#like when he's standing in new york in the end game and wondering if the people around him are real like NO SHIT

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

STG I'll expand on this sometime but I actually do find Raiden's story the scariest of the MGS lot. (Venom's is next-and that tracks because they have similarities)

[wasitforrevenge]

oh sweetheart

pairing: boxer! ellie williams x f reader au

word count: 1.9k

rating: 18+

warnings: boxer!ellie, drinking, smoking, cursing, creepy guy but ellie comes to ur defense!! ellie has lots of tattoos, fighting, threats, idk if im missing anything (no character description or anything specific)

summary: you didn't expect to meet her on this night out.

authors notes: hi friends! this is my first time writing and posting on here hopefully you enjoy, please reblog, like or follow! lets be mutuals :) anyways feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated! ellie williams has me on my hands and knees!!! i hope you enjoy! i like the idea of making this a series if it works out and ppl like it, so pls let m know!! thank you :)

PART 1 | part 2

series masterlist <3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

loud. everything is loud. the smell of sweat and blood stains the air around you. the sounds of people cheering and shouting towards the center of the large room. the lights are buzzing above you as you are walking into the entrance of the shitty run down gym your brother, jesse, and his girlfriend, dina, ended up dragging you to tonight.

you didn't mind coming along with him but this wasn't what you expected to be doing tonight. after a long shitty week of unpacking your new apartment, you kinda just wanted to end up a hole in the wall bar and drink your stress away but he had other plans. which including watching grown men beat the shit of each other for their cut at the end of the night.

it was intimidating, walking through the crowds of people you didn't know until you finally make it to where his friends were waiting for you guys. they were sitting at a table with a clear shot of the fight which was surprising since the whole place seemed to have more people in it then it could fit. you make your way awkwardly to the empty seats saying a gentle "hello guys" to your brothers friends who you didn't knowl. you sat next to dina as jesse made his way to the bar with your drink orders.

after you graduated highschool, you moved to new york and spend 4 years there working in a small cafe you lived above but now at the start of the summer, still not sure what you should be doing with your life. now you're 22 and you've moved to the city of jackson to be closer to your older brother and his girlfriend. you were excited to start fresh in a place where no one knew you yet, you were ready to leave your old life and those toxic things in the past. but you wondered if it was even possible.

you spend the next hour talking with dina and catching up on the things that have happened since you moved, "have you started looking for jobs yet?" she asked as you both sipped on the second drink of the night that jesse went and brought back a bit ago. you've only met a couple times in person since they started dating about 2 years ago but you loved her, she was making this night a lot better. "not much luck yet, i don't know what to do, luckily i have some time to figure something out." you responded. she went to say something but then the loud speakers around the room started blaring music and the countdown to the match that was about to start.

jesse tapped dinas shoulder to go watch with the rest of them. dinas eyes met yours and asked, "are you coming up?" you started getting nervous as the people started getting louder and crowding towards the center ring and told her that you'll stay here and watch. they both nodded and said they'd be back when it was over.

you took this opportunity to finally go get some fresh air since the crowd isn't all over anymore and it was a straight shot to the door you came in, you walked over to the side of the building, definitely feeling the drinks you had, you let your back rest against the concrete wall, finally cooling you down on this hot summer night. there's people standing outside talking but they payed no attention to you. you stayed against the wall as you pull out the cigarette pack from the pocket of your thin dark green jacket and the lighter out of your back pocket in your jean shorts. you cursed yourself for not buying more but its a bad habit and you know it. you pulled one out and put it in your lips as you brought the lighter up and took a drag, finally letting the anxiety go as you stared off into the sky.

"excuse me miss, you shouldn't be out here alone, a beautiful girl like you," a man with a rough voice said but you didn't move to look, suddenly wishing you never left your apartment to begin with, "hello i'm talking to you, its not nice to ignore people, ya know," he slurred his words as he spoke. you turned your head as you went to tell him to leave you alone but instead, he was standing in front of you before you knew it you dropped your smoke and now he's practically cornered you.

he was so close you could smell the alcohol on his breathe as he spoke again, "now are you gonna talk to-" you leaned away from him as he was interrupted by the sound of a door opening a few feet away, he looked towards it but then turned back to you just as quick, almost touching you as he went to speak again but he was beat to it.

"get off her." you didn't even realize the door had opened until you heard her.

the man looked back towards the door to the figure in the light, he squinted and when he got a good look, he suddenly backed off and put his hands up. "hey hey i wasn't doing nothin- it was nothing!" he shouted back to whoever was next to the still open door, light shining into the alley.

the door slams and the light fades as the figure walks closer towards you and your eyes meet the deep green eyes of the person who just saved you as she turned to the man who was just cornering you against the wall.

"it doesn't look like nothing, i mean, really? you're fucking joking right?" she questioned him as she looked him right in the eyes.

"i said it was nothing- she was flirting with me and-" he was cut off as she laughed loudly. "yeah you're full of shit, get the fuck out of here and don't let me see you again or you'll regret it." she said as she stepped closer towards him, almost at the same height, he looked scared of her. "okay, okay- fuck 'm leaving!" he slurred one last time as he turned around and headed the opposite way of the run down gym.

you stood there as the interaction happened, not sure what to do or say yet, you were silent as he walked off, and those green eyes met yours again and you saw her lips moving as she was speaking but you caught nothing she said. "hey, you okay there?" she asked you as she went to stand in front of you, looking you up and down, checking if you're psychically okay while she gave you a second to process before she asked you again.

"hey sweetheart, you okay?" she asked and grabbed your arm, not in a way that the man would have but like she was actually making sure you were okay, and this time you finally heard her.

"h- yes im okay, just- fuck- yes thank you." you said finally getting a good look at her now that she's up close and touching you. her eyes were greener than you thought, her short auburn hair with some pulled back into a bun, the big moth tattoo wrapped around her right forearm that was still holding onto yours, other tattoos littered her arms and some poking out under her t-shirt she was wearing. she was so close to you and it sent butterflies through your body. now is not the time, you thought to yourself.

"are you sure- 'm sorry that happened, fuck him." she said roughly, not towards you but him.

"its okay, thank- thank you for helping me" you said gently to the girl who was still looking into your eyes. you had been so focused on hers that you didn't even see the tiny scars, small healing cuts and the bruises that were fading until you looked over her face again.

"yeah of course, are you here alone?" she asked you curiously still holding on to you, you weren't even phased by it. you told her you were here with your brother and she nodded her head towards the door, "lets get you back to him before anything else happens sweetheart" she said as she guided you to the door, hand on your back, as you swallowed and went first.

suddenly all the sounds that you had not realized you had been blocking begin again, smells of the sweaty bodies surround you again and you felt too hot, either because of her or the summer heat trapped in here. once you made it inside, she moved her hand off the small of your back and told her to go find your brother and to get home safe. when she walked away, you realized you didn't even know her name.

you saw dina, sitting along with a few of jesses friends and made your way over to her. the match must've ended while you were outside. you walked through the gym to sit back down, moving carefully to avoid touching anyone. once you made it to the table, dina wondered where you had ran off too. "oh just went out to get some fresh air," you said back to her smiling, not wanting her to worry. she told you jesse went to get more drinks and after the encounter outside, you needed it.

jesse came back a few moments later, holding a round of shots for you three. "here you ladies go," he spoke with a happy look on his face. you smiled slightly back and took the glass as dina laughed at him. you took the shot, trying to forget what happened outside with the man but not what happened with her. you wondered if you would see her again. is she here to watch? could she work at the bar? is she here with friends too? your thoughts were interrupted by an announcement over the speaks that the final match was gonna start soon.

dina and jesse were telling you, "its the last one tonight and the last ones are always the best so lets go!" you would rather sit and order another drink, but what if something else happened cause you were alone? so reluctantly you got up with them and got closer to the middle ring, you heard the loud speakers announcing the boxers as they entered the ring. you weren't even paying attention, nothing could stop your mind racing with thoughts about the girl outside.

you shake yourself out of the trance when dina reaches over to you to touch your hands that were shaking but you didn't even realize, you look to her and give her smile that she returns, then she looks back to the ring and you turn your head to follow her eyes to the center. and your breathe caught.

thats her.

thats the girl who saved you outside.

the girl with her hands wrapped in tape and the mouthguard in.

the girl who wondered if she'd ever see you again either, not that you knew that, but she hoped it wasn't the last time.

you wondered what she thought as you both stared back at each other. you heard the coach start the countdown. you just watched her.

...5

...4

...3

...2

as the buzzer started, she smiled directly at you then turned to throw the first punch.

[fractualized]

A while ago I got under someone's skin for referencing Joker's surprising delayed reaction to killing Jason Todd, and since then I've been thinking it's worth digging into as an interesting element of Joker's characterization.

Of course, first thing's first: Jason's murder in Batman (1940) #427, as originally presented in 1988.

Jason has just reconnected with his biological mother, Sheila Haywood, at a famine relief camp in Ethiopia— and he's discovered that Joker is blackmailing her with information about her criminal past. She gets him truckloads of medical supplies to sell on the black market, and Joker restocks the trucks with toxin. While Bruce races to stop a tampered truck, Jason decides to help his mother on his own. When he discloses he's Robin, however, Sheila betrays him to Joker, not only to stay on Joker's good side but because she's actually been embezzling money from the organization she works for this whole time. She's afraid an investigation prompted by Batman and Robin's appearance would expose this fact.

So Sheila stands by as Jason is felled by Joker and his goons, and then the crowbarring starts.

It's bad! When we return later, Jason is presumably dead.

While Joker isn't shocked that he's murdered a child, he does have an unexpected reaction to Sheila's point. He hadn't really been thinking about what he was doing, implying that he hadn't intended to kill Jason. He just got carried away, whoopsie! He didn't do this to get at Batman; he wasn't thinking about Batman at all. Now, however, he's concerned about how Batman will react.

Joker thinks Jason is already dead. The purpose of the bomb is to get rid of the evidence of his involvement, including Sheila. Joker is not broken up about what he did, but he does have a sense that he's gone a step too far and he doesn't want Batman to know about it. At least for now!

In the end, while Jason wakes and he and his mother try to save each other, they're trapped in the warehouse when the bomb goes off. Bruce makes it back only in time to find a dying Sheila, who tells him it was Joker. When Bruce finds Jason, Jason gets no last words. He's already dead, and Bruce is devastated.

A clue from Joker leads Bruce to the United Nations in New York, and there, infamously, Bruce learns that Joker has been made the ambassador from Iran. Joker is now protected from prosecution, and Batman going after him risks an international incident. Bruce still very much wants to, but Superman stops him.

Well, mostly Superman. I recommend reading Batman #429 to see Bruce's full thought process on this. He is furious and constantly thinking about finally ending Joker— but he also questions his mental state. He still wonders if he can hold Joker responsible if he believes Joker is insane. He uses phrases like "what happened to Jason" like it was a natural disaster, not murder. He even confronts Joker to give him one last chance to turn himself in to Arkham Asylum. Bruce is in a kind of denial, still grabbing at how things usually go.

But back to Joker. Evidently, he's no longer worried that Batman will find out he killed Robin. Joker admits to it immediately.

I assume Joker realized there was no point in denying it. Is Batman going to think it's a coincidence that Robin got blown up when Joker was around? Though Bruce does say it's Joker's taunts that 100% confirm for him that the clown was responsible, pointing again to Bruce still grasping for reasons to not break his rule in his grief.

By the end of the issue, Joker has naturally tried to kill the entire United Nations assembly, which instantly made him free game. So Bruce pursues him to a helicopter, and an in-air scuffle ensues in which Bruce explicitly prevents Joker from being killed by friendly fire, evidently so he can decide how Joker will die. Bruce jumps out of the helicopter, abandoning Joker to a fiery crash. However, despite Bruce's (supposed) intentions, Joker's body is nowhere to be found. The clown lives!

So that's it, right? Joker felt some unease about killing Jason initially, but in a short time, he was happy to gloat about it to Batman's face.

But when Joker reappears in Batman #450, in 1990, he is not triumphant. He's holed up in a dilapidated building, where he learns someone is impersonating him.

How often do we see Joker upset by murders? When the story returns to him, we learn more about his mental state.

With all of Joker's cackling glee at the things he's done, coming close to actual death in the helicopter crash has jarred him— and not just the crash, but the murder that led to it. He recoils from the memory of what he did to Jason. It's why he can't see the joke anymore. It's set apart from his previous crimes. It's too far.

Which is not at all to say that Joker is completely broken up about Jason. By the end of #450, he rallies and sets out to go after his copycat and restore his reputation to his liking.

In Batman #451, though, Joker is still plagued by doubts along the way.

Even when he overcomes those doubts, claiming the mantle as the one and only Joker when his copycat dies by falling into acid, Joker challenges Gordon to finally kill him. It's reminiscent of The Killing Joke, the first time Joker went too far. But like TKJ, Gordon and Batman decide to get Joker back to Arkham against their more vengeful instincts.

Joker's also decided Arkham is just what he needs. Outside, he's plagued by the reality of what he's done; in Arkham, he can settle back into his insanity and stop caring about it again.

So after that, Joker has no second thoughts about killing Jason, right? After all, he largely references the murder in callous terms. In-universe this makes sense as Joker revising history in his own head, particularly as more stories portray his effort to be more monster than man. Monsters don't have qualms about murder! But this is comics, so we can also presume that not all Joker writers know or remember #450/451, which I think is a shame. I find stories in which Joker expresses even just a degree of vulnerability to be more interesting than those where he's just mwahaha evil.

I have seen a few other bat stories bring some nuance into Joker's perception of Jason's death, though.

First up is the particularly nuanced "Fool's Errand" in Detective Comics (1937) #726, published in 1998. Bruce visits Joker in Arkham to get information on how to find a kidnapped girl who's running out of time. It just so happens Joker arranged this kidnapping for a particular day.

I strongly recommend this issue for batjokes fans, as it revolves around Joker talking the case through with Batman in his cell to help him figure out more clues to a crime Joker himself planned. Even with Bruce beating Joker up, the conversational tone feels almost friendly. They're just doing their usual thing.

Well, sort of. Bruce has already said he's not in the mood, and he interrupts their conversation to say so again.

Joker could insist that Batman stay and keep playing the game, and needle him for being unwilling to merely talk to Joker to rescue this child. Instead, Joker gives up her location.

And Bruce does come back as predicted.

So that was Joker's nefarious plan. He wanted to restore some hope to Bruce's cynical soul to be sure that his future failures would hurt even more. But it sure seems the middle didn't go the way Joker expected, when he recognized Batman just wasn't going to play the game as usual.

Joker doesn't jump into taunting. He doesn't answer Bruce at first. He's withdrawn and reflective. He's got something else on his mind on this anniversary of the second Robin's death, and he knows that Bruce does, too. Perhaps not forcing Batman to play was a small gesture, acknowledging the difficulty of the day, remembering how things changed. And what does that gesture cost Joker when he still gets the outcome he wants?

Second example is actually also called "Fool's Errand," this one from Robin (1993) #85, published in 2001. This is a fun one in which Joker discusses his interactions and frustrations with the Robins.

But while Joker indicates more than once that he wants to fight Batsy alone, after he talks about killing Jason, this is the next page:

Joker does not then say he was relieved when another Robin showed up, but still. He's acknowledged again that when he murdered Jason, things were not right. As angry as the birdies make him, they're a key component in the game.

Then we come back to "Once More, With Feeling!" in Harley Quinn (2000) #25, from 2002. Harley's been playing double-agent against Batman with Joker, and she and Joker have this exchange.

Joker typically makes light of murdering Robin, but it seems that when he's with just about his only confidante, he lets other feelings about it burst out.

There's also a flashback to DitF in Batman: Gotham Knights #44 in 2003. We get an exchange between Bruce and Joker before Bruce jumps out of the helicopter.

Joker laughs as the helicopter dives, ready to die, but before that, he seems resigned. He doesn't throw in a real dig about murdering Jason, and he doesn't gloat that he's finally gotten Batman to kill him. He acknowledges he crossed a line.

Lastly, there's a 2006 exchange between, well, Joker and Jason himself in "All They Do is Watch Us Kill, Part 2" as part of Under the Red Hood in Batman (1940) #649. Jason has kidnapped Joker as batbait, and when Joker needles him, Jason needles him back.

Joker regularly extolls his own crimes, but suddenly one of his victims mockingly accuses him of putting up a front, of not being as coldhearted and untouchable as he wants to seem. Maybe Joker does doubt what he's doing and retreats under the cover of madness so he doesn't have to think about it— just as he did in Batman #451.

I'm not sure if there are other examples of Joker expressing anything but mocking glee about Jason's death. I do know of times he's shown a sort of fondness for Jason (such as in The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4, Gotham War: Red Hood #2, Suicide Squad: Get Joker #3), but that's not really the same thing. Joker could've seen Red Hood as his and Batman's Frankenstein child without feeling any squeamishness about killing him in the first place.

But if anyone knows of any other moments where Joker does not act like killing Jason is absolutely his most favorite thing he ever did, do share!

[stxrr-strxckk]

Thinking about work rivals to lovers with Carmy...

You don't know how the hell you got here. A few months ago, you were fresh out of culinary school, and now you're working at a fancy New York restaurant with not one- not two- but three Michelin stars?

Sure, you didn't have the most important job- you were just staging. That's basically a glorified intern, but still with the shit pay. A normal day on the job consisted of shadowing a team of people so in synch it was like they were one big machine. You being there was a cog in the gears.

None of the chefs wanted you there, and you could tell. Some hid it better than others, but you could see it in their eyes. They saw you as less than. A worm they could crush with the heel of their shoe without giving it a second thought.

They weren't outright mean to you, of course, but there was always something- a little slip up, a break in the mask of professionalism that would show how they really felt about you. A single eye roll, a sneer, maybe a scoff or sarcastic remark behind your back that they thought you couldn't hear- but you were always listening. Always.

It honestly pissed you off. Why spend so much time beating around the bush, acting like everything was fine? If they really had such an issue with you being there, they might as well just say it to your face. Still, none had the guts to actually do it.

None, except Carmen fucking Berzatto.

No one in that damn kitchen hated you more than that curly-haired bastard. To be fair, he was like that with everyone. His first thought when a new person entered the kitchen, whether staging or not?

I'm gonna smoke this motherfucker.

He was the same way with you, just ramped up to 100. You rubbed him the wrong way. He didn't know what bothered him so much, you were like every other stage he'd ever worked with. But maybe that's what bothered him. There was just, nothing special about you.

You were extraordinarily ordinary. And that was the most confusing piece of the puzzle for him.

How did you; an up-and-coming chef in the New York area just trying to get by, staging at any restaurant that'll take you somehow ending up here?

God, in the beginning he couldn't stand you. Even just being stationed near each other was enough to drive him insane. Any chance he got to leave, he would. His smoke breaks ramped up, and so did his amount of volunteering to leave on errands.

You were pretty much the same. Snide remarks, comments, eye rolls and scoffs were most of your vocabulary around him. Everyone in the kitchen knew of your disdain for each other, and it became a bit of a game for them. Let's see who pops first: Carmy or the new kid? How close can we get them before a fight starts? How long until they either kill each other or hook up?

Still, as time went on, the other chefs learned to accept you, Carmy learned to ignore you, and you learned to deal with his bullshit.

Carmy also learned that he might have a staring problem.

It was little, at first. quick glances at you at your station. Just to make sure you aren't royally fucking up per usual, right?

But it became something... More.

Glances turned to looks, and looks turned to stares.

The more he stared, the more he noticed about you.

The more he stared, the more he noticed about himself.

Like, for example, your laugh. It was loud. Loud enough to break his focus every time he heard it, which was often because you just have to find everything so damn funny. Still, there was this warmth to it. It became familiar, comforting even. He found himself quietly chuckling, wondering what joke had made you laugh like that so he could replicate it and tell it to you later.

And as the weeks went on, it was harder to not stare at you every time you entered the kitchen. Maybe it was those ridiculous outfits, that made you look straight outta Brooklyn, though they did have a certain charm to them. Maybe it was your perfume, unbearable at first but after a while addicting. Or maybe it was just you. Maybe it was just the fact that Carmy wasn't just staring at your outfits, or listening to your laugh, or smelling your perfume, he was staring at, listening to, and smelling you.

He hated to admit it, but that little voice in the back of his head was right. The one that told him maybe he didn't hate you. The one that told him maybe you weren't the worst chef he'd ever met. The one that told him maybe he was issue, you were fine- amazing, even, he was just too dense to realize.

He didn't listen to that voice often, but as time passed the voice got louder and it was harder to push down his feelings like that. He knew, sooner or later, that he would explode and tell you how he felt. How he really felt.

Maybe that would be tonight.

Carmy could feel his jaw tense just looking at you, gripping the countertop so hard his tattooed knuckles looked pale in the fluorescent kitchen lights.

Somewhere else in the kitchen someone yelled out an order, but he wasn't paying attention. He was busy watching you. You were preparing lamb with a mint jelly, but the jelly was runny and the lamb undercooked. God, it almost made him feel sorry for you.

He watched as you wiped sweat from your furrowed brow, a concentrated look on your face with your tongue slightly sticking out of your mouth. It was kind of endearing to see you trying so hard. God, was he smiling? At the thought of you? He'd tried to push these feelings down, he really had. He just wasn't strong enough.

Carmy quickly went back to being straight faced, trying to focus more on his job of prepping vegetables for a side dish. Still, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop stealing glances to your station. It was a mess, in all honesty. How you hadn't been screamed at yet, he had no idea.

A thought appeared in his head. He tried to ignore it; shake it off and focus on the food that needed preparing. But it was consuming his mind. Finally, he couldn't take it. He set down his knife, glancing at your station.

"Chef!" he called out. You were the only person nearby, so of course you turn and look at him. You felt yourself grimace. God, what does he want now? To yell at you, insult your undercooked lamb and mint jelly that was turning more into a mint sauce every minute?

You didn't know why you were so off your game today; maybe it had something to do with all the staring from Mr. 'I'm too good for the rest of you' just one station away. Those piercing blue eyes had been boring a hole through you for far too long now.

Even still, you made sure to smile and nod. "Yes?" you replied, with a sickeningly sweet tone.

"Yes, chef." Carmy corrected, and you scoffed. "Come over here."

You obliged, although hesitantly. Why did he need you at the garde manger? Not to mention, you were sure he would never work with you willingly. If he had it his way, you'd be out on the streets begging for spare change.

"You're cooking the lamb all wrong," Carmy began. You rolled your eyes. Of course he's calling you over to critique you. That's the only thing he finds pleasure in doing. He can see your disinterest, and quickly snaps his fingers in front of your face. "Hey, listen to me."

"Okay," you grumble.

"The only thing you should be saying is yes chef. Not okay, not yes, not some bullshit complaint about me not fuckin'- bein' all nice and shit, just yes chef. Capiche?"

You raise your eyebrows. "Yes chef." You were used to Carmen getting pissy, throwing his temper tantrums, but not like this. This was different. This, was hot.

"Good." Carmy's reply is short and sweet. A moment of silence fills the air, the tension evident.

"So, for uh- for the lamb." he sniffs, grabbing a cut of the animal and his good knife. "You're not- you're starting the lamb on medium heat and just keeping it like that, the whole way through, right?"

You nod, watching him cut a piece to the right size. You never noticed how strong his arms were until now. You'd seen them, sure, but never in this light. Muscles, some veins popping out, you can't look away.

"Well- you're supposed to start it on, uhm, medium high. Yeah. Not medium, that won't cook it well enough without burning it and making it look like shit. So, you start on medium high, then around halfway through, you turn it down to medium and just keep it there until it's done. Yes?"

"Yes chef." you nod. You had to admit, he knew his shit. Carmy was a good chef, no doubt about it. And watching him work? It was like magic.

"Great. Here, lemme- lemme show you how to do it, first, so you don't fuck it up like you did last time. That was- that was bad. Fuck." he cringes at the stutter in his voice, reminding him of the childhood he spent too afraid to speak thanks to that debilitating stutter. It was gone now, mostly. Except for when the nerves got the best of him.

He walked to the stovetop, turning the heat to medium high and pouring olive oil on the skillet. The lamb made a hissing sound as he tossed it into the pan, the crackling and popping of the oil growing louder.

"See, and now this- this is when we turn down the heat, and you just change the side every few minutes until it's brown, and uh- yeah. There ya go. Perfect lamb. Yeah." he explains, wiping his hands on a nearby towel. He starts to walk back to his station, but you stop him.

"What about the mint jelly?"

He stops and turns around. He never thought he'd see the day where you- the annoying stage who hated him almost as much as he hated you, would ask for his help. He can't help but smile. He doesn't know why. Maybe it's the satisfaction from the unspoken confession that yes- he is a better chef than you- or maybe it's because you actually want to spend time with him. You're asking to learn from him, and you don't even sound mad about it!

Maybe he's smiling because this stupid little workplace crush may not be as one-sided as he thought.

A/N: Holy shit I kinda love this. Might make a series of work rivals to lovers with Carm cus he's my husband fr fr <3 we share a name for a reason!!!💯💯💯

wordcount:1,868

[lumosinlove]

Seeking hope and happiness, especially today, and found some in these three...

On The Line

Part Six

~

New York was much as Logan remembered it. This city seemed to do nothing but change, so its fast paced lights and sidewalks always seemed the same. Finn refused to stay anywhere but Manhattan, but if his happy expression as he stood at their suite’s large windows while sipping his coffee resulted in earlier mornings for the both of them, Logan didn’t care.

He poured a cup of his own and joined him at the window. Central Park’s leaves hadn’t turned yet. Early joggers and cyclists were out. People walked their dogs. The world felt awake and happy, and Finn’s arm around his waist was warm.

The qualifiers were over, the first rounds blown through. The semifinals were today. Logan had taken out Winter easily to get past the quarterfinals, and today he’d go up against Luke. Leo had fought hard to get through Black and succeeded, which had upset and surprised everyone—even those who were hoping for another grueling Tremblay-Knut match up in the final.

Logan knew he should be nervous for tonight’s match. He had to focus on Luke, who had a way of sneaking up on people. Instead, all he could think about was the prospect of meeting Leo in the finals.

“He sleeping?” Finn asked.

“Shower,” Logan said. “He was singing last I checked.”

“Singing what?”

“I don’t know.”

Finn scoffed. “Yes, you do.”

“Willow.”

Ah-ha.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but settled his head against Finn’s chest. The park looked so peaceful. The runners knew just where they were going around the circular track of the lake. The dog walkers would soon make their way back home. Logan didn’t know what would happen tonight—if he’d make it, or if he would lose this chance at another title. He wondered when he would get tired of chasing titles. It hadn’t quite happened yet. Something still ignited in his chest when he thought about winning. It was similar to the feeling he got when he thought about those two, prized first kisses he’d received. He liked Finn in the stands. He liked the grueling training Finn designed for him.

“How you feeling?” Finn asked, scratching his fingers through Logan’s hair. “You’re playing good. Smooth. I’m proud.”

Logan nodded, settling more of his weight against him. “I’m good.” He hesitated, but Finn would find out sooner or later. Logan would end up blurting it out in a different moment just like this one. “Nervous.”

“I know,” Finn said. “But we knew this was always a possibility.”

“But now it’s close. And real.”

“Oh, you’re so sure you’re going to take Luke.” When Logan just looked at him, Finn laughed. “Yeah, okay, killer.”

“I don’t want to hurt Le.”

Finn stayed quiet for a moment. Logan closed his eyes, letting him mess with his hair, rub his neck, do anything he wanted while he thought. One time he accidentally started doing it when a few reporters caught up with them around the practice courts, and there hadn’t been a camera there but they had sure gotten a few laughs.

“You’re not hurting anyone, Lo. You’re doing your job. Leo will be in the game longer than you. He’s talented and driven and younger.” Finn looked down at him. “I think the only thing that would hurt him is you…like, going easy on him or something.”

Logan scoffed. “Going easy?”

“Not that you would. God knows you’re too stubborn for that.”

Logan let his eyes unfocus, filled only with the green and brown smudges of the park far below. A siren wailed somewhere—a sound he always associated with the beginning of a grueling hardcourt season. He already knew Finn would be setting up multiple massage appointments for him—and thought about asking Finn to do it himself like he sometimes did.

“I want to beat him. That’s there, just like in practice,” Logan said carefully. “I just… I need a way to separate it.” Logan ran his hand down Finn’s arm until he reached his wrist. He traced over the taut tendons there from holding his coffee. “I don’t remember how I did it with you. I just—I need it to be about the game and not about us because…”

Finn’s fingers paused from messing with his hair. His thumb brushed Logan’s eyebrow, and Logan took the cue and looked up at him.

“Because I love him,” Logan whispered.

A new sort of flame caught behind Finn’s eyes. His laugh was soft, satiny, and he cupped Logan’s chin in light fingertips.

“Ouais,” Logan whispered against Finn’s mouth. “Finn, I do, I do…” Finn was hushing him, smiling, nodding, then kissing him.

“Shower’s free,” Leo’s voice said.

Logan looked to see him with a towel around his waist and another in his hands, drying off his hair roughly. The droplets of water on his chest shone as brightly as the gold chain around his neck.

“I mean,” Leo continued, grinning. “Technically, it was free while I was in it, too. If we’re covering all our bases here.”

“I have to shower,” Finn said, setting his coffee down. “So, why are you toweling off?”

Leo laughed and threw the towel in a perfect straight snap to Finn’s chest.

Finn just grinned, grabbing his face for a sloppy kiss as he passed by. He turned. “Lo, eat a light breakfast and stretch now so we can get some hitting in early. And Le…” He stopped in his tracks, halfway through the bathroom doorway before he retraced his steps and took Leo around the waist for a slower, softer kiss. It left his shirt damp. He hooked a finger in Leo’s gold chain. “See you for lunch?”

Logan still managed to forget Leo wasn’t coming down to the courts with him more often than not. He’d grown so used to spending every single moment together. Seeing him across the practice courts, alone, and tall, and beautiful, felt so, so strange. Sometimes Finn had to stop Logan from crossing the lines at the sound of Leo’s coach’s harsh barks at him…Sometimes Logan had to stop Finn.

Leo bit his lip, shoulders falling some, and shook his head. “Probably not.”

Logan frowned. He took it all back. This was the hardest part. The days where they hardly saw each other. “When?”

“I’ll stick around after I play Lupin,” Leo said, offering a smile as he wiped at the water he’d gotten on Finn’s shirt. “Watch you kick Luke’s ass.”

Logan brightened. “You will?” What if you lose? There was no way Leo’s team would want him out at Logan’s match for the camera to find if he lost.

“Fuck ‘em,” Leo said, reading his mind, then looked at Finn. “But I probably shouldn’t sit with you.”

Finn’s mouth pulled to the side unhappily, but he nodded. “I know…All right, well, have a late dinner with us?”

“Gotta ask coach,” Leo said. “But I want to. Will you text me where you guys end up?”

Logan set his coffee down too, mostly untouched. “Le, we won’t leave without you. Tell your team your having dinner with—with friends, if you have to.”

“They can’t deny you us.” Finn brushed his knuckles down Leo’s cheek. “We’re yours.”

“Sweetheart…” Leo caught Finn’s hand and kissed it. “You are.”

But Leo sighed, and it sounded so heavy and exhausted that Logan wanted to take them both back to his house, back to the sun and the pool, and the open kitchen that wouldn’t ever feel the same without Leo’s happy humming in it.

Logan crossed the room and fit into Leo’s other side. He settled his palm on his neck, making Leo look at him. I love you. I love you.

“I’ll try,” Leo said. He put his hand over Logan’s. “You know I’ll try.”

~

Leo won his match. Logan caught the end of it on the warm-up room televisions while rolling out his back on the mats. Luke was on the other side of the room. Maybe they would have been watching together, had they not been about to play, but Logan was glad for the quiet. Finn was off somewhere preparing Logan’s drinks and fruit. He’d started leaving little messages on the insides of bottle caps and the back of Logan’s plastic forks. Love you. The camera had already caught one that said you’re hot and so he’d been sticking to love. Logan had realized that the camera caught it and had shown it on the big screen once the crowd laughed, so he’d made a point of tapping it, eyes on the camera, and pointing to himself. That had won him big media points. One headline had even read Heart Grew Three Sizes That Day.

Leo was doing well. He looked strong and energetic, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet while he waited for a serve. Logan paused, letting himself rest with his neck on the roller as he took him in. He looked devastating in the outfit his sponsors had chosen. All black, all the way to the headband tied around his golden hair.

His returns were like water. He hit a backhand, forehand, backhand, before whipping the ball down the line so perfectly that Logan had to inhale and close his eyes, pushing the roller from his neck to shoulders. The perfect dig into his sore muscles couldn’t come close to Leo’s hands on him, especially with Finn’s dark eyes watching the two of them over Leo’s shoulder.

“I know what you’re think-ing a-bout,” Finn’s sing-song voice came.

Logan opened his eyes to see Finn standing there. He held a clear cup of fruit, and three water bottles. One was clear, untouched. The other was orange, filled with vitamin C, the third pink with hydration powder.

“Ha,” Finn said. He set the bottles down as he crouched by Logan’s side. “I was right, I can tell.”

Logan pushed himself up to sit. “You were right.”

“Actually. You were,” Finn said. He twisted a bottle cap off and flashed its reverse at him.

I <3 him 2

~

From the court, Logan found Leo in in the crowd easily, smiling and accepting congratulations for his win. He had shed the black, sponsored clothes. For Logan, he was sunny in white and light blue. Only a small smile and a slight flutter of his fingers let Logan know Leo had seen him, too. Hi, it might have said. Or, good luck.

When Logan looked to Finn, Finn flashed him a thumbs up and patted a hand over his chest. You got this. Love ya.

Logan liked all of his and Finn’s secret messages to each other while he was on court. He wanted more of that with Leo. He wanted to be able to know for sure what ever inch of Leo meant. Every movement. He wanted Leo to know in turn that he had seen him, that he—

“Time violation,” came the umpire’s voice.

Logan blinked. Around him the audience was murmuring. He jerked his head up to the chair. The umpire was looking at him impatiently. He didn’t remember coming to stand at the baseline, but he found himself holding the ball close to his racket like he was about to bring it up for a serve. How long had he been standing that way? He looked at Finn, who was now standing up and had concern written all over his face. Lo?

Leo. Logan found him in the crowd again. Sweet-eyed. Just as concerned. Nodding at him. What did that mean? I know? It’s okay? I understand? You got this?

Logan bounced the ball, once, twice, caught a glimpse of Luke’s taken off-guard face, and served. Ace. No one could touch that shot from him. Maybe Leo could.

Leo definitely could. With his reach, with his step, with his glorious elegance. Logan narrowed in again. This was his game. His war within as his body fought to reach the finals—even while his mind dreaded playing Leo. And longed for it.

Luke put up a fight, but he simply wasn’t as quick. Logan’s win came to him easily in the third set, off a slice that cut the ball to drop right over the net.

“Game, set, match, Tremblay,” echoed through the stadium.

Luke met him at the net, clasping his hand and slapping him on the back.

“Nice one. You good?” Look said in his ear.

“I’m in love,” Logan said.

Luke pulled back, giving him a look, then laughed. “Lucky you, then, Tremblay.”

~

Finn was waiting for him in the tunnel, as usual. Instead of the usual hard hug—which Logan had been looking forward to—he put oh-so gentle hands to Logan’s face, looking between his eyes for signs of harm.

“You okay?” he asked softly. “What happened with that time violation? You just…You just stood there for a second, I thought you were gonna pass out on me or something.”

Logan shook his head. “Where’s Leo?” Then, surprising himself, he laughed. He took Finn’s face in his hands, a mirror, and kissed him hard. “Where is he?”

“I…” Finn laughed, too, shaking his head. “I don’t know, maybe waiting for the car if he got away—”

Logan wrapped his arms tightly around Finn’s neck. He pressed a kiss to Finn’s cheek. “I love you, mon Rouge. Mon coeur, lumière, éternité…”

Finn’s hands pressed into his back. “I love you. God, I love you, too, but Lo, just say you’re good. Say it to me.”

“I am,” Logan said, tucking his face into his neck. “I am.”

Logan tried not to appear as insane as he felt when he was stopped to sign autographs. He was probably full on grinning in photos with fans more than he had in his entire career. Finn stood a step apart, like a watchful bodyguard. He signed a few autographs and took a few pictures of his own. He placed a hand low on Logan’s back and guided him out of the arena towards where the car would be waiting.

And there he was. Logan felt like some string had been cut then refastened. All the parts of him yearning to get to Leo in that crowd, standing frozen on that court, tethered themselves to the golden boy waiting at the curb.

He would have kissed him right there. He would have willed the world’s attention their way—but first them. Just them. First, this had to be theirs.

He didn’t have to call out Leo’s name. He heard them coming and turned. The grin he gave Logan was filled with the win he himself had under his belt.

He slipped his phone into his pocket. “Late dinner, yeah? Tastes fifty times better after a win.” When Logan got close, Leo wrapped an arm around his shoulders and leaned in, away from the cameras. “Good game, Lo. You all right?”

Logan nodded and yanked open the door of the car. He guided Leo through, then Finn, who went with a wink.

The car was dark, darker than the night was outside with its people and camera lights. The door shut and took the noise with it. Finn and Leo sat in the seats opposite Logan. There was a driver, Finn was giving him a restaurant name, but Logan didn’t care. Leo had a hand on Finn’s thigh, accepting a kiss.

“He’ll say he’s fine, but you tell me,” Leo said. “Is he okay? On the court, I thought—”

Logan leaned across the pristine black carpet of the car. He steadied himself on the smooth leather seat with one hand, his other high on Leo’s thigh, and kissed Leo’s surprised mouth.

“Okay,” Leo mumbled, steadying Logan with two hands on his waist. “Moving car? Seatbelts?”

“If you’re in the stands, I want you in my box,” Logan said. “If I’m in the stands, I want to be in your box.” He feathered lighter kisses up Leo’s cheek. “I want to sit next to Finn. I want you to be able to hear us when you go for a towel. I want to be able to hear you both.”

Leo sent Finn a look through the kisses, smiling. “Okay…”

“I don’t care what your team thinks. I don’t care if they think I’m listening, or Finn’s plotting and stealing.” Logan pulled back to look down at him. “If they think I would use you in that way, they’re stupid.”

“You and adrenaline are quite the cocktail,” Leo said, but he was blushing.

Logan let himself fall back into his own seat. “And you look perfect in black.”

“A crazy cocktail, but he speaks the truth.” Finn held out a water bottle to Logan. “Drink that whole thing. Even the dregs, I’m watching you, Tremblay.”

Logan took the bottle, shaking up the hydration powder inside. “What do I get if I do?”

Finn just smiled. He was unwrapping silver foil from a piece of blue peppermint gum gum and he popped it into his mouth. “I’ll blow you in the restaurant bathroom.”

Logan blinked. “Really?”

Finn reached forward and flicked him on the forehead.

They reached Manhattan again quickly enough, and curled into the twisting streets of the West Village. Finn perked up, happy to be on familiar ground and popped the car door.

“After you,” Leo said, just as Logan motioned for him to go first. “Oh—ha. Lo, go.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “You.”

“Not that this isn’t adorable, but…” Finn leaned down. “If I’m hungry, you guys must be starving.” He held out his hand to Leo. “Guess what they have here?”

Leo put his hand in Finn’s. “What?”

“Deconstructed chocolate cake,” Finn said, helping him out.

“What the fuck is that?” Logan asked, following.

“Sugar. You’ll love it.”

Logan sent Leo a look as Finn jogged ahead and disappeared between large, wooden doors. Inside, Logan caught a glimpse of windows lined with candles. Leo would look gorgeous.

“That was pretty sweet back there,” Leo said. He took his hand as they walked. “You sure you’re all right?”

“I was fine on the court,” Logan said, pulling the door open. “I was just thinking.”

“About?” Leo asked.

The candlelight was already hitting him, and Logan thought about telling him right there in this doorway with Finn and a—blushing—waiter looking expectantly at them.

“Just thinking,” Logan said. “All good things.”

“Um,” the waiter tucked her hair behind her ear. “This way.”

“Thanks so much,” Finn beamed.

“Classic O’Hara,” Leo whispered. He moved Logan’s hand from his left to his right and placed his hand low on Logan’s back. “But we both won today. Who’s he gonna let taste the wine?”

Logan laughed. “It’s going to be you.”

“Why?”

“Just a feeling I have.”

~

It didn’t feel like a day off. Not without Leo there. The two female finalists were playing their match today, and at dinner Logan had been relieved at the idea that he’d have a whole day off with Leo before they had to go against each other—until Leo told them his coach wanted him to stay away. 

He woke up earlier than usual and in a too empty room. Finn, warm and solid against his back—but no Leo. He wasn’t sure why he was even awake until he felt the next stroke of fingers through his hair, absentminded and soft. It would put him straight back to sleep soon.

“Rouge,” Logan mumbled. His voice wasn’t quite there yet, coming out a gravely sort of whisper.

“Sorry,” Finn whispered back. “I was just looking at you. Go back to sleep.”

Logan pushed back against him. “I’m turned away.”

“I was looking at the rest of you.”

The sheets were near his hips now that he thought about it. Finn’s hand ran down the dip of his ribs and waist.

Logan settled into the feeling, but when Finn’s fingers moved back to his hair, he sighed and rolled onto his back, getting a hand under Finn’s head to pull him onto his chest. He closed his eyes, pressed five hard kisses to Finn’s temple, and felt Finn let out a long sigh.

“What’s up?” Logan asked.

“Leo. If there was any day he should have been able to be with us, it was today, when we have nothing going on, and the training is light because you play tomorrow.” Finn’s fingers began drumming on his chest, restless. A rare show of nerves. “He should be here right now.”

Logan could see Finn in Nice. In his library nook for the first time. Head in his hands, finally allowing himself to cry away an old life to let the new one in. This, he thought, was a version of it. Worries, brimming over because they had not been let out.

He passed his fingers through Finn’s hair. Kissed his temple and his forehead and the bridge of his nose. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have talked to his team—”

“Non,” Logan said. “They’re angry people. I think. That wouldn’t have helped. But, hey. Look at me.”

Finn did. Sleepy brown eyes. He traced a thumb under one lower set of fair eyelashes. There was lilac there.

“No more worrying,” Logan whispered. He brushed his mouth, feather-light, over the delicate skin just under Finn’s eye.

“I’m not worried—no, I am.”

“It gets like this when you’re stressed.” Logan kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “It’s gorgeous, but it’s not good for you.”

Finn sighed and let Logan press him back into the pillows to be kissed. His jaw. His neck. “He’s not happy. I mean, he’s happy with us. But in the game. In this life. He used to be happier. At the Wimbledon Ball. He was happier.”

“How do you know? We weren’t seeing a lot of him then.” Logan’s mouth found the valley between his collarbones. Was there anything better than this? It woke him up like coffee, and settled him down like nothing else. Sometimes, panicking on the court, he pictured this. Soft and unhurried. Usually, Leo was there for him to kiss, too. “Let’s get dressed. Then call him. Tell him he has to have breakfast with us.”

Finn smiled. “What, or else?”

“Or else I…” Logan tried to think of something good, but honestly he wasn’t meant to be awake this early. He pressed his face into Finn’s neck, his hand to his cheek. He inhaled, kissed him there, then pulled back and kissed him properly. “I love him.”

Finn smiled. “I love him, too.”

It rang. Rang and rang.

“Hey, it’s Leo, sorry I missed you!”

Again. Logan leaned his forehead against the warm window pane, standing in a square of sun coming into their room.

“Hey, it’s Leo, sorry I missed you!”

“Fuck.” Logan turned, waiting for the beep.

Finn watched his face as he pulled a t-shirt over his head. His skin was still slightly damp from his shower and Logan, worried as he was, enjoyed the way it stuck to his chest.

“Hi, Le,” Logan said. “It’s us. Just wondering where you are…”

“Missing you,” Finn mumbled, bending down to lace up his shoes.

“We miss you, we are going to get breakfast at the place. Okay. Lo—Okay, cool.” Finn’s head snapped up with an open-mouthed smile. Logan flushed. “Okay, come find us, or we’ll find you.”

He hung up fast, staring at his phone. Finn crossed the room, taking Logan’s face in his hands.

“You almost said—” he began to say, laughing through the words.

Logan pushed up on his toes and kissed him silent. He pulled back, knowing his eyes were wide, and pressed three fingers to Finn’s mouth. “Quiet.”

Finn gave his chin a little jerk and took Logan’s fingers in his mouth, smiling around the gentle bite. Logan rolled his eyes and pulled his hand away.

“C’mere, lover.” Finn wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “I’ve got the room key. I’m taking you to a big breakfast full of eggs, ham, and calling Leo every five minutes.”

~

Finn got restless again and they had barely taken a sip of their coffees. Logan could tell. What they had started calling “the” place was a small coffee shop that Finn knew. It made generous omelettes with sides of potatoes and greens. Spicy beans and fried eggs with tortillas—Leo’s favorite. Logan had stared at it at the menu, wondering if ordering it would make him arrive faster.

A plate with a steaming chocolate croissant appeared in front of him, and Finn pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“There you go, sweetheart.” Finn slid into his seat. “I ordered for us. But I didn’t want to sit here with you while you’re hangry and drinking your coffee-milk, so…”

Logan shoved him, but Finn just pulled their chairs together and took out his phone. Logan ripped off a piece of the croissant and watched Finn find Leo’s contact. When he held it up to his ear, Logan watched Finn’s face. Hopeful. He caught Logan’s eye and put a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing.

“Hi,” Finn said, but the sigh in his voice told Logan no one had answered. “Hey, Sunshine. Us again. We’re here. Just…wondering where you are.” Finn looked at Logan, mouth pulling to the side. “Let us know.” He ran a thumb over Logan’s bottom lip. “Okay. Okay, love you, bye.”

Finn set his phone down, hand falling down to Logan’s lower back. “Maybe he’s sleeping and we’re assholes trying to wake him up.”

“It’s almost eleven.”

“Yeah…” Finn picked up the water pitcher on the table and filled Logan’s glass. Logan picked it up again and filled Finn’s.

“What did you order?”

“Got us the ham and tomato omelettes. Sound good?”

“Ouais. Thanks.”

They quieted, then laughed a little at each other when they realized they were both waiting for the phone to ring.

Finn was worrying the straw of his iced coffee when he set the cup down hard. “Oh my God.”

“Hm?” Logan got to the chocolatey center of the croissant and carefully bit so he got enough chocolate and enough pastry.

“Logan…”

Logan raised his eyebrows at his full name from Finn’s mouth. “Finn…” He mimicked his tone, but got serious when Finn put both of his hands in his hair, gripping. “Finn. Quoi?”

“I just—oh my God.”

“What?”

“I just…” Finn’s hands moved over his mouth. “Did I?”

Logan set the pastry down. “Did you what? Did you fucking what?”

He looked so panicked that Logan started looking around, trying to figure out the problem. But Finn grabbed his hand, pulling his attention back to him.

“At the end of the message, I said…” Finn whispered. “I said love you.”

Logan blinked. “What?”

They both stared down at Finn’s phone and its dark screen.

“Shit,” Logan said. “Wait, ouais. You—you did. Finn.”

Finn melted, folding his head into his arms and slumping on the table.

Logan laughed, but he wasn’t sure if it was actually funny. That wasn’t how he’d planned for Leo to know. Of all the opportunities they’d had. Dinners and late nights and soft afternoons.

“And after you made fun of me for almost saying it.”

“Shut up,” Finn mumbled into his arms. When he lifted his head, his face was flushed. “It just slipped out. I—shit. I was looking at you and your stupid chocolate, and then I saw the hot sauce on the table and I was thinking about him and the amount he puts on his fucking eggs—”

“You said okay, love you, bye.”

“I know that!”

“Two omelettes?”

They both looked up at the waiter, who took a step back—probably at the panicked look in their eyes.

“Um,” he said. “No? Not omelettes?”

“No, no,” Finn said. “I mean, yes, omelettes. Thank you so much.”

The man set the plates down with a look on his face like he wanted to get out of there. It probably had something to do with the way Finn still had his head in his hands.

Logan rubbed a hand down his back. “It’s fine. Baby, it’s fine. We do love him.”

“And he finds out on a voicemail?” Finn’s voice came out muffled through his hands. “So bad. Jesus.”

“Maybe he’s not gonna listen?”

“Maybe.” For a moment, Finn sounded almost placated, but he jerked his head up. “No phone.”

Logan nudged his plate at him. “Eat something.”

Finn turned his body towards him in his chair. “You’re playing tomorrow.”

“Finn, what the fuck?”

“I want you eating and drinking and resting.”

“Finn, what…” He gestured to his food. “Ouais. What does this look like?”

“When do you not have your phone?”

“When I’m…” Logan trailed off, finally understanding. “Non. That would be insane.”

Finn stood, gesturing to the waiter. “Let’s get this to go.”

They arrived at the practice courts in the heat of the day. Logan heard Leo before he saw him. He heard him like he’d heard him every day during those perfect months at his house. Leo had a rhythm all his own. His footwork. Quick shuffles, short squeaks of his sneakers on the hard court.

But Logan should not have been able to hear it right then. Not less than twenty hours before the U.S. Open final.

“Fuck,” Finn said, pushing a fence open. “He’s on the court.”

“Again!” they heard Leo’s coach shout.

“Fuck,” Finn cursed. “I’m gonna kill that guy.”

Logan watched him storm towards the next fence, past another player practicing with a hitter—who missed his shot when he saw Finn.

“Wait,” Logan called. “Rouge!”

Finn stopped, but barely. Every muscle in his body strained towards Leo’s court just ahead. Logan could see him now, just barely through netting and bushes and low court walls. Logan caught glimpses of blond hair as he jogged towards Finn.

“What?” Finn asked. “He shouldn’t be out there.”

Logan put his hands on his shoulders. “Stop. I know. But stop.”

Leo was on the baseline. His coach stood beside him, talking fast while Leo’s chest heaved.

“Let me go alone,” Logan said. “If it’s you, his team will get defensive. If it’s me, it’s not their business. It’s player to player.”

Finn looked conflicted. “I…” He looked towards Leo, too. “He shouldn’t be out there.”

“I know.”

“I do love him.”

“I know,” Logan said softly. “Look. I’ll get him in the locker room. You’ll be waiting there. Let me.”

He left Finn, all the while sure he would break and follow him. But he didn’t. Logan made it past another court and opened the chain-fence door into the sidelines of Leo’s. Leo was mid-rally, so his coach saw him first. The man scowled. Logan scowled back.

Leo’s hitter sent the ball into the net.

“Leo,” the coach called. Leo looked at him as he rolled out one of his ankles gingerly. A sharp nod directed his attention to Logan and, despite everything, the heat and how tired he obviously was, a smile broke over Leo’s face and jogged over.

“Hi,” Leo said, but held out his hand. “I want to, but don’t hug me.” He jerked his head subtly towards his team. “They already think I’m going to be soft on you tomorrow and I don’t…” Leo swallowed. He let out a breath. “Anyway. Hi. What are you doing here?”

Logan’s whole chest hurt. “What about I kiss you instead?”

That, at least, made Leo smile. One blue eye squinted shut against the sun. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Logan fired back.

He squirted Logan lightly with his water bottle. “You spying on me, Tremblay?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Logan said.

“That’s cute. A little desperate, but cute.”

“Leo.”

“I’m training,” Leo said. “I don’t know if you heard, but I’m going up against Logan Tremblay tomorrow. He’s pretty good.”

“Which is why you should be resting.”

Leo was quiet for a moment, then he looked around. “So, where’s Finn freaking out right now?”

Logan bit the inside of his cheek and looked towards the locker room building.

“You two are sweet, you know that?” Leo reached out and briefly stroked a knuckle down the center of Logan’s chest. “Look, I’m almost finished here. Then I’ll find you. I know how to take care of myself. Finn knows that, too, or he should.”

“He actually—We actually need to talk to you about something else.”

Leo frowned. “Oh?”

“Just—” Logan itched to take his hand. “Come? Please? Just for a moment.”

Leo still looked concerned, but he nodded. “Okay. Hold on.”

His coach had his arms crossed. His narrow eyes tracked Leo as he came towards him. The argument was hushed and intense. It ended with Leo grabbing his bags with an angry sort of strength. Logan knew how heavy those bags got. Leo swung them onto his shoulders like they were nothing, just beautiful baby blue and white leather there to make his hair turn even more golden.

When he reached Logan again, he looked more tired than before.

“Give me,” Logan said. Leo didn’t protest when Logan took his racket bag from him and shouldered it himself.

“You’re not supposed to be seen with Adidas.”

“They can kiss my ass.”

“Lo—”

“Then they can explain why they have a problem with me helping my boyfriend.”

Leo lightened up at those words like he always did. As they ducked away from the court, he wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulders and kissed him. Logan wanted to whisper the phrase into his skin until it stayed with him forever, kept in that sweet freckle just under his chin.

Finn was pacing when they walked in, and then he was rushing over, holding Leo’s shoulders.

“What the hell are you doing out there in the sun? You’ve got a match tomorrow.”

“Backhand,” Leo said. He glanced at Logan. “Mine’s not as good. Coach wants…” He sighed. Annoyance was all over him. Stress. Logan hated it. He wanted to smooth it all away with his fingers, wanted to touch every inch of him to make sure it wasn’t there. “I don’t know what he wants. Oh. By the way…” He leaned forward and planted a soft, quick kiss to Finn’s worried mouth. “Hi.”

Finn pulled him in, leaving one arm open for Logan.

“I’m so sweaty, sorry,” Leo said.

Logan pushed his nose into his chest. Okay, love you, bye.

“Missed you this morning,” Finn said. “We thought…We thought we’d get to…”

There were a million ways Logan would have finished that sentence. Sleep in, breakfast, kiss, lounge, shower, read, talk, sex, doze, stretch, breathe.

“So did I,” Leo sighed. Logan felt his fingers in his hair, a kiss pressed to his forehead and held there. “Fuck. So did I.”

“Do you have your phone?” Finn asked. “With you?”

“It’s in my bag.” Leo arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

Finn just stared at him, but Logan saw each thought pass in his face as if he’d said it.

Leo saw it, too, though he didn’t know enough to understand and laughed instead, unsure. “What the hell is up with you two?”

“We’re in a locker room,” Finn whispered to Logan.

Leo looked between them. “O’Hara, what is happening?”

“I cannot do this in a locker room.”

“Do what?”

Finn groaned, then laughed, then sat down on a bench and covered his face. “I left you a voicemail today. Ugh. Well. We left you a few.”

“I’m sorry,” Leo began but Finn shook his head.

“No, no. It’s okay. It’s just—the last one I left…” His hands dragged down his face lightly, making his brown eyes look big and sad. “Ugh. Leo. I’m such an idiot.”

Leo sat down beside him, hand on Finn’s knee. “Finn…You’re not. You’re not an idiot.” He glanced up at Logan, all concerned and blue, sweat still dripping down from the ends of his hair. “The last one you left…what?”

Finn straightened. He set his hand over Leo’s. Then he held it in both and brought his knuckles to his mouth.

“When I was hanging up, I told you that I loved you,” Finn said. “And I do.”

Logan wanted to hear him say it again, in that soft way. He sank onto the bench on Leo’s other side, the very same words burning in his chest. He put his mouth to the warm fabric of Leo’s t-shirt shoulder, curling a hand around his bicep. There was a fine tremor to Leo’s muscles. Logan didn’t know if he was tired, or if it was the words, but Leo was shaking, just a little.

Logan couldn’t help it. Where he was tucked against Leo’s shoulder, he smiled. “Leo…”

The laugh jostled Logan first, and then it sounded, light and a little tearful, from Leo’s mouth. He grabbed for Finn’s shoulder, pulling him in for something that was more a smile than a kiss.

“You just blurted that out, huh?” Leo cupped the back of Finn’s neck. “Jesus, O’Hara, you had me so worried there.”

“I love you,” Finn said. “I—Logan…”

Leo laughed louder, freer, as Logan gripped the back of his t-shirt until Leo turned.

Logan swiped a thumb over Leo’s full bottom lip. He just wanted to touch that smile. He kissed him, hard, tasting the sweat from his practice.

“I love you,” Logan whispered. “I was supposed to say it first, I love you.”

“Supposed to?” Finn spluttered.

“Shh,” Logan said into Leo’s mouth. “Look how happy he is, I can taste it.”

“I love you, too,” Leo said. He pressed his nose against Logan’s cheek, then turned back to Finn. “Oh God, I love you, too.”

Logan watched them kiss. Laugh. Dissolve into each other—Finn’s chin on Leo’s shoulder, eyes closed, fingers scratching through the back of his hair. Logan put a hand on Leo’s back and felt his muscles relax. All the tension from the court earlier bled away. And tomorrow…Tomorrow’s match felt very far away.

“Let’s go,” Leo said. “I’m sweaty and hot and in love.”

“Wow, speaking Logan’s language,” Finn said.

Leo laughed, but when he stood he sent an almost nervous glance towards the door. “Quick. Before anyone tries to pull me back out there.”

“You shouldn’t have been out there in the first place,” Finn said.

Leo sighed with a smile. “Finn.”

Finn stood, hands up in surrender. “Let’s get out of here.”

~

Logan could relax because it was the three of them. He was finishing off a plate of pasta and chicken balanced on his thighs. Finn sat with his computer perched on the arm of the couch with Logan’s feet in his lap. One thumb dug perfectly into Logan’s arch. Leo was laying on the ground, stretching out his back and—well. Smiling the whole time.

“I keep thinking about the Wimbledon Ball,” Leo said.

“You scolded me for leading,” Logan said.

“I didn’t scold,” Leo laughed. “I wanted you to know you could trust me.”

Logan sat up and set his plate down on the hotel’s coffee table. He pulled his feet from Finn’s lap—Finn wrapped a hand around his ankle and held on long enough for Logan to lean in and kiss him. Logan pressed down against Finn as that hand smoothed up his calve, behind his knee. Up his thigh, resting on his ass for a moment before settling on his lower back to press them together harder.

Logan smiled against Finn’s mouth, then slipped out of his hold. He made his way to where Leo lay on his back and stood over him, one foot pressed against each of his hips.

“Trust you?” he repeated.

Leo stretched his arms over his head, grinning. He was wearing Finn’s sweatshirt. He’d caught the worn cuffs in his hands and it pulled the hem halfway up his chest. Logan wanted to put his teeth on the cut of his waist, he really did.

“Mhm,” Leo said. “You didn’t. You thought I was trying to get inside your head.”

“You were.” Logan narrowed his eyes. “You just said so—trying to get me to trust you.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Fine. Fine. But you thought I was trying to beat you. And I wasn’t.” He pulled his arms down. Like Finn, his palms found the back of Logan’s ankles. Then his calves. Then the back of his thighs. Only, Leo pulled gently and Logan lowered himself into straddling his hips. Leo smiled and pushed down on his thighs until Logan let his full weight go. “I wasn’t trying to beat you. I was trying to win you.”

A soft laugh came from the couch. “I knew something had to be up when you blatantly asked to dance with my boyfriend.”

“Would have asked you, too,” Leo said, eyes trained on Logan’s as Logan lowered himself down onto his forearms. They were nose to nose now. “A boy can only find so many excuses in one night.”

“And what are you gonna try to do tomorrow?” Logan asked.

“Oh,” Leo whispered. He picked his head up just enough to capture Logan’s bottom lip gently between his teeth—a pull and release that sent Logan’s hips rocking down against him. “Beat you.”

“Please find the bed,” Finn said absentmindedly. His eyes were on his laptop, and he’d put his glasses on. “Your knees get enough stress as it is. And don’t go crazy. I need you rested. And not sore.” Finn looked over at them and Logan wondered if he knew how red his ears were. “Both of you.”

“I’ll find a bed, if you promise to find us when you’re done with that computer,” Leo shot back.

Finn slapped the laptop shut. “What computer?”

~

Coin toss. They weren’t even playing yet and Logan was already sweating with the sun at his back.

“Mr. Tremblay?” the Umpire presented him with the coin. “You will choose?”

“Heads,” Logan said.

“Very well. Heads. Mr. Knut, you will be tails.”

Logan was trying not to look at Leo too hard, but it was difficult. Every time they caught each other’s eye, they both had to suppress a smile. There was joy in this. Logan dreaded to win and dreaded to lose, but there was joy. Leo across from him. The game he loved. Leo, being his.

The coin flashed in the sun as it got tossed up. It rattled, looping around on its edges for a moment before settling between their feet.

“Tails.” The Umpire looked at Leo. “Mr. Knut, you will…”

“Serve first,” Leo said.

“Knut, first service. Thank you, gentlemen.”

Logan fought the urge to roll his eyes. If Leo thought he was going to get to take a few points off of Logan with that massive serve of his, he was wrong.

It seemed to take ages for the crowd to settle down. New York was always loud, but they were more riled by the idea of of Leo and Logan on the court once again. Logan leaned down to re-tie his shoes and tried to steady his breathing. He turned to look up at Finn, who had a baseball cap on—one of Logan’s sponsors—and was leaning forward on his elbows. He was rubbing his palms together, his eyes on Leo. When he noticed Logan looking, he dropped a wink.

Logan rose and gave his racket a spin against his palm. He bounced twice, then adjusted his feet into a poised stance.

Leo had his ball pressed against his racket, ready. He looked back at Logan once before lowering his gaze to his racket.

“Leo Knut to serve,” the umpire’s voice echoed over the chatter. “Play.”

Leo won the first set. He was gorgeous and lean, and their rallies lasted minute after minute after minute until the crowd was gasping after each stroke. Quite the even match, they were called. Too even, Logan thought. Everywhere else, they would give each other anything the other could possibly want. But not here.

Here, Logan’s t-shirt was soaked in sweat within thirty minutes, and it wasn’t from the heat. They were running each other hard. Leo’s stride equaled Logan’s speed, and his height, Logan’s strength. Logan was frustrated, sure. But he was also having fun. Leo hit a drop shot that had Logan sprinting to the front of the net, only to miss it by its backspin. Leo grinned at him when Logan jokingly hit his palm against his racket in applause. For a moment, it felt like they were back at his house in one of the faux matches Finn set them to.

But it only took three rallies into the second set for Logan to see that something was wrong.

Leo stopped moving well. He wasn’t even walking right. He seemed stiff, and then at changeovers, he spent long seconds with his face hidden in a cold towel.

On Logan’s next break before his serve, he turned away from Leo, wiping his face and wrists with his towel as he looked up at Finn. Finn tapped his thigh and squeezed his hand into a fist. Muscle cramps.

Logan winced, but part of him was relieved. Those were painful, but at least they were short-lived. He made his way back to the baseline and tested out a ball with a few bounces before discarding it and tossing it back towards the ball boy. He glanced up at Leo as he withdrew the second ball from his pocket. He was bringing his knees up to his waist, trying to get the blood flowing. Logan bounced the second ball. His serve clock was winding down and Leo didn’t look ready for his serve. Not at all.

Logan let out a breath, tossed the ball up, and brought his serve down. Ace. Leo barely got his hand back properly. Leo looked behind him, up at his box, and motioned something that Logan couldn’t make out, but what he figured was that he wanted to call for a trainer at the next change-over.

“Ah-ah,” came from Leo’s box. A scolding, horrible sound. Leo’s coach gave his head a sharp shake and he pointed towards the court. Don’t, it seemed to mean.

Finn was standing up in Logan’s box when he looked, his arms crossed. Beside him, Noelle pulled him back into his seat.

He took one more game off of Leo before he couldn’t take it anymore—watching the pained way he walked and the set of his mouth as he tried to hide it.

Logan looked to the chair and raised a finger. “Medic, please.”

The walk to his chair gave him one, tiny second to lock eyes with Leo. Logan wanted to tell him silently to call. Call while I’m calling. He didn’t linger long enough to see if Leo understood. He sat down in his chair, wiped sweat from his face, and looked at Finn. He was leaning back to say something to Logan’s mom. Maybe explaining the trick. Finn would know that Logan had absolutely no reason to call for a trainer.

Even still, a woman came jogging out onto the court. Logan heard the shush and mumble of the crowd as they figured out what was happening. She dropped her heavy supply backpack and knelt in front of Logan’s chair. She had kind eyes, dark hair pulled back into a slick bun, and when she spoke it was with an Australian accent.

“Hi, Mr. Tremblay. My name is Nicola. What can I do for you, sir?”

“Nothing,” Logan said in a low voice, and put his foot out. “Just check my ankle. Take your time about it.”

Nicola looked confused. “I…what?”

“Please,” Logan said.

She looked confused still, but slowly she reached out for Logan’s ankle. She began pressing at it tenderly, like she would if she had been checking for pain. Eventually, her eyes went to Leo’s chair. So, she’d figured it out.

“Is he calling?” Logan whispered.

“Yes, sir,” Nicola said.

Logan didn’t look Leo’s way, but relief flooded him. Another medic came out onto the court, heading Leo’s way. Logan didn’t care if anyone else saw through his trick. If he beat Leo, he didn’t want to do it like this.

He could only ask Nicola to pretend for so long, but when he looked over he saw that Leo had his eyes closed while the trainer dug his thumbs into his thigh in what was probably a good-pain way. Logan paced the baseline to keep his own muscles warm, then heard Finn’s voice in his head and ate half a banana.

When Leo rose to his feet, the crowd applauded, eager for the match to resume. Leo’s box got loud, too, but the tone sounded pressing, not encouraging. It made Logan want to make a noise complaint just so he could inadvertently tell them to fuck off.

One look at Finn told him everything he needed to know. Play, it seemed to say. Logan knew he was right. All he could do right now that wouldn’t hurt Leo, was play.

He tried to turn off everything but the game. The crowd was hardly there. Leo couldn’t be Leo just then. Logan had to turn him into just another player, or else Logan might looked down to find guilt gnawing its way through his chest. He even stopped looking at Finn. Finn now meant Leo, too, so at least for these few hours, there could be neither of them. There were no faces or features around him, just the yellow blur of the ball and the burn in his muscles as he took each point more easily than the last. This was what it had felt like to play when he had been alone, before Finn. The mechanical motions of the came combined with the small adjustments to strategy—treating his opponent like a machine to be figured out. A bleak headspace filled with gray and numbers. He didn’t like it there anymore. He never had.

When he took the win, it all snapped back in. The noise of the crowd roared into his awareness. The colors and court lights made him squint.

The pained flush on Leo’s face hit him right in the chest.

Logan turned and looked up at Finn. His hat was smushed between his palms, red hair a mess from his fingers. He didn’t exactly look like Logan had just become a U.S. Open Champion. He was on his feet and clapping now, but his eyes looked as exhausted as Logan felt. Imperceptible, if you didn’t know him. But Logan did know him. He didn’t know anything better than he knew Finn O’Hara. Finn hadn’t had the game to lock into. He’d been sitting there watching Leo in pain and Logan forcing himself into a brutal, winning pace.

Logan dropped his racket and rubbed his hands over his face. He should be smiling. He might have, had he not looked to see Leo with one hand on the net as he waited for him.

When Logan reached him, his hand was cold in Logan’s, and his breathing felt shallow as Logan rubbed a palm briefly up and down his back.

“That was some trick,” Leo said, drawing them closer to hide his words from any cameras. “With the trainer.”

“I love you,” Logan said. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” Leo said. “Go see your family. Oh.” He squeezed Logan tighter for a moment. “I love you, too.”

No one let Logan climb the stands this time, but pointedly directed him to the stairs. He sort of wished Finn would just come to him. He would have all night to see his family. Right then, he wanted a magical sort of door that took him away from all the prying eyes and into Finn’s arms.

Burying his face in Finn’s warm neck when he reached his box would have to do.

“You were going to win,” Finn whispered. “You did so good. Don’t feel guilty, you made that match end as fast as you could.”

“The thing with the trainer,” Logan mumbled.

“I know.”

Logan pulled back to look up at him. Asking. Telling. Imploring.

Finn only nodded, then gave him over to be hugged by his family.

It was excruciating, watching Leo try to fake his way through his speech. He was disappointed. Frustrated. But he was sweet and funny. Logan saw each time a muscle seized up in the way he turned away from the microphone briefly to draw a slow, steadying breath. He saw the way Leo kept one hand on the podium while he gave his runner-up speech. That same hand used Logan for support when they took their trophy photographs. Logan stood ready for him, immovable until Leo pulled away first.

“I’m so grateful to have the support that I do,” Logan said, trying not to wince as his voice echoed back at him around the stadium. “And the amazing talent I get to go up against.” He looked back at Leo. “Every single player on this tour has been in your shoes and all I’ll be thinking about is when we get to play again.”

Logan wanted off the court, he wanted Finn and Leo to himself. He wanted an ice bath and then Finn’s thumbs digging into that one point in his back.

“Finn,” Logan said, then startled back from the microphone as the stadium went wild. He even heard Leo laugh a little from behind him. Logan felt tears claw up his throat and laughed, too. “Leo.”

Because they were one now. Nothing existed without the other.

Leo’s eyes, when Logan found them, had gone a little wide.

“Je t’aime,” Logan said, then waved a hand up to the crowd, who reached back. “Je t’aime, merci.”

~

Finn and Logan didn’t have to agree to find Leo, but he wasn’t where they thought he would be. He wasn’t recovering like Logan had just spent the last thirty minutes doing. He was in a lounge near the locker rooms, sitting on a couch with his long legs bent awkwardly due to the sag of the old sofa cushion. Four people seemed to be trying to talk to him at once.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” one of them said under their breath when they saw Finn and Logan. It made Leo look up. He looked tired. So tired. His silver plate trophy was on the coffee table in front of him, casting shimmery reflections across his drawn face.

Finn drew in a breath, about to speak, but Logan gave the back of his t-shirt a sharp tug and stepped forward instead.

“I need a word with Leo,” Logan said.

Leo was on his feet in a second, stepped out from around the table. He was still limping.

“What for?” the coach asked. “We’re in the middle—”

“Players business.”

“His business is my business.”

Leo didn’t look at them. He didn’t even turn around. His eyes were unfocused and trained on Logan’s chest.

“But mine isn’t,” Logan snapped. “Excuse us.”

He didn’t take Leo’s hand. He wanted to drag him out of there by both hands, but he stayed perfectly still with so many eyes on them. That wouldn’t help Leo just then. Obviously, he had already been told that loving each other made them weaker players. Logan wouldn’t give them something to point at. If they thought this made them weaker, they didn’t deserve to see even a glimpse of the strength that flooded Logan every time Leo so much as looked at him.

  So, Logan made to turn away, knowing Leo and Finn would follow.

“O’Hara.”

Finn stiffened beside Logan and looked back over his shoulder. Leo’s team looked like they had been having a silent conversation, but now their eyes were on Finn.

“A word, if you don’t mind,” said the coach, and he scowled at Logan. “Coach business.”

“I have a few minutes,” Finn said. He looked down at Logan. “See you in a second.” His eyes flit wordlessly in the direction of the recovery rooms.

The room was simple. An examination mattress with a cushion against the wall. A side table, a sink, a few stools, and a small, humming refrigerator in the corner whose glass door showed cold water bottles and hydration drinks. Logan went to it while Leo pulled himself up onto the bed with a groan, stretching his legs out. He’d been icing his knee. Logan could see the redness that the cold had left behind.

“I’m…” Logan set the water aside. He wasn’t sure what to say. He put a hand on Leo’s thigh where the redness was and experimental kneaded his thumb into the muscle. When Leo’s eyes closed with pleasure, he did it again.

“I fired them,” Leo whispered.

Logan let out a breath. “You did?”

Leo nodded. His chest rose and fell heavily once, then he opened his eyes and looked at Logan tiredly.

“Maybe I’ll be like you were,” Leo said. “Try it solo. For a while.”

No. Logan hated that idea. He’d done the endless plane rides alone. The hotels, the mornings, the lonely nights that came whether he won or lost. He didn’t want that for Leo. He wasn’t sure Leo would be able to do it. He was a people person, far more so than Logan ever had been. He was like Finn. He liked to talk, to laugh, to be surrounded by others.

“Leo,” Logan began to say, but suddenly, voices from the other room could be heard plain as day. Finn was—

Leo and Logan looked at each other in surprise. Finn was shouting.

“No. Nope, nope, you saw, you saw what was happening! You do nothing? What did you want him to do, push through? He’d been playing for hours, he needed help, that’s what you’re there for, you know that.”

“It’s a fucking cramp! They go away.”

“He needs water, he needs sugar—”

“Hey. Hey, where do you get off trying to tell me—”

“He needs you not to be running him the way you were the day before the match, in the heat, in the sun. He needs you to not be rolling your fucking eyes when he asks for the medic, are you fucking kidding me—

“Oh, fuck off, O’Hara. You can do fuck all with Tremblay, whatever, but Leo’s not one of your fucking whores, all right?”

There was a shocked beat of silence. Leo and Logan stared at each other, wide-eyed. Logan didn’t catch the next thing Finn said, not until he raised his voice again.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“He’s not. Your. Player.”

When Finn spoke next, he sounded dangerous. Truly dangerous.

“That is not,” Finn began, “what you just said.”

If Logan didn’t know him, he would have been just a bit terrified. But he did know him. And he knew the second he came back into this room it would melt. If he was ever rough with the two of them, it only came out as pure pleasure.

“Call Logan that again,” Finn said. ���Let’s see what happens. Go ahead.”

“You have no distance,” Logan heard the coach say. “You cannot run a player like you do, you have no discipline, no—”

“Run? Run a player? They’re not machines!”

“They can be! If they’re worked right—”

“They’re not animals either,” Finn thundered. “They’re people.”

“You don’t treat them like people, you treat them like playthings. Your playthings.”

Finn went silent again. Logan covered Leo’s hand with his, Leo did the same to him, and they waited. Waited.

“This can be a lonely life,” Finn finally said. “A very lonely life. And this is the last thing I’ll say to someone like you, but I am the luckiest man in the entire fucking world to have found love, real love, in this game.”

Logan closed his eyes. He felt Leo’s forehead meet his temple and turned into him.

“And if you ever call Logan or Leo ‘things’, or anything else, again, I’ll sweep your fucking world out from under your feet.”

Leo made a quiet, sad sound in his throat and tilted his chin forward to brush their mouths together. He pulled back to look at him.

“We are lucky,” Leo said.

Logan nodded.

Finn came through the door very quiet. He was red, cheeks flushed in his anger, but he looked at Leo so softly. Logan loved that about him. He loved that. Finn set down two cups on the side table, along with a banana.

“Sorry about that Le,” he said.

Leo shook his head, dazed and glancing towards the door. “No. I…”

Finn handed him the cup, then caught Logan’s eye. “Guess I’ve got no more ground to stand on when I tell you not to lose your head?”

“I love you,” Logan said.

Finn pressed a hand over theirs, then reached for a cup.

“Drink this,” he said to Leo. He cracked the banana’s peel. “You like these kind of green, right?”

Leo just stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

Finn pressed it into his hand. “Okay. Eat is slow.” He passed that hand through Leo’s hair. “Okay?”

“I’m sorry he said that to you,” Leo said. He looked at Logan. “God, to both of you, I can’t believe…He knows how much you mean to me.”

“Don’t apologize for him,” Finn said, and that angry flush began to bloom over his cheeks again. “God, I could just…” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Le. Okay. Le.”

Finn sank down on the other side of the PT pallet. He put a hand on Leo’s thigh. “Baby, I don’t—It’s not just that I don’t like the way your team talks to you anymore. I don’t like the way they manage your health. I don’t fucking like it. That, today? That was avoidable.”

Leo looked down, nodding. Logan’s anger flared up so fast that he had to squeeze Leo’s hand hard between his own. The fact that someone could put a look like that on Leo’s face made him want to kill. He couldn’t understand how Finn hadn’t hit Leo’s coach clean across the face. Logan wanted blood on his knuckles as badly as he wanted to curl up into Leo’s side.

“I want to say…” Finn glanced at Logan, who nodded quickly, heart in his throat, then back at Leo. “I’d have to train you two separately. And in different ways. But…I would.” Finn took the empty banana peel and cup and set it down, then took Leo’s hands. “Le, I’d love to be your coach.” Finn paused. “If you want me.”

“Oh…” Leo’s voice was so faint.

Logan was nodding again, even though neither of them were looking at him.

“I’ve been in your shoes as a player,” Finn said. “I’ve leveled up Lo’s game and he was already a master. And you’re brimming with talent and skill and they’re fucking wasting it. I can—”

Leo reached out and put a palm to Finn’s cheek, stopping him. Slowly, his eyes filled with tears. “I fired them tonight.”

Finn straightened. “You did?”

Leo nodded.

“Oh. Then—can I beg instead?” Finn laughed a little, then quieted. He turned his face into Leo’s hand and kissed his palm. His eyes met Logan’s, and Logan felt, all over again, what it had been like for Finn to be his in this way for the first time. “Please, Le.”

“Please? Please?” Leo repeated, and Logan watched him trace Finn’s jaw. “I’ve…always wanted someone like you.”

Finn smiled and it made Logan smile. Love. Real love in this game.

“Okay, hey.” Another kiss to Leo’s palm, then his wrist. “Hey, don’t cry.”

“No, no, I’m just relieved.” Leo’s laugh tumbled out of him and he looked at Logan. “Lo?”

“He wanted this a long time ago,” Finn said. “You should have seen him.”

Logan pulled a face, and Finn touched where his nose wrinkled up. “I don’t know what you mean by that. Of course I want this.”

“Our living room has a new groove from his pacing,” Finn said. “Let’s leave it at that.”

Leo sniffed as he laughed again. “What? But okay.”

“Okay?” Finn looked hopeful still, which was funny because Logan was sure it had been a done deal long before today. Somehow, Leo always seemed to have been theirs. Not knowing him and that foreign, guarded dance in a ballroom, felt long, long ago.

Leo looked at Logan. “You won’t feel strange? Sharing him?”

“I’m pretty sure we’re past that,” Logan said, raising his eyebrows. “And I’m pretty sure he likes it. I know I like it.”

“I mean sharing him professionally.” Leo rolled his eyes and wiped at his cheek. “God.”

“Are we talking about me like I’m not here?” Finn cut in. “Because that’s—fine. But hey, hi.”

Logan reached out and put a hand on Finn’s cheek before moving it to Leo’s. “Yes. I want you to have him as your coach, too. It’s the best decision I ever made.”

“Man oh man,” Finn said. “Boys just want me for my skills.”

“Professional decision.”

“I have a lot of skills,” Finn said. “In a wide variety.”

“Finn,” Leo said.

Finn let out a ha and pulled on of Leo’s ankles into his lap, beginning to massage his calf. Leo groaned, but didn’t pull away. “I am so excited. I am so excited, I love this fucking job.”

Leo had his brows knit as Finn dug his thumbs into his knotted muscle, but he huffed out a laugh. “Are you on the clock right now?”

“No,” Finn said. He propped Leo’s foot on his shoulder and turned his head to bite gently at Leo’s ankle. “Relax your ankle for me.” Leo complied and Finn adjusted his grip to one Logan knew well. His ankle felt twenty times better because of that grip. Leo dropped his head back. Finn flit his eyes to Logan knowingly. “Good. Now come here for a second.”

Finn gently lowered Leo’s ankle back to the bed and took Leo’s hand so he could sit forward. He put one hand on Leo’s chest, right where his heart was. Logan counted the freckles on the back of it, then took the free hand Finn held out to him and counted those, too. Like stars, like the miles he’d run for both of them, he lost count.

“My clock never starts or stops,” Finn said softly. The brown color of his eyes looked melted and beautiful in the dim light. “Same goes for Logan. I care about you. A game doesn’t change that. A green court, a blue court, a clay court with white lines doesn’t change that. Some people might say that’s a bad thing but I don’t care. There is no line for me. If anything, I’m standing on the line so I can reach both sides whenever I want.”

Logan pulled his feet up and pressed himself into Leo’s side. “Rouge.”

“Really,” Finn said, looking between them. “I’m not kidding. I used to think playing tennis was my dream, but this…” He smiled, shaking his head. “This.”

“Same goes for you,” Leo said. “Do you hear me? We’ve got championships on the line, we’ve got a shit load of money on the line.” Leo tilted his chin towards Logan. “This one’s gonna get buckets of attention and shit about his legacy.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “But none of that compares to you. D’accord?”

Finn smiled at them. “So we’re in agreement, then.”

Logan had toed the line for so long between the happiness of winning, adrenaline-soaked and nothing more, and the lonely emptiness of loss. When he’d gotten Finn, he’d saw the lines blur before his eyes and loved it so much that he’d wiped them clean with his own palms. Leo had redrawn them. Soft, and bold, and real, and theirs to cross.

“As much as I enjoy sitting here with your hands on me,” Finn said. “I would like you to drink this water.”

“Here he goes,” Logan mumbled and Leo laughed.

“You hungry?” Finn asked.

“Yep,” Leo said.

“Where do you want to go?” Finn put the next cup into his hands. “Anywhere you want. Drain that, even—”

“The dregs,” Leo and Logan said in unison.

“Anywhere?” Leo asked.

“Ouais.” Logan messed with his gold chains, watching Leo’s throat move as he drank as Finn commanded.

“For now, room service steak will do, but then…”

Finn raised his eyebrows, eager. “Yeah?”

Leo set the cup down with a soft, almost sheepish grin. “Then let’s go home.”

(And that's a wrap on On The Line! I loved writing this story so very much. Thanks for reading and all of your wonderful messages!! I love talking about these three with you all <3 This is a trying time right now and I hope this brought a spark of joy...all the love <3 <3)

[kitchenisking]

Day 3

The Pot Of Gold At The End Of The Rainbow by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving - (Rating: T, Words: 8,881, sterek)

Stiles meets his first Hale when he's seven, and the most important Stilinski-Hale twenty years later.

~

In which Derek's family meets the love of his life years before he does, but Derek still gets the better end of the bargain.

As You Lay Dying by FelOllie - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 9,360, sterek)

Seven excruciatingly long days since Mexico: Take Two, and Stiles still couldn't get the sound of Derek's breath rattling wetly in his lungs out of his head. He heard it in his sleep, over the the pounding rain and the sound of Malia breathing softly beside him. He heard it when he was wide awake, over the din of crowded hallways and classrooms, cutting through the noise of the last lacrosse game of the season and the bustle of the locker room.

One hundred and sixty-eight hours, give or take, and Stiles had yet to wipe the sight of a bloodied and dying Derek from behind his eyelids. He saw it with every blink and sometimes even when his eyes were open and each time it made his chest feel like it was caving in.

Soulsick by theroguesgambit - (Rating: T, Words: 3,476, sterek)

Derek loathes this idiot of a soulmate, whoever they are. For not coming to Stiles’ call, for being too useless do just to this one simple thing, for failing Stiles, proving how utterly unworthy they are before they’ve ever met him. -- Stiles is cursed with a disease that will eventually destroy his soul unless his soulmate helps strengthen it. The pack performs a ritual to call his soulmate to his side. But days pass and no one appears... 

Maybe they're already here?

Making love is how we'll pray by lanalua - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,742, sterek)

Stiles and Derek perform a ritual in the woods.

In a Moment of Vulnerability by cloudsarefluffy - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 87,097, sterek)

While in New York City to visit his aspiring and success-hungry friend Scott, who left for an internship he fought for over several years ago, Stiles runs into an alpha with a devilish reputation and a dark, tantalizing look that precedes him. Couple that with horny loneliness and failed suppressants, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for a one-night stand that will set the bar forever.

But what if forever isn’t something that the one person you’ve given yourself to wants? What if a forever is somehow growing inside of you after a few months pass and a planned heat is missed? What if you don’t know what to do and there’s only so much chocolate that can soothe an aching heart before you feel like you've got morning sickness all over again?

This is a story about how Stiles loses his virginity alongside himself, and somehow, he manages to find something he never thought he’d ever have along the way.

Looking forward by Smowkie - (Rating: T, Words: 6,953, sterek)

Derek’s cabin was small. Tiny, even. He liked it, sometimes he missed having a big house, like the one he had grown up in, but the cabin was good, comfortable, and he, well, it was somewhere to hide, somewhere no one would find him. Somewhere no one would bother him.

He was happy, though, sort of. Happier than in a long time, he had a comfortable little home, lots of land he could run on—and he did, shifted to his full wolf form and ran for hours, it was wonderful—and his life wasn’t bad at all.

Then one day, the 21st of December on his second year living there, Stiles came to visit.

Written for the prompt cuddles in a power outage.

I Want You to be Happy by lvmehtme - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 13,851, sterek)

Stiles' dad has finally founds someone and the way he looks at her like she hung the moon and the joy in his every smile after all these years is worth everything that she does to him in the dead of night when no one's looking.

I'm giving everyone a fair warning right now, there's statutory rape and psychological trauma in this fic. It ends happy, but it does get graphic. Please proceed with care.

loyalty. courage. integrity. by redhoodedwolf - (Rating: G, Words: 707, sterek)

“Derek what the fuck!”

“Hard first day?” Derek guessed. He pushed himself forward and extended a hand towards Stiles. “You can vent, I have time to listen.”

Little Kid Crush by orphan_account - (Rating: T, Words: 5,052, sterek)

“What’s your name?” Derek asks, wiping the last of the tears off the kid’s face with his sleeve.

“’tiles,” the kid mumbles, and Derek frowns, wondering if he heard correctly.

“Tiles?” Derek repeats.

“Stiles,” the kid repeats, pouting at Derek slightly, defiant even though his eyes are still puffy and red and his cheeks tear-stained.

Witches Wrath by alikatastic - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,063, sterek)

Derek is cursed by witches giving him a hard problem. Nothing works, not cold showers, not his hand. He goes to Stiles for help, and the great friend he is Stiles won't turn him away.

[amethystarachnid]

SOULMATE BOND

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.5k

ᯓ★ TW(s): stupid rumors go around because Tony is famous, not really anything serious

ᯓ★ Timeline: before the Avengers were formed

ᯓ★ Request: This bingo is absolutely adorable, can you write Soulmates + Tony Stark/fem!reader, please? ❤️ ( @ccbsrmsf1 )

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

In this world, the soulmate bond manifests in the form of tattoos, inscribed on skin at the moment when you first meet your destined person. Not just any tattoo—it's the first thought they had when they saw you. A sentence or a phrase etched in permanent ink, completely out of your control, tied to the moment your eyes meet.

You've always found the idea romantic in theory, but after your mark appeared, you're a little less enthused. The thought branded on your wrist is definitely not the stuff of fairy tales.

I wonder if she knows she has a ketchup stain on her shirt.

It's funny, sure, but you can’t help but cringe every time you think about it. What kind of first impression did you make that day? You don't even know who your soulmate is, just that somewhere, out there, someone’s first impression of you was that you were a mess. It’s become a running joke among your friends, something you laugh off, but in the back of your mind, you can’t shake the feeling that when you finally meet them, it’s going to be awkward.

For years, you've searched crowds, looked at strangers’ tattoos, hoping to catch a glimpse of something that might give you a clue. No luck. Life moves on, and you stop looking quite so actively, focusing on your own career instead. After all, it’s not like you can control when or how you meet your soulmate. It'll happen when it happens.

But it does happen.

You’re at a charity gala in New York, your company hosting a benefit for technological innovations in renewable energy. As someone involved in the development sector, it's part of your job to represent the company, socialize, and network. That’s how you end up near the bar, scanning the room for anyone who looks like a potential business connection.

And that’s when you see him.

Tony Stark.

He’s hard to miss, obviously. Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, Avenger, and all-around larger-than-life personality. You’ve seen him on TV and in interviews, but there’s something different about seeing him in person. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit, drink in hand, looking amused by something someone just said.

Your first thought?

Huh, he’s taller than I thought.

Then, just as quickly, God, how does his suit fit that well?

You’re about to turn away and rejoin the group when, out of the corner of your eye, you see him glance in your direction. And then he starts walking right toward you.

Your heart leaps to your throat as you quickly glance down at yourself, suddenly self-conscious. Is there something on your face? Hair out of place? Ketchup stain?

“Hi,” Tony says, stopping in front of you, looking at you with a smirk. "You look like you're about to sprint off somewhere."

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out for a second. You're so stunned that Tony Stark is standing right in front of you, speaking to you like you're someone worth noticing.

“Uh—hi. No, just… thinking,” you manage to say, your voice sounding much calmer than you feel.

He raises an eyebrow, amused. "Well, careful with all that thinking. Could lead to dangerous places."

You can’t help but laugh. It’s a stupid joke, but it lightens the mood, easing some of your nerves. Tony Stark is surprisingly… not intimidating? Maybe it's the easy confidence, the humor that makes him feel less untouchable.

“You’re here for the renewable energy thing, right?” Tony asks, leaning casually against the bar. “What do you do?”

You quickly tell him about your work, grateful that you're able to form coherent sentences again. The conversation flows surprisingly naturally, and before long, you’re actually enjoying yourself.

“So,” Tony says, eyes gleaming as he takes a sip of his drink. “Soulmate tattoo. What’s yours?”

You blink, surprised by the sudden question. You hadn’t expected the conversation to go there so quickly.

"Uh, well…" You hesitate for a moment, but then you figure, why not? It’s not like he’s going to see it. “It's… kind of embarrassing, actually.”

“Oh, those are the best kinds. Now you have to tell me,” he grins, leaning in with mock curiosity.

You laugh again and hold up your wrist, showing him the words you’ve grown so familiar with.

“I wonder if she knows she has a ketchup stain on her shirt,” you say, reading it out loud for him.

Tony bursts out laughing, a genuine laugh that lights up his entire face. “Wow. That’s… that’s actually amazing.”

“Yeah, well, I try not to think about it too much,” you reply with a self-deprecating smile.

Tony’s laughter dies down, but the smile lingers. "You never know. Could make for a great story when you meet them."

“Maybe,” you say with a shrug. “What about you? What's your tattoo?”

Tony hesitates, something almost unreadable flickering across his face. For a split second, he looks vulnerable, which is strange to see on someone like him. Then he smirks again, the mask of confidence snapping back into place.

“Oh, mine’s ridiculous,” he says, holding out his wrist.

You glance down at his tattoo and freeze.

Huh, he’s taller than I thought.

Your brain takes a moment to catch up. It’s your first thought. Your words. The exact thing you thought the moment you saw him across the room.

Your heart starts pounding. “Wait, this is…”

Tony looks at you, his expression shifting from playful to serious in an instant. “Yeah. Looks like we’ve got a match.”

You stare at him, speechless, as the weight of the realization sinks in. Tony Stark is your soulmate.

“I—I don’t understand,” you stammer. “When did you…”

“When did I think you had a ketchup stain?” he finishes for you with a wry smile. “About five years ago. Tech conference in Palo Alto. You walked in with a coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other. And, well… you had a ketchup stain on your shirt.”

You blink, the memory slowly coming back to you. You remember that conference. You remember spilling ketchup on your shirt. But what you don’t remember is Tony Stark being there.

He watches you closely, almost like he’s waiting for something. “I didn’t think you’d ever find out,” he says softly.

“I—" You look up at him, everything finally clicking into place. "I can’t believe this.”

Tony shrugs, but there’s something tender in the way he looks at you now. “Believe it, sweetheart. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a story.”

You take a moment to process what just happened, your mind racing. You never imagined meeting your soulmate would be like this, in a crowded gala surrounded by the elite, and especially not with Tony Stark.

“So…” you say, trying to regain your composure. “This is kind of a big deal, right? I mean, we’re soulmates and all.”

“Big deal? That’s an understatement,” he replies with a playful smirk, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “But you have to admit, the ketchup stain part is pretty entertaining.”

You laugh, the tension easing slightly. “Yeah, it really is. I suppose it could’ve been worse. At least you didn’t think I was a complete disaster when you first saw me.”

Tony grins, tilting his head slightly. “I’ve seen worse. And I’m pretty sure I was the one who looked like a disaster when we first met. You, on the other hand, were effortlessly charming.”

Your cheeks flush at the compliment. “Effortlessly charming? You must be joking.”

“Nope.” He leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You had a coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other and you still managed to look amazing. That’s not something everyone can pull off.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile creeping onto your face. “I appreciate that. But what are we supposed to do now? I mean, how does this whole soulmate thing work?”

Tony leans back against the bar, his expression turning thoughtful. “Well, there’s no manual for this kind of thing. But I guess we could start with getting to know each other better.” He gestures to the gala around you, where people are mingling and enjoying themselves. “Want to escape this place for a bit? I know a great rooftop view.”

Your heart races at the thought of spending more time alone with him. “Are you sure? Won’t people wonder where you’ve gone?”

“I’m sure they��ll be just fine without me for a little while,” he says with a wave of his hand. “Besides, I’m sure they’re all busy trying to impress each other. And I’d much rather be up there with you.” He grins, and the sincerity in his eyes makes you want to take a chance.

“Okay,” you agree, surprising even yourself. “Let’s go.”

You follow Tony through the crowded room, weaving between groups of people, past waiters carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres, and up a set of sleek glass elevators. The ride is quick, and your stomach flutters with anticipation. You can’t believe you’re about to spend more time with him—your soulmate.

When the doors slide open, you step out onto the rooftop, greeted by the cool night air and a stunning view of the city skyline. The stars twinkle overhead, and the lights of New York stretch out like a sea of diamonds.

Tony leads you to the edge, and you lean against the railing, taking in the breathtaking scene. The city buzzes below, alive and vibrant, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

“Wow,” you breathe, trying to catch your breath. “This is beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he says without missing a beat. His tone is playful, but the way he looks at you is serious, intense even.

Your heart skips a beat. “You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

“Only when it’s true,” he replies, moving a bit closer, so you can feel the warmth radiating off him. “It’s crazy to think we’ve been living in the same world for years and didn’t even know. I mean, the odds of us meeting here, of all places, are wild.”

“Yeah, it is,” you agree, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I always thought when I met my soulmate, it would be all fireworks and fate and romance.”

He chuckles softly. “And here we are, talking about ketchup stains and fancy suits. Very romantic.”

You smile at that. “It has its charm, I suppose.”

Tony turns to face you, his expression shifting to something more serious. “So, what do you want to know about me? I mean, besides the obvious—that I’m a genius billionaire superhero.”

You can’t help but laugh again. “Okay, let’s skip the superhero part. What’s something about you that no one else knows?”

He thinks for a moment, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. “I’ll give you a fun one. I have a massive fear of failing. It’s part of why I push myself so hard. If I’m not the best, then what am I?”

You blink in surprise. “Really? I would have never guessed that. You always seem so confident, so in control.”

“That’s the façade,” he admits, looking out over the city again. “Most people don’t see the doubts that keep me up at night.”

“Wow. Thanks for sharing that with me,” you say softly. “It’s refreshing to hear something real.”

“Your turn,” he insists, turning to face you again. “What about you? What’s something that keeps you up at night?”

You take a breath, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. “I worry that I won’t ever be enough. That I’ll never make the impact I want to make in the world. It feels like I’m always chasing something, you know?”

Tony nods, his expression understanding. “Yeah, I get that. But you’re doing something amazing. You’re involved in renewable energy. That’s huge.”

“I suppose,” you say, a little shyly. “But I still feel like I could be doing more. I just want to make a difference.”

“You already are,” he says, his voice steady. “And now you’re my soulmate, which is a pretty big deal in itself. We can make a difference together.”

Your heart swells at the thought. “Together, huh?”

“Yeah. Together,” he repeats, stepping a little closer. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I think we could figure it out. What do you say?”

You look into his eyes, and it’s as if the world around you fades away. It’s just you and him, standing on a rooftop overlooking the city, two souls destined to find each other. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says, a smile breaking across his face. “Because I definitely plan to keep you around.”

With that, he leans in, closing the distance between you, and for a moment, everything else fades away as your lips meet. It’s gentle at first, exploratory, but then deepens as the realization hits that you’re sharing this moment with your soulmate. The world is electric, and you feel the connection between you ignite.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you know this is only the beginning. There’s so much more to explore, to learn, and to discover together.

“Wow,” you breathe, your heart racing. “That was…”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, a teasing grin back on his face. “I know. Better than a ketchup stain, right?”

You can’t help but burst into laughter, shaking your head. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.”

And in that moment, as you stand together on the rooftop, laughter spilling into the night air, you realize that this was only the start of your incredible journey together. Soulmates, destined to make each other’s lives a little more colorful, ketchup stains and all.

For the next few weeks, life is a whirlwind. After that rooftop moment with Tony, things between you and him move fast but not in the way you expected. You see each other regularly, grabbing dinners, texting late at night, meeting up when you can. The chemistry is undeniable, and every time you're together, it feels like there's something bigger building between you two. But Tony's life is complicated. It comes with a lot of attention, and soon, the press starts to notice.

It begins with whispers, rumors on social media. Photos of you two at events surface, and the internet goes wild, speculating about who you are, what your relationship with Tony is, and, most importantly, whether you’re his new girlfriend or just another passing fling.

At first, it’s just gossip. But then it escalates.

One morning, you wake up to your phone buzzing uncontrollably. Texts, emails, and missed calls flood your notifications. You sit up in bed, confused, before your eyes land on one of the headlines plastered across your phone screen:

"Tony Stark’s New Mystery Woman: Another One in a Long Line of Flings?"

Your stomach drops. Another headline follows:

“Who is Y/N L/N? Stark’s Latest 'Arm Candy' or Something More?”

The articles are brutal. Some of them dig into your personal life, questioning your background, even speculating that you might be using Tony to further your career. Others call you names you can’t even bear to read. Worse, they paint Tony as a playboy who moves from one woman to the next, suggesting that you’re just the flavor of the month.

You throw your phone down on the bed, your hands shaking. How did it escalate so fast? It was just a few dinners, a couple of public appearances. You didn’t ask for this.

Later that day, you sit at a café, your mind buzzing with everything you’ve read. You're sipping your coffee when Tony shows up, his presence always commanding, but today there's something different in the air. He sits down across from you, the usual playful spark in his eyes replaced with concern.

"You're upset," he says simply, cutting right to the point.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Have you seen the headlines?"

Tony leans back, crossing his arms. "Yeah, I saw them. Look, this happens sometimes. People like to talk, especially when they don't know what's going on. You just have to ignore it."

“Ignore it?” You stare at him in disbelief. “Tony, they’re tearing me apart online. They’re acting like I’m some… some gold-digger who's using you, or worse, just a fling in your long history of flings."

His jaw tightens, and you can see the frustration building behind his calm exterior. "You know that’s not true. I know that’s not true. Who cares what some gossip sites say?"

“I care! I’m not used to this, Tony. This isn’t my world! I didn’t ask to have my life dragged through the mud because of who I’m spending time with.”

He reaches across the table and takes your hand, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles. "I know this is hard. But people are always going to talk. I’ve been dealing with this for years. It sucks, but it doesn’t last forever."

You pull your hand back, frustration bubbling up. "But it’s different for you. You’ve been in the spotlight your whole life. People expect this from you. For me, it’s… humiliating. My colleagues are seeing these headlines. My family. Do you know how embarrassing it is to be called a fling? To be dismissed like I don’t matter?"

Tony exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I’m not dismissing you. I never would."

"It’s not about you dismissing me. It’s about everyone else thinking that’s what’s happening." You bite your lip, looking down at your coffee cup. "I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this. The attention, the gossip. I wasn’t prepared for any of it."

“I can’t make the headlines go away,” Tony says softly. “But I can stand by you through them. If this is too much for you, I’ll understand. But if you want to stay, if you want to try… I’m not going anywhere."

There’s an honesty in his eyes that makes your breath catch. You can see the vulnerability there, the rawness he’s trying to share with you. Tony Stark, the man who is larger than life, standing before you and offering something real.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision you’re about to make. "I don’t want to walk away from this, Tony. I just… I need to know that you’re in this for real. No games, no casual flings. If we’re doing this, it has to be serious."

“It is,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “I’m in this for real, Y/N. No games. No flings."

The sincerity in his voice melts some of the fear inside you. You nod slowly, your shoulders relaxing just a bit. "Okay. Then… let’s do this."

A smile spreads across his face, that familiar Stark confidence returning. "Good. Because I wasn’t planning on letting you go that easily."

You smile back, feeling some of the tension lift. For the first time in days, you feel like maybe, just maybe, this could work.

But as soon as you begin to relax, your phone vibrates again. You glance at the screen, and your stomach tightens as you see another headline flash across the notification:

"EXCLUSIVE: Sources Claim Stark’s ‘Soulmate’ is After His Fortune—Friends Warn He’s Being Played."

You feel the blood drain from your face. Tony’s brow furrows as he notices the change in your expression.

“What is it?” he asks, but before you can answer, his phone buzzes, too. He pulls it out, glancing at the screen before cursing under his breath.

“I’ll handle this,” he says quickly, anger flashing in his eyes. “This is just some idiot trying to stir up trouble. I’ll talk to the press. I’ll clear this up.”

But it doesn’t feel like it’s just gossip anymore. It feels personal, and it feels like whoever is behind this wants to tear you apart.

“Tony…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if this doesn’t stop? What if this just keeps getting worse?”

His jaw tightens, and he steps closer to you, determination hardening his gaze. “I told you, I’m not letting this come between us. Whoever’s behind this, we’ll deal with it. Together.”

Tony doesn’t waste any time. The moment he sees the new headline, he’s in action mode. His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow with determination. He’s dealt with attacks like this before, but this time, it’s personal—and he’s not going to let someone mess with what the two of you have.

“We need to find out who’s feeding these stories to the press,” he says, already typing away on his phone. “There’s no way this is just random gossip. Someone’s deliberately trying to stir things up.”

You sit there, still shaken by the headlines, but his confidence is a bit reassuring. “How do we even start? I mean, the media… they don’t just reveal their sources, do they?”

“They don’t. But I have people. We’ll find out who’s behind this.”

Over the next few days, Tony taps into every resource he has, which, unsurprisingly, is a lot. He calls in favors from friends in the media, tech experts, and even digs into security footage from recent events you’ve attended together. The digging takes time, and while Tony handles most of the legwork, you can see the toll it’s taking on him. His usual carefree attitude fades into something more serious. He’s laser-focused on protecting you, and it makes your heart ache to see how much he’s willing to fight for you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Tony gets a lead.

“Got it,” he announces one night, barging into your apartment with a determined look on his face. “It’s someone on the board at Stark Industries. A guy named Victor Lanning.”

“Victor Lanning?” you ask, the name unfamiliar to you.

Tony nods, his expression darkening. “He’s been pushing for more influence within the company, and apparently, he didn’t like that I’ve been ‘distracted’ with personal matters lately. Decided to use our relationship to try and weaken me publicly. Classic power move.”

You blink, trying to process what he’s saying. “So, this was all about business? About him trying to make you look bad so he could… what? Get your job?”

Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Something like that. He figured if he made me look like I wasn’t focused, the board would start questioning my leadership. And what better way to make me look distracted than to spin it like you’re using me? It’s a dirty move, but it’s not the first time someone’s tried to pull something like this.”

Your stomach churns with a mixture of anger and disgust. “All of this because I’m your soulmate? Because he thinks I’m a distraction?”

Tony steps closer, his hand finding yours. “He doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re going to set the record straight. I’ll deal with him. But first, we need to clear your name.”

You nod, feeling a spark of hope. “What do we do?”

Tony smirks, that familiar glint of mischief back in his eyes. “We go public. Officially.”

The next morning, the press conference is set. Tony’s team works fast, organizing everything within hours. You’re nervous as you stand beside him backstage, waiting for your cue. Tony notices your fidgeting and gently takes your hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Hey,” he whispers, leaning in close. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this.”

You nod, feeling a little steadier with him by your side.

Finally, it’s time. The two of you walk out to the flashing lights of cameras and a sea of reporters, their voices buzzing with curiosity. Tony stands tall, confident, as always, but there's a gentleness in the way he holds your hand.

“Thank you all for coming,” Tony begins, his voice firm yet calm. “I wanted to address some recent rumors about my personal life. It’s no secret that I’ve been in the headlines recently, and a lot of the things being said are completely false. Someone from my company decided to spread lies because they didn’t like the fact that I’ve been spending time with Y/N. But the truth is, she’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. And if people want to attack her to get to me, well, I’m not going to let that happen."

You glance at him, and he gives you an encouraging nod before continuing.

“But more importantly, I want to clear up something that actually matters,” Tony says, his tone softening. “The woman standing beside me, Y/N L/N, is not just some ‘fling’ or ‘arm candy.’ She’s... well, she’s my soulmate.”

A wave of murmurs spreads through the crowd, but Tony keeps going, his eyes steady on yours. “Yeah, you heard that right. We’ve got the tattoos to prove it.”

The reporters lean forward, the flashes of cameras intensifying as you and Tony raise your wrists, showing your matching tattoos. There, in plain sight, are the words that started it all. Your tattoo reads: "I wonder if she knows she has a ketchup stain on her shirt." and his reads: "Huh, he’s taller than I thought."

The room falls quiet for a moment, the weight of the reveal sinking in. Then, slowly, Tony speaks again, his voice quieter but more intimate, as if he’s speaking just to you, even though everyone can hear.

“The first time I saw her, I wasn’t thinking about business or my reputation or anything else. I was just thinking about how she had this charming, messy moment, and it made me smile. She was real. And that’s the thing: Y/N makes me feel like I can be real, too.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help but smile.

The room erupts in questions, but Tony raises a hand to quiet them down. "That’s all we wanted to say. The rumors? Ignore them. The truth? It’s right here."

He turns to you, his eyes soft, and in that moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you again. “So, are we done with the press?” he asks, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a playful grin.

You laugh, relieved, and nod. “Definitely.”

As you walk off the stage, hand in hand, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders. The truth is out there now, and it’s your truth. No more hiding, no more rumors.

Once you’re out of sight from the cameras, Tony pulls you into a gentle hug, his lips brushing against your temple. “Told you we’d get through this.”

You wrap your arms around him, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “I know. I’m just glad it’s over.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking with yours, a soft smile on his face. “It’s not over. This is just the beginning.”

And in that moment, you know he’s right. Together, you’ve faced the storm, and now, with the world finally knowing the truth, you can move forward. Together, as soulmates.

Flaws, ketchup stains, and all.

[majaloveschris]

You know, another blog made a good point I hadn’t thought of before: that both sides are feeding the narrative, and that’s why it seems like this whole thing will never end. I mean, how long has it been said or implied the end was near, and what happens instead? New content is always dropped. It was said that he fired Megan, and that he cut Tara off, but what happened? Megan and Tara both show up at the New York premiere after not being seen for almost the entire year. And his whole family was there, after it was implied he wasn’t on speaking terms with them.

I honestly think they’re (his team) torturing and gaslighting the fandom on purpose now, because let’s be honest, the blogs and the fan accounts are the only ones paying close attention to everything. The general public doesn’t care about either of them. They don’t even know who she is. He’s not properly know outside of Captain America. So why do all this stuff to cover their bases if the general public isn’t asking the questions the fandom is asking? Blogs make a point about the immigration laws, and the brands that are connected to this whole thing, but the general public isn’t consciously aware of any of that. The average person can’t spot a specific brand of watch or clothing, and they can’t list immigration laws off the top of their heads. Why would these little things be spotted or cared about by the general public?

A part of me wonders if both sides are all plants, whether they realize it or not, because both sides in their own way have been the driving forces carrying this stunt to where it is now. Everytime something happens, who talks about it most? Who points things out? Who makes lists of the holes and the things that don’t add up? Both sides are being used; one side just got paid and the other side didn’t. But they’re both being used to keep the manipulation and the gaslighting going. And I don’t think they even realize it.

How many times has certain blogs changed their rhetoric as to why a breakup article hasn’t been published yet? How every time an anon calls out that what they say doesn’t add up, they magically have an explanation? I’m not discounting the things they got the right, but they always seem to get the biggest thing wrong. Now it’s that all players are always brought in for the finale, but what will be the new explanation for November ends and a breakup still hasn’t happened? What will it be when December rolls around and it still hasn’t happened then either?

Sometimes I stand on the outside looking in, and I see just why this whole things keeps going, around and around in circles, a cycle that just keeps on going and never changes. The people who pay attention to it are just as much players in this game the same way Chris and Alba and everyone else is. And it doesn’t matter if you only post make one post about it, or if you post social media numbers or do tarot readings or debunk every single thing that comes out, you contribute to the stunt. You keep it going. Even I’m doing that by sending this. Like everyone who is exhausted, I wish they would just end this. I wish Chris would stand up for himself and put himself, and everyone around him and all of us watching, out of misery. A fan called this a “push and pull” and that’s exactly what it is. It’s like a bad carousel that won’t end. And honestly, it won’t stop until everyone decides they’ve had enough and just gets off, all players included.

Yeah, talking about this whole relationship definitely feeds the narrative, but that's not the reason why this whole thing is still going on. Even if nobody gave a shit about them, or even people would believe they are real and nobody would doubt it, this whole thing would still be going on. We aren't the ones keeping this alive, and we won't be the ones ending it either. This will end when they want it to end; it is simply that. 

Not everybody is going around telling people that the end is near or that it's already ended, and I don't agree with those who do it. Nobody here can know for a fact when and how this ends, and people shouldn't be spreading this whole thing either, especially after they were proved to be wrong a hundred times. This whole thing ends when they say it ends, not when some random person reading a blog says so. But people shouldn't believe it either when they say something like that. Nobody here knows when this ends, so spare yourself from disappointment and don't believe everything you read online. 

The whole "he fired Megan and he cut Tara" thing comes from the fandom. They haven't said or done anything that would give even the slightest indication that he did those things. You can't blame them for something they had nothing to do with? Did Chris say those things? No. Did he imply those things? No. People made those things up. You say it's been implied, and then they appear somewhere. But we can't hold them accountable for things they have nothing to do with. If some people think he did something without any evidence, but then he proceeds to do the exact opposite, it's not his fault. 

Just like in every fandom, most contents are for us. We are the ones sharing it, making it more viral, but saying they are torturing us is a bit of a reach. I agree about the gashlight part, since we believe this is not real, but they keep trying to prove us otherwise. Everybody can decide whether they want to be here or not. We all know what we "signed up" for, and we are all free people who can do whatever they want. If you think this is torture, you can leave and spend time with things that make you happy. Nobody forces anybody to stay here; they don't either. If it's something that has a huge negative effect on your mental health, just walk away; it doesn't worth it. They don't want the general public to care about immigration laws or specific brands. Other than those things, this is not real; people don't care, and they don't want you to do so. They want people to believe this is real, and the GP won't start digging deeper because they don't care, nor do those people who think this is real. They didn't expect this at the very beginning; they thought most people would believe this was real and wouldn't ask questions. 

This plant question is hard because I don't think everybody is paid here. Some people are just way too involved, but that doesn't mean they are getting paid. Do we help them with pointing things out? Probably. But again, we aren't the ones making this longer lasting than it was supposed to be. Even if we weren't talking here, all of this would still be going on. Maybe they wouldn't get as many good tips as they do, but the duration of this relationship isn't on us. 

Some people love acting like they know everything and that they have knowledge about everything, but that doesn't make them plants. Some people are really impulsive, and they say things based on limited information. But not everybody is like them. 

Thinking this whole thing would magically end if we stopped talking about this is a reach, I think. And it's never going to happen. There will always be people talking about this, but if this is fake, it has to end at some point, right? It's not going to last forever just because we post about it. 

This thing will end when they want it to end. We can do and say whatever we want; it's going to end sooner just because of us. 

If I can be honest with you, this whole thing is just not that deep. Some people take this whole thing way too personally and spend way too much time thinking and caring about it. I like sharing my thoughts about this, but that's it. I spend maybe like 30 minutes of my life with this and then deal with my own things. After all, whether they are really together or not is not going to affect my life. How a Hungarian saying says; it won't make bread cheaper. Would it be disappointing? Yeah, because of the person she is. But we can't let this whole thing ruin even a single moment of our lives for us. Our lives are much more important than their fake relationship. 

[thehugheslover]

Am I OKAY? Luke Hughes x Singer reader

Song am I okay and Third times the charm is made by the wonderful Megan Moroney. Karma is owned buy the beautiful Taylor Swift

Tonight was a big night. It was your last stop of your tour before you go on a 3 month break. And it was New Jersey Night 3. You had so very special people in the crowd Luke Hughes your boyfriend of 1 year his two brothers Jack and Quinn His parents Ellen and Jim and of course you Mom and Dad. You had just released your 5th studio album and lets just say half of the songs on that Album are about Luke.

You and Luke have been keeping a good job at hiding your relation ship from the public. However rumors were going around that you two were dating when you him and Jack got spotted by the paparazzi over 2 months ago walking around New York for Jacks birthday. And a week after you were spotted at a Devils vs Rangers game with Luke's parents. So tonight you had the perfect idea to hard launch your relationship with Luke.

After you finished doing some promotion for tonight's show you went back stage to see Luke , his family , and your parents. You were very excited to see Luke because he had been finishing off playoff season and you were busying on tour. You were walking out when Luke spotted you. He was talking to Jack and he ran off when he saw you walking. You were looking at your compacted mirror and closed it when you heard running and when you looked up you saw Luke. He picked you up and spun you around and you had your hands around his neck than you kissed him. "We get it you guys love each other" you heard Jack say and Luke gave him a hard glare. You gave everyone hugs and talked to your family for a minute till you had 10 minutes left before you pulled Luke aside to tell him your plan and make sure he is okay with it. You whispered it into his ear and he grinded ear to ear nodding with approval. You said your good buys to Luke and his family and yours. You were so ready for tonight.

Once you got on the whole time Luke would not stop smiling at you. He was in aw of how you looked and how you sounded. Jack and Quinn kept teasing him for it but they were really happy Luke found you. You made his life 10 times better. and you loved Luke sooooo much. Now it came time for your final three songs songs that were very anticipated by Luke.

"Ok Jersey these next two songs are very near and deer to my heart" you said. "But first I need a outfit change real quick I will be right back". The crowd your parents Luke's parents and his brothers were confused. But when the lights turned on the crowd went wild. Over your dress you put on Luke's hockey jersey. Everyone in the VIP tent was going wild. "Ok so i really like this one it is called Am I Okay.

End of the song

"Am I okay I think I am okayyyyy. Than Oh my God he walked in (you pointed to Luke"). Like a six foot 2 dream heaven sent he say's what he means and means what he says."

"Ok so this next one is probley my favorite song I have written so I am just going to play it it's called Third times the charm" and the crowd went wild again

Third times the charm

"I could probable get back up if this goes south and I lose your love but I don't want to know a world where your not mine and I am not your girl". For the whole bridge of the song you and Luke keeped eye contact and and you pretending that it was just you and him.

Now the final little song twist for the night was your song karma from your previous albums you worth it about your ex who only lasted about 9 months but you were going to switch up the ending.

Step by step from town to town Sweet like justice, karma is a queen Karma takes all my friends to the summit Karma is the guy on the devils Coming straight home to me

You couldn't help but giggle a little because of how loud the venue got and you saw everyone whip there phones from you to Luke to get his reaction. Once you said your goodbyes you ran right off the stage.

When you walked out you saw Luke standing there with your family and his. You knew people where still in the stands so you wanted to give them a little cute moment of you and Luke. You full speed ran to Luke and wrapped you legs around his waist and gave him a kiss. And again the crowd was awing and cheering.

[starions]

end of the line, we finally reached the edge after all this time.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x gn!spider!reader

words ; 2472

summary ; miguel finds himself face-to-face with you—or a dark, twisted version of you.

tags ; angst, reader has hypnosis powers, reader is described with hair long enough to pull, no use of y/n, gender neutral pronouns/use of second person, i kinda don't know how symbiotes work

han's note ; still written with my spidersona in mind but it is very vague still! i recommend reading part one "i didn't find my love, but i still made it this far without it" because it wont make much sense without it. title is still an ethel cain lyric <3

part one

;

As Miguel stepped outside of the portal, he was greeted by you. Not physically, but with your mask covered face plastered on every surface available. It seemed like this Earth—Earth-799—was on track to become similar to his own, with megacorporations feeding advertisements to consumers wherever they looked, influencing them to buy things out of indulgence and not necessity. He wondered, were you a pawn of these capitalists, or were you playing their game right alongside them? He looked around the city, trying to find Jess, but his vision was blocked by either electronic screens or holograms of you advertising some product.

This was his own personal nightmare.

“Jess,” he said to his Gizmo, “where are you?”

A tiny hologram of Jess appeared from his Gizmo, looking rightfully pissed off. “Why did it take you so long to show up?”

“Don't worry about it,” he said. “Where are you?”

“Meet me on top of Stark Coffee on Lexington and 3rd. I’ll fill you in when I see you.” With that, the call ended, and Miguel was left just alone with your smiling face at every angle.

In an instant, Miguel began swinging throughout your New York City, careful not to attract too much attention. The sun was beginning to set, and the twinkling lights of the buildings and advertisements were illuminated off his blue suit. He hoped this would go by quickly, smoothly. Catch the anomaly, return back home. He wouldn’t have to see your face in person, and he definitely wouldn’t have to set foot on this Earth centered around you again. Miguel considered himself rational, and logically, never meeting you again would be a guarantee that your life would continue on, unchanged. He flew with ease, managing to find the rooftop of Stark Coffee in no time at all. Jess stood, arms crossed and face with the beginning signs of bruises. He’d have to send her to the infirmary for a quick check up.

“Are you okay?” Miguel said, landing on his feet and walking over to Jess; he gave her a once over, noticing a few tears in her suit. Miguel tssked, shaking his head. “You need to be more careful.”

“Fine,” Jess said, annoyance in her tone. “Maybe next time, backup will come quicker.”

“Good,” he said, ignoring her quick remark and looking across the rooftop and to the streets below. “What are we looking at here? Where’s the anomaly?”

Jess taps onto her Gizmo, pulling up information about whatever she had been chasing prior to his arrival. “According to Lyla, it's a symbiote from Earth-901220; it’s attached itself to this Earth’s Spidey. They’re incredibly slippery, as you can tell.”

Miguel’s jaw clenched underneath his mask. So much for not seeing you face-to-face. How could this have possibly happened without him noticing? “How long has it been attached?”

“A little under 12 hours.”

“Good, should be easy to detach then, where did you—”

“You brought a friend!” Miguel’s head snapped to the sound of the voice that rang out in the air. He hadn’t heard that voice in person in a long, long time—yet, there was a darkness twisted into it, something chilling, an effect of the symbiote. Standing on the edge of the rooftop, you looked him up and down. Your once red and white Spider-Suit was now tainted black, absorbed by the symbiote. You tilted your head, smiling wildly and showing fangs that rivaled his, and the black mask covering only your eyes crinkled with your smile. “He looks scary,” you teased. “Sorry you had to call for backup,” you said to Jess, “your ego must be bruised.”

She sneered. “Listen, if you just come with us, we can get that thing off of you.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, laughing. “This thing has been the best thing to happen to me in such a long time,” you extend your arms out like wings and tilt your head back, feeling the breeze in your hair. “I haven’t felt this free in so, so long.”

“Enough of this,” Miguel snapped. “You’re coming with us. Now.”

Slowly, you moved your head back toward Miguel, staring at him with dark, unrecognizable eyes and resting your arms back on your sides. You hmmed, as if in deep contemplation. “No. I don’t think I will.” With that, you fell backwards off the roof.

Miguel rushed to the edge, looking around. You were nowhere to be seen. “God damn it!” He turned toward Jess. “Go after them on your bike, I’ll be in the air.”

Miguel leaped off the roof, talons digging into the brick roof for more momentum. He shot neon orange webs out of his forearms, eyes straining to catch a glimpse of your black suit against the illuminated lights of the inner city. Miguel held firmly onto the web-line as he glided across the city, finally catching a glimpse of you haphazardly webbing away, destroying the electronic screens with your face on them as you went.

Miguel followed the trail of destroyed advertisements, calling your name as he etched closer. “Stop!” He yelled, getting close enough to you to grab onto your loose hair.

You yelped from the pain, losing your momentum and falling on top of a taxi cab. “Asshole!” You cried out, back stinking momentarily as you got back to your feet. The driver of the cab jumped out of the cab, yelling profanities, and all you did was point to the blue-and-red suited man chasing after you. “His fault!”

You made a mad dash away from Miguel, running across hoods of cars and cabs as you shoot another web out of your wrist, gaining enough speed to make a pendulum out of yourself. Your web-line attaches onto a nearby billboard, and you propel yourself forward as you maneuver through the city streets. 

Miguel cursed to himself; you were incredibly limber, able to move through this labyrinth of skyscrapers. This is what Miguel hated about traveling to new dimensions—even though it was the same city as his own, the buildings were different; the landmarks were different; everything was different. You had a general sense of where you were going, him on the other hand, he had no idea.

What Miguel did know, however, were your weaknesses. All that time he spent, analyzing your skills and weaknesses, gave him leverage you did not have on him. Judging by what he was seeing now, the symbiote was amplifying your skills, not improving them. That must mean that the same skills you lack were ever present, and Miguel had plans on exploiting them. 

He watched as you landed on top of a rooftop to catch your breath, stopping midswing to land on the rooftop next to it. Hiding from your view, he watched as you wiped sweat from your forehead, looking around for signs of him or Jess. Miguel scoffed at your expression; you seemed disappointed. You liked this game of cat and mouse. Too bad he was about to end it.

As you were getting ready to launch your web again, Miguel leaped into action, taking advantage of the blindspot you had on your left side. You yelped as he grabbed onto your waist, rolling the two of you over a few times before finally pinning your wrists above your head.

“No fair,” you said, shifting in his grip. “I was having fun.”

Miguel ignored you. “Jess,” he said into his Gizmo, “I got them.”

“On it,” Jess replied, the roar of her bike engine in the back, “tracking your location.”

“You’re the boss, right?” You asked from underneath him.

He grunted, tightening the grip on your wrist. What he needed to do was sink his teeth in your neck, paralyzing you like any other anomaly; but he didn’t know the effect of his venom on another Spider-Person, and the thought of hurting you scared him.

“Can you take your mask off?” You asked. “I wanna see the man who captured me.”

“No.”

“Why?” You asked, tilting your head up at him. “Are you ugly?”

He scoffed. “Quite the opposite.”

“Ohh I see, you’re just a tease.” You grinned, a fang poking out of your lip. “Come on, you show me yours, I’ll show you mine. How’s that?”

Miguel hesitated. Everything in him was telling him to ignore them, to web them up and get them back to HQ as quickly as possible, but… he hadn’t seen your face in such a long time. If he could just humor you, once, he could see you in person again. Everything he wished against an hour before. The last image of your face was beaten to a bloody pulp, and he would like to erase that memory.

With a sigh, Miguel nodded, his holographic mask dissipating to reveal his face.

You ooo’d. “Handsome,” you said. “My turn.” In an instant, the symbiote acting as your mask crawled off your face and onto your suit below, uncovering your face to the man pinning you down.

His gaze softened as he took in your features. There was a new scar next to your eyebrow, the mole on your face was on the opposite side, and your eyes were a slightly different color, but it was you. The one he lost, all those years ago.

“Weird reaction,” you said with a quirked eyebrow. “I’ll keep that reaction in my back pocket for later, though.” You looked up at where his large hand still had your wrists pinned down. “This was fun and all, but I’m kinda over it, so…” You looked back at him, staring into his red eyes. “You’re going to let me go now.”

For some reason, Miguel couldn’t break eye contact with you. Your words flooded him with warmth, and all the signals in his brain were turning off one by one. “Let you… go?”

You nodded, smiling softly. “Let me go.”

He did what he was told, his hand released your wrists. As he climbed off you, he made no move to recapture you as he sat on the rooftop, dazed by your words.

“Bye boss man,” you said, as the symbiote mask crawled back on your face. “Tell the cute biker girl I said bye too!”

With that, you propelled yourself off the rooftop, and Miguel sat stumped, entirely confused. After a second, he regained his senses. What the fuck. What the fuck? He didn’t have time to question whether or not that was the symbiote or part of your Spider powers. He immediately called Jess. “Don’t look them in the eyes,” he said, swinging off the rooftop as his mask appeared back on his face. “They have some sort of hypnosis power.”

“I’m assuming they got away?” Jess said over the sound of traffic. “Because I’m looking at them right now.”

Miguel spotted Jess’ bike up ahead, swerving around traffic to get to the symbiote-ridden Spidey wreaking havoc across New York City. “Unintentionally,” he said, making his way toward the two of them.

“Right,” Jess said, as she sped up her bike. She used a nearby ramp to propel her bike upward enough to meet you at the lower height of your swing, hitting you with her bike. You stumbled in mid air, somersaulting before webbing yourself to the nearest building you could find. With a glare towards her, you shot your web at a traffic light, using all your strength to bring it down. In seconds, a collision of cars blocked her path toward you. “You should make sure no one is hurt! You are Spider-Woman, after all.” You called out to Jess, swinging away from the mess you created.

“You deal with that!” Miguel said into his Gizmo. “I got them this time.” He was sure of it too; he wasn’t going to let you make a fool of him again.

Miguel moved hastily, zipping past the waves of people filming the chase on their smartphones and watches. You swung from building from building, using your Spider-Sense to detect the best course to deter the masked man following behind you. You laughed maniacally, enjoying the thrill of being chased, doing spins and twirls as if you were playing some sort of game.

The laughing stopped and was replaced with a grunt of pain as you suddenly glitched, blocks of colors and shapes cutting your web-line mid swing, a reminder that the symbiote that had claimed you was not part of this dimension.

You came crashing down, smashing face first on an electronic billboard advertising some sort of cherry flavored vodka. You slowly slumped down on the catwalk, unmoving as Miguel landed next to you.

He paused, blood running cold. He hoped—prayed—that you would move, that he didn’t just kill you again. When he saw you stir, he felt himself let out a sigh of relief.

Meekly, you sat up, turning on your knees to face him. “I’m gonna feel that in the morning,” you said, rubbing your head. “I bet it will feel like a hangover,” you said, pointing to the billboard and laughing weakly. “Get it?”

“That’s funny,” Miguel said plainly, before using his webs to tie you up. He knelt down, holographic mask coming off so this time, he really could paralyze you. He couldn’t risk you using that power again. His hand found purchase in your hair, yanking your head to the side to expose your neck. His fangs sunk in, and his venom seeped in, ready to attack your veins.

Your eyes widened at the feeling of fangs piercing you, but your lids fluttered lowly as the venom enacted almost immediately. “Didn’t want this…” You said quietly. “Thought I could be… someone else. Not Spider…” You couldn’t finish your words, your head slumping down as your body went still.

Miguel caught you in his arms as you keeled over just as Jess landed on the railing.

“Told you they were slippery,” Jess said, shaking her head. “They gonna be okay?”

“Should be,” Miguel said, looking down at you. He recalled the last time he held you in his arms, right after you had been murdered. He shook the thought out of his head. “I didn’t use enough venom to cause any lasting effects, but that means it should wear off soon. Ready the portal, we’ll get this symbiote off somewhere safe.”

Jess looked at your unmoving body with concern, before tapping a few buttons on her Gizmo.

The yellow portal opened at once, and Miguel scooped you up. He looked down at your features one last time, a thousand questions and fears flooding his head at once. Now wasn’t the time to ponder, or question whether or not taking you with them would be bad for everyone. Right now, his focus was on saving your life. Without a second thought, Miguel stepped into the portal, reluctant to show you his world.

[drhighhopess]

Cleon Week 2024

A Claire x Leon fanfiction based on the themes for cleon week (24th-30th of September) each chapter represents the day we are going off

theme : The Key to Her Heart

Word count : 705

Chapter : 1 / 7

Type : sfw

a/n : before you start the fanfic I want to address some background info just in case. In this fic there is never a Raccoon City Incident. Meaning Claire and Leon are getting a regular go for their relationship. As well with each chapter may have a different timeperiod of cleon, if so will be stated. They all will be completely different and not related to one another.

The sounds of people laughing could be heard from the whole carnival. People stood with their loved ones, being able to enjoy the moments and memories to be formed. The same ones they could laugh and smile about later on, in a day or two, maybe even a year, or their last moments. It was the best thing about spending time with someone that makes you day, especially doing something that made both or all of you happy.

The December cold flowed throughout Raccoon City. Claire took a soft breath out, seeing the air she breathed out from her mouth. A small but simple reminder on how cold it truly was.

The man that stood next to her took her out on a date. They've had a couple throughout the time they met. It was around the end of September, when Claire went to meet her brother Chris, one of the STARS members in his building. It was just his first day, she made a comment about him. It was snarky, if he was honest it bothered him at the time.

He definitely doesn't mind the comment she made today.

A month after they met he asked her out on a date. Finding out she lived in New York where her college was, which would mean she wouldn't see him often. Even then throughout that month she was conveniently always in Raccoon. A part of him believed it was because of him, or at least he truly wished it was. The opportunity gave him a chance to learn about who she was. Knowing what she liked,

her favorite color,

her favorite food,

or even her favorite number.

Now it's officially been the first month, she was out of college for winter break. Since she was staying at his place instead of her brothers for the first time he wanted to spend some quality time with the redhead.

Claire had her fingers intertwined with his, they walked together throughout the park. Looking and wondering whether they should pick another ride.

“Can we get hot chocolate?”

“Whatever you want, Red” Leon spoke, the smile creeping from up under his face. Before slightly shaking his head to cover up his excitement.

Kennedy took his wallet from his back pocket. Turning over to find some cash inside of its contents, “May we please get two hot chocolates?”

.

The two went over to the carnival games, seeing some plushies available to win at the stands.

“Oh shit that's Mr Raccoon” Claire smiled, the ends of her lips turned up. Seeing the animal that represented the city was pretty cool.

Yeah it was practically Leon's goal to win it now, this was a moment she'd remember for every part of their relationship. It's one of the very few first dates. Considering the fact that it's pretty early on, he wants to make it just as memorable as possible.

Plus, once Claire goes back to her dorm room she'll have the stuffed animal with her, to think of him when she looks at it.

.

“He looks so damn weird I love it..” The redhead examined. It was weird, maybe since the guy who won it for her was Leon. Also the thing was cute. It wasn't your average teddy bear.

And yeah, he definitely won it.

Even if that means it took over five times.. she had a good laugh. In the end the college student ended up with a huge stuffed animal to carry around for the rest of the night.

Or.. being the gentleman he was, he offered to carry it for her. Even with the resistance she clearly displayed, he ended up holding it for the night.

And, maybe he was right.

Just maybe when she went back home to her roommate.

Back to her best friend, the same girl she ranted about the whole two weeks she spent with Leon.

She thought about him each time she saw the stuffed animal, it was like the key to heart. Leon's actions were such a small gesture that stuck. And those actions caused her to have one more reason out of thousands and thousands of all of them that made her crush on him. And maybe even love him now.

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Dreams and Reality | Bruce Wayne/Batman x Reader!Magician ft the Sandman [Part 1/3]

Synopsis: The holidays are coming and as the Batfamily prepares with gifts and decorations, John Constantine knocks on their door with a surprise. 

~ Star City, 20th Century ~

Madeline Pryor could feel the shift in the air. After nearly a century, she could feel his presence once again. In the cold dark night of Star City, Madeline breathed out the name of her beloved, “Lord Dream.”

From the shadows, the figure appeared donning black robes. He strolled from the dark streets and appeared to her under the light of the lamp. He has not aged since she last saw him three-hundred years ago, since the day he saved her from the pyre and then left her in that hut after she had sent Gisella Sinner and her daughters to a brutal death with those likes she cried out.

“Madeline Pryor,” Dream said, her name still the same as he did so before. “You have not aged a day.”

“I did not feel you, Lord Dream… for a long time. I thought maybe you had decided to abandon me but then the winds changed.”

Madeline stepped towards him. “You are in pain… what has happened to you, my Lord Dream?”

Dream kept silent but he did not retract from her touch. He welcomed them, her arms, her breath, the kiss on his cheek. How he missed the sound of her voice, the warmth she gives.

~ Somewhere in New York, 20th Century  ~

“Alright, Vivian, time for bed!” 

Seven-year-old Vivian only glanced at her closed bedroom door and returned to her book. It was a fascinating book with colorful pictures of knights, kings, princesses, witches, and dragons. Her mother just bought it yesterday after coming home from a long day at work, since then she couldn’t put it down. The door of her room opened, and standing there with her hands on her hips and tired look on her face was Madeline Pryor. Her mother.

“I said, go to bed, Vivian,” said Madeline. “I’m tired, and I still have to do the dishes and prepare food for Benny’s poker game.”

Vivian frowned. Benny was her mother’s current boyfriend. At the young age of six, she already knew what an asshole was, and Benny was the posterboy of that word. She wondered why her mother even stays with him.

“Why doesn’t he make the food?” Vivian muttered and returned to her book.

“Vivian.”

She ignored her mother.

“Vivian. Close the book and head to bed.”

“Why bother sleeping when he’s going to keep me up all night with the noise?” Vivian muttered. “Why does he play at all when he always loses?”

Her mother closed the door of her room and locked it. Benny didn’t hear. He was too busy drowning in his eight o’clock show. Madeline went to her bed and took the book from Vivian and placed it on the bedside.

“Don’t ever say that to him, alright?” Madeline told her. “Do you understand, Vivian Pryor?”

Looking at her mother, Vivian saw the panic in her eyes, and nodded. “I promise.”

“Vee.”

“I promise!”

Sighing, Madeline brushed her daughter’s hair, untangling the ends and massaging her scalp. The sight of her daughter’s smile made her forget about the fear and that shitty poker game she needed to prepare for. “Come here, spitfire, let’s fix this before you go to bed,” Madeline pulled her daughter to sit up with her back to her, and started to braid Vivian’s long auburn hair. She started to hum, which then had Vivian singing along.

“Why don’t you just use your magic to make the food?” Vivian asked.

Madeline paused in her braiding. “Because if Benny sees that I can use magic he’ll call the authorities and we’ll be on the run.”

“Then do the same thing that you always do. Poof them away.”

Madeline frowned. “Not everything should be solved by magic, Vivian.”

“Why don’t you ever use your magic again, Mommy? I miss seeing you use your magic.”

“I do too,” Madeline whispered. “But I don’t want to.”

“Everything was easier with it.”

“Well, you can’t always depend on it. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because not everyone believes that magic should be here. There are those who… there are witches who were burned in the stake for having them. Some drowned. Some hanged…” Madeline frowned at the memory. “Like your grandmother and your aunt… so, do not use your magic when there’s anyone around. But you can always use it when I’m around.”

“Okay,” Vivian whispered. “Ever since we visited that man, Papa Midnite, you stopped using your magic.”

Madeline finished with her work and had Vivian lay down in bed. “You are too smart for your own good. You know that?”

Vivian smiled and held her mother’s hand. “Stay here tonight. Please?”

Madeline had every intention to. “I’ll come back after I make their food. Go to bed, Vivian.”

“I will.”

Madeline leaned down and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Go to bed, and pray the Sandman gives you good dreams that take you away from this place.”

“Away from Benny’s poker game.”

“Yes.”

“Goodnight, Mommy,” Vivian whispered and turned to her side to sleep.

Later that night, after setting the table for Benny and his friends, Madeline Pryor entered her daughter’s room where she locked the door, pushed the drawer against it, and drew over the fading protection seal on the washed-blue paint on its surface. She sat on the edge of Vivian’s bed and kept a hand on her daughter as she held a bat to keep anyone from getting to them, and a pendant that would keep anything from taking Vivian from her.

No one was taking her girl. No man, and no Endless.

~ Now ~

Three major encounters with the divine, the damned, and time and space in a year. Constantine more than had his fair share of those three and needed a break. Sure his everyday consists of battling demons, betting on his soul with them over a game of poker while dragging along Jason Blood, and some consultations for the Justice League as long as Zatanna or Vivian were present, but being called to the – as he calls it – boy-scout Tower in space, he had a quota and he’s – rather, they – have reached it. 

Mammon may be a year ago but the night called Battle of Angels and Demons by the Flash was still fresh in his memory. How could it be when he literally saw his ex-girlfriend and now best friend be possessed by a demon, butchered by an angel, and he literally unsealed her powers so she could be reborn and brought back to life.

Then there was the case with the JLA which he and Zatanna worked on about Destiny. 

Then the latest one, which happened months ago, involved traveling back in time, specifically in the 18th century, to rescue Batman who was zapped there by Darkseid. That adventure may have solidified his relationship with Vivian and Batman as a close friend, but still. He would rather come to that Manor for a pint than a life-threatening mission. It also gave him a good reputation in the Justice League. Which was not his intention. Now they were inviting him to join their little hero-club! 

First thing that everyone should know – and Vivian knows this very well – John Constantine is not a hero. 

John Constantine is the type of person who will kill his other dimension-self to save his arse from getting killed. 

So as he finished an exorcism for a priest he knew in London, which involved some noble woman who is the King’s fiftieth cousin/niece seventh times removed – he doesn’t really give a shit – and some American football star who turns out to be a demon, he told his priest-friend, “that’s it, John Constantine is going on a vacation! So make sure to tell those bastards below to not do anything that would piss me off, got it?! And tell everyone in mass to pray extra hard!”

It’s official, John was on holiday. Good thing too because the holidays were also coming close and he’s got a couple of invitations for him to attend to. Zatanna invited him to her place to celebrate days after her special holiday show, and Vivian and Batman invited him to join her ever-growing family for holiday dinner. He could pop by Wayne Manor for a drink, some takeaways, Alfred would always pack him a little doggy bag with a bottle of scotch from Vivian, then go to Zatanna’s show.

If only that were easy – and it should – but he was John Constantine and he is never given a day off in his life. 

The man standing by the broken lamp post was pale as the moon, he wore black clothing from head to toe, which made him look like some black and white TVcharacter too. 

“John Constantine,” he called for him.His voice sounded ancient that was a cross between a narrator of a dream while still holding the horrors of nightmares. A voice that goes beyond time. It brought chills down John’s spine.

“I think you just missed him, mate,” John walked past him and lit his cigarette.

The man appeared before him again, this time blocking his path, and above them a raven flew around. “John Constantine,” the man said again. “You are just as stubborn as your ancestor.”

“What can I say? It runs in the family – if you didn’t get the message, mate, I’m on holiday. I already got more than enough demons and angels and whatever the fuck you are.  See you next year!”

“We have business, you and I,” the man continued.

“Get in line! The lot of you always say you do!”

“Vivian Claire Pryor.”

John stopped on his tracks. Turning to the man, John glared at him, “I’m telling you now. Stay away from Vivian Pryor. Do you understand? Unless you want your sorry immortal-arse turn to cosmic dust.”

The man approached him. “I need to speak with Vivian Pryor.”

“Everyone does.”

A smirk came to the man’s face as he said, “You still do not know who you speak to, Constantine. Your relative was quick to identify me upon our meeting.” Not exactly true, but when Johanna Constantine did learn his name she knew immediately who and what he was.

Looking at the man, Constantine turned to the sky where the raven continued to fly above their heads. 

“Endless,” John concluded. “Not just any Endless too, Lord Morpheus. Dream. Where’s the sand, the ruby, and the helm?”

“In my possession.”

“What do you want with Vee? Better yet, what do you want with me?”

“You were quite close with her, yes?”

“Jealous, mate? Then you’d be more jealous of her husband. Big man, wears a bat costume.”

“I am not interested in Vivian Pryor in such a manner. My concern for her is beyond such a thing.”

“What is it then?”

“There are those who find her existence an abomination. She is in danger.”

“Why would they —” brown eyes that almost looked like darkness. John cursed under his breath. “Bollocks!”

~*~

Gotham in the holidays is just as chaotic as Halloween. But unlike Halloween where it only happens for one night, this goes on for at least a week before the  holiday itself. Vivian remembers clearly the first Christmas she spent in Gotham, she was homesick then and had not enough money to eat in a fancy restaurant. So she spent the day volunteering at the Martha Wayne Foundation by handing out food and clothes, and after that she went to a local bar that serves good food and drinks. She called her family to wish them happy holidays and that was it.

The past holidays started to be filled with fun as she had Christmas parties with colleagues and friends, and now she celebrates the holidays with her family. A family she never thought she would have nor share the traditions of going through the war of shopping for dinner and gifts with.

Of all her adopted children, it was Dick who had the patience to go through the troubles of Christmas shopping. Maybe it was because they developed this tradition ever since he came to Wayne Manor and became Bruce’s ward. The first Christmas he had there, Vivian invited him to join her to buy gifts and food that they’ll prepare for dinner. At first he hated it, absolutely hated it, he was tired after that day, but as he got older he looked forward to coming to Gotham so he could help out Vivian on the list of things she had.

Which was where they were now. Walking out of the shopping district where Riddler set a huge riddle fiasco inside. Batman’s got it covered, along with Robin and Orphan, which let Dick and Vivian to leave the place with their purchases and a long and dragging sigh.

“Gotta love Gotham in the holidays,” he mused.

“It’s not the holidays without the Riddler turning the toy store into a real life Five Nights at Freddy’s,” Vivian sighed. “I hope Bruce and the others are okay.

“They are. Don’t worry about it. They’ll be back home before we even get through this traffic.”

Dick was right about traffic. He and Vivian arrived at the manor thirty-minutes later than Batman, Robin, and Orphan. Upon reaching the driveway, they were met outside by Bruce and the others who went to help with bringing everything inside.

“Are you both alright?” He asked her.

“Yeah, nothing we can’t handle. I’m sure you’ve seen Eddie now, so no point in giving his message,” Vivian said.

“What message?”

“He told me he wants to wish you a happy holiday and that he says hi.”

“I’m not sure if I should be happy about your casual relationship with the Riddler.”

“It’s more of an acquaintance type of relationship.”

Coming inside, Vivian smiled at the sight of the decorations that everyone helped in setting up. The first time she had Christmas in the manor, she was surprised by Alfred with the festivities and wondered if she went to the right manor in Gotham because, in her words, “this looks like a mini Christmas Village”, and as of now Alfred still has the knack for making the place look like a page torn from Charles Dickens’ Christmas Carol. Which was fitting since Wayne Manor has all the remnants of the past, with the present bustling with life, and the future of… actually, the only thing that reminds Vivian of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come was her husband whenever he comes home from patrol in the snow in his Batman uniform.

“Ah, welcome back, Mrs. Pryor!” Alfred greeted them.

“Hello, Alfred, sorry we’re late. Dick and I got stuck in traffic,” Vivian told him.

“Not to worry, Ma’am, all is well. I have prepared snacks for everyone while I whip up some dinner.”

“I’ll help –”

“No need, please relax in the study with this,” he handed her a glass of scotch. “You have already tired yourself with the shopping, which was supposed to be my errand for the day.”

“Alfred, you’ve already made this place a holiday wonderland, I should at least do the shopping and the cooking.”

“No offense, Viv,” Tim spoke. “But we all know that Alfred makes a mean pie. Even if you agree on that.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll just start with wrapping the presents then,” she snapped her fingers and had the bags of presents sent to her study before any of them could get a peek on what they were getting. “I’ll be in my study if you need me. And don’t try to find out what you’re getting. I placed a glamor on each of those.”

They all groaned in disappointment.

“I’ll help you in wrapping,” said Bruce, joining her at the stairs.

“How come he gets to see the presents?” Jason called out.

“Because it won’t last long in any way, why bother prolonging the inevitable, right?”

Another groan from them all, making Vivian laugh and pull Bruce up the stairs and before they disappear into the hall she said to them, “Mrs. Clause won’t be the north pole helping with making gifts!”

“VIV!”, “MA!” “MOM!” They exclaimed at her and she laughed loudly as she dragged Bruce to the study and locked the doors. 

He wasted no time as he pressed her against doors and kissed her feverishly. “I missed you,” he said between kisses. He’s been busy for the past few weeks with trips around the world to see Wayne Enterprise offices, duties as a Justice League member, and for Batman’s cases. There was a time he didn’t come home for four days straight and the only time Vivian saw him was during a video call when he was off Earth. Floating in space. 

“I missed you too,” Vivian moaned as his hands squeezed her thighs, telling her that he was going to lift her up. She wrapped her legs around him, making her taller and easier for her to kiss. “Bruce, are you — hey!” She laughed as he hastily unbuttoned her shirt. “I’m not wearing it now!”

He hummed in disappointment but he still continued kissing her chest and down to the exposed parts of her breast. He brought her down a little so he could press his crotch against hers. It always sends a wave of electricity across her body. With that simple act he has her in the palm of his hand. She would be telling him – not begging, never begging – to stop messing around and bend her over the table if needed. 

“I almost wanted to,” she struggled to speak as he kissed her lips again. “Call you when Batman comes to stop the Riddler.”

Bruce laughed between kisses and finally pulled away. They both looked at each other, disheveled from the heated session earlier, flustered with raw lips, and Vivian’s chest covered with love-bites that made them both laugh at their behavior. 

One last kiss, Bruce said to her, “Happy Holidays, Mrs. Wayne.”

“Happy Holidays, Mr. Pryor,” Vivian replied and got down from his hold and took the floating drink from midair and went to where the shopping bags were, and Ace. They only noticed Ace’s presence now as the dog came out of his hiding place behind the couch. On its head was a kitten wearing a large red ribbon around its neck.

“Poor babies, we didn’t know you were here,” Vivian hugged the large dog and the kitten. “I’m sorry.”

Ace barked and happily licked her cheek, while the kitten, which she named Echo, happily purred and nuzzled in her arms.

“They didn’t seem to mind,” Bruce said.

“Still, it’s weird to know that our cat and dog were here the entire time.” Vivian finished her drink and went to the bags to start unpacking. “Yeah, just so you stop wondering which one is yours. I already bought it weeks ago, and hid it at my desk in the University. So just help me wrap these.”

Bruce sat on the ground with her and started unrolling the wrapping paper. Echo climbed onto Bruce's lap and laid there where she could get a scratch on the back or on the head. Despite having magic to help with the task, Vivian preferred to wrap her presents by hand. She mentioned doing it when she was a child and carried on the tradition as a grown up. Bruce had to remind her that at that time it was just her and her mother, then her father and brother and sister. But Vivian was adamant in keeping this certain tradition even if it meant wrapping presents for their family which has now grown beyond their fingers’ capability to count. 

But she’ll admit that she’ll use magic to wrap the other gifts to those who she’s not too close with, such as certain colleagues at work, her students – which she gifts with three pieces of biscuits. 

Sitting on the ground with Ace at their side, and Alfred the cat on his head, Vivian and Bruce wrapped the presents for each member of the family. They were halfway through when he asked her a question that he always does, “are your father and siblings coming over?”

“Not this time.”

“They never do.”

“What are you talking about? Of course they do!” Vivian writes Cassandra’s name on the present. “They went the last time.”

“That was three Christmases ago, Viv. And that was the only time they did since… five years ago?”

“Do you want them here?”

“Of course, I do. Adam and I are getting along, Olivia too. Oliver has always been nice and I remember you mentioning that he and his husband are planning on adopting a baby.”

“Yeah, they are.”

“I think we should see them and so you can greet your niece or nephew.”

“Our niece or nephew. But with the baby in mind, do you really think it’s a good idea to bring them to Gotham with what just happened at the mall? Remember the last time they were here?”

He does. “Joker thought it would be funny to have a bomb of Joker Gas go off at Christmas Eve at the top of Wayne Tower so everyone would be smiling and laughing.”

“Yes. And it was chaotic – I mean, you had to go and stop Joker, and I had to tell them that my husband is currently making sure that everyone gets out safely…”

“Then we go to them during the holidays.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that. We’ve already planned the dinner here.”

“How about after? We can take the jet. Take the kids – Adam mentioned wanting to meet them all, especially Cassandra. It would be a fun trip to Liverpool.”

“Remember the last time we went to Liverpool?”

Bruce sighed. “Mary, Queen of Blood.”

“Yes. It’s not that I don’t want us to go visit my family in Liverpool or them coming here, it’s just so sudden if we do. And we don’t have any intel to make sure that it’s not another case that we’re facing if we head to Liverpool.”

“I understand. But I do wish we could go there someday. The entire family. For a vacation.”

Vivian gasped teasingly. “You go on a vacation? The most workaholic person I’ve ever met? Oh no! Bruce, it’s too soon! Duke and I were just discussing about Geriatric Batman the other day –”

“Geriatric Batman?!”

“No, my love, please! It’s too early for retirement,” she laughed.

Bruce reached over the gifts and dragged Vivian to his lap, Vivian tried to get away by calling for Alfred the cat and Ace to save her but her husband had her in his arms and carried her off the ground. “Does this look like a Geriatric Batman to you?”

“A joke, Bruce. We were just messing around — wondering how long you’ll still be doing this… I mean, you’re not getting any younger.”

“Thanks.”

“It was just a thought…” reaching up, she brushed her fingers through his hair that had a white streak at the side. “But I do wish that we’ll come to that… retirement. The both of us here, old and gray. With Ace and the other animals.”

“I know,” Bruce smiled softly and kissed his wife passionately. “We’ll get there. I promise.”

“And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that you do,” Vivian pulled him down to kiss her again. 

“Bruce! Vivian!” The door of the study was kicked open by Tim and Stephany.

“What is it?” Bruce placed down Vivian as they sensed the alarm in their tone.

“Someone’s in the living room. It’s urgent.”

~*~

“So, that someone is John,” Vivian said as she saw the man in the coat smoking a cigarette by the fireplace. Looking more worried than usual. “You could have said John, right?”

John threw his cigarette into the fire. “I told them to do that or else you and the husband won’t come down. Happy holidays, Vee.”

“The present that you can give me now is not a case, John,” Vivian sighed. “Please, we just want the closest-to-normal holidays.”

“I do too, I was looking forward to the pie and the other things Alfred’s going to make tonight and on Christmas Eve, but there’s something important that you need to know. I think it’s best if you have a couple of drinks in your system and you’re seated down when I tell you something.”

Before John’s magically levitating bottle of scotch approached her, Vivian waved it away and said to him, “I do not need a drink, and I do not need to sit down. What is going on, John?”

The man sighed and looked around the room. “I guess you also want to know?”

Jason shrugged. “What gave it away?”

“Nosy brats.”

“If you’re here to ruin the holidays we should at least know what for.”

“Constantine,” Bruce said, telling him to get to the point. 

“Fine. What do you know about your father, Vee? Not your stepfather but your actual Father,” Constantine began.

Taken aback, Vivian couldn’t find the words to his question and was silent for a time. In her place, it was Jason, Dick, and Damian who questioned him about why it is important. All of them knew of Vivian’s upbringing, how her mother raised her as a single-mom, moving from town after town in America until they got the money to go to England, where they settled in Liverpool. Not one mention of her father but for stepfather. As far as they and Vivian knew her biological father was simply a man who didn’t care. Her mother never seemed to tell her anything about him, so why bother knowing, right?

“Vee!” John pulled her back from her shock. His voice is commanding. “Tell me. What did Madeline Pryor ever tell you about your father?”

“I… she never did.”

“I doubt it,” John walked around the room as if searching for something. “Not even a profession?”

“No.”

“Did he ever go to prison?”

“How should I know?!”

“Constantine,” Bruce warned him.

“How about a song, did she mention a song? Was there a song she always sang to you before going to bed? Or a story?”

“John, I have no idea what the hell you’re trying to do. But if it’s to piss me off, it’s working.”

“How about your eyes, Vivian, did she ever tell you about that? Did she ever say how much your eyes looked so much like Daddy’s? Did she ever tell you that you’d see Daddy in your dreams? Or how about the tattoo, did she mention why she had to give a six year old that seal? ”

“You know why, John to keep this magic inside me, which by the way is this close to sending you flying across the fucking country.”

“What’s your point, Constantine?” Bruce demanded.

“Do it, send me across the bloody country. I dare you,” John marched up to her, towering over Vivian with his smug smile. 

“Constantine!” Bruce tried to push him away but a wall was built between him and them. 

In fact there was a wall that kept the others from them, a dome, which Vivian hasn’t noticed and will not notice as rage filled her eyes that were slowly turning gold. Good. He just needs one more push. One more to get her to blow up, like she usually does whenever she is angry. But this time he had her in a contained environment.

“Forty years and you’re still crying for Daddy, aye? Still gets on your nerves whenever we talk about him. Is that what this is about? A make believe for you to fill that hole in your heart because you never met him? I mean, look at this, the husband is – well, he’s not a spitting image of him but he’s got the look. The color black seems to run in the family. The kids too. Good job in keeping them alive, yours never really knew how –”

“Into the light, I command thee!”

Here we go.

John cast the spell to protect himself from the bright flames. With his arm shielding his vision from the blinding flames he reached out to the purest form of the Phoenix that floated before him and cast the spell. “Corporis et animi capio imperium tuum!” Now holding Vivian’s mind and body, he closed the gates that opened for the Phoenix: “Back to the darkness, I command thee.”

In an instant Vivian was back to her normal self, the steam of her magical fire exhumed from her body, and only her body. The place where he had contained the fire was left untouched. 

Removing the shield, Bruce went to Vivian’s side. He hissed at the heat she emitted and asked for ice or a cold blanket for her. Alfred and Tim were quick to get them.

“What the hell did you do?” Bruce got up from her side and grabbed Constantine by his shirt.

“Correcting a mistake. Actually, it was a back-job,” John raised his hands in surrender. “The seal was more than just to keep your magic locked up, Vee. It was also designed to keep certain entities away.”

“Evil entities – I told you that before,” Vivian accepted the ice pack.

“Not just that. Something that’s way out of our league. Just like what Gabriel said.”

“Gabriel?!” Vivian exclaimed. “Bruce, put him down – what does that fucker have anything to do with you pissing me off and almost burning my house?!”

“You’re not just some cosmic-magical being, Vee. This is about your Dad. And I did all this charade because he came to me and asked for my help to find you.”

Vivian scoffed. “He had all the time for the past forty years to do that, John.”

“It’s not that simply because Madeline Pryor made sure he can’t find you. Him and the others of his kind! You’re an Endless, Vee. A Child of an Endless.”

“What is an Endless?” Jason questioned.

John ignored the questions that came and focused on her. He was running out of time now, any minute he would arrive and things would just get more chaotic than it was now. Better he caused the explosion than have two primordial beings going head to head because of an ordinary family dinner.

“You know what they are — we’ve read about them, back in Liverpool. We read about them, we’ve heard about their existence.”

“No, that’s impossible. There was never an Endless who had children –” Vivian clutched her aching head. Bruce held her steady as she started to sway. So much was going on in her head right now.

“Think. Who of them was known to have fathered sons and daughters. At least one of them had a thousand names. Known in many stories and songs.”

Darkness came to the room of the manor and an ominous voice echoed in the living room. "Thank you, Constantine, you've done enough," from the darkness a figure emerged. It was a man with skin pale-white, eyes and hair black as the abyss, and robes that let him blend in the night.

He stood there, at the corner, without a care of the crowd as his eyes were fixed at one person in the room. No one dared to move in the room, normally they would immediately engage at the trespasser but this was not human. He may look like a human but they knew all too well that he was not one. His presence emitted something that brought a feeling of power they cannot take on. 

Batman has trained all of his Robins to have a backup plan for everything. Even against gods and Kryptonians, and demons now, but this was not in his lectures.

 "Hello, Vivian..." the man smiled. "Your mother placed a spell on you that would keep me from finding you in both the Waking World and the Dreaming.”

“The Dreaming…” Vivian swallowed. She observed the man before her but her gaze was stuck with his eyes. Deep brown eyes that twinkle in the darkness. The same brown eyes as hers. “Lord Morpheus,” she realized. “Dream.”

The man bowed his head. "I am Dream of the Endless, and you mentioned. And I am your father, Vivian Pryor."

[sailingintothenight]

"A night in New York." P.P.

SUMMARY: Peter Parker and (y/n) Laufeyson spend a couple of hours together after the events of the end game.

A:N: Hello! It's been over a year since I posted my last story. I thought I was getting better from my illness, but this year helped me realize that I still have a lot to heal, but I hope this story is the push I need to continue writing because I really like writing about Tom and Peter, so, I hope you like this even though it's not very good hehehe but I had fun writing it so… thank you so much! - V.

The knife hits its mark.

The dummy's head in the compound's training room swings back and forth a few times and snaps back into place with a knife embedded in its fictional skull, while you, with a knot in your stomach, conjure up another one in your left hand with a bit of magic, a small white mist that transforms into a deadly weapon like your dad taught you to do before dying before a purple villain who lay standing under the cold night, merciless.

“Hi–” Peter Parker leans to the right as the knife embeds itself in the wall, an inch from his ear. “Holy cow! If you hadn't missed you would have cut off my ear.”

Your implacable expression doesn't change at his words.

“Do you think I missed?”

Peter stands there, eyes wide like a deer about to get hit by a car in the middle of the road when he realizes you hit exactly where you wanted to hit.

“Am I interrupting you?”

“Actually, yes…” Turning around, you play with the knife in your hand, like a well-executed magic trick as Uncle Thor likes to say. “I’m not done with him yet.”

“Well… he looks pretty dead to me.” Peter Parker laughs sweetly because he’s sweet, he’s sweet and innocent in the way he smiles, or tries to, like he hasn’t lost someone in the middle of an endgame battle, too. “I was just passing by on my way home, and I was wondering, do you want to do something?”

Your hand stops before you throw the knife, at the same time your brow furrows as you turn to look at him.

“What?”

Peter blushes, he can’t help it when your gazes meet because your eyes are strong, but he forces himself not to let himself be defeated.

“Yeah, uh, do you want to do something? I thought it would be a nice distraction from all this.”

"From all this.” You emphasize those words, poisonous like the snakes your dad used to turn into to scare your uncle. For a second, you think about how to be rude to him, how to say that all this involved suffering for your dad’s death, but something in his gaze is captivating, endearing and even honest with his own pain because he doesn’t hide it unlike you. “Like what?”

He blinks in surprise, because, although he came to you with the desire to help, Peter didn’t think you would accept that help.

“I don’t know… Do you want to take a walk around the city? I don’t think you’ve seen anything of it since you arrived in New York.”

“It’s not that I was really interested.” You answer honestly, brutally, but honestly. But before you answer, you think carefully about your next words, because in the depths of your mind, being alone doesn’t seem so tempting now that he’s there. “Okay, but I want the full Spider-man superhero experience.”

Peter is confused.

“Everything? You mean swinging through the city and stuff?”

You nod.

“Okay.” Peter nods back, and you can’t help but compare him to a little kid learning the first day of class, shy and a little bit scared. “Do you mind if we use the window and not the door? I heard Thor say you weren’t allowed to go outside until… you know.”

“I don’t mind.” You say confidently and walk over to him, because respecting rules isn’t something that runs in your family.

“Okay, cool, cool…” He says to himself, while his spider-sense makes his skin crawl at the closeness of your presence.

The two of you walk silently through the halls of the huge compound, empty halls now that their leader is no longer present. You turn right and right again, left through the lab until you find a window facing the city. Peter jumps up and stands on the edge as his superpowers help him keep his balance.

“You like burgers?”

“What?” You ask in surprise.

“Burgers, there’s this cool place that’s open all night – the cheeseburgers are my favorite.”

You frown as the image forms in your head.

“I guess I can try.”

“Great! Now I’m going to…” Peter tries to get you to come to him, but freezes up at not knowing how to tell you that you have to be against him so you can both jump out of the window. “You have to be against me so we can swing.”

He reaches out his hand for you to take, and for a second, a tingle spreads from your joined hands all the way to the bottom of your stomach as Peter lifts you up and helps you keep your balance. His hand on your waist is awkward, but he’s tender in the way he steals glances at you because you’re so close to him. And it’s the first time he’s been this close to a girl.

Throwing his web towards the nearest lighthouse, you both swing down to the city.

DELI burgers is open all night, and as you take your order, and unseen by anyone, even though the street is empty at that time of the night, Peter leads you to the edge of a two-story building to sit there, and you take your first bite of the bun that almost spills creams of different colors and flavors all over the paper bag. Peter looks at you curiously, waiting with those soft, bright eyes for you to tell him what it tastes like, what the verdict is for someone who comes from another world.

“It’s good.” You say with your mouth full. “It’s very good.”

Peter smiles as he eats his own burger, enjoying the silence between you that for some reason isn’t awkward.

“Burgers are really good, bad for your health, but good.”

You swallow before speaking again.

“I’ve never tried them before.”

Peter smiles shyly.

“I guess you didn’t have this in Asgard.”

You shake your head.

“No, but we should have.” You laugh. And for a few seconds that seem like an eternity, Peter threatens to lose himself in that sound, so sweet and free at the same time. But it is at that moment that he realizes that since you came to Earth and fought together, he had never heard you laugh. “Are you okay, Peter?”

“Uh?” He looks at you, surprised, because that is the first time you call him by his name. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

In your voice, his name sounds nice, and he blushes at that thought.

“So… do you like living here?”

Peter looks at you, but you are focused on the night view, which is very different from the world you used to live in.

“Yes, despite the noise and the occasional crime, I like this city.” He smiles. “You… do you plan to stay and live in New York?”

For some reason, Peter is worried to hear your answer.

“I don’t really know…” you shrug. “Now that dad’s not here, Uncle Thor is in charge of me, although sometimes it feels like I’m in charge of him…” you laugh, and Peter laughs with you. “But dad asked him to take care of me, so it’s all up to him. Uh, I guess we’ll be moving to Norway soon to start fresh with our people.”

Peter looks down for a moment, because suddenly he doesn’t want you to go away, and at the same time, he’s sad because he knows well what it’s like to lose a father. Although Loki never considered himself a hero, it was heroic what he did to protect his brother and his daughter.

“I’m so sorry about your dad.”

You smile at him for a moment before looking away.

“Thank you, Peter. I know dad wasn’t… the best role model, but he was always a good dad, loving, protective, and very funny when we were together. I know he loved my mother very much and he loved me very much.”

Peter hesitates his next question.

“And your mom… is she still alive?”

You shake your head, and although sadness threatens to flood your heart, you manage to smile at the memory of her.

“No. She was a force of nature, the queen of her own world, so when Thanos came to her planet first, she gave her life for her people. I lived with her and Dad for many years, so I grew up in a very loving home.”

Your words made Peter wonder how you didn’t seem sad when talking about the people you lost, because you seem the complete opposite of him.

“My parents died too…” unlike you, Peter can’t manage to smile at the memory. “My Aunt May raised me like I was her own son.”

Because you don’t know what to say, because you never learned to put your feelings into words, because in that you were very similar to your dad, your warm hand gently closes around his arm, making Peter look into your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Peter.”

Your gaze is honest, and he threatens to get lost in the color of your eyes, which, for some reason, look at him fondly.

“Thank you, (y/n).”

His voice is so sincere, that your heart races as you pull your hand away. You clear your throat softly before speaking again, just so your words don’t falter.

“So… Do you have a girlfriend?”

Peter’s eyes widen as he looks at you in surprise, and you laugh.

“Sorry, was that too personal?”

Peter manages to snap out of his stupor in time.

“No–” His voice cracks, and he laughs at how embarrassed he feels, but it’s a funny embarrassment. “I mean; I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Do you want to?”

Peter didn’t understand the question.

“Are you offering to be?” He asks suddenly, so fast that it takes you by surprise.

“I…” you laugh nervously, but suddenly, you’re asking yourself if you want to be. “I was asking you if you wanted to have a girlfriend.”

“Oh…” Peter, sweet Peter Parker, couldn’t help but blush as he tells himself how clumsy he is. “Well… I guess it would be great to have someone to share moments with. Did you… have a boyfriend?”

“No…” you shake your head, but at peace with yourself, even though deep down, you wanted to feel a love like your parents. “Uncle Thor says I’m still too young for that.”

Peter blinks.

“Can I ask how old you are?”

You chuckle.

“A lot older than you.” You give him an amused smile. “A lot more. So, it would be weird if you had a girlfriend who is much older than you.”

At your words, Peter’s heart races. Were you flirting with him? Because it seems that way.

“Well…” Peter doesn’t know how to flirt, but he finds a clever way to do it. “You don’t look like it. You actually look really young.”

And then, you both look at each other and burst out laughing.

The conversation continues for a while longer, until, you know it’s time to go back to the solitude of your room. A little less uncomfortable with his closeness, as if a burger and a few words could bring you closer to him, you cling to Peter for a ride back. The moment you’re standing on the floor near the window as he holds onto the frame before leaving, it feels strange for you to say goodbye to each other, considering that soon, you would have to leave, forever.

The thought makes Peter’s chest tighten painfully.

“Thanks, Peter. I had a lot of fun with you.” You say sincerely.

“I had a lot of fun with you too, (y/n)…” your name, on his lips, tickles your stomach. “…I really hope you don’t leave so soon.”

For some reason, the momentary goodbye is sad.

“Goodnight, Peter.” You smile before turning around, just so he doesn’t see the expression on your face.

“Goodnight, (y/n)…” He whispers, limply, watching you leave.

The moment you’re out of sight, Peter heads back home. After walking for a moment through the compound, a hand flies up to your heart as you see your uncle, arms crossed, standing outside your room.

“What are you doing up so late, sir?” you laugh, casually, because like your dad, you weren’t worried about being reprimanded.

“I saw you.” Thor looks at you with narrowed eyes, giving you an accusatory look that didn’t cause anything in you. “I saw you leave with that boy.”

“Relax, uncle, Peter was just showing me the city.”

“Did you kiss him?” he asks, not missing a beat.

“No.” You shake your head, surprised.

“Do you want to?”

You stare at him in silence, because it’s the same question you asked Peter.

“That’s a very personal question.” You laugh, but as you open the door to your room, he follows you inside.

“(y/n), darling…” Thor says your name softly, lovingly, making you turn to look at him. “Do you want to stay in New York?”

For a moment, you consider his words.

“Are you thinking of staying here?”

Thor sighs.

“You know we have to go back to Norway soon to lead our people in this new world, but if you want to stay here, with the Spider-Boy, you could… start going to school like him and make a life here.”

Your heart beats rapidly. Would you do it?

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Hi!!!! I hope this long unasked-for tumblr missive finds you very well!Sorry to crash into your inbox and randomly rant a Stucky AU idea at you but it's happening, also it's your fault bc I got this idea after reading all your wonderful wonderful Stucky AU fics.

ok ok so

what if

It's all New Yorky and Brooklyn-y. They each live in Brooklyn apartments but are from slightly different worlds.

Bucky is a sweet beefcake composite of all the wholesome Male Archetype tropes: protective, folksy, tough n strawng, stands by his word, pretty basic and square, fruit of the loom tshirts levi jeans, have a beer after work with the guys, this here's the best pizza/hot dog/etc in New York, and so on. -I've been telling myself the vibe I want is in the scene from No Country For Old Men when Llewellyn Moss goes into the clothing store and needs a whole new outfit and the guy says "we only got white socks" and Moss says "I only wear white" and the store guy clearly approves it's this whole cowboy moment and it's like OK??? You're in very dire need to be expressing that as a hard principle??? So dumb except it's also so great.- Bucky is devoted to his mom and his sisters who he probably helped raise, but he has a cliche good role model blue-collar dad (who maybe died years ago). He is every (non-shitty) older-brother trope and most dad tropes.

Steve is pre-serum Steve. He just has all the pre-serum Steve qualities aka is a highly principled spitfire who never stops fighting and whose perspective is colored by living with chronic illness and pain and not meeting the Male Physical Ideal. Art and education led him to college scholarships and then law school but he was raised by hardworking nurse single mom Sarah, so he's not a rich lawyer but a beleaguered one fighting on behalf of the little guy. Still a more middle-class and intellectual existence than Bucky's, particularly in Bucky's eyes.( Always love pre-serum Steve and his experiences in society in any decade bc we are so weird about gender identity and he shows that in so many ways.) (Also I just have always had intense irrational tender protective love for small sprites of men that I keep under wraps bc they are grown adult humans.)

These two come into each other's lives because of Something With Unions and Labor Disputes in NYC. Ahem. I started researching NY labor disputes and didn't know where to dive in. I have zero knowledge or context or background except for that season of the Wire with the longshoreman union. BUT anyway Bucky is some kind of super generational blue-collar union dude. It's entirely possible he suffered an injury to his left arm that took him more away from the physical side of things and got him more involved with the union. Either way he's a part of a union that is engaging in a Righteous Dispute with the employer. It's all very labor rights and worker justice, things which I believe in strongly but am so embarrassingly under-educated about.

And STEVE is a lawyer who fights on behalf of worker's rights! I know lawyers but not remotely union law. But I'm very confident lawyers are involved in labor disputes. Socialist Steve with a head full of knowledge and a powerful courtroom presence, using the system to try and make things better. I've spent more time thinking about Bucky and his white socks I can't lie but there's clearly cool stuff here.

Steve is an out gay man, while Bucky is incredibly in the closet at work and out to his immediate family but very private and very single. Steve has a lot of angry opinions about lgbtq+ rights, and he struggles hard with his self-image, but he also has fun being gay. He has game. Bucky is lonely and has no game except his Regular-Guy thing, which works for anonymous hookups but not much else.

They meet because they end up working together on the Some Kind Of Labor Dispute! They bring super different but equally important things to the table! The reader learns about the history of unions in NYC! They are constantly liason-ing and being overworked and fussing at each other for caring too much about Truth and Justice. Steve privately thinks Bucky is the biggest most ridiculously attractive dreamboat but would never dream he was gay let alone interested in him. (Bucky gives this Steve the pants feelings that Cap Steve gives Lawyer Bucky in Unpredictable Synchronicity). Bucky feels like a big square idiot compared to Steve, can't fathom that his old-fashioned blue-collar bro vibes inspire anything but disdain in someone as intelligent and accomplished and cultured and bravely uniquely themself as Steve. They are both for different reasons very afraid of falling in love. They share ups and downs in the case and get to know each other better.

and THEN

KISSING HAPPENS

so yeah that's my pitch dawg. Sorry for dropping this whole thing on you, I like online social interacting a lot but I definitely do not know how to do it lol

I got the idea for this story from getting COVID over the holidays and spending like 6 hours lying in bed with a fever, fully conscious but unable to really do anything, haven't had a fever like that since childhood, and I ended up entertaining myself by thinking up a scene in the above-described setting, where they're working on the case together but Steve comes down sick and Bucky pops in on him only to go all older-sibling on a feverish Steve who resists but actually needs some coddling, and it feels vulnerable and intimate and they each realize they have a crush/how bad the crush is. It' s been a bee in my bonnet ever since and I have like 3/4s of one page written. If you wanna write it, holy shit dude please do it. If you wanna talk about it, YAY OMG. If you're like 'ok cool but i have my own ideas buzzing at me to get written, this is a You Problem,' that's totally legit and I hope I write it one day and when/if I do I will be heavily under the influence of your fics.

If you are still reading, bless you, and let me just include in case you're actually interested:

QUESTIONS I HAVE NOT ANSWERED:

-What decade is it?????? I started overthinking this but it seems tough. The whole idea is really giving me 80s vibes. The thing about that is that pivotal gay history was happening in New York in the 80s and it was unspeakably fucking tragic and neither centering that in the story nor glossing it over feels right. So just nowadays?? But are big righteous union disputes in NYC still a thing nowadays?? Or say fuck it and go earlier but wow writing in the 70s or 60s feels like such a wild move. TBH that might be it. Earlier decades create more obstacles for their love story, but a more current setting would be easier to get into both as a writer and a reader.

-What the hell job are we talking about? Longshoreman seems kinda tricky but also kinda obvious. Steel worker? Construction? What is a good cliche union job in which the union's cause is righteous? In New York? I'm sure there are many to choose from but it does feel like it needs to be reasonably historically/politically accurate. Maybe 60s longshoreman?? But that's so long ago... the dilemma

-PS everyone is in their mid-to-late 30s bc that is my demographic and every main character being 17 makes me so old and tired.

Thank you so much for reading this, there's no pressure to respond at all of course, I had to get it out somewhere lol! Thanks for your awesome AO3 presence in general, you are such a delightful and talented writer, I'm very glad to know your work!!!!!!

Okay, 1, I had a very, very bad week because hellish flood disaster conditions [I am fine but my friends aren't and I have trauma from previous floods] and also some other weird life shit. Anyway, this made me laugh with such happy delight my kids were like, "WHAT ARE YOU READING!?" I did not tell them.

2. OMG THE SOCKS. The white socks.

3. Yeah we are on the same page here, friend. One can't set a gay love story in the 80s or 90s in NY unless it's about AIDS, I have a thing about that. I mean, I can't stop people, but I would try to blow it up with my mind. Nothing personal.

4. I actually know a lot about unions and in particular the trades, which are, more or less, the various unions that build things. So. Here's a fun one. In Pittsburgh the city chose the lowest bidder to repaint a bridge and used a contractor from Florida that was non-union. Um, maybe this doesn't sound as scandalous to anyone but me. It's a big deal because local hire is important to the local economy.

In a modern setting, a lot of construction projects that come into an area sign a community benefit agreement/project labor agreement that commits to using a certain % of local labor, high road labor standards, and things like apprenticeships which are entry level jobs which can mean that local people actually have a chance at the jobs. So we'll say the people that are repainting the bridge, or, whatever, installing the HVAC on the new soccer stadium, used a non-union contractor from NEW JERSEY which is in violation of their agreement. That kind of thing is definitely the kind of dispute labor attorneys would get involved in, and union reps are very possessive over because obviously they want the work for union contractors. So I can totally see Bucky being his local union rep - IUPAT is the painters union, could also be LIUNA - and working closely with an attorney doing a suit against the city or a developer for not using local hire/union labor.

There are certainly other kinds of labor disputes, that's just the kind I know the most about.

5. OH MY GOD listen. LISTEN. listen ARE YOU LISTEN? Blue collar Bucky feeling like Steve is too fancy to ever love him. Steve feeling like Bucky is too manly to ever love him. Their insecurities are a complementary ourobouros spiral of doom, like, the gift of the Magi by OHenry. It's two sides of the toxic masculinity coin and it's, ARE YOU LSITN??? STOP it with the tragic gender/classism dynamics. Heterosexuality and capitalism are the real villians of this tale. Oh it's so beautiful. Thank you.

6. The current port strike is absolutely DELIGHTFUL inside joke and relevant reference given fandom's love of making Bucky a dock worker. So, I mean, go for that, if you're feeling it. I have never lived on a coast and don't know much about dockworkers though I do know it's very dangerous work, and actually know someone who lost their arm doing river barge work, which, I'm guessing, is somewhat similar to port work? No actual fucking clue?

7. I feel really seen because yes indeed this whole plot is very much aligned with my interests, if you haven't guessed yet.

8. I am not gonna lie, as much as I adore every thing about this, probably not gonna write this. Right now I am very tired so it's a bad time to guess.

9. Please talk to me about it. I would love to enable this beautiful madness.

10. I am glad your Covid is better.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Jealous | Anthony Beauvillier

Tito gets jealous when other players talk about you on the ice

warnings? toxic masculinity? angry but hot Tito, new york isles Tito (I'm too lazy to change teams)

wc: 1.4k

Anthony paces anxiously back and forth in your shared apartment, his nerves practically flowing over you as he awaits his car to the game. You watch mesmerized by the movements before finally getting up and stepping in front of him. He nearly smacks straight into you, but stops just before, his hockey training coming in handy. 

“Beau you gotta slow down,” you say and he shakes his head. 

“Can’t, I’m too nervous,” he says about to move away from you and you grab his hands and pull you back towards him again. 

“What’s up?” you ask knowing it’s not just nerves. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a playoff game and I’m nervous that’s all.” 

Just as he finishes his explanation his phone dings, signaling his car is here. He nods pulling away from you but you pull him back, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. A slight smile appears on his lips as he walks away, making your heart ache. 

You couldn’t wait to see your best friend and secret crush play tonight in the second playoff game of the year. You were showing up a little later, having to get some work done but knowing you would be there a little after the first started was beyond exciting. You felt like you hadn’t been to a game in forever and you couldn’t wait to go. 

As you sit and start working, your mind wanders to Tito, wondering what had gotten him so anxious for the game. Normally, he was a little nervous for the playoffs but nothing more than normal. You knew if he didn’t tell you now, you’d probably find out eventually. 

Tito felt bad about lying to you. Well, he wasn’t lying per se, he kept reminding himself. But more so just withholding two things: he was in love with you, and he might kill Sidney Crosby on the ice if he said another thing about you. So it definitely wasn’t nerves, more just anger and the idea that he might end up getting kicked off the ice. 

When he gets to the locker room he’s greeted by Barzy, a knowing look on his best friend’s face. He ignores it, moving to grab his stuff to change into. 

“Be careful Tito,” Barzy warns and Tito rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not gonna do anything.” 

‘Really? Cause the look in your eye suggests otherwise.” 

“I’ll be fine,” he tells him but he swears there’s steam coming out of his ears just thinking about what Crosby said the other day. 

Tito gets ready, trying to ignore the anger building before the game even starts. However, by the time he’s on the ice and the penguins are facing him it’s a blind rage. 

He couldn’t help feeling protective over you. He had a massive crush on you ever since you first met, and ever since he couldn’t get you off his mind. He loved you, every bit of you, and wanted to take care of you and protect you for the rest of his days. A couple of problems with that was that you didn’t know about his feelings and vice versa. But no matter what, he’d still do anything for you. 

Surprisingly, Tito is able to stay away from Crosby through most of the first period, but by the end of it, he starts to crack when he hears him. He slams him straight into the boards, a low laugh following afterward. 

“Beauvillier, when are you gonna share that little girlfriend of yours?” he calls. 

The mention of you sends Tito’s heart rate spiking and not in a fun way. He starts to skate off towards Crosby but Barzy is quick to grab him and pull him back. He shakes his best friend off, glaring deeply at his opponent before getting off the ice. 

You get to your seat by the time the first period is coming to a close. The perk of being best friends with two Islanders puts you at the glass, face practically shoved right into the action. Your eyes scan for Tito instantly, a habit ever since you noticed your feelings for your best friend. 

You find him close to your end of the ice, a check delivered by the man you couldn’t stand; Sidney Crosby. Words are clearly exchanged between the two as Tito charges but Barzy is quick to grab him and pull him back before getting a penalty. 

Your head tilts, worry filling you as the buzzer rings through the rowdy arena. You try to shove it off, hoping it was just a mix of nerves and Crosby being uncalled for that showed the change in your best friend. 

The second period goes as well as the first, Tito and Crosby growing more and more agitated towards each other. Words fly between the men constantly, refs having to hold them back every chance they can and your nerves grow as bad as Tito’s were this morning. 

What in the world were they fighting about? 

By the end of the third, you’re relieved the game is over but sad the boys didn’t win. You knew they still had time and could come back next game and Tito could finally calm down about whatever he was mad about this game. 

Tito’s eyes fall to the clock, two minutes left and he figures if he doesn’t do anything now, he might make it out of this game without getting suspended. 

“Don’t worry Beauvillier, I’ll take good care of her tonight,” Crosby calls and that’s the final straw. 

Before Barzal, Pageau, or literally anyone else can get to him Tito barges forward. He grabs Crosby by the arm, yanking him around and throwing a punch that lands with a satisfying crunch to his nose. 

Crosby tries to hit him back but Tito can’t think straight he just throws punch after punch hoping they land and expel the anger he’s feeling. 

The clock hits the last 2 minutes and your eyes wander around the arena, noticing the shift in fans. The tension had built all game long and you were nervous for what was to come. Suddenly a gasp comes from the crowd and your head whips to the ice. 

You shoot straight to your feet as you see Tito’s fist connect straight into Crosby’s nose and you flinch. Your heart sinks knowing if Tito was pissed enough to fight it was serious, and he probably wasn’t going to stop until someone pulled him off. 

They do after a while, Barzy and Palmieri getting ahold of your best friend and yanking him off Crosby. You watch as Tito yells something else before they send him off the ice, done with the game. 

You dart out of your seat, rushing to the tunnel in hopes you can get down there in time to catch Tito. You flash the guards your emergency pass before heading down and when you see your best friend limping to the locker room your heart falls. 

“Beau!” you call and he pauses at the nickname. 

“Hey,” you say, finally catching up to him. He’s taller with his skates, towering over you as you look at him but you push on anyway. 

“What happened out there?” you reach a hand up to touch the already forming bruise on his cheek but he moves away. 

“Nothing, he was just getting on my nerves.” 

“Anthony you don’t beat up just anyone for getting on your nerves,” you say not believing the half-assed lie. “What happened? What did he say to you?” 

Tito weighs his options for a moment, not sure if he wants to keep lying or tell you the truth. The complete and whole truth that comes with the reason for the fight. 

“He was talking about you,” he finally gives up. 

“What?” you ask. 

“He kept fucking going on and saying you should be his and not mine and asking when I was going to share you and just all this other nasty shit and I lost it. He somehow knows I like you and said shit to get under my skin and I let him and-“ 

“Beau,” you call, grabbing his attention. 

You reach up again, this time Tito accepting your soft touch to his burning cheek. He leans into the embrace, carefully wrapping a gloved hand around your waist to pull you flush against him. 

“Honey, you're the only man I’ve ever thought about. Sidney Crosby or anyone else in the world can’t change that okay?” 

Tito flushes at the comment, feeling incredibly relieved and embarrassed all at once. He silences the feeling though, pulling you into him. You stand on your tiptoes and meet his kiss that you had waited for for so long. 

[jostystyles]

CELEBRATING WITH TYSON AFTER HIS FIRST BUFFALO GOAL

- @xsyntheticsensation

a/n: oh to be the smelling salts <3 anyways. this got kinda smutty, so don't read if you're not 18+ pls and thanks :)

When Tyson got put on waivers, (Y/N) debated walking into the Wild's front office with a baseball bat, but she really couldn't be there for him if she was behind bars. So instead, she sat by his side as he anxiously waited to find out what team he'd find a new home on, and that turned out to be Buffalo. As Tyson had to catch a flight to New York not long after, (Y/N) stayed behind to pack the small apartment.

That brings us to now, as she sat in the stands with a few of the other better halves. She was sandwiched between Samantha Hinostroza and Rachel Thompson, who welcomed her with open arms to the team.

"He's going to score tonight, I can feel it in my bones." Sam said, taking a swig of her seltzer.

"I hope so. He's been in such a slump since the season started and he really needs it." (Y/N) replied with a sigh.

"You gonna jump his bones if he does?" Rachel said, completely serious.

(Y/N) blushed and hesitated before answering, "I mean, honestly? Probably."

Not even 5 minutes later, as if he was a fly on the wall, Tyson scored.

Even though the team lost in overtime, (Y/N) didn't really give a fuck. She was buzzing with anticipation as she waited for Tyson to emerge from the locker room. She knew he was going to be riddled with adrenaline, and not just from his goal. Before she got too lost in her thoughts, a mop of brown curls caught her eye and she made a run for it. Tyson caught her in his arms with an "Oof", and could barely get a word out as (Y/N) peppered his face with kisses.

"I'm so fucking proud of you oh my god. You scored, baby you did it!"

Tyson let out a laugh pulling her closer to his chest, his hand creeping further down her waist.

"Yeah? Proud of me are you? Couldn't tell through the text you sent me during intermission, babe. Had to turn my brightness down immediately to make sure no one saw. You knew exactly what you were doing, you little minx."

(Y/N) giggled, "Yeah, I did. Knew it would rile you up. But it was just such a sexy goal I couldn't help myself."

Tyson leaned down to kiss her passionately. She tasted like watermelon vodka and that cherry lip gloss that brought him to his knees.

"I'm gonna score a goal every fucking game if it means I get a picture of your tits, honey." He spoke after breaking the kiss.

"If that's what it takes to get you the points, I'm all for it." She replied, taking his hand and dragging him towards the exit.

Tyson shook his head, wondering how in the world he ended up with the sexiest person on the planet.

"Got any more tricks up your sleeve tonight?" He shot out.

She turned back to look at him. "I'm gonna suck your soul out when we get home, babe. Knee pads ready and everything." (Y/N) deadpanned.

Now Tyson was the one dragging her to the exit, the blood rushing to his cheeks, and his cock.

tyson tuesday!