#look at him -- his body language is so helplessly open towards her WHEREVER she is. Serious invisible thread stuff going on!

[schmweed]

Succession | S02E03

[mrsbhandari]

Don’t Fear the Reaper

A/N: Hello!! I hope you all are staying safe and hydrated and well fed. I know that I haven’t updated AaF in like....a hot minute because I’ve been writing a lot of Haikyuu stuff recently, so I hope this kind of makes it better. I might write a more nsfw part two for this later, but rn this is just a lil one-shot of my fave couple chilling at a sideshow. Also, if you couldn't tell, I listened to Don’t Fear the Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult while writing this because of the Death refs in this, so I hope that makes a lil bit of sense and that you like it!!

Word Count: 1,538

Warnings: language, nonconsensual groping (but nothing explicit), slight reference to nsfw thoughts, making out

Summary: Colt brings Roze with him on a race. 

Tag list: 

@omgjasminesimone, @edgiestwinter, @bucketofsoup, @donutsgirl36, @desireepow-1986, @lovehugsandcandy, @troublemakerinspace, @client-327

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The two men were sizing each other up, nose to nose, chest to chest, while Roze looked on helplessly. She knew that if she tried to get in between them, things wouldn’t end up well but at the same time, Colt was going to cause his own destruction if he continued being this reckless at every sideshow they went to. It started with a less-than-innocent foreign hand on her ass that escalated into Colt throwing a guy--Alex? Alan?--into the hood of a nearby car, fully prepared for a fight. Roze yelled to her boyfriend that it really wasn’t the biggest deal and they could just leave, but Colt tasted blood and wanted more.

“How about you race me, then?” Alex/Alan snarled, spit catching on his opponent’s lip. “Whoever wins gets the bitch.” Roze watched as Colt’s hands curled into fists at his side, ready to knock this guy out with one swing. He never did take well to any other man even looking at you; having one call you something anything other than your name brought his blood to a boil. 

“I--Fine.” Colt’s eyes glanced to yours, a nervous look on his face as he considered the stakes. You knew it was all for show. Walking over to Colt messing with his bike, Roze set a hand on his shoulder, feeling the warmth from his body radiating through the leather. 

“You sure about this?” She never really doubted him, but this track would be tricky with a motorcycle. She always worried about what happened when he was out on the road at one of these races because there was just too much that could go wrong.

“I gotta defend your honor, right? I need to be your knight riding in on my white steed.” He sent her a confident, playful smile that melted her heart, telling her everything would be alright in the end. She almost believed it.

“More like Death on his pale horse.”

“Oh, you’re right. That sounds way cooler.” 

“It’s not meant to--Fuck it, whatever.” She rolled her eyes, immense sadness filling them as he threw his leg over his bike, easily straddling it and sitting comfortably. She always loved how he looked on his bike; she thought he looked like he could be on the cover of a magazine, but she knew that this wasn’t a photoshoot. This was a possible deathwish. He saw how she was looking at her and gently grabbed her chin in his hand. He was wearing fingerless riding gloves and the leather was comforting against her skin. Roze always asked what purpose they served, to which Colt would always respond: “I look badass, Roze."

“How about you come with?” he offered, tenderly stroking her skin with his thumb. 

“You’re not worried about the race?”

“Nope, although even Death needs his good luck charms, and I think having a hot girl clinging to me while I beat this punk’s ass is as good as I can get.” Roze snorted at the shit-eating smile that slithered its way onto his face. She leaned down to press a heated kiss to his lips, effectively wiping the smirk off his face. “Mm, luck is already working.”

“Hey, sexy! Do I get the same treatment?” Alex/Alan bellowed from where he was seated in his car. In a moment of unplanned routine, both Colt and Roze made matching gestures of ill will toward him, causing the racer to laugh loudly and return the favor. “You’re right, I’ll have plenty of time for that tonight when I take your bitch to bed. Oh, I’m gonna make some sweet, sweet--”

He was quickly shut up by the sight of Roze grabbing Colt’s face and pressing it to hers with open-mouthed kisses, hands closing around anything she could to pull him closer. She threw her leg around the motorcycle in front of Colt, facing him so they could continue kissing in the closest possible position. After several seconds like that, she moved her lips down to his jaw and neck, sucking large hickeys wherever she could as she went. Colt glared at his opponent from across the asphalt, keeping uncomfortable eye contact with him as Roze took his hands and moved them down to her ass, revealed largely by her short shorts that he told her to wear so he could show her off. Colt watched Alex/Alan’s face grow redder and redder as he listened to Roze’s exaggerated moans that increased in volume with the tighter he squeezed; the tomato face of his opponent only made him happier that his girlfriend had taken his fashion advice. Finally, she climbed off the motorcycle and took her seat on it again behind her boyfriend, proudly glancing at her artwork stretching across his skin. 

Pulling on a helmet, she turned towards the other man. “You ready?” He said nothing, electing to roll up his window. She bit back a laugh and settled behind Colt, prepared for the immense amount of speed they were going to reach to win. A girl walked between the vehicles and pulled up a flag, signaling the start of engines. The bike rumbled beneath Roze and she didn’t think she would ever tire of the warmth radiating from the man in front of her and the light vibration of the machine she was straddling. To her, they both meant freedom.

The race began and she wrapped herself tighter around Colt, who let out a whooping laugh as he sped along the track, easily passing ahead of Alex/Alan. This was one of the only straightaways, though, so the difficulty would soon come from the frequent turns that could easily overturn the bike. Roze decided not to think too hard about what would happen if Colt were to lose control; he was a good driver, and she had no reason to be scared from the number of times he raced this exact track. 

The feeling of the bike tilting below her with Colt’s hip movements was both terrifying and exhilarating; the road was so close, yet her boyfriend was in complete control. Their challenger hadn’t caught up yet, but judging by the sound of screeching tires, he was trying his hardest to. It was all for naught though since Colt’s easy maneuvering of the road only sent him shooting ahead without giving Alex/Alan a chance to even get close to the bike. It wasn’t going to be a close race, that was for sure. 

A tunnel was coming up, lit up by large lights attached to the cement inside. Going through it and watching the bright lamps flash by in her vision was like entering another world. Colt had given his only helmet to her (he insisted he didn’t need one, but she was still getting him a personalized one that read PASSENGER across the back as an inside joke), so she watched the lights cast interesting shadows on his face, highlighting his cheekbones and determined pout that always seemed to show up when he was driving. She could tell that he was calculating in his head, trying to figure out what he would need to do next to stay in the lead. The hard expression on her face only made her fall more in love with him as heat pooled between her thighs, pressed up against his jeans and jacket. 

The finish was in sight, and their opponent was not. Colt crossed it and easily braked, stopping his bike a few hundred feet away and parking it before helping Roze off and taking her helmet off for her. He had barely put the helmet and his gloves on one of the handlebars when she grabbed his forearm and pulled him towards her, smashing her lips into his to try and pour every emotion she was feeling into the kiss. He eagerly returned it, not giving a damn about the spectators who wanted to congratulate him on winning. Right now, the only thing on his mind and his hands was Roze Wheeler, girlfriend extraordinaire and his driver forever. 

She finally broke apart from him and let go of him long enough to let other people talk to him, but he quickly made it clear that all he wanted to do was go home with Roze. His opponent showed up minutes after he won, heaving as he exited his car and slammed the door. 

“You’re a fucking hack!” he yelled, jabbing a finger in Colt’s face and landing more spit on his cheeks. Colt didn’t flinch, electing instead to raise a fist and connect it to his jaw with a sickening crack! that silenced everyone else at the sideshow. His challenger fell to the ground, out cold, and Colt shook his hand out, bruises quickly blooming along the knuckles. He turned to Roze.

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Sure.”

At that moment, Alex/Alan decided to open his eyes to see Colt and Roze climbing on the white motorcycle. “Where are you two assholes going?!”

Colt looked at him laying on the ground, face deadpan and devoid of anything besides indifference. “I’m going to spend the night with my ‘bitch.’ You know how it is.” His face split into a grin. “Oh, but you don’t.” Roze’s laugh carried behind her as they sped off.

[is-this-a-skam-account]

“King of Los Angeles”

People go to Los Angeles for a good time. People move to Los Angeles in search of stardom. But no one is from Los Angeles, unless you’re Lucas Lallemant.

These are the three main principles of the city every person there understands. You must also understand, if you move to Los Angeles, that the city is practically run by LLuv, the night club owned by none other than Lucas Lallemant himself. He is somewhat of a mystery around the city. Some people believe that he actually exist, and some people believe he is just a tale of a guy created by a gang to run LLuv. Stories spread like rapid fire about Lallemant, of things that he may or may not have done. Some say he bought the Elephant Man’s Bones, others say he sold his soul to the devil for his wealth. However, there is one consensus among all versions of Lucas Lallemant: that he can get whomever wherever and whenever he wants.

If you ever get the opportunity to walk into LLuv you have a one in a hundred chance to run into Lucas Lallemant. At least that’s what tales say. Or maybe you will catch a glimpse of his face from across the room, and if you’re lucky enough those blue eyes might even lock onto yours.

But for all of Lucas’s friends, half that stuff being spread around is complete bullshit. Sure, Lucas does enjoy a good one night stand every week or so. Well, okay, really like every other night. But they also know that Lucas can be super down to Earth (when he wants to be) and even though he likes to fool around, he secretly thinks about settling down (Lucas thinks he is smart enough to hide his secret longings from his friends, but they can see through him).

When Lucas isn’t at the club, he’s with his friends lying out on the beach, getting coffee, hanging with his friends in their shared flat (he would be too lonely living by himself), or he is too busy being helplessly in love with the owner of a small florist shop along the water.

“Jesus Christ, just go talk to him, Lucas!” Yann whines at Lucas one day as they are walking along the beach and he catches Lucas sneaking a glance inside the small shop.

“Wha-! I wasn’t…” Lucas looks between Arthur and Basile, hoping for them to back him up, but they stare at him with the same look as Yann, “I wasn’t staring at him. I was...admiring from afar.” Lucas finishes and proceeds to stuff his face with ice cream.

“Wow, you are so in denial,” Arthur laughs, “you’re even more in denial than Basile when he still thinks he has a chance with Daphne.”

“Hey!” Basile exclaims.

Arthur rolls his eyes, “oh, please, she’s the bars top bartender, and you think you actually have a shot?”

Lucas laughs at his friends shenanigans. He really appreciates chill days like these, when he can live just a normal twenty-four-year-olds life. He actually enjoys eating crap-tastic frozen yogurt because all the girls who live in Los Angeles are too worried about every calorie that goes into their body.

“But, seriously, Lucas. Just like, I don’t know, invite him to the bar or something,” Yann says with a shrug.

Lucas laughs, “yeah, right. Do you remember the last time I tried to talk to him? I tried saying one long-stemmed red rose, and it came out ‘one pong-stimmed reed…’ I couldn’t even finish the order I was too embarrassed! I just burst into flames and got the hell out of there. And yet you expect me to invite him to LLuv?”

“And yet you have no trouble hitting on guys when they are at the club, huh. I mean, seriously, you are sort of a slut in there, Lucas-”

Arthur hits Basile in the chest, cutting him off, “I think what Basile is trying to say was that you have a lot of, um, confidence when you’re in the bar and yet you just lose all of it when you talk to that guy?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s only because I know the guys in LLuv actually have an interest in me! I can read their body language and the look in their eyes is always the same, but with him,” Lucas nods his head in the direction of the store, “I don’t know. Whenever he looks at me it’s like my skin tingles and I forget English.”

Yann huffs and suddenly he is pulling Lucas by the arm back towards the shop, “that’s it, I’m talking for you.”

Lucas can smell the flower shop before he sees it, the welcoming smell calms Lucas only for a moment before Yann flips him around to face the inside of the shop. The front of the shop is completely open, revealing the inside to passer bys. Lucas thought the layout of the shop was really interesting. The multi-colored bins of flowers always catches your eye as you walk past, and the fact that it practically opens up into the street is so inviting you just feel drawn in.

“Excuse us!” Yann yells after a couple seconds of standing there with no one coming to the front desk.

Lucas is about to dash away and out of Yann’s reach when the man he was loathing (and yet wishing) to see emerges somewhere from the back. As his eyes lay on them a smile cracks its way onto his face. “Hey! What can I help you with?” He says and Lucas doesn’t miss the way his eyes check roam up and down his body.

‘You’re so pretty,’ Lucas wants to say, but thankfully his voice has stopped working. He swears this guy gets prettier and prettier every day. His hair is extra ruffled today, like he had just shaken it with his hands, and Lucas wants nothing more than to grip it in his fingers. The way he licks his lips is positively outrageous, and Lucas feels himself getting pulled in closer and closer. It should be illegal to look that good and also work in a flower shop. It’s like a double hit to the heart and eyes. And don’t get Lucas started on those rings. Big and clunky and so, so hot. Lucas wonders what they would feel like pushed against his rim and-

“Hi,” Yann says and rips Lucas out of his thoughts, “I’m Yann and this is Lucas. He wanted to invite you to his night club tonight, you may have heard of it, it goes by the name LLuv.” Lucas doesn’t miss the way the guys eyes widen just slightly. And even though Yann is the one speaking, his eyes stay trained on Lucas, “if we can get your name, we will be more than happy to put you down on the guest list.”

“Oh, sure,” the guy swallows for a second and Lucas tracks the motion, suddenly his own mouth feeling very dry, “uh, it’s Eliott Demaury.”

“Great! Thanks, dude, see you later!” Yann says and excuses them with a wave.

“What the hell was that?!” Lucas yells once they were out of earshot.

“That was me saving your ass,” Yann says.

It’s like any normal Saturday night for LLuv. It’s crowded, people taking shots, people disappearing into the bathrooms together, people dancing and humping each other on the dance floor. Except that it’s not like any normal Saturday night because Lucas is looking for a very specific face among the crowd. Or maybe a tuft of wild hair. Or the shine of very recognizable rings on long fingers.

“Will you calm down?” Arthur yells over the music as he finishes off his drink, “he’s going to show.”

“You don’t know that!” Lucas shoots back, “I mean, what if clubs aren’t his thing? Or what if he thinks that I’m just some young, dumb Los Angeles douchebag?”

“He doesn’t think that, Lucas,” Yann begins, but his attention is immediately taken by a girl who walks by. He licks his lips at her and she cocks her head towards the exit. Lucas rolls his eyes and turns away from his friends.

They obviously won’t be of much help.

Lucas finally decides to descend the stairs from his reserved portion of the club. He sets his drink down on the stairwell as he maneuvers his way past the couples who are vigorously making out. Going into the crowd of dancy-drunk people is a rarity for Lucas, as he doesn’t like to feel sweaty strangers on all sides of him, but he is looking for anything to take his mind off a guy with the initials of ED. Even as the alcohol pumps through his veins and the beat of the music starts to match the beat of his heart, images of a flower shop flash across his mind. He still only sees Eliott standing there, a golden smile on his face. He vividly sees the veins that curve around Eliott’s arms, and the lean muscles underneath.

Lucas feels strong hands grab his waist, and he is pulled back towards a broad chest. He doesn’t fight the motion and the guys hands help them move to the pulse of the music. They sway their hips, and Lucas even backs up further into the guys touch. Lucas wraps his left arm around the guys neck, and lays his other hand over the firm grip on his waist. He nearly moans when he feels a set of teeth nip at the skin on his neck. Damn, this guy wasn’t holding back. He shivers when the guy lets one of his hands roam up the front of Lucas’s shirt, exploring and mapping out the skin there.

Lucas spins himself around when the song changes. He is about to lean up and kiss the guy when he freezes in his movement. “Eliott?” he asks breathlessly. Well, really he wasn’t asking if it was Eliott, because he would recognize those eyes anywhere (even if half his face is covered by a mask).

Lucas can practically see the grin forming on his lips. Eliott pulls away the mask, and, yup, he’s grinning. “Hey, Lucas.”

“Um, I-” Lucas doesn’t know what to say.

Eliott laughs, which is barely audible above the blaring music, “I know, I’m so breathtaking you’re at a loss for words.”

Lucas shakes his head and snaps himself out of his daze, “no, sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to come.”

“What? And miss the chance to dance and hang out with a guy as cute as you? Never.” Eliott says, answering his own question and squeezing Lucas’s hips as he does so.

Lucas blushes, which he hopes isn’t visible in the low lights, but his hopes are crushed when one of Eliott’s hands comes up and wipes at the apple of his cheek. And damn the metal of his rings feel even better than what Lucas could have ever imagined, “you’re extra cute when you blush,” Eliott mutters.

Lucas doesn’t think he can hold back anymore so he stands on his toes, closing the gap between them. He feels Eliott stiffen, and for a second he thinks he made a big mistake, but then they both melt into it. At first it is just a few kisses with lips closed, it’s new and exciting and it’s all about the exploration. But then Eliott’s tongue swipes against Lucas’s bottom lip, and Lucas is so gone for this boy he immediately opens up. Eliott’s right hand comes up and he wraps his fingers in Lucas’s hair, pulling just enough to elicit a moan from the shorter boy. The other hand presses against Lucas’s lower back pushing them closer, closer.

Lucas is unraveling. His mind feels like it’s in molasses, and all his movements feel like they are underwater. But his skin feels electric. All his nerve endings are alive and pointing towards Eliott, like sunflowers pointed towards the sun. Lucas just needs, he needs to keep kissing Eliott, or he thinks he might actually die.

But then Eliott pulls away briefly, “I don’t do relationships,” Eliott mutters against his lips.

Lucas bites his lip for a second, trying to think of a way to respond that wouldn’t crush his own heart but also get Eliott’s lips on his as soon as possible, “yeah, yeah, me neither,” Lucas manages. He immediately regrets his choice, and he can practically hear his heart breaking, but those beautifully sculpted lips on his right afterwards to ease the pain for even just a second.

The Uber ride back to Lucas’s flat is full of light touches. Eliott sliding his leg closer to Lucas’s so that their knees brush. Or Lucas’s hand being placed high up on Eliott’s thigh. Or Lucas brushing their shoulders together to grab Eliott’s attention before running his tongue over his bottom lip.

Lucas can tell that Eliott is absolutely gone for him as well. At least for tonight he is, Lucas doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring. But as soon as they are in the elevator, Eliott has him pinned against the wall. Mouths making out messily with teeth and tongue. They rub together and Lucas moans at the slight friction supplied from his jeans. Lucas can’t help but wonder ‘where have you been all my life?’ when Eliott sucks on his neck, leaving what Lucas knows will be a good-sized hickey by tomorrow morning.

They stumble through the hall, making as much noise as a teenager who is absolutely wasted and getting home at two in the morning. They clamor into the apartment after Lucas had fumbled with his keys for a solid two minutes, all because Eliott couldn’t keep his hands off him for one second. It’s Lucas’s turn to pin Eliott against the wall as they enter his apartment. Eliott doesn’t protest, well not verbally because his tongue is too far down Lucas’s throat, but after a few seconds he flips them around. He steps closer to Lucas, pressing a thigh in between Lucas’s legs and slides. Lucas doesn’t hold back the deep-rooted moan that slips from his mouth, and Eliott doesn’t waste a second in sealing that moan between their lips.

Before Lucas even realizes what’s going on, Eliott has his hands on his thighs and hoists him into the air. He instinctively wraps his legs around Eliott’s waist. Lucas trails his hands up underneath Eliott’s shirt, and quickly decides that he just wants it off completely. He discards the shirt somewhere along the hallway leading to his room and is so, so happy to have it out of the way.

“Third door on the left,” Lucas rushes out before Eliott’s lips are on his again.

Eliott follows his directions and takes them into Lucas’s room. He places Lucas down on his bed before turning back around to close the door. Lucas already has his shirt off by the time Eliott looks back over at him. His heart nearly jumps out of his chest at how ethereal Eliott looks in the darkly-lit room. Lucas lets his eyes trail down Eliott’s toned torso, and they catch on a tattoo that reads ‘Life’. Lucas thinks he falls in love with that tattoo as well.

“You are so beautiful, Lucas,” Eliott nearly whispers as he sinks onto the bed atop Lucas.

“I could say the same for you,” Lucas says as he looks at Eliott through his eyelashes.

Before Eliott can protest Lucas flips them over. He straddles Eliott’s waist and grinds down, just once, enough to make the older boy sigh into a moan. Lucas hums and leans down placing a chaste kiss to Eliott’s lips. Then he trails kisses down, down. He pays a little more attention to the tattoo there, nipping at it and kissing it, before he moves along. When he gets to Eliott’s jeans he unbuttons them and unzips them. Lucas pulls them away and immediately takes Eliott into his mouth. Lucas thinks he will forever replay the moan pulled from Eliott’s mouth as he does so. And the way Eliott rolls his head back, exposing the skin of his neck around his adam’s apple sends Lucas’s mind straight out the window.

“Shit, baby,” Eliott nearly hisses and he reaches a hard to grip on Lucas’s hair. Lucas closes his eyes at the feeling of the hand massaging his scalp as he bobs his head. Urging him on. Lucas pushes himself down until his nose is buried in Eliott’s coarse hair, making them both moan. When he pulls away Eliott rushes to connect their lips, even if Lucas’s mouth is salty. “You’re so fucking hot,” Eliott says hurriedly, “now get on all fours.”

Lucas smirks and quirks an eyebrow as he does so. Eliott wastes no time in pulling Lucas’s jeans away, discarding them somewhere in the room. “Lube?” Eliott asks.

“Top drawer,” Lucas says and motions towards the nightstand.

Lucas only hears the sound of the bottle before a finger is being pressed to his entrance. One by one the fingers slide in, and holy shit those rings feel even better than Lucas would have ever thought they could. He’s cussing into a pillow that he holds to his face, because with every thrust of his fingers Eliott manages to hit his prostate again and again. It’s driving him mad. Pretty soon, Lucas thinks, he is just going to be a pile of malleable play-doh.

But then his fingers are out and Lucas is being flipped around. He holds the pillow to his face, knowing full well that his cheeks probably look like tomatoes right about now. But then Eliott’s gruff voice says, “baby, I want to see your face,” and who is Lucas to deny him of that?

As soon as Lucas pulls the pillow away he feels Eliott sliding in. Lucas curses and bites his bottom lip as Eliott mutters encouraging things in his ear, “good boy, you’re doing so good. You feel so tight, Lucas. Beautiful.” Those words alone already have Lucas on the brink of coming.

Once Lucas feels them flush against each other, there is only about a two second pause before Eliott starts moving. At first it’s slow and steamy. It takes Eliott only a few thrusts to find Lucas’s prostate, but once he does Lucas is completely gone. Lucas has left the building. He doesn’t even register how loud he is being until Eliott whispers next to his ear, “you have the prettiest fucking voice ever, Lucas. I want to hear everything.”

Towards the end Eliott’s pace starts getting more erratic, and Lucas is practically pleading for release. Eliott is more than happy to give it to him as he hits his prostate one final time, pushing Lucas over the edge and he follows shortly after.

Eliott collapses on top of Lucas, and they both let their breathing steady out before Eliott pulls out and they go to actually lay down. Lucas turns over on his side and Eliott immediately comes up and spoons Lucas from behind. He practically melts at the loving circles Eliott makes on his skin as they lay together.

“You’re really good,” Lucas says with a laugh after a while.

Eliott hums, “only cause you made me that way. I would be surprised if you have a voice tomorrow with how loud you were moaning.”

Lucas kicks Eliott’s legs with his, “hey, rude. I was trying to compliment you.”

“As was I,” he pauses, “you paid a lot of attention to my tattoo, do you like it that much?”

Lucas shrugs and shifts a little further back into Eliott’s touch, “I think it’s cute. What’s the meaning behind it?”

“It’s just to remind me to take life day by day. To not rush into life with a thought process that could one day destroy me.”

“Take everything minute by minute,” Lucas mutters.

“Exactly, that’s what my mom said to me when I got the tattoo. How did you know?”

Lucas smiles, “because that’s what my mom tells me.”

The next day Lucas wakes up with Eliott’s arms still around him, and he decides to wake Eliott up with a...special treat, which Eliott seemed very pleased with. They washed up together, and Lucas thinks that is the best shower-sex he has ever had. After which they made breakfast. Well, actually Lucas took over making breakfast when Eliott set off the smoke alarms while trying to make something called a ‘PONI.’ They lazed around the apartment that morning and Lucas decided to put on some Netflix to watch one of his favorite comedians. And just a little tip: don’t try making out while watching a comedian because one of you, or both of you, will end of laughing and completely ruin the moment. Eliott said he had Sunday off work, so they decided to venture around the city together. They got some hot dogs and fountain drinks from a truck, walked around the beach (don’t get Lucas started on how cute Eliott was when he helped a little girl make her sand-castle), and they went down to the fair to ride the ferris wheel together. Every place they went Lucas had to remind himself that it’s not a date. It’s not a date.

“Did you move to the city?” Eliott asks when they get towards the top of the ferris wheel.

Lucas shakes his head as he takes a sip of his fountain drink, “no, my parents moved to Los Angeles and decided to raise me here. I never left.”

“Oh, your name sounds really French, I thought you might’ve moved here from France.”

Lucas laughs, “you’re one to talk, Demaury.”

Eliott laughs as well, “well, fair enough, but I did actually move here from France.”

“No way!”

“Yes way,” Eliott smiles, “I still have a hint of an accent, but it’s mostly gone from the few years I’ve lived here.”

“Speak French to me, baby,” Lucas jokes.

Eliott rolls his eyes. He pauses before placing a hand on Lucas’s upper thigh and slowly leaning in. He licks his lips and Lucas forgets how to breathe, “vous êtes si stupide, pourquoi est-ce vous qui a capturé par coeur.”

Lucas frowns at him, “did you just call me stupid?”

Eliott laughs and leans away, “something along those lines, yeah.”

Lucas is all too aware of the hand still resting on his thigh.

Life goes on like normal after that Sunday with Eliott. Well, it does for at least a couple weeks. Lucas spends the weekdays preparing the club and bar, and on weekends it’s packed tight at LLuv. He makes out sloppily with a few guys the first weekend. Guys that, if you squint your eyes in the right lighting, look somewhat like Eliott. It shouldn’t matter to Lucas that Eliott had asked for something casual, because he’s Lucas Lallemant! He’s a playboy who made himself a millionaire by the age of 22! He can get whoever he wants, he doesn’t have to wait for one flower-shop boy to come and kiss him to make him feel better.

Lucas maintains this thought-process the first two weeks, but by the third he’s holed himself away in his room. He debates on whether or not to go down to the flower shop and talk to Eliott, to tell him that he is looking for something more serious for the first time in his life. But he quickly shooes away the idea, knowing that Eliott treated it as more of a one night stand. Yet it still hurts. It hurts because it’s true that Lucas hasn’t really wanted someone in a more serious sense since his crush on Yann. Maybe he shouldn’t have slept with Eliott at all, maybe that’s where he went wrong. But Eliott probably still would have refused seeking a more serious relationship even if they hadn’t slept together.

It’s when Lucas is about to open his third chocolate bar one Saturday night, three weeks after his one night stand with Eliott, that there is a knock at his door.

“Come in,” Lucas says and his voice is hoarse with lack of use.

Yann walks in and he braces himself behind the door, like there is a chance that Lucas could attack him, “hey, how you holding up?” Yann asks once he’s all in the room. He sits at the edge of Lucas’s bed and gives him those stupid pity eyes.

“Nothing much. Did you know that bees don’t have ears?”

That makes Yann smile, “I didn’t ask what you were up to, Lucas.”

“Oh, right,” Lucas sighs, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem that fine.”

“Jee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean, Lucas!” Yann huffs as he lays down, “you can’t let Eliott get to you. He’s just some guy. But you, Lucas, are special! You’re the one and only Lucas Lallemant.”

“What if I don’t want to be ‘Lucas Lallemant’ though? What if I want to be sad that a guy I’ve been falling in love with for the past few months told me he doesn’t want anything serious? Is that too much to ask? That I just be normal for a change?”

“You have that right, Lucas,” Yann replies, “I’m just saying that...that Eliott doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Lucas looks at his friend, “I wish he did. Maybe he would actually come back then.”

Yann laughs, “come on, let’s go get some pity-food.”

“Ugh, yes! I need some pity-food right about now, with maybe a little self-loathing on top.”

Yann takes them to their favorite open 24 hours Mexican restaurant. It’s run by a really cranky old guy, but that’s just part of the charm. Lucas gets an enchilada and Yann gets an order of their extreme nachos. How Yann manages to eat that thing while walking is beyond him. They walk for what feels like forever as they weave through the Los Angeles street. Lucas realizes they are headed towards the beach, towards Eliott’s shop, all too late and is about to backtrack when Yann grabs his arm. He’s practically pulling Lucas along, forcing his feet to move by skidding them against the sidewalk.

“Yann, stop! I really don’t want to see him!” Lucas yells.

“How do you even know where I’m taking you?!”

“I know! You’ve been my best friend for years, I think I know you by now! But after today I don’t know if you’re still my best friend!”

Yann rolls his eyes, “you are such a drama queen. We already passed his shop a few streets ago, would you just chill?!”

Lucas looks over his shoulder, squinting his eyes to make out the stores behind them, and to his surprise they did in fact already pass Eliott’s store. Hm. Something still seems fish-y.

“Alright, fine,” Lucas says and yanks his arm away from Yann’s reach, “I’ll keep walking with you...I guess.”

They make their way out onto the dock. It’s something that reminds him of his day with Eliott.

Okay, he seriously needs to get over this guy.

They make it all the way to the end and rest there for a few minutes so they both have a chance to finish their food. He’s missed days like this. Days where he’s just hanging out with his best friend, living cliche Los Angeles, but it’s still nice. He stares out at the water as the sun goes down. It’s like postcard beautiful out today, and Lucas is trying to soak it all in while he can. He closes his eyes and breathes in. He hears people laughing overtop the murmur of the crowd behind him. He likes listening to the soft eb and flow of the water hitting the dock. This was exactly what he needed.

“Thanks, Yann,” Lucas says after a while, eyes still closed. He speaks in just above a whisper, scared that anything louder would break the fragility of the moment.

“I’ll pass on the message to him later,” a voice says.

Lucas’s eyes shoot open, because that is definitely not Yann’s voice. He turns his head so fast he thinks he gets minor whiplash. “Fuck, Eliott, what are you doing here?” Lucas’s voice only cracks once, which he counts as a victory.

“Yann contacted me,” Eliott says, as if that clears everything up.

Lucas frowns, “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

“What, you didn’t want to see me?” Eliott asks as he leans forward on the ledge.

Lucas sighs, “not really, it was hard enough trying to forget what you looked like the first time, now I have to do it all over again!” Lucas says exasperated, and is about to turn around and storm off but Eliott’s hand wraps around his arm.

“Wait, Lucas, I was, I was actually the one who contacted Yann.” Lucas raises an eyebrow at him, signaling him to proceed, “I contacted him because I realize how stupid I was. I-I told you that I’m not one for relationships because I was scared of getting my own heart broken. I fell in love with you the first time I saw you walk by. You didn’t see me, at least I don’t think you did, because you were laughing at something one of your friends said. But I saw you. You were all I saw, actually. But, I know the type of guy you are from the stories I’ve heard of you, and I thought that...I thought that if I was the one who put a barrier between us it would hurt less. But I was so, so wrong.”

“Yeah, you were,” Lucas says bluntly, “everyone thinks they know who I am from the stories. From the tales people tell about me. I don’t want to be that guy that Los Angeles makes me out to be.” Lucas pauses not sure how to proceed, “I was falling in love with you. And it was scary, I will say that, but it was also exhilarating. It was the first time I had really let myself feel that way about someone, and then I let myself have a one night stand with you, because I thought that I would never get another chance. But I just crumbled.” Lucas didn’t notice he was crying until Eliott raises a hand and wipe the tear away.

“I’m sorry, Lucas,” Eliott whispers, “I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could go back however many minutes we lost and just start over. I hope that you can give me a second chance, and if time is what you need I can give that to you. But please make it sooner than later.”

Lucas smiles at that and wraps his hand around Eliott’s wrist, slowly pulling his hand away, “we can restart,” Lucas sniffles and sticks his hand out towards Eliott, “I’m Lucas.”

Eliott smiles and takes Lucas’s hand, “Eliott, and may I just say, you are truly breathtaking.”

“And you are super cheesy.”

“I try my best.”

Lucas laughs, “so, I believe that someone I met owes me at least 40,000 minutes. Do you have that kind of time?”

“For you? Anything.”

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Covetous Thunder: Ch.4

Aesthetic Courtesy of beautiful @prettybubblesintheair!

Masterlist

Covetous Thunder Masterlist : DARK!THOR

I’m not sure who many chapters this will end up being!

Thor Odinson x Plus!Size Reader

Words: +2,500

Warnings: THIS IS A DARK THOR FIC! NON-CON DUB-CON LANGUAGE VIOLENCE Thor BEING AN ASSHOLE! This went way over what I intended so I will post it in parts! Putting under the cut as always! Oh this is just torturous! Infinity War Spoilers? Do we still have to put that?

No matter what she told herself, Y/N couldn’t stop her body from shaking violently, whether it was cold or fear, becoming worse when Thor moved between her thighs, spreading her injured hip making her flinch.

Thor stopped, filling the mortal body tense under him, he was hurting her, he had to stop, pulling away & looking down at the naked woman that shivered under him, looking at him in worry of what he was about to do.

“Easy dove, it's OK,” he cooed at her, stroking over her cheek while tears slid from the corner of her eyes to stain the burgundy sheets, Y/N swallowing hard but not daring to cover her nakedness.

“We will stay in here for tonight, no need to move you around,” Thor commented, gently moving off of her.

Reaching out to help get Y/N settled in bed, taking the soaking wet towel, & throwing it to the bathroom. Pulling the sheet over Y/N before handing her a glass of water & what looked like pain pills. Taking them both but peering at them worried of what they were.

“It's just a few pain pills & water,” Thor quietly reassured, hinting for Y/N to take it.

Well what did it mater, it couldn’t get any worse, Y/N thought downing the pills & water to hand him back the glass thinking about throwing it at him but figured she would save it for another time. His fingers ghosting over her own as he took the glass.

“Thank you for not throwing it at me dove,” Thor admitted, sitting the glass down so that he could crawl into bed next to her, after he shed his clothes of course.

Sure to divert her eyes, Y/N looked out the French doors to watch the lightening dance across the mountain tops, the sun had set & the light illuminated the hills with beautiful blue light. Only looking back to Thor when the furnace of a god settled in next to her, jumping at the touch on a bruised right hip. Curious to what caused her pain, Thor pushed the covers back to look at the purple flesh, ghosting a thumb over it.

“I'm sorry,” he apologized, meeting Y/N’ gaze for a moment.

Y/N nodding & giving him a weak grimace before rolling to the opposite side. Putting her head down on the pillow, & not surprised that he laid close, the same way she had woken earlier. Though Y/N didn’t get to ponder on the day’s events, beginning to drift to sleep watching the lightning play on the mountain tops while another, I'm sorry was whispered into her ear.

That week was relatively calm & quiet after their battle of words, but Y/N knew it wasn’t the end, especially since it appeared Thor didn’t sleep well that night, or maybe he didn’t sleep well at all, how was she to know? Y/N was knocked out the entire time that she was in bed with him the first time so honestly who knew.

Nightmares, dreams, fits, whatever you chose to call them where pure hell, & most of the times left Y/N hurrying out of bed, not sure what to expect the first few times it happened. Though thankfully when Y/N hurried out of bed Thor would wake, knowing what happened, beckoning her back, & Y/N would gingerly crawl back onto the mattress next to him. They never escalated from there, at least not yet anyway, but Y/N had a feeling it was coming.

The morning of the phone call, Y/N had noticed that Thor wasn’t next to her keeping her warm, waking up because she was freezing under the light sheet, surprised the god had left her alone in bed without waking her. Though it had been a little over a week, he had a pattern & Y/N tried to memorize it, for survival she was guessing. The phone call was a shock because Y/N had never seen the Stark phone before that day. Y/N just happened to look out the back door of the cabin to see him talking on the it.

Stopping to watch Thor, furrowing his brow at the person on the other end, speaking, wiping his hand over his face, nodding yes, something else, nodding in agreement then with the phone still to his ear he looked at Y/N. The gaze he fixed her with very possessive, & worried but not breaking his eye contact. Y/N holding Thor’ gaze until he hung up & began picking up the wood he had been busting.

Watching how the god moved, something that Y/N had been doing & cursed herself for watching him, or actually studying him. Not really sure why, perhaps it was because Thor was getting bolder every day in what he intended to do to her, in bed or wherever they happened to be that gave him the opportunity to speak darkly, to touch her. It was putting Y/N on edge, hoping he would just go ahead & do it already, so she wouldn’t have to walk around the house like a scared mouse.

Coming out of her thinking when heavy boots stomped out mud on the stone that was at the base of the stairs, focusing on Thor as he started up the steps in a light Carhartt jacket, jeans & boots, arm loaded with firewood. On instinct Y/N stepped forward to open the inside door while he pulled open the screen, part of her wanting to slam it in his face but didn’t since it was cold & wanted to make sure she had fire wood. Not brave enough to venture outside to see how far she could go, plus all he ever allowed her to wear was a tank top & lacey panties.

“Thank you Y/N,” Thor spoke quietly, stepping past her, heat pouring off his body & making Y/N wonder why he had the jacket on, the god was a walking furnace.

Only nodding in acknowledgment, Y/N shut the door to follow behind the god, careful not to step on any of the wet mud that fell out of his boots with bare feet. He was upset, & it showed by the way he walked through the house, leaving Y/N hoping that it wasn’t about to cause another yelling match, because this time she may not hold back her harsh words. Following along behind him till they reached the kitchen, going to get a glass of water to drink it down whole watching Thor stack the wood on the hearth. A hearth that Y/N realized was piled full, both walls on either side of the fireplace covered with neatly piled & stacked wood.

“I have to leave, for a few days,” Thor began turning to Y/N who didn’t realized she gawked at the massive pile of fire wood, finally looking to him to nod in understanding.

“Or it may be longer, I have to go on a mission,” Thor explained, trying to get more of a response from Y/N than a head nod or glare, watching her gaze shoot to Stormbreaker then back to the god to do just what he didn’t want to see, nod, filling her glass with water once more.

“Y/N; speak to me sweetheart, I have barely heard your voice in several days except for small replies,” Thor began, stepping towards the couch, pulling off the jacket to throw it over the back, looking at the fading bruise on her arms while placing the glass to her lips.

“What do you want to talk about,” Y/N boldly replied, pulling the glass away, watching the motions of him toeing off muddy boots while she wrapped an arm around her thick middle as if cold, a shiver making its way through her.

“Can you tell me where you are going, or… what if something happens… here while you are gone,” Y/N finally spoke finishing her water when Thor motioned her to come sit with him on the couch, hip twinging, a hand going to soothe over it as she stepped out of the kitchen & walking around the side of the couch.

“I can’t, but Bera will be checking in on you every day to make sure you don’t need anything &,” Thor began, allowing Y/N to get seated looking at the slow moving creature worriedly while she rubbed over the bruised hip while taking a seat next to the plush arm, curling legs up on the couch & waiting for Thor to lay in her side.

“I have you something,” he spoke, pulling a phone out of his pocket, more specifically a satellite phone with Stark Tech emblazoned across the top, had she not known about them she would have thought it a beefier smart phone, but took it before the god silently sat next to Y/N, for once pulling her to his side.

“I take it that it only calls to you, Bera, or someone else & only receives certain calls,” Y/N asked quietly, tapping the screen, lighting it up to see icons for different people & the background Stark Tech.

“Correct, it is also linked to F.R.I.D.A.Y, so if you don’t have it on you it will still respond if you speak. Isn’t that correct F.R.I.D.A.Y,” Thor spoke out to the phone, but Y/N jumped when the entire room spoke, having never heard the AI speak before.

“That is correct Thor, it's nice to meet you Y/N,” the AI lilted, leaving Y/N looking around for cameras or something else.

“Um, nice to meet you F.R.I.D.A.Y,” Y/N responded in shock still looking around the room but settling back into Thor’ side.

“She is linked down to Bera so that if anything goes wrong or you need help it will send for her since she is closer then myself,” Thor explained, Bera was one of the refugees from Asgard, the Asgardian supposedly a well-known shield maiden & healer, but Y/N kept refusing to allow her to heal the bruises, wanted to remind Thor of what he had done.

“When do you leave,” Y/N asked, looking from the phone to Thor who cocked his head at her, giving a weary smile, obvious he wasn’t looking forward to leaving.

“Tonight, after dinner, Stark promised it wouldn’t take me away from you for very long,” Thor began, reaching around her shoulder to cherish a tense jaw with a hot thumb, Y/N not pulling away but not leaning into it either.

This time Thor surprised Y/N with boldly pushing her back to the arm of the couch, but Thor slid to the opposite end to grab her ankles & jerk her flat on the cushions. Yelping out a quiet no, Y/N looked up at the god helplessly while he jerked his shirt off. Breath catching, having to force herself to breath when hot hands grabbed the back side of her knees the same instant he fell back onto the couch to keep them spread. One hand leaving her knee to grab a hold of her wrist, pinning them over her head, while the other moved down her thigh, teasing the edge of lace panties that left noting to the imagination.

Trying to close her legs knowing it was a stupid attempt since the rock that was Thor was between them, lifting her hips up with his thighs rutting at her. Pushing aside the lace to run his fingers between her folds, gathering what wetness was there & bowing down to take a kiss.

Whimpering in fear that this was it, refusing to allow his tongue in, even when he bit harshly at her bottom lip, or at least until he rutted into, forcing two fingers into tight heat. Letting out a surprised gasp, Thor took the moment to slip his tongue in, tasting of Y/N who tried to pull away but had no where to go, following her lips, head crushing into the couch.

“Don’t fight me dove, I promise, I’ll be easy,” he breathed into her mouth, giving Y/N time to breath, the woman panting on his lips, chest heaving for air, a clothed chest that stoked the fire between his loins every time it touched his.

“Do it & get it over with,” Y/N panted nervously, looking away before he could take another kiss from her lips, but planted one under her ear.

The rake of teeth over soft flesh made Y/N shutter, bracing for the bite but relaxing only slightly when Thor began to suck on the tender flesh to leave a mark. Tensing up when he removed his fingers, hearing him fighting with his pants to get them down, continuing to look into the fire, trying to prepare herself because it had been awhile & had a felling the god wasn’t your average male. Coming to terms with the fact he was going to follow through this time, never realizing he stopped, sitting up between Y/N legs looking down at her.

What was he doing? Why was he doing this, & why couldn’t he go through with it? Looking over to the fire & Stormbreaker, then back to Y/N who was laying before him, chest heaving, arms still over her head looking into the fire. Obvious she didn’t realize Thor stopped, lost in her own mind. Thor looked down at the disheveled panties, cunt peaking at him, cock twitching at the thoughts of pushing into her, but he was hesitating, cock out & full mast, but he couldn’t this time.

The loss of warmth brought Y/N to the realization that something was off, looking up at Thor who was looking down at her exposed mound, cock twitching, but looked at war with something. Braving to pull shaky arms down to prop on her elbows Y/N couldn’t help but to wonder what he thought of, his troubled gaze finally meeting hers before he stood, reaching out to Stormbreaker.

Y/N having to shield her eyes when the battle axe came to his hand, the god swallowed up in white light, peaking through her fingers when it subsided to see Thor standing in black battle armor, still deep in thought. Thunder sounded in the distance when he finally met Y/N’ troubled gaze, watching her scoot to the arm of the couch.

“I will be back in a few days, you need anything contact Bera,” Thor began coldly, turning to the door to leave, Y/N getting to her feet to watch him, Thor turning when he reached the door way.

“Sorry about dinner, we will do something nice when I get back,” was the last he spoke opening the door to leave & shutting it behind him.

A flash of light & boom of thunder announced his departure, leaving Y/N standing in the living room, looking around the house then the metal cuff, reaching over to twirl it so it wasn’t biting into her skin. Thankful that Thor was easy this time when he took her wrist, just enough pressure to keep her from pulling free.

Looking to the quiet kitchen, it was still only 10am but, Y/N wasn’t hungry, to tell the truth she hadn’t been hungry in a while, & if she could have gotten by with it would never eaten the past week. Making up her mind since it seemed there was no obligation to do anything, having read what books were in the house which seemed very few oddly enough, Y/N decided to stoke the fire.

Kneeling next to the fire place Y/N looked back to the couch to spot the throw on the back of the couch & decided that there would be a good place as any to take a nap.

If you want to be tagged or not let me know!

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99  @prettybubblesintheair  @gramaeryebard  @reallyheckinggay  @jovanna-shewolf  @andiyholly  @katstablook   @nickyl316h  @beets1bears1battlestargalactica @slender--spirit @aslandia726 @moonfaery @furstinnajoelle  @itsbqueenthings @missphoenix69

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Time: Chapter 10

Summary: Soulmate!AU/Reincarnation!AU. Female!Reader lives in a world where alien invasions and hordes of death robots occur and past lives and soulmates are very real. Like most people, she gets brief glimpses of her past. although a person’s past lives and their current life may have little to nothing in common, soul mates tend to transfer between lives, the core of a person staying the same throughout the eons. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Warnings: Language, angst, fluff Word Count: ~5,510 A/N: I think I wrote a sitcom on accident. Oh well. This chapter is 15% Steve fluff, 20% angst, and 65% Team Cap banter.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

You looked inside of yourself, trying to assess the damage. You were shocked to find nothing there. You felt nothing.

Bucky hadn’t broken your heart, he’d obliterated it.

You hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep until Wanda’s quiet voice woke you from the doorway.

“We have to leave, Steve. We’ve been here too long as is,” she said, apologetic.

“I know, Wanda. Just a little long-”

“You’re leaving? Now?” you asked, alarmed, as you sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. It had gotten dark out while you’d been asleep. Light had been streaming in through your windows, filling your room with a warm glow when you’d first come in, but now shadows painted the walls of the neighboring buildings. It was dusk.

Steve looked down at you and frowned, regret clear on his face. “Sorry, darling. We can’t stay any place too long, least of all New York. This was only supposed to be a quick stop, anyway,” he said as he began untangling himself from the blankets and sheets.

“Please don’t go,” you whispered. You needed to reach out for him, make him stop, but your body wasn’t listening to your orders.

Something in your voice made him freeze. He pulled his arm from around you and cupped your chin with his fingers. “I can’t take you with me, (Y/N). It’s too dangerous,” he said, sorrow clear in his voice. This close, you could see the flecks of green in his captivating blue eyes.

You shook your head stubbornly, jaw set. “I want to go with you, Stevie. It’s my choice. I was in New York and D.C. I watched the videos of Sokovia. I know the kind of danger you get into. I don’t care,” you said as you took his hands in yours. You squeezed his fingers hard, willing him to understand. He didn’t seem convinced and opened his mouth to say something else, but you spoke before he could say anything.

“I can’t lose you, too. Not after everything that’s happened. I know you understand that. Please, Stevie,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes.

His face twisted in sadness. That had been a low blow and you knew it. Steve had dealt with your and Bucky’s deaths once before. His best friend and soul mate both gone before thirty, and he’d watched both times; you’d died from disease and Bucky had plummeted from that train in the mountains. He still probably blamed himself for Bucky.

Steve glanced at Wanda, who stood in the doorway, question clear on his face.

She looked between you and Steve before she sighed and shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I don’t care what you decide; It’s really your decision anyway. Just choose quickly,” she said, then walked back towards your sitting room.

“It’ll be dangerous,” he said, turning back to you. “I don’t know if I can keep you safe,” he said softly, worry clear in his voice. He wished you’d stay. You’d be safer here, without him. But he knew how much you had to be hurting right now. He didn’t have it in him to leave you alone.

“I know,” you said, lip quirking into a tentative half smile as a tear slipped down your cheek. He gently wiped it away with his thumb and kissed you on the forehead.

“Get packed. We’ll leave in fifteen,” he said, finally extracting himself from the bed.

“Ten, Steve!” came Wanda’s voice from the living room.

“Ten, then. Need any help?” he said, extending his hand to help you up. You took it gladly, his warm, well-worn hand helping to keep you grounded. Now that you knew he wasn’t going to leave you, your heart felt lighter, even just a little bit.

You shook your head as you hopped off the bed, swaying slightly. His hand came down to steady you and he eyed you with concern. “I’m mostly packed already. Never really unpacked, actually,” you explained, trying to ignore the way he looked at you as though you were about to break.

“Alright, if you’re sure, I’ll be out in the sitting room with Wanda,” he said, giving you a peck on the cheek, which made you blush. He gave you a melancholy smile as he walked out of the room and went to join Wanda on your squishy couch.

Nine and a half minutes later you walked into your sitting room, bulging duffel slung over your shoulder, a dirty manila folder clutched at your side in your free hand. Wanda and Steve were already standing by the door. Steve smiled at you, taking your bag wordlessly. “Thanks,” you said, giving him a small smile.

“Are we ready?” Wanda asked, raising an eyebrow at you and Steve.

“I have one last thing to do. You guys go ahead, I’ll be right behind you,” you said, opening the door for them.

Steve seemed unsure and didn’t immediately follow Wanda down the stairs.

“It’s fine, Stevie. I’ll only be a minute, I promise,” you said as you clutched the manila folder to your chest.

He studied you for a moment before he nodded his head. “Alright, get outside as soon as possible. Wanda seemed nervous, which makes me nervous,” he said. You nodded in agreement, and he gave you one last smile before he closed the door. You could hear the stairs creaking under his weight as you opened up the manila folder in your hands and placed it on the small table next to your door. You grabbed the pen off the table and quickly flicked through the documents, signing your name and initialing wherever it told you to. With one last flourish of your pen you snapped the folder closed and grabbed the keys to your apartment. You yanked the door open and bounded down the stairs. You weren’t sure if it was luck or not, but Dean was in the back, likely getting ready to close down for the night.

“Dean!” you said, jogging up to him.

“Hey, what’s up, (Y/N)? When did you get back?” he asked, looking from you to the staircase that led to your apartment then back to you. He spotted the manila folder in your hands and the look of confusion on his face only grew.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said as you grabbed his wrist and dragged him over to the nearest counter. You pulled out your pen and opened the manila folder. “Sign this here and here and initial here, here, and here,” you said, marking the spots you mentioned with x’s.

“What’s this all about, (Y/N)?” he asked, glancing from you to the papers.

“Trust me, please, Dean. I don’t have time to explain,” you said, desperate. You didn’t know how long Steve and Wanda would wait.

“Alright, alright,” he said, quickly filling out the paperwork.

You beamed up at him. “The cafe and apartment are yours now, Dean. For real, this time. The apartment’s been paid for till the end of the year,” you said. The look of delighted shock on his face was something you’d never forget.

“What? Wait, (Y/N)- What-!” he tried to get your attention, but you were already headed through the door to the cafe’s main room.

“Take good care of my damn cafe, Dean!” you yelled back to him. “You too, Tali, Kate!” you said, waving to them as you opened the door. Not understanding the situation they happily waved back, promising they would with yes, ma’am!’s.

You stepped through the door, Dean hot on your heels, but when he stepped through the doorway and blinked against the light of the sun, it was like you’d vanished from right in front of him. He looked up and down the sidewalk in alarm, but you were nowhere to be found. A car came down the street and something about it caught Dean’s attention. He glanced at it and he swore he saw you waving at him through the back window, index finger over your lips in a conspiratorial smile. He also thought he saw Captain America throw him a salute from the seat beside yours in the back. Was that the Scarlet Witch driving?

Dean blinked rapidly, but, just like you had a moment ago, the car seemed to vanish; there one minute and gone the next.

“I trust Captain America,” came your voice in his memories. You’d said that a few days ago when he’d insulted the Winter Soldier and the Captain.

“Oh, you sly bitch,” he said, grinning. “You could have at least introduced me,” he said, laughing as he turned back to the cafe. His cafe. “Can’t even tell anyone that Captain America was in the damn place,” he groaned quietly, resigning himself to the fact that telling people Steve had been there would only cause problems. “Stay safe, Boss,” he whispered, throwing one last glance over his shoulder before he went back inside.

You made it out of the city and began traveling west. Steve dozed quietly in the seat next to you and you briefly considered joining him in his napping endeavors, but decided to try to get to know the other person in the car a little better, instead. You carefully clamored towards the passenger seat up front, deftly avoiding bumping Steve’s outstretched legs. Wanda watched you with amusement as you not-so-gracefully plopped down into the seat next to her.

“Hi,” you said lamely. You were careful to speak quietly so you wouldn’t wake Steve.

“Hi,” she said, smirking at you.

“Where are we headed?” you asked, peering at the road ahead of you. You were out of the big city now, so trees and residential areas lined the freeway.

“We’re meeting up with the rest of the guys, then we’re headed somewhere safe... Well, safer,” she informed you.

“’The rest of the guys’?” you asked, confused.

“Ah, yeah. The rest of the pariahs on the run from the combined might of the world’s governments. Scott, Sam, and Clint,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers.

“Clint is Hawkeye, right? And Sam is the Falcon?” you asked.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she said, smiling at you.

“I have no idea which one Scott is, though,” you said, racking your brain for a face to place the name to.

“New addition as of a few days ago. His alias is Ant-Man,” she said. You snorted and she grinned at you. “Yeah, I agree, not the best name, but he’s not someone to mess with. He can make himself so tiny he could kill you and you’d never see him coming... or he could make himself one hundred feet tall and squish you under his foot. Plus, he’s a good guy,” she said, chuckling at your stricken expression.

“Right, don’t cross Ant-Man. Got it,” you said, sighing as you leaned back in the seat.

She bit back a laugh, glancing into the back seat to make sure your conversation hadn’t woken Steve up. “No, they’re all softies. They’re excited to meet you, in fact. It’s not often Steve throws tactical logic to the wayside. There’s always a good reason for it, though,” she said, smiling softly at you. You felt your cheeks heat and looked out the window in lieu of facing her.

“We’re almost to the exit,” Steve said suddenly. You jumped at his deep voice, not expecting it.

“I know, I know. Stop backseat driving, grandpa,” Wanda said, turning on her blinker to merge into the right lane.

“Hey, I just want to make sure we don’t miss the exit. We don’t have time to turn around if we miss it,” he said leaning forward between the front seats. You turned to look at him and he smiled at you, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and you could tell he was trying to gauge how you were feeling. Not willing to disappoint him, you put on a brave smile.

“And whose fault is that?” Wanda asked, rolling her eyes as she turned off the freeway.

Steve winced slightly and turned to give Wanda an apologetic smile. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry about that,” he said amicably.

“Apology accepted,” she said, smirking at him. “They said they’d meet us at the Waffle House, right?” she asked, peering at the freeway sign that directed travelers to the nearest food and lodging.

“Yeah. Looks like it’s a left at the light,” Steve said, ducking his head to look at the sign through the windshield.

A few minutes later you pulled into the Waffle House parking lot. A few cars were parked here and there, but Wanda pulled up next to a large nondescript black SUV.

“Why is it always the large black SUV’s? Don’t you people realize they’re conspicuous in that they’re always thought to be inconspicuous?” you asked, looking at Wanda and Steve in exasperation.

Wanda laughed and Steve opened the door and hopped out, opening yours before you had the chance. Ever the gentleman, your Stevie.

“Actually, that’s our ride,” Steve said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder and you laughed.

“Nice one, Stevie,” you said, walking over to the black SUV.

“Uh, (Y/N)... I wasn’t joking,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Though I wish he was,” Wanda said, grimacing at the monstrosity Steve had pointed at.

Across the parking lot was an ugly, decrepit yellow and white van straight out of the mid 70′s. The paint was peeling at the bottom and you could tell from here the current paint job was hiding countless ones before it. You could still barely make out giant, loopy flowers all over the sides.

“Well, I suppose I’d never expect to find an Avenger in there,” you admitted, glaring at the van as though it had killed your dog.

Steve grabbed your bag out of the trunk of the car and together you, he, and Wanda walked over to the vehicular eyesore. Steve knocked on the double side doors, glancing around as he did so. You glanced over your shoulder, too, suddenly aware you were with the world’s most wanted people on earth. This wasn’t how you expected today to go.

“Password?” came a voice from inside, the source of which you could see moving behind the bright orange curtains that seemed to be on every window but the front three. The person who said it seemed to be going for a Gandalf-esque voice.

“Scott, is that you? Open up,” Steve said, shifting uncomfortably as he threw another look over his shoulder.

“Incorrect, try again,” said the voice again.

“Scott, it’s me, Wanda, and-” Steve began

“Man what are you doing? Open the damn door,” said a different voice.

“Hey, it could be a-” the voice’s protests stopped abruptly as the door swung open, squeaking horrifically.

“Shit, I need to oil that thing,” one of the men behind the door said. You recognized his voice as the one asking for a password.

“Man, you need to do a lot of things to this rust bucket. Maybe get your head checked while you’re at it, too, Tic-Tac,” said the second man.

“Scott. Sam,” Steve said in greeting, tossing the bag to the second man, who threw it behind him into the back of the van.

“Oh, hey, Cap. Wanda. You must be (Y/N). I’m Scott, AKA Ant-Man,” the first guy said, nodding his head in greeting. You nodded back, smiling slightly. You recognized the other Man as the Falcon; Sam Wilson.

“Move over, Scott,” Wanda said as she clambered into the van.

Your eyes adjusted to the dim light inside and you laughed out loud. It was covered from top to bottom in atrocious orange shag carpet. Only the front two seats remained. The rest had been gutted to make room for a huge, equally orange and atrocious couch. A smaller loveseat behind the driver’s seat faced backwards. It was, at least, not orange. It was, instead, a hideous, stained zebra stripe pattern.

“You guys are running from the world government in a shaggin wagon?” you asked, hand clamped over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your giggles as you climbed into the van.

“Yeah, well, it was all we could get on short notice,” came a voice from the driver’s seat. “I’m Clint, by the way,” he said, extending a hand to you. You hunched over so your head wouldn’t hit the ceiling and shook his hand.

“I know. Nice to meet you, Hawkeye,” you said, winking at him. He beamed back at you.

“See? She knows who I am,” he said, inexplicably proud.

“Yes, we’re all very happy for you, Clint,” Wanda said, rolling her eyes as she sat down in the passenger seat. “Are you still upset about what T’Challa said?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No,” he said obstinately. He was clearly still upset.

“It’s okay, Clint. I still don’t think anyone on their team knows who I am,” Scott said, shooting Clint a commiserative look in the rear-view mirror.

“Thanks, Scott,” Clint said, grinning. “Are we all ready?” he asked as Steve hopped in after you and closed the doors.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Steve said, taking a seat on the bright orange couch. The van jolted as it came to life. The engine didn’t sound healthy and you wondered for a second if it would explode, but Clint shifted gears and soon it was rolling out of the Waffle House parking lot towards the main street.

You took a seat next to Steve on the couch, not entirely comfortable around the others yet. They seemed nice, just like Wanda said, but you weren’t up to snuff yet after everything that had happened today. You weren’t sure you ever would be, but Steve’s presence offered you some relative safety. There was a short scuffle for the Zebra seat, which Scott lost. Sam plopped down in it, looking superior as Scott sat dejectedly down on the floor.

“Better luck next time, Tic-Tac,” Sam said, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“You say that, but I’m pretty sure those stains should be considered bio hazards,” Scott said, smirking up at Sam, who suddenly looked much less pleased with himself.

“Sorry for showing up so late,” Steve said, scratching the back of his neck guiltily.

“Don’t sweat it Steve. You still had a half hour to spare,” Sam said, throwing his friend a grin.

“Yeah, and now it’s obvious why you arrived so much later than we expected,” Clint said from the driver’s seat. You saw him glance at you and Steve and wink to the blond beside you. You glanced at Steve out of the corner of your eye and smiled. His cheeks were distinctly tinged pink.

“Gear safe in the back?” Steve asked, glancing over his shoulder, eager for a change of topic.

“Yup, loaded it all myself,” Clint said as he turned onto the freeway. “Did you stay out of sight in New York?” he asked, glancing at Steve and Wanda.

“Define ‘out of sight’,” Wanda said, grimacing.

“Really, guys?” Clint asked, exasperated.

“Wanda made sure no one noticed us,” Steve said defensively.

“Do her powers work on street cameras now, too?” Clint asked.

“Well I short-circuited the ones I noticed. But no, I can’t guarantee I fried all of them. It’s why I made sure Steve didn’t dawdle any longer than necessary,” Wanda explained.

“Well, what’s done is done. We’ll just have to hope Tony and Nat still like us enough to keep the government off our trail long enough for us to get underground,” Clint said as he cajoled the van into a legal freeway speed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly.

“Hey, now. This isn’t your fault. It’s that big blond idiot next to you’s,” Sam said as he crossed his arms and smirked at Steve.

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve said sarcastically, grinning back at Sam.

“No problem, man,” Sam said, toothy grin lighting up his whole face.

“How far out are we?” Scott asked Clint from where he laid on the floor.

“If you ask me ‘are we there yet?’ I swear I’ll kick you out of this car while it’s speeding down the freeway,” Clint threatened.

Wanda snorted. “Does it count as speeding if we’re only going-” a pause as she checked the speedometer “- fifty-three?”

“Yeah, I think I’d probably survive that. It might not even hurt,” Scott said, brows furrowed as he, presumably, played the situation out in his head.

“Not the point, Scott,” Clint said, sighing.

“Looks like we’re about eight hours out,” Wanda said, looking up from the road map you’d only just noticed.

“A physical map? Why are you traveling so low tech?” you asked, eyebrow quirked.

“Oh, right. Can I see your phone?” Steve said, holding out a hand.

“Which one?” you asked, pulling them both out of your pockets.

“Both, actually,” Steve said as he took them from you and threw them up to Wanda, who caught them with her powers. She rolled down the window with one of her hands and you enjoyed the fresh air for about .3 seconds before Wanda crushed both of your phones and threw them out of the window into the roadside brush.

“What-” you began, shocked.

“Tracking devices, built in GPS, all that shit,” Scott said. Sam nodded along as he spoke.

“Yeah, but why my-” you began again.

“There’s a chance there’s footage of you with us. Of your own accord. Can’t risk your phones being tracked,” Wanda said, smiling apologetically at you as she rolled up the window.

You let out a long sigh, wiping a hand over your face in exasperation. “Fine, fine. I understand,” you said as you leaned back into the lumpy orange couch.

“Hey, how did you find Steve in Berlin, anyway?” Sam asked, leaning forward to stare at you.

You squirmed at the sudden attention as everyone but Clint turned to look at you. Even Steve looked at you expectantly.

“Well, uh, you see- that’s a funny story-”

An hour later you’d told them about everything that had happened to you starting from the Battle of New York. You made them promise to keep their questions till the end.

“You mean you fought off those Chitauri bastards with two teenage baristas?” Clint asked, clearly impressed.

“And a small army’s worth of ammo,” you said, embarrassed.

“Huh,” Scott said eloquently, looking at you with newfound respect.

“You were the one who found Steve on the riverbank in D.C. after everything had gone to shit?” Sam asked.

“I just stumbled onto him by accident,” you said, cheeks heating as you remembered him latching onto you as though he was still drowning. You realized now the man you’d seen leaving the clearing was Bucky. Steve seemed to sense your tempestuous emotions because he reached over to hold your hand in his. The gesture wasn’t something the rest of the team missed, but they didn’t say anything.

Instead, Scott spoke up. “Wait you really didn’t know you’d been hanging out with the Winter Soldier? His face was plastered all over the news,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I, ah, don’t watch the news much. I was pretty busy moving during the time the news about D.C. was airing.” You had more to say, but you couldn’t do it. Even thinking about Bucky was starting to bring back that dark feeling in your heart. You squeezed Steve’s hand. It was, once again, the only thing keeping you grounded. He realized you were starting to spiral so he pulled you into his lap, hugging you to his chest.

If you were able to see anything but Steve’s broad chest you would’ve seen the matching looks of surprise on Scott and Sam’s faces. Wanda had already seen Steve act like that around you, so she wasn’t surprised, and Clint nodded his head as though a question he had had just been answered.

“Wanna take a nap, Dollface?” he asked, the nickname he and Bucky used for Rosie slipping out.

If you noticed, you didn’t show it. You nodded, cheek rubbing against his chest. He smiled and cradled you in his arms as he stood, careful not to hit his head on the van’s low ceiling, and placed you gently down on the couch. You reached out and grabbed his hand, pleading with your eyes for him to stay within reach, not wanting to say it aloud around so many strangers. He smiled sadly down at you and sat in front of the couch and leaned up against it. He sat close to your head, slightly blocking your face from view of the others. You threw an arm over his shoulder and he reached up and held onto your hand, rubbing your palm gently with his thumb.

You fell asleep more quickly than you thought you would. Your mind seemed to choose to knock itself out rather than have another breakdown and you didn’t feel like fighting it on its choice, the gentle sway of the van helping to lull you to sleep.

Steve’s POV

Steve didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know you’d fallen asleep. Your grip on his hand had loosened and your breathing had evened out, but he continued to rub your palm gently.

“There’s more, isn’t there? Stuff she left out?” Sam asked quietly, eyeing the way you and Steve sat together.

Steve let out a sigh. “Yeah, there is,” he said quietly, not wanting to wake you.

“Wanna start with... this?” Sam asked, gesturing to the two of you.

Steve sighed, glancing back at you before he gently released your hand. You frowned a little in your sleep but otherwise didn’t stir. Steve pulled back his left sleeve and held it out for the others to see.

“Your... brand? RAF? What does that have to do with anything? Those aren’t even her initials,” Scott said, brows furrowing in confusion.

“No, they’re not... but they were,” he said, frowning. Comprehension dawned on Scott, Sam, and even Wanda’s face from where she sat in the front seat, listening in on the conversation.

“You mean she’s the reincarnation of this RAF?” Sam asked, stunned.

“Rose Alice Foster was her name back then. We met when we were five. I knew the second I saw her she was my soul mate. Still, we didn’t show each other our brands right away. We were both scared they might not match, y’know? But when we were eight Rosie convinced me, and, sure enough, they matched.

“She loved reading. She’d read while I’d draw. Bucky would join us sometimes and read comics. She loved lilacs and hated celery. She was fascinated by cars and technology; it was her dream to meet Howard Stark,” he said, his gaze eighty years in the past as he reminisced.

After a moment his gaze darkened. “She was always kind of unwell. She had a lot of health problems, like I did, back before the serum. But hers were worse, and by thirteen she had trouble going outside. She couldn’t go to school anymore for risk of catching something and getting even sicker. By fourteen she was in the hospital year-round. For two years I watched as she lost the fight to the diseases that ate away at her until she finally passed in her sleep the day after her sixteenth birthday. Her family, Bucky, and I had had a get-together in her hospital room for her birthday. She didn’t even have the energy to blow out the candles on her cake. Bucky and I did it for her. Her parents had smiled as they cried, not wanting to make her sad, too,” he said, staring at the ground. Eighty years hadn’t done anything to soften the pain of that time.

There was a long pause. “Jesus, Steve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge all of that up,” Sam said, voice solemn.

“It’s alright, Sam. I know you didn’t,” Steve said, giving Sam a sad half smile.

“There’s still more, isn’t there?” Wanda said, eyes searching Steve’s.

Steve let out a year’s worth of sighs. “Yeah, there is,” he said.

“You don’t have to-” Scott began but Steve shook his head.

“But I should. I think it’s better you guys understand what’s going on so you don’t say anything to set her off accidentally, but I think it’s too painful and fresh for her to say it herself,” he said, taking a deep breath. His team members frowned, but they trusted his decision.

“Back when we were ten or so I was staying over at Bucky’s house. In the middle of the night I woke up to Bucky hitting me in his sleep. I moved his arm off of me but not before I noticed his soul brand. I’d never seen Bucky’s brand because he just told me what it said, instead. I remember he told me it was ‘HRL.’ That was a lie. On Bucky’s left wrist was an exact copy of the letters on my wrist,” Steve said.

The was a collective gasp from the others. “I’ve... never heard about that happening before,” Wanda said, raising an eyebrow at Steve.

“Me neither,” Scott said, confused.

“I hadn’t either at the time. I never said anything to him about it. I didn’t want to lose my best friend. I didn’t want Rosie to lose hers, either. Bucky meant as much to us as we meant to him, I think. Still, a part of me always wondered why he never cut us out of his life. It must have been painful. A lesser man would have been broken by it, I think. But not Bucky. He was with me, no matter what happened. Always there to help me, especially after Rosie passed. He was the only other one who understood how much she meant to me,” Steve said, glancing back at you. He smiled softly and brushed a piece of hair out of your face. Your frown lessened slightly as you slept.

“Hell, I think I owe that stupid tin man an apology... and a beer,” Sam said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Steve nearly let out a chuckle at that. “If I knew all it took to get you two on good terms was to tell you about our tragic pasts I would have sat you down for story time a long time ago, Sam,” Steve said, smirking.

“Oh shut up, Steve,” Sam said, smiling, and turned his head away, waving a hand dismissively.

“She wasn’t just hanging out with him in Bucharest, was she?” Scott asked from his spot on the ground. Sam gave him a swift kick in the side. “Ow! Dude!” he protested.

Sam gave him a distinct what the fuck gesture, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

After a second they both turned their attention back to Steve, who stared at the ground. After a moment he shook his head slowly, mouth pulled in a tight line.

“Man, you’re not even mad at him, are you?” asked Sam resignedly.

“How could I be? He loved her just as much as I did. Should I hate him for falling in love with her again? Should I hate her for falling in love with him?” Steve asked, heart heavy.

After a moment Sam let out a long sigh. “Fine, fine. I still don’t like it, though,” he said, crossing his arms.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Clint cut him off. “We’re getting off at this exit for food and supplies. We could really use your girl’s help, Steve. She’s much less conspicuous than us,” Clint said, glancing at your sleeping form in the rear-view  mirror.

“No, I’m not putting her in danger like that,” Steve said obstinately. Something in his voice roused you from your sleep. You let out a small noise of discontent as you sat up, rubbing sleep from your eyes. You stretched, grimacing. There was a horrible crick in your neck.

“Wuzz goin’ on?” you asked eloquently, glancing around the van.

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty,” Sam said cheerily. Scott gave you a little wave which you returned absentmindedly.

“Wanna go shopping?” Clint asked from the front seat.

“Clint,” Steve said, warning clear in his voice.

“Shopping? For what?” you asked, glancing between Clint and Steve.

“Food and supplies, mostly,” Clint said, smiling.

“Clint-” Steve began again.

“It’s a shopping trip, Steve. Not a mission to break into the Pentagon. It’ll be okay,” Clint argued as he pulled off of the freeway.

“If anything happens, we’re better equipped to deal with it,” Steve argued.

“Wait, I have an idea that’ll make everyone happy,” Scott piped up from the ground.

“Well, let’s hear it, Tic-Tac,” Sam said, eager to end the bickering.

Chapter 11

This series is finished, but if you want to be tagged in my other fics, check out this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

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[amaranthkick]

Fusion Confusion Part 7

(Part 1), (AO3)

As consciousness slowly came back to him, Shiro curled into the soft warmth to his side. He sighed happily, waking up with heart-gripping fear last night really highlighted how peaceful this morning was.

Oh, yeah, Lance offered to help him sleep after waking up last night from a nightmare. He chuckled fondly noticed Lance still cuddling him.

Shiro carefully slipped out of the loose hold without waking the other. To his amusement, Lance grumbled sleepily, weakly trying to reach out to get Shiro back. Eventually, Lance let out a huff, burying his face into the pillow, and quickly fell back into a deeper sleep.

Shiro grabbed clothes to change into deciding to let the younger sleep in while he could before they arrive at the Mutari as thanks for helping him out. He looked back at Lance. They were still stuck in each other’s bodies. Shiro’s sure he doesn’t sleep like that, his own face seem so soft and relaxed unbidden by fears or stress. He hummed to himself tucking Lance in, maybe one day, this war and the traumas the Galra put him through won’t have such a hold on him and he could have more peaceful nights like this one and be as relaxed sleeping in his own body as Lance is.

---

“Lance? Lance, wake up.” There was soft voice trying to gently coax him awake. It was also accompanied by some snickering in another voice, which was hushed by the first. “Pidge! Is that your phone? Are you taking pictures?”

“Lance loves to take lots of naps everywhere hoping to get his sleeping habit to rub off on me. I responded by embarrassing him with pictures of his bed head and sleepy faces.” Pidge was making no effort to hide her giggles.

“But Pidge, he's in my body. That's my bed head and face your getting.” He's honestly surprised and can only blink helplessly when she bluntly tells him she knows and this just means she has something on him too.

“Wha-” Shiro and Pidge turned swiftly to see Lance almost sit up, leaning heavily on one elbow and blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his other hand. His expression totally soft and the tuft of white hair fluffier than usual. He could hear the tell-tale click of a cell phone camera.

Shiro was thoroughly unamused when Pidge hid the phone before Lance became fully aware. Her canary-eating grin only served to confuse Lance.

Shiro sighed and told Lance to get ready and eat some breakfast as they were a few hours away from Mutari. They have a long day ahead of them.

Once Lance was ready and joined everyone at the control deck, he caught sight of the planet on their screens. A nice mix of white from the clouds in the air and a dusty yellow from the land covered in shifting sands. From the close range monitors he could spot some green patches from vital oases around the city.

---

It's go time. Everyone was debriefed on their mission. Mutari seemed to have willingly surrendered probably to avoid needless violence but it wasn't teeming with galra. The Galra wasn't watching them too closely or visibly oppressing the people. There were a few watch towers to take out then it'll be liberated.

The paladins were suited up and headed towards their lions. Lance caught a glimpse of Shiro wearing the black paladin armor over his body. It left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. Lance could admit that he thought about what it would be like to be the black paladin, the leader, someone important. He just didn't think it would happen like this.

Lance shook his head of those thoughts, he had to focus on freeing Mutari. And he could still dream.

The team split up, Keith and Shiro charged ahead on point to attack the main bases while Lance, Hunk, and Pidge picked off any stragglers avoiding causing heavy damage to the city.

It didn't go as smoothly as they hoped, some building were smashed and there was dark gray smoke rising from several fires in the city. But it seemed the townspeople were handling them.

Shiro opened his mouth to mobilize the team to help put down any immediate dangers in the city when some kind of movement drew his attention. But when he turned he was just looking at sand. Maybe it was nothing, just the wind pushing sand around. But every time he wanted to look away, he got a bad feeling in his gut. Something was down there.

Sand burst everywhere as a gigantic figure jumped out of the ground. Shiro hastily jerked back the controls of the black lion to get out of its way.

Everyone flinched at the metallic screech coming from the giant bird-like creature that had suddenly shot out of the ground seemingly awoken by their fight with the Galra. As everyone eyed the creature, the tense silence only made its slow wingbeats seem more prominent and powerful. It's body was made from some kind of rusty metal. Lance swallowed thickly as he looked over the strange ridges that ran along the wings and body, the patterns they formed looked eerily like an avian skeleton.

Keith was the first to charge in for an attack, the rust color and it's slow movements made it seem like an easy target weakened by the sands of time. But it was way faster than he thought, easily moving out of the way of his heat ray. Keith barely had any time to react as it released an amber-colored energy blast from its beak.

“Keith, look out!” The blue lion managed to get in front of the red lion before the blast hit him. Blue took the brunt of the attack smashing into the red lion sending both hurtling back. They displaced a ton of sand when they crashed into the ground.

“Keith, you ok?” Lance asked while gingerly holding his head.

He heard the red paladin groan before a pained reply, “yeah.”

Keith was about to ask for Lance's status in return but he gasped at a shockingly familiar sight. “Lance, look!”

“What is it? -- no way!” Lance watched the troublesome bird monster as the others flew around and tried to land a hit on it but was equally shocked when he turned to find a boulder-sized glowing amber crystal in front of them.

The rusty, metallic bird was a fusion!

An idea quickly taking shape in Lance's mind. He tried to move Blue but the blast really did a number on her, she was hardly responding, bursts of electricity stuttering her movements. “Hey Keith, is Red good to go?”

He saw the Red lion get back on its legs. “Yeah. What do you have in mind?”

“Well, remember in Coran’s first tests with the fusion? Destroying the crystal ended up destroying the fusion, so it should do the same for that bird. But we should draw it far away from the city first in case there's a violent explosion. I'll update the others.”

“Got it.” Keith picked up the large amber crystal in the Red lion’s mouth and took off into the air. He fired a pot shot from his lion’s tail. Of course, the bird dodged it without difficulty and turned its attention to Keith but more importantly, the amber crystal.

It screeched angrily and started to chase after the Red lion who was fast enough to keep ahead of it. Keith swerved to and fro to dodge the blasts from the metallic creature.

Hunk went down to Blue to aid Lance meanwhile Shiro and Pidge were following behind the metal bird and Keith, thrusters on full power trying to keep up. Keith tossed the crystal high into the air while still flying forward to gain some distance. The bird hovered in place waiting for the crystal to fall back down to it. Shiro, Keith, and Pidge fired all at once at the crystal, obliterating it.

There was a blinding light accompanied by an ear-splitting screech. They gasped when the light faded and they saw the skeleton of a giant bird fall along with torn-up rusty sheets of metal and wires.

---

Hunk helped tow the Blue lion back to the castle. Lance hitched a ride with him in Yellow as he rejoined the others on their way to the city which was on a rocky stable surface instead of loose sand.

Shiro thought back to the previous planet they landed on, Lance had gotten surprisingly useful info from Lamura, the local caretaker of a zoo. So he ordered Lance and Hunk to aid the scaly, dragon-esque townspeople wherever needed and keep an ear on the ground for any clues that could lead them to the ancient ruins.

Whereas he, Keith, and Pidge will meet with the queen, Mistletein. Allura was unable to get a clear explanation as to why the Mutarians surrendered. But there could be a number of reasonable explanations for that such as to keep bloodshed to a minimum or they were vastly outnumbered and that was the safest option for her people. She also noted that she seemed a bit apprehensive to meet the paladins for some reason.

Shiro hunched his shoulders unconsciously as they walked towards the main tower in the northern part of the city. It seems Lance's body was exceptional at reading others body language. Unfortunately, most of what he was seeing; narrowed eyes and tight faces gave him a gut feeling that these people were pretty suspicious of him. Although some lessened their stares and become hesitant when they didn't find what they were looking for.

---

The queen growled softly as she bowed to the paladins, the rumbling was not that she saw them as threats but to simply acknowledge them. Her polished, shiny red scales spoke volumes for her regal status. Queen Mistletein thanked them for freeing her planet from the Galra. The paladins were surprised when she expressed her concerns about the monster bird, she had no idea where it could have come from. Pidge suggested that maybe the noise from fighting the Galra woke it up.

The green paladin leaned close to Shiro whispering, “maybe this also means they aren't totally aware of the ancient civilization Coran talked about. We'll probably have to look for it ourselves with the queen’s permission.” Shiro nodded in agreement. Coran did say someone found ancient ruins but it has been 10,000 years, kingdoms would've rise and fall and clear leads on any ruins could have been lost.

Shiro glanced at Keith and found that he was glaring at the queen. He was about to tell him to stop but noticed that she was intensely staring at them too. It took all of Shiro’s restraint to keep from tensing when he could feel her intense stare drilling holes into him. Shiro raised a brow when the queen tilted her head in confusion much like some of the other citizens. “Yes? Is there something the matter, your majesty?”

She flinched, clearly caught off guard seemingly embarrassed. “I-- I apologize if this might come off as rude or offensive but is the black paladin not the… champion? You do not look like him. I just wanted to confirm some things. We've never encountered your kind before and there were rumors that the paladins are of the same people as the champion.”

Shiro recoiled eyes wide, he could hear Keith growl angrily beside him not liking the potentially bad ways this could end. He swallowed steeling himself, afraid of what he might hear but bravely going forward. “Why? How do you know about the champion?”

As they had guessed, massive ships had once invaded the sky. The sheer number of robot drones and sentries, that display of strength made it seem like a hopeless battle. The king and queen surrendered trying to avoid anything from happening to their people.

However, they didn't bow their heads in complete submission. They would try to not bend to Galra rule as much as they could without drawing significant attention. Silently resist their will.

The Galra seemed to have predicted this and to make an example them the punishment for resisting they took the king and some random citizens to be prepped for the arena. Apparently, they looked fierce enough to put on a good show against their popular champion. In a fight to the death.

“The champion killed the king and the others for the entertainment of the Empire.” The queen stated a hint of bitterness in her voice. But she seemed to have caught herself and took in a deep breath. “I am sorry. I still miss him.”

Pidge looked worriedly at Shiro who was so tense he was shaking while pointedly looking at the ground. He was obviously struggling to accept he might've killed innocent prisoners even if he had no choice. “Shiro… maybe there's a misunderstanding somewhere…” She remembered how devastated he looked when he thought he hurt Matt before his memory came back.

A heavy, awkward silence settled on top of them. Only to be broken suddenly when Hunk started yelling in their comms asking if anyone can hear him.

Hunk was panting hard trying to catch his breath as if he’s been running for some reason.

Shiro swallowed down his raging storm of emotions for now. “Hunk, deep breaths. What happened? Are you ok?”

Hunk breathlessly tried to answer, “Strangers.. fighting.. Reckless..” He slowed down, lungs no longer burning, to give a clearer answer, “They jammed our comms... started fighting us but really focused on Lance… they were reckless, bystanders were starting to get in the crossfire. Lance said to split up and find you guys or to get back into contact with you while he led the angry Mutarians to an emptier place. The jamming signal stopped and I can speak with you guys but I still can’t get into contact with Lance. I-- I think he’s in trouble.”

(Part 8)

[kloxbian]

You’re my Little Secret Chapter Three

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: F/F

Fandoms: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan

Relationship: Clarke Griffin/Lexa

Characters: Clarke Griffin, Lexa (The 100), Octavia Blake, Bellamy Blake, Anya (The 100), Mountain Men (The 100)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Forbidden Love, Secret Relationship, Grounder Clarke Griffin, Sort Of, Opposite of slowburn, More tags to be added

Language: English

Words:11603

Chapters (as of 1/28/2020): 5/?

Previous Chapter: She caught a glimpse of movement in the bushes and could feel a grin tugging at her lips when Lexa appeared. She hovered in the shadows, scanning the camp, and offered Clarke a smirk when she noticed her watching. Clarke grinned back as discreetly as she could before Lexa slipped back into the foliage.

“Clarke?” She focused back on the people around her, waving it off as nothing.

This would be a hell of a secret to keep.

The next time Clarke saw Lexa was three days later.

After Clarke’s ‘success’ at hunting, even if it was just a rabbit, Bellamy seemed determined to prove that he could hunt better than her. In all truth, he probably could, but it wasn’t like she would tell him that.

Clarke had gone out with hunting parties multiple other times, but this would be her first time alone since the Lexa incident. She went out with the excuse of hunting, and she actually was trying to, but what she wanted was something different. Something secret.

“I don’t understand how you still have animals around.” Clarke turned sharply, unsurprised to see Lexa calmly following her path. “All of you walk like you’re trying to step on every little thing you can.”

“Well I’m sorry if I didn’t grow up in a forest,” Clarke said. “We can’t all be ridiculously silent.”

“I could teach you.”

Clarke had to pause for a second to make sure she heard her right. “What?”

“I could teach you.” Lexa crossed the distance between them, settling comfortably against the trunk of a tree just a few feet in front of her. “I said I would help provide food. My way of doing that is teaching you to provide food.”

There was no reason to deny the offer. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Lexa nodded, her face turning all serious. “First we must fix your feet. You step too loudly. Any animal could hear you coming.��� She pushed herself up. “Walk a bit for me.”

Lexa had her walk maybe five feet before she stopped her. “You are trying to walk quietly, but it is not working. You put all your weight on wherever you step instead of distributing it. Walk on the outer edges of your shoes and roll your feet forward after you place down your heel. I suppose part of the problem could be your footwear, but we will have to make do.”

Lexa knew what she was doing. As they moved, Clarke watched how Lexa walked and revelled in how silent she was, even when walking so casually. By the time Lexa decided it was time to part ways, it had been over an hour. Clarke didn’t feel as if anything had changed, though Lexa insisted it was an improvement. 

“We’ll make a hunter out of you yet,” she said, a small smile curving onto her face. “For now, though, I do believe I promised to provide.” She took a knife out from her belt and threw it into the bushes in what to Clarke looked like a pointless maneuver, but Lexa followed after her knife and produced yet another dead rabbit. 

Clarke looked at her in awe. “How did you do that?”

“Practice and experience,” Lexa said, handing the rabbit to Clarke. “It is how we produce our food. Anyone who is able-bodied learns to hunt.” Her eyes rested on the dagger strapped to Clarke’s waist. “Perhaps next time we’ll have to see how good you are with that knife.”

“And when will ‘next time’ be?”

“The next time I catch you alone in the woods.” Lexa smirked before turning around and disappearing into the foliage.

That girl was definitely something.

-

It wasn’t until later that day that the topic of Mount Weather was brought up among her ‘rebel group,’ as the delinquents called them. It was something Clarke had avoided talking about ever since the startling truth of it had been told to her by Lexa.

“So, Clarke,” Jasper said as he tore into a rabbit leg. “What happened to your desperate plan to get to that mountain?”

Clarke shrugged helplessly, her mind racing to think up a reasonable excuse. “From here, it has to be an eight-hour hike or so. If it really is the stock-full bunker we think it is, just the six of us wouldn’t be able to get everything we need from there to here, much less across the thirty-something miles between.”

“So Princess did her math,” Finn said. “Any reason you didn’t figure this out before?”

“Optimism.” Clarke prayed that would be enough, that would be the end of it. Of course, it wasn’t.

“People are starting to realize that Bellamy isn’t a very good leader. We could rally up however many are willing to go and, I don't know, scout out the path there?” Monty said.

“Leave the rest behind, that’s what we do.” Octavia threw a scornful gaze at the people sitting around the main fire. “If they don’t want to save their own asses, then fine.”

“We can’t do that,” Clarke said. “We’re not leaving them behind. That’s another reason I’m hesitant to go. I don’t want to have three dozen miles between them and us.”

“Leave a trail or something. Maybe they’ll follow us.”

Clarke sighed. She really hoped Bellamy got his shit together soon. If she wanted to tell them about their newly acquired allies, she’d need him to get them organized. He was the only one the delinquents seemed to listen to. If he opposed her, she’d never get anywhere.

“Whatever,” Clarke muttered. “I’d rather wait until the camp isn’t such a mess to pursue anything that big.”

Octavia narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay? This seems… sudden.”

“Maybe I was just hanging onto hope all before now.” Clarke looked toward the distant peaks, internally hurting as she imagined how Lexa’s people felt being ripped from their families by whatever horrible people ruled the bunker. It was enough to make her determined to keep her people away from the same fate, and Lexa’s as well if she could. If she could.

Her people come first.

-

This was the fourth time this week she’d seen Lexa.

She’d fallen into a routine. Every other day, she went out alone to go ‘hunt.’ Bellamy tried to convince her to go with a hunting party, but she shot him down, saying she did better alone. He couldn’t argue, considering the last two times she’d come back with food.

Clarke was picking up quickly on Lexa’s teachings. Knife throwing came easy to her; she could throw well, only needed to refine her aim. Her stealth was improving, but it was still a far cry from what it would need to be in order to hunt efficiently. Lexa was still providing the meat, though she was certain that given another week or so Clarke could perhaps catch something herself.

The relationship between the two was awkward. It was all business, and though Clarke had taken a liking to the grounder girl, Lexa wasn’t as willing to put her trust in Clarke. She could understand that; it’s hard to like someone when you don’t know whether they’ll still be around tomorrow.

Clarke’s knife struck just inches from the X Lexa had carved onto the trunk of a tree. Lexa nodded, pulling it out and tossing it back. “Getting closer. Again.”

Clarke shifted her posture a bit to the right, the knife hitting a few inches off on the other side. Lexa repeated the same action she’d been doing since they’d started. “Don’t adjust your body, adjust your throw. Aim your body at the target, aim your throw at the mark.”

Clarke shifted back to her original stance, the knife sinking in maybe two inches top-left of the mark. Lexa tossed the knife back and Clarke once again aimed and threw.

At the same time, a horn blasted in the distance, messing up her aim and sending the knife crashing into the bushes. Lexa looked up sharply, her eyes turning toward the mountain in the distance. Clarke followed her gaze and was startled at the orange mist descending from its sides.

“We have to hide.” Lexa scooped up the rabbit she’d pre-hunted and beckoned for Clarke to follow. “Come.”

“Wait, hold on,” Clarke said, not moving. “What is that stuff?”

“Acid fog. It burns the skin of anyone it touches. We must find shelter,” Lexa said, once again starting to move away.

“But my people! How will they know to find shelter?”

“Would you like to go back and warn them?” Lexa asked. “Your ‘dropship’ is closer to the mountain than we are. The fog moves fast. It will reach them before we could. We must save ourselves and hope for the best.”

Clarke took one look at the fog rushing toward them and knew Lexa was right. She nodded her consent and followed her away.

“So do you have a place to hide around here?” Clarke asked, struggling to keep up with the hard pace Lexa had set.

“In this area? No. We will have to find somewhere.”

They sprinted in the opposite direction of the fog, Clarke blindly following, having no idea where they were going. She felt something catch on her foot and fell to the ground with a thud. She turned to look at the orange haze in the distance and scrambled to get up.

“Come on!” Lexa grabbed her wrist and hauled her to her feet, turning to continue their sprint, but Clarke held her back. Lexa turned to yell at her but Clarke was more focused on whatever she had tripped over.

Clarke dusted the leaves away, revealing a small handle stickup up out of the ground. She grabbed it and pulled, feeling it give slightly before something began to push back. “A little help here?”

Lexa crouched beside her, grabbing the handle and pulling with all her strength. It groaned open, the rungs squealing as if it hadn’t been opened in a century and a half. Lexa seemed hesitant to go down into the unknown bunker, but another glance at the fog that was almost upon them made her relent. She slipped down and Clarke followed after her, pulling the hatch closed just as the fog swept over them.

She held onto the ladder, unsure of what was below them with no light to see in the pitch black. She heard Lexa drop onto the floor and carefully dropped as well, bending her knees to lessen the impact. She could hear Lexa shuffling around ahead of her and stretched out her hands. She felt for the walls, finding one on her right and feeling all over it. There was a switch there. She flicked it up. The overhead lights flickered for a second before shutting back off, but it gave Clarke enough time to find what she was looking for. Clarke moved carefully over to what had looked like a desk tucked against the wall, running her hands over it until she felt the rubber rim. 

Lexa flinched as Clarke flicked her newly acquired flashlight on, aiming the beam into the darkness in front of them. The bunker was small, looking unused as if it had been prepared but never gotten the chance to be lived in. There was a dusty couch, a dirty bed, two small coffee tables, and a few various shelves and cabinets hung onto the walls. 

Clarke sighed heavily, smacking the couch cushion and coughing through a cloud of dust before sitting down. “So. Does this sort of thing happen often?”

Lexa hovered awkwardly at the opposite end of the couch. “Perhaps twice a moon cycle. They only release it when we get too close.”

“They? This is from the maunon?” Clarke sat back against the cushions, mumbling under her breath, “damned bastards.”

“Sha, this is maunon.” Lexa finally sat down on the couch, keeping a good two feet between them. “They don’t want to risk us getting close, despite that there is only one impenetrable way in.”

“Only one? Are you sure?”

“Sha. It is a great door, one that never opens. It is many feet thick.”

“Never opens,” Clarke repeated. “If it doesn’t open, how do they get in and out? With the reapers and all?”

Lexa clicked her tongue absentmindedly on the roof of her mouth. “You suspect they have another entrance we do not know of. I suppose it’s possible. It’s not often we get very close.” She looked up with Clarke, something new shining in her eyes. “You are smart, Klark kom Skaikru. I have not thought of such an approach.”

“Really?” Clarke was surprised. “Have your leaders not sent anyone out to investigate?”

Lexa grimaced. “Nou. They have eyes in the trees. We cannot get close without meeting with ripas, maunon or the fog. Believe me, we have tried. No one has yet returned alive.”

Clarke nodded, deep in thought. The maunon obviously had tech like the Ark, they hadn’t left it behind as Lexa’s people had. She guessed the eyes were cameras, and if they could find where the cameras were and avoid them, then perhaps they could get to the mountain’s edge. If not, maybe they could try and communicate a peace with them, or at least try and understand more about them. 

Clarke realized that there was so much more that they could do for Lexa and her people than she had realized. The things they had, the knowledge they held, it could be so much more helpful than any of them had thought it would be. Clarke looked at the hatch, seeing the tiny wisps of orange haze drifting in through the cracks. “I’m going to help you defeat the maunon.”

Lexa looked up at her, surprised. Clarke caught the corners of her lips twitching up into a smile before being forced back down. “I’m not sure you quite understand. The maunon cannot be defeated.”

“With what you had before, no.” Clarke lifted her wrist, her eyes searching over the tiny metal transmitter. “But with what we have, maybe they can be.”

“Doubtful. The maunon are too powerful.”

“But you’ve never had tech. They’d never think you’d have tech. If we could combine our minds, use both your people’s skills and our machines, maybe we could at least do some damage. It’s worth a try, is it not?”

Lexa couldn’t help the small grin at the thought of finally bringing down the mountain. “You are right. There is no harm in trying.”

Clarke grinned back at her. Lexa was always so serious, it was nice to get some hope out of her. Lexa’s eyes moved down to the wristband she’d been looking at. “What is the metal bracelet? All of your people have one, or had one.”

Clarke’s grin slipped as her mind returned to the delinquents. “They’re transmitters. They send our vitals back up to the people on the Ark, let them know if we’re alive, injured, dead, the likes.”

Lexa’s eyes widened slightly. “Even when your Ark is in the sky?”

“Yes. The wristbands release signals that get picked up by receivers on the station. It’s nothing that complicated.”

“If that is what you call ‘not complicated,’ I would like to know what you would consider complicated.” Lexa relaxed back into the couch, finally seeming more at ease now that the topic of the maunon had passed. “Tell me more about this ‘Ark’ of yours. You grew up on it, did you not?”

“I did.” Clarke went on to tell her about her experiences on the Ark, feeling relieved that there was finally someone she could complain to that wouldn’t immediately report her to some higher authority. Perhaps it was still too early to make judgments, but Clarke trusted the grounder girl. She just seemed so authentic. Clarke couldn’t help but admire her.

She was something new. Something she’d never seen before.

Clarke wanted more of her.

Chapters 1-5 up on ao3 here.

First chapter on Tumblr here, fourth chapter here.