'master', 'daddy'... oh, he's going to make you feel so good.

I think he's a little more selfish in the bedroom as an overlord - because he's high on the power trip and because if he's selfish it's easier for no one involved to get attached, but I also think that husk genuinely gets off on his partners getting off, so he's still going to want to see his partner cum. if that means them jerking themselves off or playing with their clit while he fucks them, then abosolutely.

I think he was a little more careless when it came to hurting partners - he wasn't violent - but he probably didn't check in so often. it was completely normal for his partners to leave the next day with claw or bite marks or hickeys, even bruising from spanking or breathplay, and he loves seeing those marks peaking out of their clothes. Some of his newer lovers wear them like badges of honor - the latest beauty to spend the night with the gambling overlord.

honestly, he tricked himself into believing his relationships meant more to those he saw regularly than they did. there were a few that he let himself feel a real connection to, let himself open up with and he genuinely thought that they might feel that connection too.

now, husk is more reserved. when he lost his status as an overlord, he had the horrible moments where those he'd thought cared for him proved that they didn't. they fell away like the rest of his world, leaving him bitter and alone.

husk is more careful about his partners. I think he has still indulged in casual sex (at least prior to the hotel when he had slightly more freedom in alastor's absence), but he hasn't continued to explore more formal settings of bdsm since his downfall.

I think he's more reticent to hurt others, even consenually, now that he's on the other side of the overlord dynamic. he checks in more often, needs more assurance that this is what his partner wants.

he can still be rough, deliciously so, but he's warier about it now.

I honestly think too that while he had more sex as an overlord, it wasn't in any way because he was more confident in his sinner form. he's never liked how he looks in Hell, but as an overlord, he could lose himself in sex and pretend that he was desirable (he fucking is, the stubborn old tomcat).

but now, he's forced to confront how he feels about his body, in more subtle ways. when he starts sleeping with angel its more intimate than either of them has become used to, but husk's focus is always on making angel feel good and safe, so he's taken aback when he realizes that angel was genuine in his desire not just for husk, but husk's body.

and husk finds himself relearning what he likes - the different erogenous zones that he'd almost forgotten about or been to embarrassed to guide his other partners towards, and fuck does it feel good...

I will die on the soft!dom husk hill, and I can see him being willing to explore more and more kinks not just to help angel work through trauma, but also because angel tells him these kinks can be fun.

[autisticisopod]

After like a week, I finally cut the metal and chiseled the lads out! It's not super clean because it's my first time working with metal like this, but I'm still really happy with it. Now I just need to forge the hooks and cut the wood base for it. (Also sorry the image is garbage, I couldn't get great lighting.)

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 4

Casper felt *strong*.

He felt like until now, there had been a fear in the back of his mind. A fear that one day his body would fail him.

But as he reached for the metal shutter door, several meters wide and taller than him, his muscles pulled without hesitation. There was no pain, no pressure as his arms engaged and tore the metal upwards with the ease of lifting a single petal that had fallen from a delicate flower.

Once the shutter was mostly up, it stopped and dented, jammed at an angle, Casper considered it for a moment and mentally shrugged, his arms not being able to make that gesture at the moment.

Ducking under and through the shutter door, the man looked out across a great landscape. Turning to peer left and right, the building he had been in was a featureless concrete slab that showed signs of scorch marks and lumps of the solid material broken and pitted as if shot with a gun.

There were no windows or doors all along the space with the exception of the series of hanger bay doors. But Casper had no interest in those, he was staring at the odd shapes and objects in the distance partially hidden by huge rolling hills and dunes.

Who could stop him now from taking a quick look? He felt *free*. What would have caused him pause before was no longer a concern.

The moment he stepped from the safety of the shutter door, he felt his foot sink into the earth, unsteadying him, making him look down. Casper watched as great mounds of dirt built up around his metal foot, as if he was far heavier than normal. He *was* heavier. Why was he..?

It came rushing back. He was piloting a mech. It was an odd sensation to remember such an important and obvious concept. How could he forget such a thing?

The man straightened and took a breath.

Breathing in the alien world's clean air it satisfied him. It was cool and rich with untainted oxygen. He could taste that there were very few particulates to damage him. He knew information this on a factual level.

The young man breathed in again; he could feel his lungs fill and his heart sing for it. He touched a hand to his chest over his heart, only for a 'clang' to draw his head down.

A metal hand, against a metal chest.

If he could frown, he would have. He settled for his optics to click shut, clean themselves, then click open again.

Why was it so hard to remember who he was inside the machine?

"Casper! You having fun there?" Demanded Zeet inside Casper's head.

[I think I broke the door. Sorry about that.]

A moment's pause.

"Ha! Break all the doors you like, it appears like you're already, ready to go for a stroll?" He sounded completely unfazed by the human's destruction; almost giddy even.

[The air out here is... I don't know how to describe it. Cleaner?]

"Your generator needs oxygen to burn, the one in your chest is only a basic model. Barely enough power to run your current rig, although I have tinkered with it, so it should suffice for what we have planned." Came a smug response from Zeet.

"I suspect the air out there is a better quality than the hanger, what with the enclosed space and multiple generators running." The head engineer explained, again, unbothered by the idea of generators running without significant air flow in an enclosed space.

[I think you're right.]

Casper took another step, for the second time finding his footing unstable. Zeet seemed to anticipate Casper's next question.

"We deliberately use loose dirt in the starting area, the idea is to force new pilots to learn how to adjust and fall without fear of being at the top of a hill or a distance away from rescue."

[I think I'm alright.]

As Casper took more steps, they became more confident. He stopped looking down and looked up, to the horizon where the strange square shapes peeked over the hills.

[What's that?] The human asked, while the mech briefly lifted one of its arms and pointed at the structures before dropping it back down to its side. Why did it move so organically?

"An assault course of sorts, although this would be far into your future as a pilot before you'd go over there. That said, I feel that it would be rather pointless to have you make such progress without letting you find your limits. Why not head over and see what you do?" Suggested the voice.

"This is ill advised. We haven't got nearly enough sensors or monitors to keep track of the relevant information." Came Wren's voice, quiet until now.

"You're telling me you don't have his readouts?"

"Not nearly as many as I'd like or choose! This was meant to be a proof of concept! Not a full-scale exercise!"

"Then you will take a page out of our books and plan for any eventuality in future. Casper! Onwards!" Zeet demanded, dismissing the doctor's comments with an almost audible flick of his hand.

Casper urged himself out into the open fields and over the green grass covered dunes. He wandered over to the distant objects without issue, merely walking up then down the rough terrain without delay. By the time he began to near the objects, the human inside the towering machine had long forgotten that he existed once more. Once he arrived at the strange shapes, the young man discovered that he found that they made up a replica of a large town, or centre of a city.

As he walking amongst the buildings, choosing the centre of a street, he noted there were no vehicles, the shop fronts weren't hollow and the buildings themselves; solid blocks without features. It was strange to be reminded of what the world was supposed to somewhat look like now, as he strolled down the main road of the faux town.

[I thought you said this was an assault course?] Casper sent back to the hanger, not seeing the drones overhead, watching his every move. He gingerly laid a hand on the top of what could have been a low corner shop as he reached a intersection of four roads.

"Well we can certainly put you through your paces if you like?" Came a flat tone. Gone was the confidence or giddy vibe to his words. Casper's optics clicked as he felt a strange sensation of danger creep over him. He looked down at one of his hands and made a fist before relaxing. Unlike his own hands, that had a constant tremble since the loss of Earth, these metal hands were perfectly still. Casper never noticed this however.

Casper had done assault courses on Earth. 'Team building' exercises. He wasn't brawny or even particularly fast. He was clever, but powerful wasn't a word he'd use in any self description.

Until today...

He *felt* powerful. He could trust his legs, trust his arms.

To the camera drones overhead, the basic mech, one that was designed to take punishment, but not excel at much else, tilted its reconnaissance unit that sat atop its shoulders as if to crack it's neck. If it were organic, of course.

[Go for it.]

"Understood." Came the immediate reply before Casper got the profound feeling that his next words were not address to the human. "Qik? You're up."

[Qik?]

"Defend yourself Casper." Came a dispassionate response.

[Wait, what? I thought this was an assault course?]

"Defeat the aggressor. No further communication will be acknowledged or sent." Zeet stated, before the human felt whatever connection that was within Casper's head, closedoff.

'Defend' himself? 'Defeat the aggressor'?!

Was he expected to fight? Casper couldn't fight! He'd never been in anymore more than a scuffle when he was twelve! He stepped away from the corner building and into the centre of the intersection, looking around himself for a threat. There were alleys and smaller roads he could duck down to break line of sight, but he need to know *where* the 'aggressor' was coming from!

Casper blinked, and in his panic, his need to find the threat, he felt his mind suddenly expand past what he could see.

It was as if a new sense had just opened up to him. Like he'd lived his life with his eyes closed and was blind, only to discover now; that he could see. This new sensation was not sight, but Casper could *feel* movement of something large and fast approaching him from the hangers to the south, where he had been only a few minutes before.

Whatever it was, it was big and fast. He could sense it was as big as he was. Nothing like the tiny dots that floated harmlessly above.

Aware of the direction of the threat, Casper ducked, dropping his head low and ensuring he himself couldn't be seen over the tops of any of the lower buildings. Quickly shuffling, the man got off the street and ducked down a side road, scooting further down, almost leaning against the building with his back. He paid no attention to the scrapes and loose concrete dust the metal of his back scratched off the structures.

{What idiot did that moron trick into this game this time?}

It was a genderless statement, devoid of emotion. It wasn't talking, like Zeet over the radio. It was text, and an image of a command line and the words filled in at the front of Casper's mind. The man could feel that he could respond.

[I'm the new guy.]

{Cute. Come out and I'll make this quick.}

[Sure, where are you?]

{Finally, a smart one, I'm coming up the main ingress.}

The young man had no interest in revealing himself. Just because the words carried no tone or emotion did not mean that he was a fool. He could sense the threat, it had crossed the distance from the hangers to the fake-town in a matter of less than a minute, whereas it took him substantially longer. Now though, he could see the pulsing 'blip' in his mind's eye. It was slowly making its way up the centre of the town, truthfully being exactly where it had told him it would be.

{I'm starting to suspect you're thinking you're clever...}

[Why's that?]

{You're hiding.}

[I'm struggling to work the controls. Only just started piloting.]

{I don't like liars 'new guy'}

As he crept around the main road, quickly tip toing across the intersecting main road, and using the alleys and smaller side roads to move around, Casper caught his first glimpse of the threat. It was a mech, but unlike his own; blocky, thick with exposed metal, pistons and wires. This one was sleek, designed for speed, but no less deadly. It reminded him of a sword. The sharp angles, the pointed feet that stabbed into the ground. It had a series of spikes along it's back like boney wings.

The whole thing screamed 'professional', all wrapped up in a red and silver paint job. It was the mech of a main character to Casper's eyes.

It didnt so much as walk or move either, the word that sprang to Casper's mind was 'stalking'. It stalked forwards, it's 'head' a pointed eagle-like structure, turning left to right, obviously scanning for him.

[What makes you think I'm a liar?]

{This is just getting insulting now. I'm the final test 'new guy'. You think they'd put you against me? Before you can even move?}

[Stranger things have happened.]

Casper got no response to his last message, but watched as the pointed head, ducked low and out of sight. He was positioned behind her now, closer to the south, nearer the hangers where she had entered, but he now lost track of her. Casper wasn't a fighter, he had no intention of getting into a brawl and made his way to the edge of the town fully intending on running back to the hangers.

The young man wasn't without some knowledge of how to throw a punch. After a physical altercation in his younger school years, his overly dramatic mother had sent him to self defence classes to stand up to the bullies. Instead of being beaten up in just a school setting, he was summarily beaten up in an official setting instead.

All he'd learnt was howto roll with the punches, literally. Casper never stayed on the ground, that was where 'bad' always ended up 'worse'.

Still crouched, sometimes using his hands against the hardtop of the fake roads to help him move, Casper finally made it to the edge of the town and learnt that it wasn't going to be that easy.

The second part of his mech broke the edge boundary of the faux town, a klaxon sounded along with one of the annoying drones swooping down with a red, flashing light directly over his head.

Casper bolted across the road and practically dived into an alleyway, into the town and away from the alarm, which remained in place. His head poked out from around a corner further into the town to see if the mysterious mech had approached to investigate.

The pointed leg that swung at Casper's head missed by what felt like mere inches, saved only because he flinched at something moving fast and fell backwards, deeper into the alleyway. The assaulting red and silver mech obliterated the plain wall with its kick in a shower of destroyed concrete and rebar; bent and demolished at the sheer force of its strike.

{You're fast.} Came a message.

Casper was up, his fists raised, elbows in. He was in his pocket and ready to protect his head.

The heel kick to his solar plexus sent him backwards, arms outstretched by the sheer force as he flew out of the other end of the alleyway and rolling head over heels into the main road again.

{Not fast enough.}

Casper backward rolled onto his feet, one of the buildings arresting his movement in a jarring thud that stuttered his vision. He didn't think, merely moved as he dived to his left down the main road. The besieged building that he'd lent against only moments ago was already buckled, but the rocket propelled mech that slammed into it with its shoulder, destroyed it in a shower of crumbling dust and materials.

The assaulting mech stomped from the cloud of debris and glared down the main road; its own optic sensors scanning for the new pilot.

The road was empty.

{You know I would have already won this right?} The red and silver mech taunted, stalking forwards, looking left and right, clearing buildings. It was sending the message over an open band, so anyone with ears on could hear it.

[I'm still standing.] Came a similar open frequency message. Qik snarled. She couldn't track or know where the new pilot was, she was working on visuals only.

{They disable my tracking system. To give you the tinest of a chance.}

She was crouched low, clearing corners, making sure the 'new guy' didn't try what she had and kick her recon unit in. Without eyes, it was an automatic win for whoever could see.

[If it's any consolation, I don't think this has a tracking system.]

Qik smirked, cocky son of a bitch. She was going to enjoy breaking him down, bit by-

[Heads up!]

A shadow flickered across the street and Qik span on one foot, swinging her leg round in a perfect roundhouse kick that would cut any mech that was in range behind her in half.

But despite her aiming high, looking to destroy an arm or even knock off the head of the opponent, her kick was too low.

From atop a building, the new mech was halfway through a jump and falling rapidly towards Qik. It was a terrible, stupid idea. Gravity was not friendly with anything as big and heavy as a mech. Only those rigs with jump packs and boosters could consider leaving the ground. But this idiot had climbed a building and had launched itself at her?!

So shocked was she, that this idiot would try such an insane and self-destructive move, Qik couldn't decide how to react. She had literally never seen this before.

That delay was enough.

On his way past, Casper grabbed a hold of the eagle-esque head and held on tight, his metal fingers denting the recon unit casing.

Gravity grabbed him and threw him against her, flipping him over her while he hurtled towards the ground in a mulit-ton mech that landed squarely on its recon unit, destroying into a million tiny, expensive pieces. Qik landed on her back, but immediately lost all visual read outs as her own unit was partislly torn from its housing.

{*What?!*} Qik demanded, unbelieving this idiot could succeed in such a stupid move! This was squidgit-shit!

"What?!" Blurted Zeet, blinking as the human had just defeated, the undefeated mercenary; Qik on his very first jaunt within a single hour of his first mech startup.

[What?] Asked Casper, also blinded and unable to move, but wholly unaware of the shitstorm he had just started.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[batfam3000]

Witch femReader X Jason Todd AU

—————

Jason finds himself living with a witch after coming back to life.

—————

(Because I don’t like using ‘reader’ or ‘Y/N’ she shall be called Irene, you can use your name if you want, just find it easier to use a character name.)

—————-

It was a snowy day, you were in a cloak with a very pointy hat, a broom at your side, you were out in your forest practicing fire magic by a river.

“Boom boom!!” You yelled out as explosions after explosions went off, you had an evil look in your eyes, one that makes any sane person run for the hills, you were just about to head back when something floating down the river caught your attention.

“is that a log?” You cover your eyes with your hand and squint, as it got closer your eyes widen in shock and horror.

“Nope that’s that body?!” You screech getting on your broom and flying closer, it looked like a boy around your age, your grab the collar of his shirt and pull him to the rivers edge, and lay him down on his back, you click your fingers and he was dry.

“Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead…I can’t have another body on my property, people are still asking questions about the first” you check his pulse on his neck, and there it was a faint heartbeat.

“Phew safe” now you knew he was alive, you take a look at him, he looked to be around 15-16, with black hair with a tuft of white in it, and it looked like he was in a suit with a white button up shirt with black pants, and missing a shoe, he looked handsome.

Something else caught your attention, it was marks and bruises that were peeking out from under his shirt, they looked incredibly nasty from what you could see of them.

“Mmh..” he grumbled turning his head a little, he didn’t wake but that was a good sign.

“Alright handsome boy, we’ll get you back to my cottage” you click your fingers and summoned a portal, you grab his collar and drag him like a mother cat with a kitten.

“Aaahhg! Heavy!” You pant and take a moment to breathe, and stretch your back.

“I really wish I knew how to levitate things more heavier than a cup, Alright this isn’t gonna work so” you click your fingers and summon a portal under both of you, you fall into it, and when you emerge, you’re in your cottage.

It was a small cottage with a water wheel attached to it, inside it had a small kitchen with a small stove and a single cupboard, if you walk a couple steps that leads into a lounge with a couple chairs a fire place and a huge book shelf and Candles everywhere, and behind a door was a small bedroom with a double bed. 

“Well now…..how do I get you to the bed?….which sounds really wrong out of context” you blink and drag him through the kitchen and lounge then take a breather as you get to the door, his back was filthy and the white shirt was now many shades of mud and dirt, you opened the door to the bedroom but before lifting him on the bed, you lean him against it.

*click*

You click your fingers and his shirt was now clean, well appears to be, it will need a wash, you look at the bed, and wondering how to get him on it, if you could barely drag him.

“Lift with your knees, mmmhg n-not with your back” you say hooking your arms under his, and grabbing his torso and lifting him up, you managed to get half his body onto the bed but his legs were hanging off, you take of his one shoe and you grab both of his ankles and lift them on with ease, you fall to the floor panting.

“That’s the most amount of movement, I’ve done in a long time” your hat flew off your head onto a coat hanger, as well as your cloak, your broom flew up and started poking your side

“Alright! I’ll get up” you grumbled as you lift your body from the floor and move to check on the boy, his breathing was more even now, but he was cold to the touch, you place your hand over the top of his head and green light shone from it, you healed some of the less serious injuries and numbed some of the pain but it wasn’t perfect.

“I think some warmth and rest will have to do for now, besides the already existing marks. I’ll have to wait till he’s more conscious to ask him about anything else” you place your thick blanket over him tucking him in, you go out the room to your kitchen and fill a metal pot with water and bring it to the fire you place it over the flames on a hook in the fire place, and let it boil, while that was boiling, you go to a cupboard and find your metal bed warmer.

“Okay now, I’ve got to wait for the pot, anything else?” You think about medicine to help but giving him herbs you aren’t sure if he’s allergic to anything, so best to wait till he’s awake, you finally hear the awful high pitched sound from the pot, you grab a think cloth and lift the pot from the hook and pour it into the bed warmer, you grab the long stick and bring it to the bedroom and lift up the mattress placing it under.

“That should warm you up in no time” you take another look at him and place a hand on his forehead, he’s warmed up quite a bit and gotten some of his complexion back.

The sun was setting and now it was nighttime, the boy was still asleep, the fire was still roaring and when the bed warmer got cold you change it, any extra blankets you had, you brought and placed on him, and now you were next to the bed, on the floor with a make shift bed, which had a spare pillow and your summer blanket which didn’t provide much warm but you could sleep, you lay back and close your eyes falling to sleep.

————

It was late at night when the boy sat up in a bed.

“Where am I?” He looked around at the unfamiliar room, he didn’t feel much pain, but maybe he was used to it and just couldn’t feel it anymore, he was surrounded by many blankets with a burnt out candle on a bed side table, his eyes land on a girl on the floor, she was sleeping soundly.

“Who?” He try’s to lifts himself up and out the bed, to analysing her, he sits up but stops, when he hears what sounds like a click, he felt a pressure on his body, forcing him to lay down, the blanket moved on its own to drape over him, and a small candle was lit, it floated over to him, the boy froze and went on his guard, the girl popped her head up and looked at him.

“Finally awake pretty boy” the boy looked at you confused, he looked to the side then back at you

“I’m pretty boy!?” He spat out glaring at you, now awake you could see his green eyes narrow with distrust.

“Yes who else would I be talking about?” You said, He cocked his eyebrow

“Pretty?!” He yelled at you almost insulted, You sigh and place a hand on his forehead, he froze.

“Looks like you’re finally back to normal temperature” you pull away, the boy looked at you watching your every move, you click your fingers and he was free to move again.

“What’s going on? Where am I? Who are you?” He sat up yelling questions after question at you

“Wait, wait hold on!” You hold your hand up

“One at a time, first I found you floating down a river, second your at my cottage and third I’m Irene, I’m a witch” you do a little wave of the hand and sparkles shine around you, the boy just gives you a deadpan look

“A witch?” He asked removing the cover from him and trying to get up, you move to help him and he slaps your hand away.

“Stay away from me!?” He reeled back his face was pale and his eyes were wide, his breathing was uneven, you stop and take a step back

“Sorry…you take your time” you look at him and slowly show your empty hands, and sit down on the floor a bit away from him.

He moves up on the bed, his back hits the headboard, he curled up his body, knees to his chest and arms around them with his face resting on them, he watched you like a hawk, it was silent.

“…..so I’ve told you my name, what’s yours?” He looked at you glaring

“…..Jason” he croaked out

“Jason, that’s a weird name” you chuckle, he looked at you puzzled

“It’s quite a common name actually, Irene’s an old lady name” he gave you a cheeky smirk while saying this

“O-Old lady name?!” You yelled a bit, Jason was still by the headboard, with his knees to his chest, but seemed more calmer than before.

“Yeah old lady name, what are you a meta human and are actually like really old?” Jason moved his head up to ask, you had your back against the wall, giving him a confused look.

“Meta human? Whats that?” You tilt your head confused

“A person with powers” he answered

“Well I’m a witch, born to a witch and warlock, at least I think I am….” You mumble the last bit but shake your head and continue.

“And can do a lot of things with a snap of a finger” you explain snapping your fingers, Jason looked at you intrigued

“Prove it” he move his body so now he’s sitting cross legged.

“Alright what you want to see, explosions? Fireworks?” As you were saying this your hands glowed a deep red, small visions of fireworks appeared, Jason leaned in watching, his mouth was hanging open and he looked like a fish.

“Woah?!!” He blinked as you stopped

“Was that enough to prove I am a witch?” You chuckle and stand up, “can I walk over and sit on the bed?” You stand there and he nods, you move over and sit.

“Are you alright? You where floating down a river when I found you” the moment the words left your mouth he froze blinking confused, he moved a hand to his face as if feeling for something, he then looked down at his clothes

“Did you change me?” He asked suspiciously

“No, you were wearing that when I found you” he nods and looks down at himself confused

“But I’m sure…the suit…Robin..��� he started mumbling to himself and you couldn’t quite hear what he was saying

“Jason” he didn’t answer still staring at his hands, so you try again “Jason..” again nothing, so you take a deep breath “Jason!” And yelled, that finally caught his attention and he looked up at you his eyes meeting yours, he looked confused, lost, afraid, angry and strangely lonely

“I gotta get back..” he stood up stumbling a bit

“Where?” You follow after him as he walked to the bedroom door, it was still night time, he walked out into the lounge

“Home, my home at…wait where are we?” He asked looking around your cottage

“My cottage, in the woods” you answer and just followed him, after his panic attack when you tried to touch him, you now keep your hands at your side and just followed, you both reached the fire place which was still burning.

“Where is your cottage located in Gotham?” He stopped turning around looking down at you, eyes blazing with a purpose, the fire illuminated his face but also casting shadows.

“Gotham? I’m afraid I don’t follow?” You had never heard of this place in your life

“Are you stupid or something, Gotham the crime city” he looked at you like you’d grown a second head

“Nope, never heard of it” Jason rubbed his eyes breathing in.

“Have you ever heard of Batman?” He asked almost desperately

“A what man?” It was now your turn to look at him confused, his eyes widen in disbelief, he grabbed your shoulders his face inches away from yours.

“Batman crime fighter of Gotham? Caped Crusader, the dark knight?” He was almost yelling at this point

“I’m sorry no, I don’t know who that is” you said panicked, Jason lets go of you, to take a step away turning around rubbing his forehead blinking, he had his back to you, then he stopped and turned his head looking at you again this time with a fear as he said this

“Robin? Have you ever heard of that?” You nod, and he turned to face you again, he almost looked relieved

“As in the bird right? With the red chest and brown feathers” his shoulders slumped and he looked ready to fall over, you take his hand gently incase he slapped it away again, but when he didn’t you lead him to the chair by the fire and sat him down.

“I’m sorry if I can’t be much help, if it’s information you want I can send a bird?” You ask him and he finally looks up, but not at you, at your cottage he looked around confused

“This is a very old place…” he mumbled out then looked at you again, you gulp not sure of what to do

“Do you have a phone I could borrow?” He asked looking around at the walls and tables.

“A phone? What’s that some kind of item?” You looked at whatever he was looking at in the room trying to understand what he means, he yelled out almost irritated

“Yeah! Phone! To communicate to people around the world, which have one” you blink genuinely trying your best to understand

“I have a messenger bird…” you squeak out, Jason looked at you puzzled

“Your joking right?” He asked with a desperate tone in his voice as he looked at you

“No, I send a bird with a piece of parchment and they bring one back with an answer” you explain as if it was the most normal thing in the world, Jason didn’t know wether to laugh or cry

“Your playing with me right?” He gave a nervous laugh and stood up walking past you to the front door, he was heading outside into the cold snowy night

“What does that mean Jason? What are you talking about?” You yell after him wrapping your arms around yourself running.

“I want to get home! Back to my…father! And your jokes are not funny!” He yelled back

“Jason I don’t understand! Where are you going? there’s nothing but forest all around us?!?!” You ran trying to catch up, he eventually stopped at the river where you found him, he wasn’t wearing any shoes, he looked like a madman running around, he had his back to you

“…..what year is it?” He asked a random question not turning around

“Year what?” You yelled confused as you finally caught up to him

“What year is it now?” He asked again this time with more urgency in his voice

“It’s 1619” he turned his head looking at you with wide eyes and his mouth a gape

“What?…”

[viric-dreams]

You wander up the stairs of the old woman's home in the heart of Watchmaker's Hill. Neither of the top floor's occupants appear to be home at the moment. Now's your chance, but beware, no action goes unpaid.

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

Games and Complaints

Summary: A football game leads to another thing and Jake is on the brink of losing you.

Word count: 2.7K

Pairing:Jake seresin x pilot!reader callsign: Athena/Thena/Thia (Coyote calls her Thia)

Warning/tags: angst, Jake being jake, i dont know anything about fighter pilot training so take the info with a pinch of salt, lmk if i missed anything!

A/n: ITS TIMEEEEE!!!! HAPPY CHRISTMASSS!! I hope everyone had a great Christmas or Hanukkah (to whomever that celebrate). anyone looking forward to the new year? omg this chapter is...!!!! you guys will find out anyway. Enjoyyyy <333

English is not my first language so there may be grammar mistakes. You have been warned.

Previous part | Masterlist | Next part

Week two of training was the most difficult for all of them. Maverick explaining the depth of the mission and its details seemed to only add to your doubt that someone may not be coming back from the mission. But also fueling into the idea that it’s downright impossible.

“...Your airspeed will be 660 knots, minimum. Time to target; two and a half minutes…”

“...Your airspeed will be 660 knots, minimum. Time to target; two and a half minutes…”

 Mission details were unfolded one by one. You glanced towards Coyote as you sat next to him, eyes wandering towards Hangman who was just cross. He looked weirdly relaxed for a mission which was probably impossible. The cold AC from above you was doing nothing to calm your shaking.

Maverick continued about how time was to be your greatest adversary and the amount of forced G’s your will be facing throughout the simulated mission before dismissing everyone into their teams for the exercise. 

“Time to target is one minute thirty, we are two seconds behind.” 

“We gotta move, Coyote, Athena.” 

You heard Bob and Phoenix warn over the radio, examining the pathway ahead of you. The sheer force of gravity pushed the air out of your lungs as you let the familiar thrill of it take over you. A good one in fact-whenever you were at a high altitude. But now at a much lower hard deck, you felt like this was the last thing you’d ever wanted to do. 

“Increase speed to 480 knots.” You ordered Coyote from behind him in the dual jet. 

“Copy, increasing speed.” Javy replied back just as he increased his speed to Bob. You looked down on the pathway ahead through the small screen, taking notice of a slight edge that was sticking out of the hill. A possible disruption that could be a problem when Javy takes a turn. But before you could issue a warning Javy pushed on the throttle to increase his speed; instantly pulling it back down as he almost made contact with the side of the hill. 

“Oh shit.”  Phoenix grunted over the radio, leaving You to look over their plane as it manoeuvred over yours, hitting the max ceiling. 

…

Everyone had taken their turns, with only Rooster managing to successfully complete the exercise without breaking any of the conditions. They sat back in the hanger, analysing where everyone had gone wrong. You were starting to zone out next to Coyote but tried to keep a straight mind and focus on Mav’s critics. Before you could fully fall asleep on Javy, he tapped your thigh softly. Gesturing to the simulation that was now playing again on the screen. 

“Why are they dead?” Mav questioned. Looking pointedly towards you and Coyote but before you could open her mouth to answer him, Phoenix piped up. 

“We broke the 300-foot ceiling. The SAMs took us out.” She explained causing Maverick to shake his head and looking back at you and Coyote straight in the eye. 

“No, why are they dead?” Dragging each word out. 

“I slowed down and I didn’t give her a warning. It's my fault.” Coyote answered. 

“Athena? Why are they dead? Was there a reason you didn't communicate with your team?” He pressed again. He knew about the systems as well as any other fighter pilot, he was once best friends with a WSO.

He had heard about your tales during your academy days through Warlock and Cyclone. The best of the best. So, for someone like you to not be at the top of your game was slightly concerning to Maverick. 

“I saw the obstruction but I didn't give a warning in time. This led to Coyote increasing and decreasing his speed in an instant. Phoenix almost crashed into us before she had to break the ceiling in order to not crash. I’m sorry, sir.” You explained yourself, adding the apology at the end to console him as if you were talking to their family.

“An apology their family will accept at the funeral.” He stated before moving onto Phoenix and Bob.

Your head was hung low as you tried thinking back to when you were completing the exercise. To anyone it would have looked as though she saw it coming but weren't fast enough to give a warning in time. But to you, it was a late reaction time. As someone who was known to have a quick reaction to almost anything, this was unusual. A turn on the terrain that you were briefed on prior to it was only the simplest of tasks that even an undergraduate would have done. What is going on with your mind?

…

Football was a weird game. Having grown up playing anything other than the most beloved sport in the country, you- to this day couldn't understand why it was called football when all you did was pass the football with your hands.

Regardless, you didn't have much of a choice as it was already decided long ago by Maverick that today was Dogfight Football day.

“Offence and defense at the same time.” as Mav put it before selecting teams. Somehow you had ended up on the team opposite to Hangman’s. Lining up in your respective positions, you locked eyes with him. Putting two fingers up to where his eyes were and then pointing them back towards yourself as you heard Hindi’s whistle go off.

Every move you made, you felt him somewhere behind, but everytime you looked behind you found nothing. 

You didn't know how long it had been since you’d started playing under the scorching heat that was beating down your backs. All you could feel was Hangman’s burning gaze in the back of your skull everytime you moved to defend. 

“Yo, Thena! Heads up!” Payback shouted from ahead of you. Pointing to Rooster who was about to throw the ball in your direction.

You successfully managed to grab the ball from him, and just as she was about to throw it to Coyote, you felt it. A growing numbness in your skull. Head throbbing as it had done countless times in the last week. You shook your head, making a run for it regardless and throwing the ball towards Coyote without a second thought. He catched it with ease as you felt some of the people move from behind you to intercept it.

A hand suddenly appeared on your shoulder, jumping back in surprise, you turned towards the person who had just scared the living shit out of you.

“Woah. sorry, didn't mean to scare ya’ there, Athena.” Mav apologised before managing to grab a distance between the two of you.

“This is probably not the best time to talk about this but do y’ have a moment?” He asked politely before gesturing you off the makeshift field that you’d been playing on.

“Is everything okay, sir? If this is about the exercise the other day, I truly didn't have enough time to react to it-”

“It's not that.” He stopped you from rambling on before it got out of control. “I read your records, you graduated as a WSO and Fighter pilot?” 

“Yes, sir.” You moved your hands behind your back, answering him curtly as you started walking back towards the beach chairs. 

“May I ask how? It's not to be rude or anything, just curious. You don't see something like that everyday on someone’s file.”

Highlighting an interest in your training was something many people had done in the past. It was true, the path of training for both statuses wasn't nearly as easy as you had thought. It wasn’t even possible when you had presented the idea to her training officer back when you were a Top Gun trainee.

“I taught myself, actually. My training instructor said it was impossible and not typical for US pilots to be trained in both. But I already had previous training in both fields from being an weapons system operator overseas as an apprentice. I passed basic and complex training programmes for them. So they let me graduate with both diplomas.” You explained, going over each detail of your training. Which led Mav to question you further as you reached the end of the wet sands where Colonel Simpson stood, hands on his hips. 

“What is this?” He questioned, looking over to the team that had Bob on their shoulders cheering for him as he made the last touchdown. 

It made you smile.

“It’s dogfight football, offence and defence at the same time.” Mav repeated what he had explained to the rest earlier. 

As Cyclone enquires further about the Mav’s game plan of making the guys a team, you moved further up the beach where Penny sat, most likely doing her taxes. 

“Hey kiddo.” Penny says as you approach the bench she was sat on. Giving you a small wave. “There is beer inside if you want any, on the house.” 

“Thank you Penny, but I’m technically working.” Slumping down across from her on the warm wood, you gave her a smile before looking out towards your friends and teammates. A solemn look on your face. 

You let your eyes scan for him. Not wanting to make the staring obvious, but failing, because at that exact moment you unintentionally makes eye contact with his green orbs. Even from a few hindered yards of distance, you could make out that damn smirk that graces his lips again, sending you a wink. 

“So, what’s up with you and Hangman?” Penny piped up, a suggestive smile on her face as she wiggled her eyebrows. 

“What? Nothing. Nothing is going on between me and Jake.” You clarified, blood rushing it’s way up your neck and ears as you felt them burn hot. 

“Didn’t look like that the other night.” That piqued your interest, looking back towards the older woman with a confused look.

“What do you mean?” 

“The man couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole night, sweetie. Unfortunately, you were far too gone to notice it that day. Looked like a kicked puppy when you left with Coyote.” She explains,

“I think you should talk to him about it.”

Your mind wanders back to that night. A blurry haze of whiskey and pool. It was true that you had feel his stare from the moment you’d stepped foot at the hard deck but it didn’t take you long before you had completely blanked out.

“Oh” was the only thing you managed to choke out before you took notice of everyone that was currently making their way back towards the Hard Deck. Sending a wave towards them, you saw Payback and Coyote making a run towards you. Immediately knowing what they were up to, you made a run for it. 

“You can’t run from us, Thena!” You heard them shout from behind you.

Running as fast as your lungs could take you. Causing them to lose your tail in the process but just as you were about to make a turn around the back entrance of the Hard Deck, you collided with hard flesh, almost losing your balance. Sweaty arms wrapped themselves around your waist as your eyes locked with marble irises. Jake. Your hands found a place at the centre of his chest as you stabled on your feet again.

“Woah there, sweetheart. Where are you off to?” Goddamn that accent was gonna be the death of you. You shook her head, as if physically trying to push the thoughts away from your mind. Refusing to speak to him, afraid that if you did- everything Penny had just told you about that night would spill like a waterfall. 

Hesitantly, you cleared your throat, attempting to get away from him but his hands stayed put at the dip of your hips, locking you in place. You resisted his touch, struggling to remove his hands from you as he trapped you between him and the unusually cold wall behind her. 

“Hangman, let go.” You spoke through gritted teeth.

He laughed at your failed attempts, there was no malice in it, but you couldn’t quite place what else it could be either.

He shook his head when you give up, crossing you arms in front of your chest. Looking up at him through thick lashes. The glowing sun that bounced off his back and the grains of sand that stuck to his chest did nothing to stop you from staring at him only made him look more heavenly. Stop it, you scolded yourself.

“What do you want?” 

“You.” 

You blinked, once, then twice, eyes widening in shock as your mouth fell open. Thinking you may have misheard him. Or even failed to hear a word or two before he said it. 

“What?” 

“I want you.”

It fell off his lips so softly that you almost melted in place. He placed a hand just under your jaw, forcing you to look him right in the eyes as he cupped the right side of your face. He looked at you with such tender and soft eyes, it made you dizzy. Heat radiating itself off his body suddenly did nothing to stop that.

You shook your head. This couldn't be happening. Not now…not when you were so close to proving yourself to him. That you didn't need him, not for the mission, not in any way.

“Jake...” His name floated out her mouth like a prayer, pleading. You tried again, to remove his touch that was burning into your skin, like it was to leave its traces forever.

You finally broke eye contact, looking down towards your feet that were buried in the sand, digging your toes further into them. Trying to ground or bury yourself in the warm grains.

“Jake, no, I can’t.” Pleading to him.

You didn't want to explain your reasoning, it was stupid, yes. But you don't wants to give him the satisfaction of doing a bigger mission without having to tell you why he left. If he had done so just before he had left, you may have forgiven him, but it’s done.

“Thena…if this is about me leaving you in Atlanta, i am so-” 

“No, Jake. You don’t get to just leave and then apologise about it later. What if we weren't invited back to fighter town for this mission? Then what? What would you have done? Came back and apologised? Would you have done that?” You questioned, anger and frustration lacing your words.

His hands dropped, head hung low as he moved a step away before you continued; “No, you wouldn't because you are Jake Seresin. You don't get to stand here and confess that you want me when you could have been a decent person and apologised when we saw each other again at the hard deck two weeks ago.” 

You huffed, vision blurring with the tears that were rolling down your cheeks in anger. You wiped them off immediately, finished with the reason as to why you were so angry at him. 

“They kicked me off the team a day after you left, Hangman.”

His callsign held no malice as it left your mouth. This caused his head to turn back up, looking at you with a frown as you continued,

“Torch had called me into his office after you left and told me to pack my bags and leave. Saying I wasn’t needed on the team because you weren't there.” 

He stood there with his feet planted into the sand. In disbelief. He hadn't known they had kicked you off the team, sure he had told Torch (the commanding officer for the mission) his reason for leaving but he hadn't expected them to throw you off the team.

But before he could open his mouth to apologise or comfort you, you moved, away towards your car that was parked just across from where you stood in the parking lot. Backing away while he still stood in front of the wall, pondering over his actions.

Snapping out of his daze, he ran after you, calling your name, telling you to stop which only made you go faster. As you got near to your car, you slowed, fresh tears still falling from your eyes. You tried to calm down.

Opening your car and locking the door. You heard frantic knocks on the window before Jake’s voice came through, muffled. 

“Thena, Open the door! I just want to talk about this! Please!”

You ignored his pleading, closing your eyes and breathing deep before you fished out the keys from your shorts pocket and started the car. The knocking only got louder and his shouting more frantic as you pulled out of the parking space. Leaving him standing in the middle of the parking lot tarmac as you drove off.

You wished you could turn back time. Back to that goddamn mission and not argued with him everytime he opened his mouth. Maybe he would have stayed, maybe then you would have told him how you had liked him for so long. Maybe this mission wouldn't be so hard on you if you had told him this years ago. Spilling all of your love out for him the second he’d showed up at your doorstep that night when Javy wasn't in town to comfort you over a break up. Maybe he would have been the one…

Taglist;

@blue-aconite

@madikiel007

[elenaramirez]

for: open (@vievecorcitystarters)

location: Chissob Hills, Shadow & Spirits

The glasses had been cleaned, the inventory restocked, the perishables thrown out. She had wiped down the counter and all the tables, including the hand-full of booths at the back. With the register secured all that was left to do, was put up the chairs and run the whole bar through with a mop and she'd be done for the night. Done and ready to tug her rolled up blankets and her sad excuse of a pillow from their hiding place behind the wine crates to settle in until morning, her exhaustion the ghost of a feeling rather than the real deal.

With her back to the open space of the bar, Elena draped the dish towel over its hanger to dry when the sound of the door opening and shutting behind her pricked at her eardrums. Had she forgotten to turn that damn sign around again?

"Sorry, we're already closed," she offered up as she turned around to send whoever had entered back out into the night.