#not even gonna glance in there out of morbid curiosity

[a-lonely-dunedain]

tumblr just recommended a "venting community" to me and I got black and white war flashbacks. felt like I just passed the grim reaper in the dairy isle at Kroger

[walkingnearfoxes]

Mind and Might (Soldier Boy x Reader Oneshot)

3.5k words. NSFW. Smut, weed, and Soldier Boy being his own warning. Snarky Female Supe Reader.

Soldier Boy isn’t a fan of telepaths.

Is this a repost? Yes! I messed up the tags because, just like Soldier Boy, I am an ancient jackass.

Butcher owes you big time for this. 

You glance at your phone, confirming that this rundown motel in Suffolk County was the place he was talking about. Sure enough, his text and the address your car directed you to are the same. Sighing, you stuff your hands in your coat pockets and head towards room 6. 

He told you he might not be there when you arrived, but some of his team would be. That didn’t help to narrow it down. His “team” grew and ebbed so frequently that you wouldn’t be surprised to find anyone behind that door.

You’re inside for two seconds before you are suddenly in a tight hug.

“Holy shit!” Hughie jumps out of his chair, looking torn between joyful and passionately relieved as he hugs you. “He said you were coming, but I thought he was full of it!”

“Isn’t he always?” You chuckle and hug him back briefly before stepping away. “So, where’s-”

“And who the hell is this?”

Butcher told you there was a new addition to the team. An important addition. An addition to finally take care of Homelander. You did not anticipate that addition to be Soldier Boy.

He’s in sweats with disheveled facial hair and a beer in one hand, but you’d recognize that face anywhere. That’s Soldier Boy, and he’s staring at you like he’s figuring out a puzzle.

Hughie releases you and tells him your name. “She’s here to help us.”

“Is she now?” Soldier Boy’s eyes don’t leave you as he takes a long sip of his beer. “Sure, I could use a little relief. Little young for me, but-”

“What? Ew! No!” Hughie sputters as you blink in disbelief. “No, she’s a supe.”

Soldier Boy’s expression doesn’t change. “Yeah? What’s your magic trick, sweetheart?”

You fold your arms across your chest and cut to the chase. “I’m a telepath.”

His face immediately darkens. “A telepath.”

You nod.

He places the beer down and immediately storms to the door. “Fuck no.”

~-~

Hughie calls Butcher frantically as Soldier Boy storms around the motel. You lean against the railing and watch the original supe throw his tantrum and debate leaving. Morbid curiosity and a deep loathing for Homelander keep you there.

Butcher manages to corral Soldier Boy back to the room, but that hasn’t stopped the argument.

“I’m not working with a mind fucker,” Soldier Boy snaps.

“Mind fucker?” You repeat. “How did you know my birth name?”

The glare he shoots you eerily reminds you of laser eyes.

Butcher holds up his hands. “Mate, she makes Mindstorm look like a sniveling tyke.”

Soldier Boy scoffs. “That’s a good thing to you?”

“It means we have another advantage,” Butcher offers. “You’re the brawn, she’s the brain, I’ve got the heart that’s gonna finish off these cunts.”

Soldier Boy’s glare lessens by one percent.

You sigh and take a step forward. “How about this? I promise to never use my powers on you.”

He scoffs. “And you want me to trust your word, sweet cheeks?”

“I just want Homelander gone,” You hold out your hand to him. “If that means helping you take out Payback, I’m in.”

He stares down at you for so long that you’re sure he will reject your proposition. Then, just as you’re about to pull away, he reaches out and takes your hand. He’s unnaturally warm, his fingers calloused and easily able to wrap around yours. Before you can pull away, he squeezes your wrist and tugs you forward. You stumble, only just able to maintain your balance and not run into his chest. You have to tilt your chin up to look at his dangerous glare.

“If you even think about using any freaky shit on me…” He growls out. “You’re dead.”

~-~

Butcher’s driving. Hughie is in the back of the car with you. Soldier Boy is glaring at you through the rearview mirror. He makes a scoffing sound. For the fifth time.

“Need a cough drop?” You offer.

Hughie groans and hides his face in his hand.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Soldier Boy grunts, turning to look back at you. “This is gonna be a fight. Not a fucking circus.”

“So I learned juggling for nothing?”

“Knock it off, the both of ya,” Butcher says, though you notice how his lips twitch in amusement. “You can fuck each other when I’m not in the same bloody car.”

“Or me,” Hughie says with a raised finger. “I would also like to not be in the car when that happens. For the record.”

~-~

There were more hired goons than anticipated, but that wasn’t much of a problem when Soldier Boy was on your side. 

He surveys the carnage across the forest floor, shaking his head in annoyance. He dropped his blunt after the fourth guy. Sloppy. What a waste. 

Regretting what he’s about to see, he lifts his head to look at you. He nearly reels back in shock. You’re standing around five fallen men, each of them unconscious. There wasn’t a scratch on you. Before he can further comprehend the scene, you lift your head to meet his gaze. 

“You good?” You ask.

He takes a moment, glancing at the bodies again, and swallows. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go.”

~-~

Soldier Boy can’t find any damn blunts in this house. The Legend must have hidden it on him. Asshole. He’s ready to start throwing shit when he smells what he’s been looking for. He follows the scent and is more than a little surprised to find you alone on one of the balconies. He frowns as he opens the door, looking between you and the contraption you’re holding in your hand. You stare at him suspiciously for a second, but it only takes you a moment to figure out his stare.

“It’s a pen,” You explain, smiling as you hold it out to him. “Just press down on the button.”

Soldier Boy hesitates briefly but finds himself standing beside you on the balcony. You put the pen in his hand, ensuring your fingers don’t touch. He puts the pen's tip in his mouth, presses the button, and inhales the sweet bliss. He blows the smoke out into the air with a long sigh, then fondly looks down at the pen. “The shit they’ve come up with...”

You chuckle and turn back to look out at the skyline. You rub your forehead, and Soldier Boy raises a brow in curiosity. “You good?”

You don’t answer him right away. He takes another hit of the pen to occupy the space.

“A lot of telepathy gives me a headache,” you finally explain, gesturing to the pen he’s still holding. “Hence the weed.”

There’s the window he’s been waiting for. “Yeah, what the fuck did you do to those guys?”

You wave your hand in front of you. “I can use my powers to knock people unconscious, but it’s been a while…and that was a lot of people.”

Soldier Boy’s frown deepens, but you continue before he can say more. “So with that on top of focusing on not reading people’s thoughts…it’s just a lot.”

He hums in thought, taking yet another hit of the pen. In his defense, you don’t seem to mind. “You never sneak a peek?”

I arch a brow. “You want me to end up like Mindstorm?”

“Fuck no,” He retorts quickly. “But it’s a damn useful power to just…not use.”

You shrug. “I told you I wouldn’t, and I won’t. A real superhero never lies.”

He nearly chokes on his fourth hit of the pen. The last time he heard that line, he was in the midst of not receiving an Academy Award. He turns to you in shock, and you smile slyly back. 

“My grandpa played The Soldier Boy Story until I knew it by heart,” You explain softly. “You still have fans, Soldier Boy.”

There’s silence as he looks you over as if spotting something for the first time. He slowly hands you back your pen. “...Ben.”

You blink. “What?”

“Call me Ben,” He murmurs. “I hate hearing Soldier Boy all the damn time.”

You slowly smile. “Okay. Ben.”

Something in how your lips curve around his name feels good to him.

~-~

Ben bursts into the motel room. “The fuck happened?”

“I-I don’t know,” Hughie says, wide eyes darting between Ben and your shaking form. “We followed Butcher’s lead to the club, she was fine until we got back-”

A club full of supes with enough fucked up thoughts to drive the pope to an orgy. Ben growled. He was going to kill Butcher for sending you there.

“Go get Butcher,” He orders to Hughie, and then it’s as if Hughie doesn’t exist to him. He kneels in front of where you’re sitting on the bed, face in your hands. “Talk. What’s going on?”

“It was too much,” You whisper, your voice just as shaky as your shoulders. “Tuning them all out…my head…”

He cups your face in his massive hands. “You listen to me, baby girl. Nothing else. Breathe in. Slower. Slower. And now back out.”

You listen as he guides you through slower breathing for several minutes. He doesn’t stop - nor does he allow you to stop - until you stop shaking. He still cradles your face, his green eyes analyzing every inch of you. “Better?”

You sniffle, utterly unaware of how that sound makes his heart clench. “Y-yeah…thanks.”

“It’s my job, sweetness,” Ben brushes a thumb carefully over your cheekbone. “Next time, tell me what Butcher tells you to do so I can kick his ass first.”

~-~

“Ben.”

His free hand covers your mouth, his other hand too busy curling two fingers inside of you so perfectly your legs shake. “You trying to get us an audience, sweetness?”

You whine against his mouth, and he chuckles in reply, his thumb teasingly pressing harder down on your clit. The wall behind you and his warmth in front of you are all that’s keeping you upright at this point. In the back of your mind, you vaguely remember that a crappy motel wall is all that’s distancing you from Butcher and Hughie. 

It feels too good to care.

“You know…” Ben talks casually as his fingers fuck you faster. He never tires. He never has to adjust. He just takes. “If I knew this was a better way to keep you calm, I would’ve started this weeks ago.”

You bite his palm, and he laughs. “Playing that way tonight, huh?”

He leans in, and his lips easily find the sensitive skin of your neck. He sucks down hard, and you feel his smirk when you moan. “There we go…” He praises. “Come on, baby. Let go.”

You’d be more embarrassed at how much his voice gets you off if it didn’t feel so damn good. His thumb rubs those tight circles on your clit, and you’re gone. He grins as he feels your walls tighten on his fingers. “Good girl…”

He only removes his hand from your mouth when you stop convulsing. His other hand deftly slips out of your undone pants, and he sucks his soaked fingers into his mouth. The groan he makes is obscene. “Pussy like damn ambrosia.”

You lean your head back against the wall. “Where…where did that even come from?”

He grins deviously. “I need a reason? You looked good today. That’s all,” He leans in and brushes his lips over yours. “And we’re not done...”

~-~

“So, you guys finally found a way to get along?”

You look up from your coffee mug, shooting Hughie a confused glance. “What’re you talking about?”

Hughie grins and gestures to your neck. “Heck of a mark there.”

You growl and look back at Ben, who is lingering near the fridge. “Did you seriously give me a hickey?”

His grin is shameless. “What? You look good with it,” He comes up behind you, his voice right next to your ear. “Don’t act like you weren’t begging for it.”

He gives your ass a good smack as he walks by, and damn it if you weren’t fighting back a blush. Hughie looks between the two of you and sighs. “Does he even care that I’m here?”

~-~

You don’t notice the heat until it’s almost too late.

Ben later tells you that it was a commercial with some shit Russian music playing in the background. It was enough to set him off. You’re reading in the bed beside him, unaware of it until you feel it. His chest warms so quickly that half of him is steaming from the reactor Russia had gifted him.

You grab his arm. “Ben.”

Ben is barely there anymore. His eyes are clenched shut. “Leave.”

If he blows, the whole motel is going with him. There is no “leaving.”

“Let me help,” You hold his face, ignoring the burn it gives to your palms. “Please.”

His eyes shakily open, and for a terrifying moment, you see resistance. Then, he gives a curt nod. You respond immediately, your telepathy sending calming energy pulses into his mind. Slowly but certainly, the light in his chest fades. He falls back against the bed in exhaustion when it's completely gone. You move to pull your hands away, but he catches your wrists.

“...thanks.”

You smile. “My pleasure. I always prefer not to be blown up.”

Ben huffs a tired laugh. He pulls you to rest on his chest and curls his arms around you. “Give me a sec, and I can help with those burnt hands.”

You would barely call it a burn, but play it up with a smile anyway. “You’re a healer now?”

He kisses the top of your head. “Nah. But I can distract ya from the pain…”

~_~

Ben always eats you out like you’re his last meal. You have a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with your teasing him before you started hooking up, asking him if he even knew where the clit was; the look he gave you, in retrospect, was scheming.

Oh, he knew.

He has your thighs over his shoulders and his hands on your lower stomach. You’re a powerful supe, but you may as well be a doll under his strength. You have little choice but to take what he gives you, and tonight, he seems intent on climaxing you to unconsciousness. After the fourth one, you give his hair a very purposeful tug. “Ben, mercy!” You say with a breathless laugh, your legs shaking as he lazily runs his tongue up and down your slit. 

He smirks and moves his mouth away, only enough to speak. “What do you mean? We haven’t even hit our record yet.”

You shake your head indulgently and loosen your grip on his hair, carding your fingers through the locks instead. He practically purrs. “We had a lot more time with the record,” You remind him. Seriously, what’s the rush?”

Ben’s eyes have a rare flicker of solemnity as he pulls away to rest his chin on top of your thigh. “...I don’t know, baby. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

Your hand stills for a moment. “Herogasm was a fluke, you know that.”

“...it’s not that,” He closes his eyes for a moment and kisses your hip. There’s a new resolution to his gaze when he looks at you again. “I don’t want you coming with us to the tower.”

“...excuse me?” 

“Babe-”

“What the fuck, Ben?” You push his head away, and he obliges you by moving so you can sit up on the bed. “So, that’s what this was? Orgasming me into agreeing?”

“...maybe a little.”

“No,” You say firmly. “I’m not stepping back when we’re this close.”

He says your first name. He never says your name. It’s always some pet name, a form of endearment. He’s serious about this. “Something’s going to go wrong. I don’t know what, but…I can’t…”

He rests his forehead against your knee. “Please.”

He never says please, either.

Your stubbornness fades, and you soften. You scoot closer, a hand cradling the back of his neck. He melts at your touch, and you can’t help but give a quiet sigh of agreement. “Alright…but I swear if you blow up Manhattan-”

He lets out a sound, half torn between relief and a laugh. He kisses your knee. “I won’t, babe. Promise.”

You smile softly. “Good…I love you.”

Ben stiffens, though he doesn’t move from his place on your knee. “Babe…”

“You don’t need to say it back,” You say to him softly. “I just…needed you to know.”

He lets out a shaky breath. His reply is kissing his way back between your thighs. He told you what happened the last time he loved someone. You understand. He may be unable to say it, but he can show it.

~-~

He only half kept his promise about not blowing up Manhattan. 

You could see the explosion from the safe house, and you had never run so fast. The city was a disaster, with people fleeing in every direction and fires dotting the streets. You focus your powers on his mind, desperate for any sign of life. While you don’t detect his thoughts, you feel him - and he was close.

You find his unconscious body ungracefully sprawled near a fire hydrant. People barely give him a glance between their panic and all the smoke, but that won’t last long. You need to act quickly.

“I’m gonna kill you when you wake up,” You growl, taking his arms and dragging him toward the nearest alley. When he is safely slumped against the wall, you pull your phone out of your pocket. It was time to call in a favor.

~-~

Grace is the only one who knows where the two of you are. It takes several IOUs to make it happen. You’re sure she still wouldn’t have gone for it before understanding you are the only thing that can calm the walking nuclear reactor.

Ben has been unconscious for hours. You’re pacing the bedroom of the cottage Grace has placed you in, reminding yourself that he always needs time to recover after a blast. He would wake up. He had to.

Finally, when you’re considering waking him up in some more unconventional ways, his eyes creak open. His gaze lands on you immediately, and he murmurs your name. You jump him in a hug, ignoring his grunt of surprise.

“Ben, you asshole,” You whisper, tightening your hold as his hand comes around to rest on your lower back. “I told you-”

“Sorry, sweetness,” He murmurs, his voice exhausted. “It went more wrong than I thought.”

You pull away to look at him. “What happened?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” He murmurs, glancing around the room suspiciously. “The fuck are we doing in a cabin?”

“Right…well, that is a very long story. You remember Grace from Nicaragua-”

“Wait.”

He lifts a hand and cradles the side of your face. The action is so soft that your words fade to nothing. He studies your eyes for a moment and then nods. “Read my mind.”

You blink in shock. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Ben murmurs. “Read my mind. I need you to see something.”

You wait as if expecting a punchline. When none come, you nod. You loosen your senses and connect them to his thoughts.

They are all of you. Your first meeting, your bickerings, your first stolen kiss on the balcony. Everything. As you fade from memory to memory, one unavoidable truth reveals itself. He loves you.

You pull back to the present, staring at him with your lips lightly parted. He smiles lazily and pulls you to his chest. You give in without complaint, your eyes falling shut.

“...you damn sap.”

“Shut it, sweets.”

[the-monkeies-girl]

I was just going to ask you if you were thinking about writing about Proximus, they beat me to it hahaha. I'd love to read that! Proximus has potential 🫦🫦

I love you and your books, and how you write and AAAA-

I dont write characters like this very well someone kill me im crying im just gonna crawl into my hole and never write for him again </3

Title: Nightly Reading. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: ( Mildly, I am easing myself okay ) SUPER VAGUE Implied! Proximus Caesar x Human! Reader. Rating: K. ( Not fluffy, but not like, bad lol. ) Words: 2.3K Summary: You were brought in to share duties with Trevathan. The only task was to read to a King.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

Books were such fascinating things. All of Human history had been documented, years and years upon knowledge now sitting in your hands at once moment like all the time was squeezed out, like lemon. Your fingers flitted across the page as if your touch alone was going to memorize the words that your eyes were able to read and make out, some faded and lost to the same concept that marveled you about them. Time. 

Admittedly, three-hundred years was bound to do something to the poor pages despite some groups of Humans trying to keep them safe. But, once Apes got their thick hands on them, you thought bitterly and let your eyes glide over to the Bonobo sitting atop his throne, most didn't care and they were left to ruin just like the rest of Humanity. Water damage was prominent in the book you held in your grasp, finger gliding right along the spine and feeling the imprint of the title against your fingertips.

Your movement was full of intent and was languid, almost sitting on the notions of flirtation. Proximus Caesar has never said anything to you about it out loud, but the glances that often fell on your hands were nothing short of curious morbidity. He was probably thinking just how easy it would be to get them all to snap off, one by one in his own hand, if you refused to read for him, if you refused to teach and entertain the ideas of a very clear Tyrant. Swallowing softly at the feeling of a lump in your throat, your gaze skirted along the rather delectably decorated room itself. Draped in red, the window off to the side let in enough of the Summer breeze and you were blessed with the scent of sea water. It was clear that he favored Roman History, just from the sweep of his throne that any Emperor had to be jealous of, the copper shining of his head dress, a crown not strewn of delicate greens of an olive branch usually depicted in the books you read to him, the draw of the chest piece, same flushed color as the head dress, draping down the taut muscles of his chest that you knew could rip you limb from limb without remorse. 

You dwindled at that, as you so often did in the recent meetings you had with him. The allure of his tapering waist was substantial before you snapped yourself out of it and focused on the encapsulating red of the drawn in shawl around his admirable waist, tucked so intricately that you had to wonder to yourself which female Ape he chose to tie it every morning. Or maybe he did it himself, there was nothing there to cure your curiosity on that. If you weren’t flushed with red that matched his dress, you were now as you let your eyes linger on it momentarily, almost admiring the stance of which he sat. 

The elongated table that Caesar himself could have been stabbed against was next to beckon homage. The table was strewn with a dance of fruits, some nuts, and a neatly sat pile of books and the gaze Proximus had moved from your hands to your face was clearly stating and demanding that you begin reading. In comparison to the earlier mentioned table, you felt small in your seat, and even smaller when he would graze his eyes from head to toe, as if he were able to pierce the wood of the table itself to do so.

Afraid to meet his gaze, you brought your knees in together and looked at the book once more, taking a note of the words on the spine rather than feeling them. Today’s topic was a personal favorite of your own you realized, drawing many parallels that the Bonobo was going to refuse to see even if you were adamant and you had the pleasure of spilling each sadistically-sounding word to him every other day, coordinating the duty with Trevathan. 

Proximus, in all his glory, had blessed you with a one-on-one conversation when you first arrived in the Kingdom. And, looking back at it, it was very obviously a coy play against an already starved and half-alive Human, a tactic you knew he enjoyed using if you used or said something he disliked and he’d pull the rest of the meals from coming to your door for the rest of the day as a punishment. He liked variety, that his other advisor only told him what he wanted to hear, not what he needed to hear. It was recognizable that you were fastened to do the same thing, but you were more able to play the game that Proximus himself set up for you, at least that’s what you thought when you took the agreement just to get some food and to save your own life.

He valued more than one opinion, and thus the idea was born that you would also read the same things that your human counterpart offered, and give your counteractive opinions to see what the King thought was best. You had to give it to Proximus --- While you did not agree with his ideology, he was remarkably smart to think of these things on his own.  Given the topic, it made no sense to have a juxtaposition position though. It was history, and nothing, not even a crazed Bonobo with piqued interest in you, in the very history sitting in your hand, was ever going to change. 

You simply told him what he wanted to hear, more subtly than Trevethan who had a hard time even facing Bonobo face to face when he knew what he was saying was being taken out of context. A spineless snake, you thought to yourself, like you were any better. Proximus only took you in because you were able to read, and in return, he gave you refuge. Only part was you were able to play the same game that Proximus played, and deep down, you loved it because you knew that it kept waiting for more, and kept him eager to keep you around instead of the other human. More chance for your survival that way. 

Now, two months later, you found yourself in a dance with Proximus every other evening, sometimes in the mornings if he never sent for you in the evenings, knowing it to be a point of contention with you, a stickler for schedules. You knew all the pieces, pawns, queen, knights, and at times, when he came towards you with intense movements, his feet racketing the ground and sending shock waves through your entire body, his eyes focused and incredibly darkened,  you thought that he had figured out your game, but nothing ever came of it and you needed to remind yourself to stay calm. 

Proximus would just ask you a question, or he’d move towards you to point at the book, emphasizing that he wanted you to explain further. Never with the intent to kill you, never with the idea that he knew what game you were playing against him. You had to bargain with yourself that while you were indeed playing chess, you left him to play checkers.  A shiver exploded down your spine in pride that you were able to pull the wool over his eyes, using the charm of Humanity rather than the easier tactic of laying over. Still, the prospect rose from time to time. You were just a Human, he was just an Ape. It became a teetering routine that you were beginning to enjoy.

Now, telling him that History was just that and there were no opinions to be made on it, and getting into the vault was going to prove fruitless was going to get you skinned by either Lightening or Sylva. You held your tongue. Probably both at the same time, one taking your bottom half off and the other taking the top, when you stopped to think about how truly sadistic these Apes were, but you tried to push it to the back of your mind upon living with them. At the very least, you were alive now and even though you had to climb your way up the theoretical tree to gain favor with the King, and even though the Ape who gave you sick solace in life also gave you the option of death, you liked your position of power. Maybe, you laughed sarcastically, that’s why Proximus was so relentless to keep it. 

“Caligula.”

Your words always put him on edge, so different from Trevethan! He wondered about that. The fact that you chose to stay rather than choosing death - Many Humans were fast to do that once Proximus had offered a deal. Very sad, but he never rested on it for long and would have them slaughtered. Not full of fear or pandering, you were honest, at least that’s how it came across, he never knew the malice that you held towards him. It was gentler in nature, but still packed a punch when you inflicted your words a certain way, garnering you more favor to him as he liked the way you pronounced words.

Infliction was a strong thing, and Proximus himself took a lot of what you said based purely on the tone you chose to use. Flirty at times when you knew he was taking in the delectation of how your smooth lips formed the words, softer at others when you were speaking of the Roman Emperors wives or lovers, something he found intensely interesting as he himself only had concubines, as far as your knowledge went. Never anything serious, never anything to the level of standard he held himself to, harder and more adamantly aggressive upon talking of the concept of Wars waged in the past. 

“We usually read about Julius Caesar,” You noted almost dully having admired the book and knew the change of topic beforehand. Tilting your head at the Ape a few feet away from you, the action and your words seemed profusely innocent --- Always intended and always strategic. “Why---” You were cut off.

“Something… New,” Proximus’ voice leaked torturous enthusiasm which made your stomach turn in on itself. Not terrible, but it wasn’t something you’d want against the shell of your ear in the moments of intimacy. Too hard, too mean in all aspects. But, the idea did hit the back of your mind vaguely at that. For such a Tyrant, he looked at you with eased gentleness that never came naturally to him. Make the Human feel more comfortable, the action usually yelled at you but it did the very opposite once you were able to see what he was actually doing. It was usually faux, but for a moment as you stared at each other, it seemed a thoughtful idea was that he --- was genuine, giving you something new to read about, genuine, giving you more grace and time rather than Trevethan.

“Thought it good… I learned about the… Other Rulers."

Proximus staggered to his feet, the movement leaving your entire body on edge, hair raised. That was one thing that always struck you; he moved with such innate aggression in even the simplest of actions.

Your eyes widened at the pure strength and power in his gait as he sauntered closer to you, one foot after the other, shoulders bobbing with the walk. Mindlessly, your throat closed as he stood beside you, letting a finger tap against the book cover. You only looked at his hand, having him so close in proximity. Your breath escaped your lips, hitting Proximus at his wrist and you watched vividly as the fur against his forearm wrestled with your exaltation. He got close, often choosing to sit next to you but this--- 

Your eyes looked upwards towards him, catapulting you into a panic at the look of his canines as he was resting in his usual scowl. You’d never seen them that close, and your fingers twitched mildly at the idea of just… Touching them to see how sharp they truly were. Eyes were remarkably different than any other Ape you’d been in close quarters with. Not very many, but you knew that they had sharp, intuitive and smart green irises.

While Proximus’ were similar in color, the backdrop almost seemed… Black, like the rest of his fur, but upon further inspection they appeared more blood shot. You noticed the hackles rising and falling when you brought your gaze to his shoulders, admiring the density of the fur that cushioned against his chest piece.

You swallowed, suddenly hit with a fluttering of fear that ravaged the front of your skull. Why was he so close? Why was he so----

 “Is he… a good one? This…” Proximus brought his lips together and coated his mouth with saliva, a few droplets ultimately falling on you when he finally spoke again. “Emperor?” Your eyebrows furrowed at that question and your mouth popped open as you scrambled for an answer, cursing yourself silently for getting so distracted. Usually Trevathan would read to him first followed by you the next night, always the same book, he just took in the way that you both read the material. This was the first time that Proximus was asking you to read him new material exclusively. 

Patting yourself on the back for finally climbing your way into his lap, you raised your eyebrows now at the question and processed. From what you knew about Caligula, he was quite a fervent and crazy leader. Wild things were done under his rule and all the things were done with the justification that he was indeed the Emperor and he set the standards for his people. He was known as the Mad Roman Emperor for a reason. Huh. That sounded familiar. 

Gracing Proximus with a smile of sorts, baring your teeth in the way that you knew he found amusing, you nodded and whispered softly for only him to hear as he was so kind as to bring his entire being so close that you were able to smell the crisp nature of gunpowder mixing with crisped sand and ocean water clinging to his fur. Green gaze fell to your shoulders out of curiosity, a very easy way to see if Humans were lying was to see the rapid nature of their breathing but you forced yours to stay rational and calm.

“He’s a great one.”

Kind of crazy, actually really, really out of his mind, you wanted to tack on but only smiled to yourself as you watched Proximus leave your side, finally allowing yourself to take a deep breath in as he sat across from you, fingers cracking open the book to finally proceed with the lesson.

[muscari-midala]

Your Heart Pulling Against Mine - Pt 7

David 8 x reader Words: 1354 Crossposted on Ao3 Part 6 is here

“What do you mean, them?” Fifield's voice cut through the tense air, sharp and dripping with irritation. Holloway and Shaw stepped closer to the decayed, otherworldly corpse. “This looks like a door,” Holloway stated, gesturing at the massive structure. “And he’s been decapitated by it.”

You stared at the scene, torn between a morbid curiosity and the primal instinct to back away. A part of you wanted to step closer, to take in every strange detail of this alien being, but another part, the part that gripped tightly onto David’s hand, kept you frozen.

Your fingers curled more firmly around his. This was supposed to be a triumph, a discovery of cosmic significance. Why, then, did dread coil in your chest? You’d seen mummies in museums, even normal corpses - an image that you’ll never forget. Death was nothing new to you, and yet your hands felt cold.

“No, I’m out of here.” Fifield broke the silence, turning sharply on his heel. His hurried steps echoed faintly in the chamber. Shaw intercepted him, her voice rising in protest. “Fifield, where do you think you’re going?” “What? Look, I’m a geologist, okay?” He whipped around, his frustration spilling over. “I like rocks. I love rocks. Now, it’s clear you two don’t give a shit about rocks, but what you do seem to care about are gigantic dead bodies! And since I don’t exactly have anything to contribute in the gigantic dead body arena, I’m gonna go back to the ship. If you don’t mind.” His shouting startled you, an uneasy ripple washed over you at the outburst, even though you couldn’t entirely blame him. His fear mirrored your own, but the way it spilled into anger tugged uncomfortably at something deep within you.

“Anyone wanna join me?” Fifield moved toward Millburn, clapping a hand onto his shoulder “Hey? You staying?” Millburn shifted uneasily. “No. Ship’s good.” “Yeah,” Fifield agreed, already retreating a step. “Ship’s very good.”

Then his gaze landed on you. “Botany?” He extended a hand, an invitation for you to join. You shied back. The reaction was immediate, instinctive, and you hated yourself for it the moment you saw his face fall. His outstretched hand dropped as quickly as it had been offered. The hint of an apology flickered in his expression before he turned back to Shaw.

“Congratulations on meeting your maker,” He turned back to Shaw in a calmer tone, but not with less snide. Shaw met his bitter words with calm defiance. “Thank you.”

As Fifield strode away with Millburn in tow, both cast a last glance in your direction. Millburn even raised a hand in a small, almost shy wave. You managed a feeble wave back, the motion stiff and jerky. Only when they disappeared from sight did you realize you’d been holding your breath. You exhaled shakily, the tightness in your chest loosening, but only slightly.

The next thing you knew, Ford, Holloway, and Shaw were gathered around the corpse, pushing some sort of device into it, a carbon reader? You weren’t entirely sure. This wasn’t your field of expertise. You studied plants - everything about them, their growth, their environments. But here, on this barren planet, there were no plants. Nothing at all. Fifield had a point. You should have gone back with him. What were you even thinking? You couldn’t help here. Being here was pointless, wasn’t it? You-

A gentle but firm pressure on your hips pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. Hands. Shaking you, just slightly. “Come back to me.”

Your gaze snapped upward, locking onto David’s face. You hadn’t noticed him step in front of you, his expression calm but intent, his blue eyes piercing as they met yours.

“You can’t allow your mind to spiral like this,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Not here.”

David. You wanted to hug him, to bury your face against him, to be anywhere but here. Back in your room, in your bed, your leg draped over his. You almost ignored the cameras in your suits. You almost leaned forward. Almost.

But the moment slipped away as Holloway’s voice broke the stillness. “Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds, but David, do you think you can open the door somehow?”

If your gloves had not come in touch with the muddy liquid from earlier, you would have hidden your face in them.

“Perhaps.” David replied, nodding as he retrieved an extendable ladder from his bag and positioned it against the wall.

Instinctively, you moved to steady it for him, but before you could, David turned back to you, his expression calm, yet firm. “(Y/N), your vitals are outside normal parameters. You should put your helmet back on for full monitoring and take a moment to rest.”

The protest on the tip of your tongue faltered as Ford suddenly appeared at your side, her gaze scanning you for a second. “You really do look pale,” she said, her voice soft but resolute. “Come, sit down for a moment.”

Before you could argue, she guided you to the stone wall between the door and the ladder, her hand firm but gentle on your shoulder. 

After David pressed and traced some of the runes, the door opened with a low hiss, sending a cloud of dust swirling into the air. You were very glad you had put your helmet back on, breathing in whatever this ancient debris contained was not on your list of things to experience today.

Your eyes scanned the room beyond the door. The severed head of the corpse lay there, grotesquely intact, just a few feet from its decapitated body. Above it, a massive face carved into the wall loomed, expressionless and yet somehow ominous. And then there were the urns. Rows upon rows of them.

You really should have gone with the other two. Right now, they were probably back in the transport vehicle, bickering like an old married couple about nothing of consequence, safely away from...whatever this was.

But here it was, undeniable proof: the Engineers existed. Life beyond Earth existed. And yet, all you found was abandonment and death. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by sudden movement. Shaw and Ford darted forward, hastily trying to bag the severed head. Shaw’s voice was sharp, urgent. “We’ve affected the atmosphere of the room. We have to get out of here!”

The sense of dread that had been coiling in your stomach since you saw the skull on top of this building snapped. You sprang to your feet, holding the bag open as the two women heaved the head into it with practiced efficiency. You watched as they sealed it into a vacuum, their movements hurried.

The crackle of the intercom broke the tense silence. The captain's voice carried urgency. “Ground crew, this is Janek. I need you to hustle back right now. Ground crew, do you copy me? I’ve got 200-kilometer winds of airborne silica and enough static to fry your suit.”

Your fingers fumbled at the carrier bag’s straps, readying it for the head as you answered, “Copy that.” Shaw chimed in, her voice tense, “We need more time!”

Now Vickers reply came through with a cool tone. “I’ll be closing the outer doors in 15 minutes. I sincerely hope you can make it.” As if you didn’t already have enough anxiety right now.

Grabbing one end of the carrier bag alongside Shaw, you began hauling it back towards the exit, the two of you moving as quickly as you could manage. Every step felt slower than it should have, the weight of the severed head and the pressure of the clock making each second drag on.

“David?” you called out, your voice tight with panic. You didn’t turn to see if he was following, you didn’t have the luxury of stopping. “Are you coming?”

There was no reply at first, then his calm voice came through the comm. “I’m close. Just focus on getting out.”

But was he? You held onto the thought like a lifeline: In a few minutes, you’d be back on the ship. 

Everything would be fine. 

Right?

[satansapostle6]

Angel With A Broken Wing | Jonah Simms

And if I may just take your breath away / I don't mind if there's not much to say / Sometimes the silence guides a mind / To move to a place so far away / The goosebumps start to raise / The minute that my left hand meets your waist / And then I watch your face / Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah / These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for / Inside this place is warm / Outside it starts to pour

Warnings: Mature language and themes. Sexual content.

Chapter Five

Chapter Six: This Night Has Opened My Eyes

I hadn’t spoken to Marcus for weeks. I ignored every text message he sent, refused to ever say ‘hi’ back to him, made sure we were always on opposite sides of the store at work, and somehow, none of this seemed the least bit peculiar to him. If anything, it told me a lot about his luck with dating and just women in general.

Ever since the whole… debacle, work for me became even more laborious and painful than usual. Things were still weird with people from work ever since everyone found out that Marcus punched Ryan in the parking lot, which only made doing my job more difficult. Not only did my coworkers treat my home life and sex life like some outlandish ordeal they remember from Sex and the City, or Desperate Housewives meant for evaluation and discussion.

It also didn’t help that Marcus’s approach to what he deems to be our recent ‘breakup’ happened to be very Real Housewives in execution.

“So, on that note… Everyone please remember that condom sales typically occur without a demonstration… Okay?” Glenn smiles, concluding our morning staff meeting. “And if there are no other questions, well, that concludes today’s meeting.”

I just offer a rather half-hearted smile to Garrett as we glance at one another in a The Office-esque fashion, just getting through the work day in any way we can. I could already tell we were both silently praying for this staff meeting to be over, but of course, it just couldn’t be, as a hand went up. What I didn’t notice was that it was Marcus’s.

“Yes?” our over-enthusiastic manager beams, pointing at Marcus.

Marcus smiles as Glenn calls on him. “Yeah, I was just kind of wondering why Sophie hasn’t been returning my calls, even though I said ‘I love you’?” he says matter-of-factly, turning to look at me.

It took everything in my system not to commit an act of domestic terrorism. A wave of excitement and noise immediately washes over the room as everyone once again becomes enamored with discussing my private life. Garrett just freezes in his chair, a horrified defense mechanism smile plastered on his face as everyone starts to put in their two cents.

“I… We were really asking for questions about the condom thing,” Dina points out, trying to redirect the meeting as the assistant manager, “…But, admittedly, I am open to discussing this. Out of sheer, morbid curiosity,” she states frankly.

“Okay, well…” Marcus begins eagerly, most likely surprised anyone was listening to him, “Okay, so like…! Her legs were on my shoulders, and then I accidentally—”

“Woah!” Mateo gasps, laughing as he looks over at me, “I’m gonna need you to back it up a little bit…”

“Yeah, who’s usually on top?” Cheyenne wonders.

Marcus gives this far too much thought. “Um, usually we switch…? I like when she scratches down my back, but she likes when we can kinda, like, take turns slapping each other...?”

A bunch of people burst out laughing as I immediately begin to develop a headache already, slowly trying my best to hide my face behind my hand.

Garrett makes a face, grinning as he turns to me. “And how often does that happen?”

I make a face, shooting him a look as he chuckles to himself. Multiple people, including Elias, the human blob fish, turn and give me giant, disgusting grins as Marcus continues to go into excruciating detail. The only person in the entire room not saying anything was Jonah, who just awkwardly looked back and forth throughout the conversation, blinking and speechless, wanting to say something, but just unable to process anything that was currently going on at the moment.

*****

Later that day, Jonah found himself working photos with Marcus, which he found to be a painful assignment for a plethora of good reasons. He had remained relatively quiet as they worked together, mainly focused on getting himself through the shift. Marcus, however, didn’t seem to share this courteous sentiment. While Jonah sat on the counter, scrolling on his phone in polite silence as Marcus sat a few feet away, laughing loudly to himself as he looked through people’s photos.

Jonah looked up from his phone for a moment, off put by Marcus’s disregard for people’s privacy before deciding to go back to his scrolling, not wanting any part of whatever was going on over there. Marcus grinned as he held up a bunch of photos.

“Dude. Best part of working photos? Finding all the naked photos,” he shared.

Jonah just offers a clearly insincere and half-hearted smile as he nods wordlessly, unable to justify a response to that as he eventually went back to the article he was reading before.

“I’d show you naked photos of Sophie if I had any,” Marcus thought out loud.

Jonah looks up, trying to contain how uncomfortable and appalled he felt.

“You… Don’t have to do that,” Jonah states curtly.

“No, I’d have to,” Marcus remarks, seemingly genuinely reverent somehow, “God… She’s so beautiful,” he sighs dreamily.

Jonah grimaces, realizing there’s just too much to unpack there.

“You know…” he considers, trying to be as diplomatic as possible in this already wildly unpleasant interaction, “You… really shouldn’t put Sophie’s private life on blast like that…” he informs him.

“But,” Marcus protests with a smile, “It’s my private life, too, you know, I can talk about it if I want to.”

“Right…” Jonah thought, now fully aware of just how deep Marcus’s lack of consideration and selfishness really ran. “But… wouldn’t it be fair to say, that, I don’t know… since it’s a private affair that concerns the both of you, it’s… no longer just about you…?” he suggested.

Jonah was hoping to get through to Marcus, but it seemed he got something else from that entirely.

“No, no,” Marcus laughs, genuinely thinking Jonah was the misguided one, “It wasn’t an affair, neither of us were married… Although, I was technically still with my ex when we kinda started hooking up…”

Jonah was incredibly surprised by this, not having expected Sophie to be the kind of person at all to start seeing someone in a relationship. He knew he shouldn’t have, but now, he felt he had to ask questions.

“W-What?” he stammered, unable to hide his disappointment. “She—”

Jonah had to take a moment to collect himself as Marcus just looked at him blankly.

“Sophie… knew you had a girlfriend, when you guys started… seeing each other?” he questioned.

“Oh, no,” Marcus laughed it off, “Sophie had no idea. Why would I tell her that? Then she would’ve never hooked up with me,” he scoffed, as if it were obvious.

Jonah stared at him awkwardly. “Right…”

He was still reeling from this new piece of information, a newfound sympathy for Sophie setting in as a few other of the guys stopped by photos to talk to Marcus, jeering and laughing in a vulgar display of locker room talk not in a private, locker room-type environment. Jonah listened with guilt as Marcus spread half true and half completely made up rumors about Sophie to their coworkers out of spite, in disbelief over the kind of things men were comfortable saying around him just because he was also a man.

“…She likes doing it in the back of my car, in the Jack In The Box parking lot,” Marcus volunteers.

Jonah stares at him, genuinely unsure at this point whether any of this is true at all.

“…No, dude, you don’t understand… Sophie’s a freak, even for me. She wanted to do a bunch of stuff with whipped cream…?”

Jonah frowned, whispering softly. “Sophie’s lactose intolerant…”

*****

Eventually, unable to spend any more of his time with Marcus, Jonah wandered over to customer service where Garrett was working, hoping to get a sane perspective on the whole Sophie/Marcus thing. He figured Garrett, if anyone, would be able to shed some light on the situation. But of course, Sophie just had to be there already, sitting on Garrett’s desk as they talked. She just nodded when she saw Jonah, before getting back to work.

“Hey, Sophie,” Jonah smiled, wishing she’d stay longer.

He watched her leave before turning to Garrett.

“Hey, have you by any chance noticed how hard Marcus has been trying to spread rumors about Sophie…?” Jonah asked him, trying to be subtle in gathering information about Sophie.

“Yeah,” Garrett frowned sympathetically as he thought about his friend, “It’d be cruel if he wasn’t so stupid.”

Jonah looked at him curiously, not expecting him to be sympathetic to Marcus. “What, you think this is okay? I mean, this is an HR violation, the more you think about it.”

Garrett just sighed. “I don’t know. This isn’t even my business, but even Sophie doesn’t wanna pursue anything against Marcus. So if she doesn’t, then why should I try to involve myself?”

“So, just because Sophie doesn’t wanna call Marcus out on his behavior, no one should?” Jonah questioned. “How many women have been afraid to stand up to their abusers—”

“Okay, no,” Garrett interrupted him sharply.

Jonah nodded quickly. “Nope! Nope. You’re right. Too far.”

Only at that admission was Garrett able to nod and continue with the conversation.

“Dude,” he reminded Jonah firmly, “Nothing good ever comes out of getting involved with coworkers’ weird, complicated relationships. Or coworkers’ relationships. Or coworkers, in general,” he realized.

Jonah frowned at Garrett’s outward projection of pragmatism.

“Sophie and Marcus are adults— Well. Sophie’s an adult,” Garrett thought, “What she chooses to do is what she chooses to do. Just because you like her doesn’t change that fact.”

“What?!” Jonah laughed nervously, “I don’t—”

It took less than a look from Garrett to silence him.

“Look, as questionable and unfortunate as it is, i what happens to Sophie is on her to deal with; I’m not being a dick, I’m not saying that she isn’t my friend and I don’t empathize with her, I’m saying what happens between her and Marcus, and anyone else for that matter, is her business. She gets to decide how to deal with it; not you,” Garrett concluded.

“I know you feel some kinda way about this girl, whether you admit it or not, I don’t care… But I’m telling you, Jonah, you don’t know this girl. I don’t even know her that well, I’ve only known her since she started working here, like, less than two months ago. And because of that, I stay in my lane. And so should you; she’s dealing with things how she’s dealing with them. Getting involved would only be fucked up to her, and you.”

This made Jonah pause for a while, as he came to the realization that his intentions toward the whole Sophie/Marcus situation might have been more selfish than he was initially aware of. Garrett, naturally, could tell that Jonah was struggling with this concept, but didn’t necessarily have sufficient energy to fully address this, like some kind of therapist.

“I know you wanna get to know this girl,” Garrett frowned sympathetically, “But… You can’t just expect her to wanna get to know you.”

Fuck, Jonah realized, he was right.

“You wanna do something nice for her?” Garrett posed a question. “Don’t try to convince everybody at her place of work that she's some battered wife. Do something smaller, and nicer; ask her how she’s doing. Get her a snack, or a coffee.”

Jonah saw Garrett in a profoundly new light as he listened to him, finally.

“You’re a good friend. Not just to me, but to Sophie. You’re very insightful, you know that?” Jonah asked with a smile.

“Yeah,” Garrett nodded frustratedly, “I know.”

Jonah sat with his thoughts for a moment before Garrett shooed him away to end the weirdly vulnerable moment.

“Now get out of here,” Garrett muttered, trying to change the subject, “This isn’t a sitcom, I’m not your token black spirit guide.”

Jonah chuckled appreciatively as he walks away, pleased with the outcome of the conversation.

*****

“Bye, Sophie!”

Even though I was tired, I smiled as I waved to Cheyenne, who was like the little sister I never had. After I clocked out around 2, I immediately went outside for a cigarette. I didn’t even wait until I was physically out of the store before sticking a Newport in my mouth. I sat outside on the bench, staring off into nothingness for a moment as I thought about Marcus and just how many people had probably talked about my vagina today.

I was store 1217’s own Pamela Anderson. I even had the tattoo to prove it. I sighed heavily, from the heart as I turned to Brett sitting smoking on the other side of the bench as he just looked at me, the wrinkles of his face only making him seem more done.

“Light?” I said weakly.

He responded only by passing me his little red Bic lighter, the only response I needed. I smiled wordlessly as I took it, shielding my thin, frail cigarette from the world as I lit it, taking a deep breath in before handing the lighter back to Brett. He gave me a single, expressive look before taking it back, and putting it in his jacket pocket. I took out my earbuds, putting one in as I put on some music. Brett looked at me, and I handed him the other side. He took it, and we both listened to Casey Jones, a song that had gotten me through plenty of work days.

We sat in silence for another few minutes.

*****

Eventually, Brett got up and left, and someone else took his place.

“I’ve never seen Brett that friendly with anyone,” Jonah remarked.

I frowned. “We didn’t say a word.”

Jonah nodded. “True… But he was practically smiling. That’s, like, jumping for joy, coming from Brett.”

I nodded, and it was a short while before I saw Jonah offer me one of the two plastic coffee cups he was holding.

“Want a Vietnamese coffee?” he asked me.

I looked at him curiously. “We don’t sell those here.”

“I drove to Clayton to get it,” he smiled reassuringly.

I chuckled in surprise. Sometimes, Jonah was annoying, but sometimes… he was just surprising.

“There are a lot closer places to go for that,” I informed him, almost concerned by how far he decided to drive just for coffee.

Jonah shrugged with a smile, not seeming bothered by it.

“That was the place Garrett gave me,” he replied.

I raise an eyebrow. “And you decided to get advice from Garrett?”

He just shrugged. “He comes through sometimes…”

I nodded silently, as he slowly tried to hand the cup of iced coffee to me.

“Here,” he offered, “I got this for you.”

I froze, unable to understand why.

“…Why?” I wondered.

Jonah didn’t seem to know how to respond. I don’t think he was expecting the question.

“…I don’t know,” he stammered, “Because it’s a considerate thing to do?”

I stared. “I don’t buy it.”

“What?” he laughed, finding me overly suspicious.

“We’re not friends,” I said softly, “You think I’m a bitch.”

He paused, looking at me with what almost looked like hurt in his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re a bitch,” he murmured, looking me in the eyes with honesty.

“Then you’re stupid,” I blurted out quietly, immediately regretting the defense mechanism.

But he didn’t seem offended. I paused, before digressing.

“Why’d you buy me a coffee?” I asked again.

“…Because I’m stupid,” he offered with a smile.

He held out the coffee to me.

“Take it.”

I looked down at it before seeing the gentle insistence in his eyes. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

I took the coffee, thankful for the gesture.

“I’m lactose intolerant, though… I’ll probably have to drink it later.”

He smiled, pulling something out of his jacket pocket. “I got you Lactaid.”

I just nodded, realizing just about everyone knows about my lactose intolerance. I laughed as I took the pills from him, opening them and washing them down with the coffee.

“These are my favorite,” I remarked peacefully.

“I heard,” Jonah nodded.

-

Chapter Seven

[kristannafever]

She Ain’t Gotta Do Much - 3

Kristanna Modern AU Rated: M WC: 5542

Chapter Index

-----------------

The next morning Kristoff brought his own coffee, not wanting to deal with the suits or Berkleigh upstairs again, even if it did mean he might bump into the Boss.  Anna was becoming an increasing presence on his mind when he wasn’t working.  

He looked at the stupid Instagram app the night before, sneering at his ugly ass photo.  Berkleigh had indeed added herself to his account.  He was following one and had one follower.   She must have followed him back when he’d gone back to work.  

Out of what could only be morbid curiosity, he looked at few of her pictures.  It was nothing but twerking, bikini poses and duck-faced selfies.   With a sneer he’d closed the app on his phone and planned to figure out how to delete it in the morning.  That picture she took of him was fucking awful anyway, he had no use for social media.

Then as he’d drifted off to sleep, he wondered if Anna had an Instagram account.  If she did, what did her pictures look like?

Sven came in with a coffee and two croissants, handing one to Kristoff and muttering something like ‘get over it already, it’s free food.’

They worked hard and took their lunch on a picnic table outside on the opposite side of the building as the day before.  It was an hour earlier than they normally took it and Kristoff had his fingers crossed that they were not going to run into Berkleigh again.

He ate his sandwich and opened Instagram again, quickly glancing at Sven to see he was occupied in his own phone while he ate, then located the search thing to look up Anna. He found her quickly, beautiful smile unmistakable blue eyes staring back at him from her profile picture.  He went onto her account and began looking at her photos.  

Most of them were work related.  The ones that weren’t we usually her with people, or her at some sort of function or on some kind of vacation.  There was a mix of her professional and personal attire across all of her pictures. He paused on one particular photo of her in a park of some sort, hair twisted into twin braids, pink flannel shirt and blue jeans.  He had to admit he preferred this look over the one she had for work.  

That was when he accidentally liked the picture.

All afternoon he wondered what her liking his photo back had meant.  It was a message that she knew he was looking and she had wanted him to know that she knew.  Which meant… what?  He agonized about it until she came to check on their progress and bid them a good evening like nothing had changed.   That left him even more confused.

That night before bed, as much as he wanted to see the rest of her pictures, he didn’t dare open up that app again.

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

 The next day had been long and hard.  The only saving grace was that it was Friday, which meant beers after work and two carefree days of doing whatever the fuck they wanted.  They only had about two hours of work left when Anna interrupted them with a sorry looking expression on her face.  It put Kristoff immediately on guard to see her friendly ease was replaced with nervousness

“Sorry for the intrusion,” she began.  

Sven shot Kristoff a sideways glance.  He was on edge too.  Anna hadn’t been nearly this formal or forlorn looking with them so far.  Something was wrong.

She said, “I apologize, gentleman.  I’m not sure how to start…”

“It’s okay, Boss. Just let us have it.”  Sven’s tone was serious.

“A potential overseas client has informed us of a schedule change.  They were supposed to visit the upper offices in the timeline we laid down, only they’ve moved the visit up a bit.”  She winced, saying the last part.

Kristoff’s stomach dropped. “How much is a bit?

“One week,” she answered quietly.

Sven and Kristoff both let out a simultaneous exasperation of air.  They were already working twelve-hour days.  Getting the entire scope of work done in three weeks was going to be impossible.

“I know, guys, I know! And I am so sorry,” Anna said.

Sven said, “Boss… that’s just not gonna happen.”

Anna began to wring her hands together.  “I don’t have many options here.  I was told I needed to get my people out by that timeframe.  They don’t want the office full of all the extra labourers when their big deal potential client comes in.  It is imperative to them that we pick him up.  They are offering a huge bonus for you both to get it done on time.”

“We have our electrician slotted in for the timeframe you gave us, not to mention-” Kristoff started, thinking furiously about all the logistics when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Let us talk it out a bit, okay Boss?  See what we can come up with?” Sven said.

She nodded, her anxious eyes shifting over to Kristoff a moment.  “I’ll come back when I’m leaving for the day.”

Both men nodded and watched her walk away.

Kristoff turned to Sven. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

He threw his hands up. “I don’t know. We can’t do it!  That gives us what?  Just over two weeks to get it done to the finishing stage.  Impossible!  I don’t know what we are going to tell her.”

“Maybe they can move to some other space?”

Sven shook his head. “She explained very clearly before we went over the scope of work that the stipulations on accepting Anna’s request to get the renovations done to her floor, was that the CEO and other big wigs wanted as little interruption in their operations as possible.  Moving somewhere else is going to take too much time and resources.”  He paused, chewing on his lip.  “This is probably going to come down harder on her than us.   You really should have been paying attention to that conversation.”

Kristoff absolutely did not want to let Anna down or get her into hot water with her superiors.  He hated seeing the stress on her features only moments ago.  It didn’t sit right with him to see her without an easy smile.  

He rubbed his fingers down his chin, thinking.  “We can hire a grunt to haul while we finish the demo.”

“Okay, but like you said, what about the electrician?  We have him lined up based on the initial time frame.  Not to mention that asshole is going to balk at having to get it done about three times quicker than we agreed to.”

“If he can’t work with us, we’ll fine someone else.”

“That soon?  And that’s if we are at the framing stage by then. Can’t show a grunt how to frame properly, we know that from experience.  Oh, and then there’s the sheetrock.  You and I both know we are none too quick at that.  We’d need to hire a company to come in and get it done.  And rush them.  That will really up our overhead.”

“She mentioned a big bonus if we can get it done.”

“Kristoff, none of that is going to matter, because we can’t get it done.  We were already on a massive time restraint.  We would need to have to work this weekend and the next two, plus the sixty hours a week we are already putting in to even have a chance at this. We can’t do that again, we got so burnt-out last time it nearly put an end to us.”

“I know, I know.  Just let me think about this a moment.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why aren’t you freaking out about this as much as I am right now?”

“Because, Sven,” Kristoff shot back, “we both knew how important this job is to our survival. If we can’t do it, even if they are in breach of contract, it’s not going to look very good for us, is it?”

“No, I guess not.”

“So let’s figure this the fuck out, okay?”

Sven hesitated, then nodded. He knew as well as Kristoff that the stakes were high.

*****

Anna’s heart was hammering in her chest as she took the elevator one floor down.  She walked through the dirt and dust on her heels, nearly choking at how thick it was in the air.  The guys had resumed working, meaning they must be finished talking about how – or if – they were going to proceed.

She called to them repeatedly until they heard her and turned of their obnoxiously loud tools. It was amazing how much they had removed from the space already.  Perhaps there was hope that this was possible.  She hated how much pressure the bumped-up time frame was putting on everyone.

They walked over, brushing the dust off their clothing.

Anna tried not to cough. “Hello, gentlemen.  I wonder if you might have a solution for me?”

“Can I ask first,” Sven said, “what are the repercussions if we can’t get this done?”

“Well, you can-”

“We meant for you,” Kristoff interrupted.

“Me?”  They both nodded.  She was touched that they were worried about her.  It was so damn sweet of them.  “Everything moves so quickly in the corporate world, it wont effect me too badly one way or another.  The only negative for me is that my superiors might harbour some doubts as to whether I might be qualified for any future promotions from my current position if I can’t take care of this myself.”

“What does it mean for us then, if we can’t do it?” Sven asked.

“You can sue for breach of contract, and they will just throw money at you to make it go away. That’s why they are prepared to throw money at you to get it done when they want.  If you guys can’t do it, they’ll pay you off and then pay to get someone who can.  Simple as that.”

“How much money are they offering?” Kristoff asked.

Anna gave them the figure and both men were clearly shocked despite trying to remain impassive.  They looked at each other, having a silent conversation, and turned back to her, which was kind of adorable.  Anna could tell they were best friends and had been for a long time.

Sven said, “We have some ideas about how we can possibly manage this.”

“Lay it on me.”

“We bring on a labourer to haul trash while we finish the demo.”

“How long?” Anna asked.

“Two days tops. Starting tomorrow.  And that’s if we can find someone tonight.”

“No need to stress over finding a labourer, I can haul trash, no problem.”

Kristoff looked about to object at that when Sven shot him a look.  It made Anna want to smile were she not still nervous about getting these guys to accept the new terms.

“Done,” Sven continued. “Next, we’ll work fourteen-hour days next week.  If we don’t get next weekend off to rest after this twelve-day long haul, we are going to get burnt out.”

“Of course, completely understandable,” Anna agreed.

“We’ll get to work immediately on re-organizing our electrician as soon as Kris and I are done the framing. Then we will sub-contract the drywall to get it done as quickly as possible.”

Anna nodded, eager with there the conversation was going.  “I can help with that.  I can talk to the electrician and find another one if he isn’t on board.  I can also source out a good drywall company for you and get them in when you need them.”

“That would help a lot, actually,” Kristoff said, finally smiling a little.  It suited him wonderfully.

“Lastly,” Sven added, “the windows and doors for each office that you picked out are still being manufactured.  There us no way we can speed that up.  You are going to have to deal with us in your space for a lot more of the finishing work than we anticipated.  We will not have the paint done as we had initially discussed, and we will most likely still be fucking around with the taping and flooring, so you will have to find a way to work around us.”

“That’s fine!  We can absolutely do that.  I will make sure my team stays organized and out of your way.”

The men shared another silent look and this time Anna did smile.  

“If all of this is acceptable,” Kristoff said, “then you can move back into your space in two weeks from today.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?  We can move in on the Friday?”  She assumed they’d have to be moving in over the weekend before the client came with the tightened timeline.  

Kristoff and Sven nodded and Anna immediately felt a lump in her throat.  

“I could hug you!”  She started towards them fully intending to do so.

They both backed up a step. “It’s okay,” Kristoff said, holding up a hand. “We are filthy.”

“I don’t give a shit,” she said, and threw her arms around him.  He barely moved, but Anna didn’t care.  She also didn’t care that he smelled like dust and sweat.  She was just elated that they cared so much to work with her on this.  She hugged Sven next and he patted her shoulder blade a few times with his fingers.  

She stepped back and Kristoff looked down at her, disappointed.  Anna realized her black blazer was covered with dust.  She brushed it off and smiled at them.  “I will be here bright an early, ready to help. What time?”

“Are you sure?” Kristoff started. “It’s going to be a lot of lifting heavy material into the bin in the alley.  Pretty dirty hard manual labour.”

Anna tilted up her chin. “I am no stranger to hard work, Kristoff.”

He looked a little surprised to hear her say his name out loud.  The only she reason that she knew Kris was short for Kristoff, was because she learned his full name after liked her photo on Instagram.  Or perhaps he was surprised by her defiance.  Either way, he was not the first man she had to prove wrong.  At least with Kristoff, it looked like he’d regretted his choice of words as soon as he said them, unlike most of the other assholes she’d had to deal with over the years.

“He just means it’s going to be a workout.”  Sven flashed Kristoff a strained look.  “No issue for you though, Boss. I am sure.”

“Of course, I meant nothing by it,” Kristoff added, not quite meeting her eyes.

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

 Kristoff woke up feeling stupid all over again over his words, making Anna think he was suggesting that she couldn’t handle hauling the construction trash.  It had kept him up late, frustrated that she might get wrong ideas about what kind of person he was.  He only spoke up out of concern, knowing that it was more physically demanding than most might realize.

He scarfed down some scrambled eggs standing in his kitchen then threw a PB and J together.  He’d slept in a bit and did not want to be the one to show up late.  He was right on time when he rolled up to Sven’s house and he hopped in their work van.

The drive was quiet. They were both tired from a full week of work and were looking at another long seven days ahead of them. It was the uglier side of being self-employed.  They were responsible for every facet of their business, including the labour.  It was the dream that one day they would be the ones with offices, running their company and hiring people to do the labour. Only then would they feel like they’d made it.  For now, however, they worked job to job, and Kristoff’s Ma carried around a cell with the number from their advertising should anyone call inquiring about work.

So far, it had remained silent.

They parked and rode up in the elevator.  When Kristoff walked through the doors into the construction area, he was surprised Anna was standing there waiting for them.  

She smiled. “Good morning, gentleman.”

They both bid her a ‘good morning’ in return and Sven began the run-down of what her job for the weekend was going to be.

Kristoff couldn’t stop staring at her.  She wore a brand-new set of Carhart work clothes and gloves, looking like she’d picked them up after work on her way home last night.  He was impressed with her forethought.  Her appearance mirrored theirs, so she clearly understood the scope of work.  It made him admire her even more.

They got to work and a couple of times Kristoff had to remind himself to stay on task.  When his mind wandered, his work slowed down, and they could not afford to slack off.  At least Sven didn’t appear to notice.  If he did, Kristoff was going to get an earful on the ride home.

*****

After three trips down hauling all the construction garbage, Anna was feeling pretty damn great with herself.  It felt good to get in some physical work.  Sure, she was sweaty and the thick gloves were sure to destroy her manicure, but she was hauling ass getting the stuff down to the bin and doing a great job. Both men had shared impressed glances a few times.

She kept plugging away until it was lunch time.  She hadn’t realized that they brough their own and she felt a little sheepish that she needed to duck out like she usually did and get some.  Wanting to be quick, she picked up a sandwich at the deli across the street and rushed back.  They were almost done however, and quickly got back to it while Anna scarfed down her meal as they filled the bin.

By the end of the day her muscles were burning.  They worked at least two hours past when Anna assumed they would quit.  She didn’t dare speak on it though.  Both of them looked absolutely beat and they still had six very long days ahead of them.

No one said much as the men packed up their tools, then they all rode down in the elevator.  

“Same time tomorrow?” Anna asked when they were outside, kind of hoping they would have a later start. She was tired as hell.  

Sven said, “You bet.”

Anna missed him calling her Boss all of the sudden.  He looked too tired to keep up with his humour.  She glanced over at Kristoff and he was looking intently at her.

“Thanks for all your help today,” he paused for just a second, “Miss Arendelle.”

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

 Her entire body was sore when she woke.  It was slow going, trying to haul her ass out of bed.  For breakfast she ended up having to stuff a granola bar in her bag to eat while she drove to work and chided herself on not having time to make a lunch.  

Anna had wanted to be on time, except she got there about ten minutes late.  The bin was already full when she arrived on the floor.  

Without greeting them, she hauled the bin down and emptied it.  When she got back to the floor there was a pile started for her.  Working quickly, she filled it as Sven brough over a few more items to top it off.  Anna took it down and the next pile was a bit smaller.  It took four loads to get caught up to them.  They worked so fast it was incredible.  

Anna had been working so diligently, she hadn’t even realized how far they had gotten until Sven pulled out a broom and started sweeping.  She looked around, realizing that Kristoff was just finishing with the last of it.  When he was done, he loaded up her bin and gave her a smile.

“Last one,” he said.

Anna grinned back at him and took the load down, thinking about how gorgeous a smile looked on him. She was bouncing on her sore legs, excited they had gotten it all done before lunch time.  She eagerly wanted to go home and have a nice long hot soak to ease her muscles.  Followed by a couple of glasses of wine and ordering from her favourite Italian place for dinner.

When she got back up to the floor with the bin, they were still working however.   Kristoff was measuring something on the floor when Sven noticed her walk up to them.

“Thanks for the help, Boss!”

“You’re welcome,” she responded. “What… are you doing now?”

“Marking a layout for the framing,” Kristoff said, still looking down at his tape measure.

“Oh.  Can I help?”

“Nah, you’re good,” Sven replied.  “You can go home now, Boss.”

Anna had been thinking of doing just that a few moments ago, only that was when she thought that the guys could knock off early too.  She should have known there was more that they needed to accomplish today for the week ahead.  

“Seriously, just give me a job.  I can manage,” she offered.

Kristoff stood as the tape measure snapped back into the case.  “Honestly, this is pretty much all we can do today.  We’re picking up the material in the morning and then we start framing.  Once we’re done with this we’re out of here too.”

“Oh, okay.  How long will that take?”

Kristoff’s head tilted slightly to the side as he looked into her eyes.  “Couple of hours.”

Anna pulled her phone out of her back pocket and looked at the time. “So, about three?”

“About there, yeah,” Kristoff agreed.

His brown eyes were so warm and inviting.  Anna knew immediately her plans had changed.   “Okay, I am buying you both drinks and dinner tonight as a thank you.  You name the time and the place.”

-----

It had taken some convincing, but they guys finally accepted.  Or rather, Sven had accepted.  Kristoff was silent and appeared eager to go the entire time, and Sven only agreed after he’d looked at his friend.

Anna went home to shower and change into casual clothes and realized as she was getting ready that she was ecstatic.  They didn’t have too much of an opportunity to talk with all the work that needed to be done, but she’d observed more about Kristoff that she liked.  The way he joked with Sven in passing, the way he smiled at her every time be brought material to the bin.  The way she’d caught him breaking things up into more manageable pieces.  Some of the items Sven had thrown in she had indeed struggled to lift into the trash bin in the alley, not that she would ever admit that.  

Kristoff suggested a Pub that him and Sven frequented quite a bit and Anna was waiting outside when they arrived.  

They both showed up in jeans and that was where the similarities ended.    Outside of their nearly identical work clothing, it was interesting to see their different personalities reflected in their choice of personal ware.  Anna approached them for another hug, not giving them any options to opt out.  Sven gave her another awkward pat on the back and then Kristoff actually hugged her properly, although loosely.  He smelled amazing.  Like soap and shampoo.  Sven was wearing some strong cologne, which seemed appropriate for how he was dressed. All designer, all to impress.  He had on a thick metal chain necklace and rings on each hand.  She imagined he went to clubs on Saturday nights.

Then there was Kristoff. Flannel shirt, boot cut jeans and worn in cowboy boots.  Feathery blond hair clean and soft looking from the shower he would have had only an hour ago.  Easy smile, nothing else.  Down to earth and absolutely everything that Anna had come to find attractive in a man.  It was something else to see him out of his work clothes.

The girls on the floor had pestered her about which one of the two jacked construction workers she thought was hotter, and they all had their own opinions on who was better looking. While Kristoff and Sven were both very handsome, for her it wasn’t so cut and dry.  What attracted her to men was more than simply looks.  After that first meeting, she knew Sven wasn’t her type, even though she still liked him as a human being and definitely could see them being easy friends.  Kristoff on the other hand, was a little harder to peg, therefore a little harder to see for who he was.  It had taken a bit, but she could see it now having been around him all weekend.

And she liked it.  A lot.

They all ordered beer and they all fell into easy conversation.  Even Kristoff was more talkative than she’d ever seen him.  It delighted her to no end to see him comfortable and showing her what he was like outside of work.

After sharing a couple dozen wings and a few other appetizers, Sven announced he was tired and wanted to head home.  Kristoff appeared a little surprised by that for a slit second before brushing it off. Sven thanked Anna for the drinks and the food, then he smacked Kristoff on the arm and told him to be there bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning.  Kristoff grinned and gave him the finger in return.

Anna found herself smiling ear to ear watching them.

When Sven left, Anna asked, “Would you like to stay for one more, Kristoff?”  She really hoped that he would say yes.  

He smiled. “Sure.”

They ordered another round and a silence fell between them.  Anna was the one to break it.  “I apologize again for putting such a rush on the job.”

“It’s okay, no worries,” he said softly.

“I truly am grateful you guys accommodated me with everything.”

Kristoff shrugged. “Could be worse.  If you weren’t leaving the bathrooms and breakrooms where they are, it would be really difficult.  It gets complicated when you have to move around a bunch of plumbing.”

Anna smiled. “I can imagine. When we outgrew our space and the bosses were set to move up to the floor above us, they tore everything out. It took months.  They kept changing things and adding things.  The CEO decided he wanted a fireplace in his office!”

“A fireplace?” Kristoff chuckled.  “Whatever for?”

“God, who knows with that guy.”  Anna took a sip of her beer.  “That’s why I wanted to re-do our space so much.  I may be the boss for everyone on my floor now, but I don’t want them to think my head got so big that I believe I deserve a massive over-the-top office. Not to mention it’s not my style at all.”

“Oh?”  Kristoff raised his eyebrows.  “What is your style?”

Anna sat back in thought. No one had outright asked her that since she brought up the renovation.  

“Something functional. Simple, but not minimalist.  Wood and earth tones for the furniture and pops of colour everywhere else.  Basically, nothing like how it used to be.”  She chuckled. “Although I do love the idea of some bookcases.”

“I can build some for you, if you’d like.”

She blinked at him, touched with the offer.  “I couldn’t ask you to add onto all the other work you have.”

He smiled.  “It’s no issue.  Won’t take me very long.  I do a lot of built-ins.  The bonus will more than cover the cost of material for something so small.”

Anna looked into his eyes. They were so warm, so lovely.   She had no idea she would get so much enjoyment out of looking into someone’s eyes. And now that she had gotten to know him better, his demeanor was absolutely wonderful.  A far cry from almost every man who worked on that upper floor.  She realized that she wanted to start spending a lot more time with such a delightful man.  As long as he was available, that is.

“That would be very kind of you, Kristoff.”

“No problem, really.”

They were quiet a moment, sipping their beer when Anna decided to go for it.  She would have already been looking all over his Instagram account to try and find out, only he just had that one stupid photo of himself.

“So, Kristoff, you have a girl waiting at home for you or what?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Me?  No.  No one waiting at home.”

“Hmmm.  And are you and Berkleigh a thing, or?”  Anna was pretty confident that it wasn’t an issue but she needed to find out all the same.  There was no point in wasting her time on someone who had other ideas.

His cheeks started to darken.  “Her? No, nothing going on.  I mean, I’m not interested.  At all.”

“You might want to tell her that.  She thinks you’re going to ask her out soon.”

“Shit.”  His shoulders dropped and his hand came up to rake through his hair.  He looked down.  “I was trying so hard not to be rude to her.  She’s… very…”

“Annoying?”

He looked up, smile pulling at the side of his mouth.  “I was going to say persistent.”

Anna laughed.  “She is that, too.”

“I figured.  She was pestering me to set up an Instagram account and told me she wasn’t going to leave me alone until she did it for me. I didn’t really want it.  I don’t know why I caved.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Trying to be polite?”

“Something like that.”

“Is that who took that photo of you?  It’s awful.”

Kristoff laughed. “It’s terrible, I know!”

Anna adored his laugh. It was something special that he showed to few people, she could tell.  There was a lot to admire about him the more Anna spent with him.

“We can fix that.” She held out her hand.  “Give me your phone.”

He didn’t hesitate. After unlocking it, he placed it in her palm and sat back in the booth.  Anna opened his camera and lifted the phone.

“Tilt your head to the side a bit.”  He did as he was asked.  “Now smile. No, not that smile, it looks forced. Give me that little half smile you used when I called Berkleigh annoying.  Yes, that’s it.  Perfect!”

Anna took the photo and looked at it.  Damn he was handsome.  Easily one of the most striking men she’d had the pleasure of being out with.  Not that this was a date.  Yet.

“There, now this is a good picture,” she said, handing the phone back.  “You can make it your profile picture and just delete that awful one. Make your first post what you want it to be, you know.  Not what someone else thinks it should be.”

Kristoff appraised himself on the screen a moment before looking back up at her.  “Thank you… Anna.  It’s a very nice picture.”

That was the first time he’d called her by her first name and it delighted her to no end.  He tucked the phone back in his pocket and they sipped their drinks again.  

Anna said, “You can follow me, you know.”

He just about choked on his beer.  “What?”

She laughed. “On Instagram. You can follow me.  I mean, we both know you were looking.”

He pursed his lips as he turned his head away, clearly embarrassed but smiling nonetheless.  His hand came up and rubbed his jaw before he looked back to her, cheeks all red again.  “We’re just gonna openly talk about that, huh?”

Anna grinned.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  Is this something that you were hoping to never think about again?”

“Actually, yes.”

Anna laughed again. “Oh, Kristoff.  You are adorable you know that?”

One eyebrow went up.  “Am I now?”

“Uh huh. Cuter than a baby lamb.”

The side of his nose came up and he was smiling naturally now.  “A baby lamb?  Not that cute.  Baby buffalo or something, maybe.”

She laughed harder. It had been a long time since someone had made her feel so delightfully at ease.  This man was something special.

*****

They exchanged their phone numbers at the end of the evening and later that night when Kristoff was lying in bed, he added the picture that Anna took of him as his profile picture to his Instagram.  It took forever for him to figure out how to do it.  Then he deleted the one that Berkleigh had taken and unfollowed, then blocked her.   After that he followed Anna.  She followed him back two minutes later, making him smile.

Then he changed his account to Private.  

It did cross his mind if that might be a little harsh to just block Berkleigh like that, except Anna was clearly interested and that was everything to him right now.  He did not want the secretary to get in the way of what he could have with her.

He was sure he was going to fall asleep smiling he was so happy.  As soon as they were done this long-ass work week, he was going to ask her out on a proper date.

---

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

[soupbabe]

Bo has a Secret (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Reader finds Bo's diary.

Based off of a post where I called Bo a journal girlie and @slvt4slashers2 's reblog <3

You weren't supposed to find it. You were just supposed to drop off and put up Bo's laundry, but there it was: a leather bound journal, haphazardly laying in his dresser. At first you didn't know what it was and you really had to applaud Bo for covering up what lied beneath the pages.

The first ten pages were nothing too special, only containing grocery lists and town runs for later on in the week and what appeared to be an updated report on the mechanics of Ambrose. Little notes in his surprisingly tidy handwriting detailing if a sound effect started skipping again or if the puppies in the window started malfunctioning.

But as you went deeper into the book, you found a different side of Bo.

A multicolored, your-name-in-hearts side of Bo.

Your face flushed warm at the title page at the almost childlike displays of "Y/n + Bo" and "[Mr./Mx./Mrs.] Y/n Sinclair." At this point, your curiosity passed the point of simple morbid curiosity and into the the realm of invasion of privacy as you read along the lines of paper.

The small doodles and craft store stickers felt like a distraction as you continued, making you forget who's diary you were reading. His dated confessions held a tone of embarrassment and frustration with his feelings. The earlier entries had a pattern of dumbing down his emotions whenever he thought you looked "not too bad," but as they grew more recent, his language certainly got a lot more colorful and shameless.

Amidst your look into Bo's thoughts, the man himself just about had a heart attack when he walked into his room. His voice was loud and clear as he drew near, "Now what the hell do you think you're doing?" He was quick to snatch the journal out of your hands, without giving you much room to talk. "How much did you see?" The question came off as a command and it had you frozen on his bed. Your voice lacked confidence as you responded, "...the stickers."

Bo's face turned red at the realization, both in embarrassment and anger. While you've been in Ambrose for a while now, there's a reason he hasn't expressed his feelings to you yet. It was a tough situation he even knew he couldn't solve by getting rid of you, he found himself too attached. He hated to admit that you've charmed him ever since he saw you. You had him staying up late at night in his room like a teenage girl, laying on his stomach writing about the pull he felt that made him spare you.

The man's stare and silence created a thick tension, making you avoid his gaze and look at your shoes like a kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "I'm sorry, Bo. I should've known better than to read it." Bo scanned your downtrodden expression and squatted down to your eye level, bringing a hand to your chin to lift your head. His voice was low and stern. "I got two things to tell you: this is a warning, I ain't going to do anything to you. Secondly, you're not going to tell anyone about this, you hear me?" You let out a nod and a swift "I understand."

At your words he stood back up and stared out the window, observing Lester's truck filled with a couple more passengers than the usual. "Just to let you know- I didn't mind your writing at all. You never failed to flatter me." Bo gave a hum in acknowledgement, only focussing on the men getting out of the truck. He gripped a pocket knife hidden in his pocket tightly, relieved that he found something to take his anger out of so soon.

You looked over at the scene outside and stood up, "Alright. I'll go ahead and warn Vincent." Bo turned around to leave, but stopped to give you a quick peck to the cheek. "We're gonna talk about this later, sweetheart." He didn't even have to glance back to know his actions had you caught off guard and flustered.

Little did you know, it was only the start of his own plan to get back at you for reading his diary.

[cloudninetonine]

Can you make player telling a story about their favourite cartoon when they just a kid (6-10) and their favourite cartoon is happy tree friends. (not gonna lie that cartoon is a part of my childhood tho :D.)

(I'M SORRY THIS IS REALLY SHORT! BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANYWAY! I was stumped because I've never watched HTF (For good reasons) so I was lost on what to write)

“What in Hylia’s name-”

“Dear Golden Three-”

“Why is there so much!?”

“You used to watch this as a child!?”

Yeah, it probably wasn’t the best thing to bring up but they did ask! You’d discovered that some of your apps were still working while just messing about on your phone earlier that day and to your great relief Netflix seemed to be working! So the only option was to go straight to your favourite cartoon and entertain yourself as the group rested for the day.

The show was, however, not the best thing to watch while in the presence of others.

Happy Tree Friends, scarring but your absolute favourite.

“Wait, what is he doing- Dear Ordon!”

Sky had caught it over your shoulder at a particularly gory scene and had yelped in complete shock, catching the attention of the others and causing you to pause the show, glancing over to him in confusion.

You, of course, ended up having to have a talk with the group.

“Listen,” You had started, sat comfortably on your rock with your leg crossed over one another “I know it’s disturbing but it’s one of my favourite cartoons! I used to watch it all the time when I was younger and I’ve become desensitised to the violence! It’s why I don’t even flinch when you guys tear apart those bokoblins and moblins on the daily- aren’t you glad I don't go screaming my head off about seeing monster guts and all that jazz?”

Warriors made a face “It is nice not having to deal with such reactions- but you say you watched this while you were a child? That is very disturbing!”

“Morbid curiosity is a thing, you know” You sassed, crossing your arms.

“Morbid curiosity is just that: curiosity” Time replied, mirroring your stance “What you have for this….cartoon is not what one would call healthy”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out your phone once again “It’s like really a horror story or listening to spooky tales around the fire! Look- how about I show you an episode and let you guys decide how to feel about it?”

Shared glances showed hesitation, but Wind piped up with a shout of encouragement with a puff of his chest “I’m not afraid of something colourful moving pictures!”

And of course, these men weren’t going to let the boy show them up.

So, now, here you were, episode 5 of the first season, the heroes glued to the screen in absolute horror as Nutty was once again torn apart by one of his reckless stunts fueled by a sugar rush, the screams of pain making some flinch and ending with Four standing and walking away.

“Want me to turn it off now-”

“No!”

You grinned, taking a bite of the stew Wild had prepared for dinner.

Morbid curiosity was sure a curse.

But hell, who were you to complain?

[twdsunshine]

“I ain't gonna hurt ya.  Ya gotta calm down, girl.” (Daryl x Reader)

Requested by Anon.

You were surrounded.  Actually, that wasn’t technically true.  There were only two of them, but the size of them, the broad shoulders of the men and their height made it feel as though every avenue of escape was cut off as they closed in on you.  The apparent eldest wore a chilling smirk as he looked you up and down, the feeling of his gaze raking over your body turning your stomach and making your skin crawl, whilst the other, when you glanced back his way, was concentrating on your face, his eyes narrowed as though he was trying to get a read on you.  Your breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, every muscle tensed as you prepared to fight, your knife clutched tightly in your fist as you hovered on the balls of your feet.

“Well, looky what we have here,” the older man drawled, his rifle raised and angled towards the centre of your chest.  “We got a live one, little brother.  Reckon we could have some fun with her, whaddya think?”

“Shuttit, Merle,” the younger one snarled, and the crossbow that he’d had poised and ready to fire dropped a little as he decided that you posed no immediate threat, though his finger was still resting over the trigger.  “Hey.”  His voice was a rough rasp as he addressed you, his drawl distinctively Southern so you knew he must be a local.  “S’alright.  Ya on your own?”

“Tell me ya got a sister somewhere round here,” Merle cut in before you could respond.  “Ain’t like I’m opposed to sharin’, but it sure does make it easier if we got one a piece.”

“Merle!” the younger brother snapped again, and you found yourself edging closer to him and away from the leering redneck with the gun, figuring he may just be the lesser of two evils.  Your hand was shaking, your knife slipping in the grip of your sweaty palm, and you scanned the forest that bordered the road, wondering if you might be able to make a break for it.  Before you could so much as take a step though, a guttural groan drifted out from between the trees, and a corpse staggered out of the shadows, drawn by your voices.  It had only been a few days since your hometown had been overrun by the shuffling dead, and the sight of its snapping jaws and yellowed eyes still had terror coursing through you.  “Ya wanna get that, man?”

“On it.”  Merle backed off then, pacing towards the biter, preparing to take a shot, and you turned your attention back to the bowman, who was approaching you with one hand outstretched.

You lashed out without thinking, your mounting panic and the adrenaline thrumming through your bloodstream sending you headfirst into fight mode, when it seemed flight wasn’t an option.

“Hey!  I ain’t gonna hurt ya!  Ya gotta calm down, girl!”  He retreated hurriedly, watching you with caution as he waited to see if you’d attack again.  “M’Daryl.  That’s my brother, Merle.”  He gestured over towards the trees where Merle had ditched his gun in favour of a vicious looking blade which he sunk into the skull of the corpse, crowing in morbid delight when it dropped.  “Ya from round here?  Ya got people with ya?”

As he spoke, he let his bow fall to his side, and you found your gaze locked onto the piercing blue of his eyes, finding nothing there but curiosity and uncertainty which you were sure matched your own.  There was something grounding about his intensity, and you kept your focus on him even as his brother swaggered back towards the road to join you once again.  “No.  It’s just me.  I’m a student at GSU.  I was… I’m trying to get back home, find my parents, but I got turned around, and now… I’m not even sure where I am.”

“Where’s home?” he asked, his brow creasing with a frown, and you knew he was probably avoiding saying what you already knew in your heart to be true.  The chances were that there was nothing left for you to go home to.  All broadcasts had stopped.  There was no news coming out of any state, it seemed, and that could only mean that the undead were everywhere, decimating the population until there was barely anyone left.  It was only through sheer luck that you were still standing yourself.

“Charleston.”

“Shit, ya kiddin’ me?  That’s over three hundred miles from here.”

“Yep.”  You nodded as if you were confident in your decision to try to survive the journey alone, but, in reality, you knew you would never make it.  You just didn’t know where else to go.  “So, if you could just tell me where we are and point me in the right direction, I should really keep moving.”

“Just outside a’Westbridge.  How long since ya left the city?”

“A couple of days.  Why?”

“Ya made it twenty miles, give or take,” Daryl told you with an apologetic shrug, and you knew then that it was hopeless.  At your current pace, you would be looking at over two weeks of hard walking, and you knew you’d only slow as food and water became an issue.  Plus, you’d have to try to dodge the corpses as much as possible, and try to find your way, which you obviously sucked at.  You let out a sigh, rubbing your hand over your face, unable to even consider what else to do now.  A part of you wished that Merle, who was watching your exchange with amusement quirking his lips, would just put a bullet in your head and end it all.  “Look, we’re gonna head up into the hills, camp out, hunt…  Ya can join us.  Ain’t the best company, but s’gotta be better than facin’ it out here on yer own.”

“Speak for yourself, baby brother,” Merle muttered, but he was shut down with a sharp look.

“Yeah.  Yeah, okay.”  The words had left your lips before you were even really aware of it, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you as the bowman nodded.  You weren’t really sure why, but, as you hefted your pack up on your shoulder, turning to fall into step beside him and his brother as they continued on their way, you had a feeling that Daryl might just look out for you, and he was right: having someone to watch your back was a million times better than facing this new world on your own.

[chil2de]

that one scene from csm but make it my favourite haikyuu characters

aka: you give them the lollipop you were eating

featuring: miya atsumu, miya osamu, suna rintarou, sakusa kiyoomi, iwaizumi hajime, tendou satori

atsumu

“that’s nasty as shit”

“y’all still eat those?” atsumu sneers, slumping down on the bench beside you. he slings his arm over you to set down the drink he got for you. from your peripherals, you watch him screw open a bottle of water before chugging half the contents.

“what do you mean still? you’re acting like you were born three decades ago. have you ever even had one?”

“why would i eat one? it’ll be gone in like a minute” he scoffs, screwing the lid back on.

“that’s ‘cause you’re one of those psychopaths who bite straight into it. you’re supposed to wait for it to dissolve in your m—“

“wait for it to do what?”

“huh? dissolve in your m—“

you turn your attention towards atsumu’s stifled laughter.

“you’re tryin’ so hard to not say ‘suck’ and it’s fuckin’ killing me” he snorts, eyebrows raising in amusement.

“are you a child?” you sneer, gritting your teeth a little into the candy.

“i ain’t got a lollipop in my mouth”

“that’s why ‘samu’s the better twin.” you hum. when atsumu’s mouth rolls into an ‘o’ you take the opportunity to plunge the lollipop into his mouth, relishing the way surprise paints him.

for a second, your thumb lingers on his bottom lip. his eyelids are still blown with shock before he tucks the lollipop away, delicacy audibly knocking against his teeth.

“cute.” you hum, pulling atsumu’s bottom lip down. he jams his lips closed, shooting you daggers in the process. it only fuels you more when he’s left in a pout but his eyes shriek bloody murder.

“shut the hell up, asshole.”

-

osamu

“i mean..”

“here. you wanted this one, right?” osamu opens the grocery bag, rummaging through the contents before leaning over the passenger seat to give you your lollipop.

you lean back over to him, planting a small kiss onto his cheek before murmuring a soft thank you against his skin.

“oh! you got the melon one, too! i heard they’re good.” you hum, working the wrapper off as osamu drives the key into the exhaust.

“probably tastes like melon.” he laughs with a puff of exhaled air.

“you didn’t get one for yourself?” you inquire, turning to face osamu as he leans one arm behind your seat- peering out behind him to back out of the parking lot.

“one of..?” he trails, attention clearly elsewhere for a second.

“the lollipop. you wanna try?”

“(y/n), i don’t want your cooties.” osamu hums in amusement, yet continues to pop his mouth open whilst he’s still facing you. having not tried the lollipop yourself, you quickly give it a few swipes before letting osamu taste it.

“tastes like melon.” he agrees, humming thoughtfully as he straightens himself to face forward.

“right? it’s kinda weird, like there’s an aftertaste.”

“there’s a few extras in the bag, you wanna try those too?”

-

suna

“thanks.”

you sling your arm over your bed, digging and thrashing around for your phone until it falls within your reach. even though suna’s a room away, instead of using your voice, you decide to send him a message. you can even hear the faint buzz and ring of his phone going off in the distance.

it’s a beat, two, three until you can hear rustling ring in the air; followed by the faint pitter patter of suna’s footsteps.

when the door opens, he pops his head through with a look of disgruntlement evident on him.

“are you mute?” he sighs, glancing around to try to figure out what you want before you get a chance to speak.

you grab the lollipop from your mouth, sticking it out in front of you.

“i don’t wanna eat it anymore.”

suna slumps off of the door, taking a few steps forward to extend his hand before taking the candy from you.

“i’ll throw it away for you, doll.” he hums flatly, ghosting a smirk on his lips as he listens to your clamor and turmoil at the newfound information.

subsequently, when suna settles back down at his desk, he sends you a snap. the picture includes him holding the stick at an angle so that you can see the bulge of the lollipop against his skin, ornating his cheek in a small ‘o’. moreover, the caption reads “gotem😎”

-

sakusa

“no.”

sakusa raises an eyebrow incredulously at your morbid proposal, features scrunching into mutiny underneath his mask.

“give it here. i’m throwing it away.” he tilts his digits in a ‘come here’ motion, beckoning for you to hand the lollipop over.

“kiyoomiiii! it won’t kill you!” you guffaw, hesitantly handing over the candy in betrayal. he shoots you a sideways glare, carefully covering the lollipop up with the original wrapper it came in.

“but we’ve kis—“

“—how am i supposed to know that you’re not carrying a disease?” sakusa refutes, warning you to not cause a scene in front of his team mates. if they caught wind that he even allowed you to touch his hand, let alone kiss him, he’s sure that he’ll never hear the end of it.

later that day, as you swing by the gymnasium to catch the end of sakusa’s practice, you spot him halfway across the court- resting on a bench.

with every step forwards, your eyes focus on the foreign object that pokes out of his mouth. it’s a white lollipop stick, the same one you’d given him earlier.

you raise a finger in rebuttal, tone sneering.

“is that—“

he grabs the lollipop, motioning it towards you.

“why? you want it back?”

-

iwaizumi

“couldn’t you have bought another one?”

“iwa-chaaaan! how are your blood sugar levels?”

“iwa-chan?” his face scrunches, clearly disappointed and a little agitated over the downgrade in his pet name. whatever happened to babe? baby? haji, even? he’s not necessarily thrilled that you’re talking to him at the same level oikawa does.

“huh? you good?” you wave your hand out, fanning it in front of iwaizumi’s face to catch his attention.

“yeah, what? i don’t know. i don’t check it.” he huffs momentarily.

iwaizumi’s quick to spot the lollipop sitting in your mouth, tucked away in your cheek so that you can speak properly. you can already see the suspicion crawling onto him, and unfortunately he’s half a step further than you.

“don’t you have another one?” iwaizumi sighs, refusing to meet the puppy eyes that make his heart strings pull.

“why? don’t wanna share with me?” you grin, securing the stick in place so that he can’t grab ahold of it.

“really? you’re not gonna share it with me now?”

before you’re able to start a game of tug of war, iwaizumi steals the candy by yanking it out of your mouth and swiftly taking it for him to taste.

“what the hell?” his features bundle up into disgust and his gaze locks with yours. you can’t help the slight giggles that threaten to spill past your lips.

“you got the orange one? that’s nasty.” iwaizumi mumbles, twirling the lollipop in his mouth as though he might become accustomed to the taste.

“so? no one’s forcing you to eat it. spit it out or throw it away.”

“no way.”

-

tendou

“ehh? you really wanna share it?”

from across the assortment of candy jars that lay in front of him, tendou leans over the counter. he creases his brow in concentration, as though he’s plotting his next move to win a checkmate in chess. in fact, he’s just trying his best to pick what snacks to stockpile for when he’s cuddling with you later.

tendou’s face contorts into disgust and he hisses a low tut when his eyes lay upon the untouched container of black liquorice. he moves his slender fingers towards said container, analysing the amount of content inside.

“satori? you like black liquorice? it’s okay, i won’t tell anyone.” you sneer, digging your elbow into tendou’s side. he uncoils from the jar as though he’s just touched a hot pan.

“eh? do i look like someone who likes black liquorice?” he raises an eyebrow, setting the container back down before grabbing something else and stuffing it into a paper bag.

“i mean.. yeah? you were just fondling black liquorice?”

“whaaaat? there’s some things that i like fondling, but black liquorice ain’t one of them.” tendou hums, snapping his head back to look at you in his peripherals. you send another jab to his side, apologising profusely to the employee for his inappropriate comment.

“satori!” you guffaw, watching the smug grin tilt onto him whilst you’re left speeding away from him out of embarrassment. tendou only reaches his hand out and stops you short by the arm, assertively yet carefully dragging you back to walk alongside him.

“you can’t just say that in public!”

“say what?” he cocks his head, blowing his eyelids open with curiosity. you watch his lips descend into that cute little pout and you’ve almost lost your mind already.

“oh? but i didn’t specify what i was talking about, did i? you’re so diiiirtyyyyy~”

“shut up! whatever— anyways, what’d you get?” you grit your teeth, turning your face away from him.

you can feel tendou’s cold fingertips grasp your chin. he tilts you forward, other hand dipping a green lollipop into your mouth.

“here! this is for you, angel~”

-

people who reblog r cool <3

[qlala]

pleeease, my kingdom for just one snippet of the cat!Len fic? 🙏👑

gdsgjl at this rate it's just gonna be a collection of snippets i've already posted on tumblr but I AM having too much fun with it, so here you go:

*****

“Alright,” Barry said, stretching. “We’ve been working on this for hours. I’m starving. Wally, you want dinner?”

“Big Belly has a new veggie burger,” Wally said, sitting back from his own research to crack his neck. “I’ve been meaning to try it.”

“Okay, I’ll call and—ow, Jesus, Snart!”

He tried to yank his leg back in betrayal, but Len narrowed his eyes where he was standing on his back paws and pressed his front claws another millimeter into Barry’s calf through his jeans.

“What?” Barry demanded, a little shrill even to his own ears.

One of Len’s ears flicked in annoyance. When Barry only raised an eyebrow, he made a testy noise bordering on a growl.

“You… Oh.” Barry dragged a hand over the back of his neck and glanced over at Wally with a wince. “Right. We should get something for Len, too. If you want to go pick up Big Belly? I think that pet store on East 15th is still open, so I can go get—oh my god.”

Len had put some real weight behind his claws at the words pet store, and Barry looked down at him incredulously. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten? You’re a cat right now. You should be eating cat food. I’m sure it tastes… fine.” It was a bad lie, and he pushed past it. “What am I supposed to do, get you a burger?”

Len blinked once.

“No,” Barry said. “That’s—people food, alright? Look, I’ll get the expensive stuff. From that commercial, with the white cat on the label?”

Len glowered back, blue eyes unblinking.

“Glare all you want,” Barry said, firmly. “You’re getting cat food, and that’s final.”

*****

“This is ridiculous,” Barry muttered, pulling the last box out of the Big Belly Burger bag and checking the contents. “New rule, okay? No more breaking skin. That blood’s never gonna come out of my jeans.”

He held the box above Len’s head, waiting for him to meet his gaze. Len glanced between the box and Barry, his tail twitching impatiently.

“I didn’t see you blink once for yes.”

Len glanced away, then looked back at him with a tipped head and a flat glare. He blinked.

“Good,” Barry said. “See, that wasn’t so hard. Now you can have your chicken.”

Len still seemed annoyed by the compromise, but Barry was fairly sure cats ate birds in the wild, and the grilled chicken sandwich (minus the lettuce, tomato, mayo, hot sauce, and bun) was at least less bad for Len than a seasoned burger patty would’ve been.

“This is so weird,” Wally said, veggie burger in hand.

Barry spared a pained glance at where Len was dragging a piece of charred chicken the size of his head out of the grease-stained cardboard box, then muttered, “I’m trying not to think about it.”

“I mean, it’s kinda fucked up, right?” Wally continued. “Like, if this cat is Len—“

Barry didn’t like where he was going, and paused as he was about to take a first bite of his burger. “Wally…”

“—what’s to say the chicken he’s eating wasn’t a person too? Or that cow?”

Barry dropped his burger back on its wrapper with a baleful look.

Wally gave him a sheepish shrug. “Sorry?”

“Yeah, well, maybe your”—Barry tried to poke Wally’s sandwich, and Wally pulled it out of the way with an offended glimmer of speed—“soy protein was a person, too.”

Wally’s smile was equal parts smug and doubtful. “Seems less likely, though.”

Barry rolled his eyes, then reached over and snagged a piece of the grilled chicken from Len’s box. Len growled at him for it (a surprisingly intimidating sound with his jaws around his food), and Barry pointed an accusing finger at Wally.

“Blame him,” he said. “At least if this was a person, you’re already eating them.”

“Uh, I’m not sure that makes it better,” Wally said, glancing between Len and Barry with morbid curiosity on his face. “That’s like, some Hannibal Lecter shit. Sharing a person.”

“Wally,” Barry said, exasperated, letting his arm drop, his elbow on the table. Then glanced down in surprise when he felt small, delicate paws touch his bare forearm. Len was up on his hind paws, and he nosed into Barry’s hand as he watched, determined eyes on the chicken he was holding.

The brush of whiskers against his wrist made Barry laugh, and he surrendered. “Alright,” he said, grinning despite himself at the determined look in Len’s eyes. “Your person, Dr. Lecter. You can have it back.”

Len took the chicken in his teeth, and balanced briefly on his back paws before dropping neatly back to the table. He pointedly started eating it from the side Barry hadn’t taken a bite of, and Barry dropped his hand to scratch between his ears.

His fur was as soft as it looked, and Len tolerated it for a second longer than Barry expected—which was to say, about a second. Then Len ducked away with a frisk of his tail and dragged the food about a foot down the table and out of Barry's reach.

“Dude.”

Barry’s neck warmed even as he lifted his gaze to find Wally staring at him. “What?”

Wally’s raised eyebrow said more than Barry wanted to hear, and he glanced away with a roll of his eyes that probably looked as embarrassed as it felt.

[boop-le-snoot]

BUTT-DIAL? NO, BOOTY CALL | tony stark

explicit, 5,4k words. wrong number text, family shame & wedding drama that isn't even his and a ruined first date. despite the implications of the situation, both reader and tony are very entertained. meet-ugly series, part three.

[no y/n, no "you", no name, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]

💚 masterlist ☀️ taglist & faq 💚

Another sunny day spent wasted in a conference room full of boring, old, conceited chairmen. Tony Stark vehemently refused to commiserate with them, their boring speeches and blunt, straightforward thinking. Sitting through a meeting was like walking on nails barefoot: painful, pointless. Mind-numbing.

His phone beeped loudly and he reached into his pocket, pretending to not see Pepper's disapproving look. Both of them knew he was hoping for a sudden Assemble call - that would surely get him out of the meeting - but as much as he hoped, they never struck at the right time.

Except, this time it wasn't a call for assistance, and neither it was an automated spam message with Pizza Hut promo codes. Tony's eyebrows drew close and his lips upturned as he read and re-read the obvious rant written on his screen, typing up his answer before he managed to resist the morbid curiosity that was fueled by his boredom.

Whoever it was, they were justifiably angry and the whole situation was almost too comical to be true, except he'd known people exactly like the runaway bride, selfish, greedy and stupid. He totally understood the woman's desire to just go and load up on tequila shots somewhere - so he bid her a haste farewell, all the while snickering to himself.

"It's Rogers," Tony offered in the way of explanation to a glaring Pepper, locking his phone away and settling in to continue pretending he was listening as another old, crusty white man offered his input on topics he was too much of a dinosaur to even really know about.

He couldn't stop thinking about the incident over the days, the story making him snort more times than he could count as the memory randomly crossed his mind in the lab, at the coffee pot or during dinner. So when a message came through from that very same number, the smirk snuck up onto his face before he even read its contents.

A brief crash course in memes from Parker had turned out to be more useful than ever. Irritating Rogers with pictures got old very fast, however, in moments Tony got rendered speechless they proved to be the perfect substitute for trying to articulate all his thoughts on the matter.

Celebrity appearance, she said? More likely than one would think. The engineer had nearly doubled over in a fit of laughter when she'd texted him that; obviously, the woman had no clue who she was texting with and he decided to further indulge in his curiosity by asking for her name: Friday did the rest.

A phone number and a name, ten minutes, and all her social media were free for him to stalk. Investigate- uh, observe. With little effort, Tony found both her and her brother, the unlucky groom, and the runaway bride and even her step-dad. On paper, they all looked like average middle-class families. Nothing seemed amiss.

It didn't mean anything, but Tony caught himself thinking about the woman. Perhaps it might have been the mischievous gleem in her eyes that was easily spotted in every picture or perhaps the raunchy sense of humour not much different from his own. Pretty, witty and smart - what's there not to like?

"So that's why you've been going around, smiling like a middle-schooler with a crush," Natasha's voice whisper-shouted in Tony's ear as the spy discreetly peered over his shoulder into his phone. He had the chat pulled up, debating on starting a casual conversation-

"Jesus Christ, Romanoff, somebody needs to put a bell on you," Tony snapped, startled, pressing the button to lock his phone immediately.

"Uhuh," The redhead replied, side-eyeing a snickering Barnes. "Who is she?"

Tony rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a blush starting to creep in. He felt like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and the rest of the team acting like children wasn't helping the matter. "I got a butt-dial text about some wedding drama. Some chick's brother's fiance was fucking her own stepdad and ditched the wedding for her old man."

Stunned silence settled briefly into the room as Romanoff's eyes widened and Barnes choked on his orange juice. Serves him right, Tony thought, and continued his coffee-making process in quiet irritation.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Wilson half-laughed half-yelled. "You gotta spill the tea, man, this sounds too good to be true. Stories like that just don't fall into your hands."

With a sigh, he recounted the woman's story and read the texts aloud, silencing his snickering enough to be able to keep a straight face - but not for long, Rogers decided it was the time for another one of his Captain America Is Disappointed In You speeches and Tony himself couldn't even disagree.

Now that he thought about it, he came off as a kind of asshole. She and her family was going through something traumatic and he went and treated it like free entertainment. Which, to be fair, it was, but she didn't deserve to be treated like a circus clown. She actually seemed like a good sister and friend.

"Just text her," Natasha rolled her eyes at him, grabbing the coffee pot out of his frozen hand. "You're not Steve, you can keep a decent conversation via text."

Being compared to Steve and his pre-historic messaging habits really did a number on Tony's ego; the eyeroll he gave Romanoff was truly out of this world, all but teleporting him to his lab where he tried to find a way to approach the woman without coming off as incredibly creepy, as if the fact that he'd stalked her on social media didn't already put him firmly into the weirdo category.

Most likely, Tony would have spent many many days on overthinking before just grabbing one of his suits to make a truly impressive landing on her small balcony downtown; thankfully, fate had intervened and saved him from making another epic mistake. He'd made a note to ask Thor about it sometime, settling down with his tablet and popcorn bowl to watch TV on the team's movie night.

Or, more precisely, Tony settled in to watch the drama unfold as the various members of the team fought tooth and nail for the film that they wanted to watch. He never cared about it much, dozing off halfway through most of them - his teammates had the worst taste in movies - so he didn't bother joining the scuffle except when it was Peter's turn to pick. For obvious reasons.

"If you can't decide I'm gonna have someone else pick a movie," Natasha rolled her eyes, equally fed up with fully grown adults acting like spoiled toddlers.

With a stutter of his breath, Tony's hand reached for his phone as he had an Idea.

Seconds tickled as the "typing..." bubble appeared and disappeared multiple times. She must think he's just a thirsty frat boy; Tony's brow furrowed, but the curiosity was far too strong in him. Something about her vibe, her feisty nature captivated him and kept him thinking about her.

The agreement came as a surprise. In the two minutes the woman had spent thinking up her answer, Tony prepared himself to be rebuffed gently, or, worst case, be called a creep. But no - she agreed, but not before vehemently insisting that if he would end up being a creepy serial killer, she would haunt his ass for the remainder of his life.

Friday couldn't come soon enough. Tony spent most of the day loitering between his lab and the penthouse, glancing at his phone every now and then to make sure she wouldn't cancel on him last minute. The engineer wanted to see the witty, no-filter-having woman in the flesh.

And see her, he did. He'd pulled up in front of the hole-in-the wall Ramen&Bar place Clint had been raving about weeks prior - contrary to popular belief, Tony was perfectly fine with going to places that didn't have Michelin stars - and leaned against the door of his Audi R8, eyes immediately taking note of the figure calmly walking down the street, head tilted down where she was typing up a reply to him.

Tony smirked as she lifted her face up to see him, mouth immediately falling open. The shock was obvious; it lasted mere seconds until her shoulders dropped and she sighed almost... In disappointment. He frowned.

"I jinxed it, didn't I? Here's my celebrity appearance," The laugh was a little nervous and quite sardonic. "Hi, Tony, nice to finally see you."

He smiled, unsure, quipping back easily. "Let's face it, I'm not the worst famous Tony out there." Opening the door of the building for the woman, she stepped in eagerly enough, eyes immediately falling on the bartender and the few dimly lit tables in the back.

"Not by any means," She turned towards him, walking backwards. Tony met her stare; it was just like he'd imagined it to be, curious, mischievous and a little daring. She didn't even attempt to play subtle, raking over him from head to toe. "Not at all, I think," She gave another teasing smile, finally turning around, addressing the bartender and rattling off her order without as much as looking at the menu.

Tony couldn't stop staring. He was aware it was creepy, she was aware of his clever brown eyes barely paying attention to their surroundings or the beer or the food. The woman just quirked an eyebrow every time she caught him. His curiosity couldn't wait any more. "Why aren't you freaking out?" He blurted out, cursing himself out almost immediately after the words left his mouth.

"My almost-sister-in-law was fucking her own stepdad," The woman deadpanned. "I ran out of fucks to give, sorry." She thoughtfully chewed her food, briefly looking to the side. "Not to sound like an asshole, but don't you have enough people fawning over you? Doesn't it get old?"

Tony nodded, choosing to stay silent on the matter besides offering an amicable, "That's valid."

The mischief lit up again in her eyes. "You look taller on TV," She snorted, immediately falling into a fit of laughter at his face full of outrage. He sputtered, muttering something about audacity of some people, which made her only laugh harder. "Here's a pro tip from my 4'11 bestie: when someone calls you short, you snarl at them and say you're fun-sized. She swears by it," The woman remarked conversationally, grinning a two hundred watt smile.

Tony was glad at least someone was enjoying their little... Date. "And you know all about fun, don't you?" He aimed for grumpy; it came out as teasing. His famous smirk made a return appearance as he watched her throat bob.

The atmosphere between them had changed at some point; the same old routine of teasing and dancing around each other, but this time, Tony all but purred in satisfaction, finally meeting someone who was an even match to his wit and charm.

"I do," She replied with that cocky confidence, her devil eyes lighting up, lingering on his face. "Got a problem with that?"

The plate was pushed away, napkin falling into the food carelessly as he gestured for the waiter to bring the check. "As a scientist, I cannot confirm whether a theory is true until I have direct evidence," The bullshit flowed easily from his mouth, but the woman appeared to be amused by it - for a change. "M'fraid I'm gonna need that evidence," His fingers drummed on the table, impatiently, inches away from her hand.

"Of course, Mr. Stark," Her voice dropped, she was fully aware of what she was doing by calling him that. That, and those deep, magnetic eyes made Tony's trousers feel a little too tight for comfort.

His phone rang loudly, dissipating the atmosphere they had created with a shrill noise. Captain Cockblock struck again.

Fumbling fingers, Tony tapped the green icon, shooting an apologetic look to the woman. "Rogers, there better be another alien invasion or I'm revoking your phone privileges," The woman chortled, taking a sip of her beer, trying hard not to seem like she was listening in and failing spectacularly at it. "Today, out of all days? Can't Strange fill in for me?" The engineer palmed his face, running a hand through his neatly done-up hair. It would be covered in soot and sweat in an hour anyways. "Fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Romanoff better be hauling Barton's lazy ass out of Bed-Stuy." With a frown, Tony poked the red icon and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, looking for all and all, like an angry adolescent.

The woman, however, didn't indicate any signs of displeasure. Her hand timidly reached out for his, giving it a brief squeeze. "Go, save the world, Mr. Stark," Her smile was sympathetic. They both stood up at the same time, Tony watching her incredulously as the woman untied a scrap of red fabric from around her neck and placed it around his wrist, tying the fabric with a loose but, frankly, pretty knot. "I like that bandanna, would be a shame if you didn't return it," She explained, shrugging her shoulders.

Tony snorted, fondly rolling his eyes, before beelining for the door, activating his Iron Man suit on the way out. Turning around before take off, he noticed her throw a couple of crumpled bills to the server who was too busy ogling him.

He forgot to pay for dinner, Tony realized as he made his way to the other part of the city. Well, fuck, he would definitely have to see her again.

---

An alien invasion during her first good date in ages - scribble, scribble, sigh. She couldn't do much more than that - just as she thought her string of bad luck had ended, the world turned around and flipped her a juicy bird, all but laughing straight in her face. Like that already wasn't enough, oh no, she groused as she spied the debris and random abandoned cars on her way home - it looked like some portion of the battle had been close to her home and only the sheer mental exhaustion that resulted from her life being turned upside down during the last month prevented her from having a full-on freak-out in the middle of the eerily quiet street.

Truly, the fucks she had to give had been expired.

The gloomy mood was interrupted by a cry - for help or of outrage, she didn't know, but the kindness in her, the very values she'd been raised with didn't allow her just to walk by, and with another resigned sigh, she tucked the nice blouse she'd put on for the date under her warm sweater and set off in the direction of the sound, finding the culprit in little under a couple of minutes.

Freeing the trapped civilian wasn't easy but, thankfully, neither it required super-strength or any kind of heavy machinery. The man thanked her and with him in tow, both of them set off to inspect nearby nooks and crannies. Logic won that day - if there's was one person, there could be more.

Hours later, sweaty, sore and bruised, the woman greedily chugged the water bottle someone had passed onto her as the amount of medics and firefighters had finally reached the threshold of when her help wasn't needed anymore. While her date and his colleagues fought whatever nasty that thought NYC was a sandbox battleground for their amusement, the woman found herself helping out with retrieval & evacuation of the civilians that didn't make it out of the neighborhood before the heat of the fight reached it. There were no deaths registered as of then and deep inside, she felt proud, knowing that she had contributed to the statistic at least a little.

Her phone was dying, her body was covered in dirt and scratches from head to toe and the bruises were beginning to ache. Tony's worry-worting was cute but the tiredness overcame her, making her brain sluggish and her demeanor short, so she hastily pocketed the phone, trailing over to the closest man in uniform she could spot.

"Sir?" She addressed him, eyeing the unfamiliar logo on his jacket. "Can I go, please?" She pointed to the yellow tape surrounding the makeshift medical station.

"I'm going to have to see your ID first," He replied apologetically, tapping away on his tablet.

With a sigh, she dug through her purse, giving it to him and using the brief moment of respite to smooth back her hair and dust off her clothing. There was a cloud of concrete and dirt surrounding her.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go just yet, Mr. Stark left strict instructions for you to be picked up by him personally," The agent gave the ID back with a suspicious glint in his eye.

"Oh c'mon," The annoyed whine escaped her lips before she registered it. "It was our first date," She offered to the puzzled agent, only succeeding in making him lean back and inspect her with a raised eyebrow. "Bye," She replied none too kindly, walking off to find a place to sit down.

The time passed in a strange way. The aches and pains and exhaustion made it stop, and if someone would have asked her, she wouldn't know how much of it has passed until her eyes reluctantly cracked open at the sound of a familiar voice, coming to see a pair of expensive shoes covered in dust. At least she wasn't the only one that looked like she'd taken a roll through someone's gritty attic.

"Morning, you Tasmanian Devil," Tony sounded jovial, all things considered.

"Hello to you too, Tin Can," The woman greeted him on par, without missing a beat.

"Now, now," He offered her his hand, which she took gratefully, before pulling her to her feet. "I come with peace offerings. Your building is under quarantine and I've got a perfectly good bed and a shower with thirty settings on it at my place. Whatcha say?"

She only pretended to think about it. Her reply was haste. "I don't make a habit of going into strange dudes' towers but I'll make an exception this once." A shower and a bed sounded heavenly.

Finally getting the chance to look at him, Tony appeared to be unhurt but equally exhausted and dirty. A few scrapes on his face and arms, he was missing his blazer, and had a weary tone to his face. Some parts of his Iron Suit were still on him - like the chest plate - but besides that, he was whole. The red of the bandanna she gave him was equally dirty but still neatly tied around his wrist, just like she left it.

"How's your relationship with heights?" He asked her and all she could do was blink, watching curiously as his body was enveloped by the red and gold, crawling over his skin like a swarm of shiny termites. That was all the warning she got before the metal arms - quite literally - sweeped her off her feet. "Faster this way," She could hear the nonchalant shrug in the metallic voice coming from the helmet. "Now hold on."

Awe and fear culminated inside the woman but the weariness had long since surpassed comfortable levels and all she did was give a weak nod and close her eyes as Tony lifted off, gusts of wind making her skin break out in goosebumps and her hair stand up wildly on her head. During the short trip her eyes fluttered open only once just to close back up immediately - all she saw were clouds, white and fluffy, like marshmallows, and the shining beacons of NYC skyscrapers somewhere far away.

The paralyzing anxiety fully dissipated only when her feet found purchase on the tiled floors, Tony's arms never ceasing to support her swaying frame until the breaths she took were her own and not the result of her fluttering heart and muted panic. "You with me, Wonder Woman?"

"Yes, Weird Science," She mumbled. "Thanks for the heads up," The annoyance had to find a way out and that it did.

"You're welcome," The cocky smirk returned to Tony's face as his suit receded, leaving him barefoot, dirty jeans and a torn tee. He stretched with a sweet groan, gesturing towards the door. "Friday will direct you towards the showers. Feel free to grab a t-shirt from the closet."

The woman nodded, too awestruck by the man and his hospitality, eyes darting all over the tastefully decorated room, the expensive knick-knacks scattered everywhere, the absolutely enormous sloppily made bed. Tony Stark liked to live luxuriously - even the shower was a state of the art technological wonder.

Dirty pants and dusty blouse went flying somewhere in the back of the bathroom as the woman stood up on her tippy toes, reaching for the sky, stretching her sore muscles. The glass wall of the shower had began to fog up from the hot water. The knock went barely noticed by the woman who jumped as Tony's voice startled her out of her daydream.

"Forgot I ran out of towels here..." He trailed off, voice dropping as he spotted her only in her underwear. She turned, responding with a lopsided grin, spying the stack of fluffy grey in his arms, the arc reactor in the middle of his bare chest. He smirked, "Damn. Can I join you?" Giving her what only could be described as a respectful once-over.

Tired as she was, her sense of humour and wit didn't go down for a much needed nap just yet. "I don't know, you tell me. Can you?" Turning back around, the woman made a short show of unclasping her bra and tossing it in the general vicinity of her dirty clothing pile. She'd worn a cute matching set of undies that day and the fact didn't go over Tony's head, she was sure.

The door clicked shut just as she raised her face to the stream of water, feeling calmer with each second, muscles relaxing themselves as the hot stream washed away the dirt and the dust off her body.

"And I thought this evening was ruined," Tony's voice insinuated from behind her. A hand reached for the soap, his body heat scorching compared to the steaming water. He stayed just a few inches away, enough to feel him, enough for her body to respond and crave more. "It's nice to be wrong for a change. Refreshing."

The woman hummed, reaching up to run her fingers through her wet, knotted hair. "First decent evening in ages. I wasn't gonna let some uninvited Predator knock-offs ruin it for me," She was more than a little peeved at the space invaders interrupting her nice date. Tony was a great conversationalist, it was easy to talk to him and he had a brilliant sense of humour. Not to mention the obvious, he was easy on the eyes.

"That's the spirit," The voice was closer now, almost in her ear. Even though her eyes were closed, the woman was aware he was reaching for something, letting him butt her hands out of the way to lather her hair, scrubbing at her scalp meticulously, until the sounds that left her mouth bordered on embarrassing. Once that was done, Tony moved onto her body, running his hands over her back, the outside of her hips. "M'not stepping over, am I?" He asked quietly, touch faltering every time he brushed over a scrape or a bruise.

"No, you're doing great, Tony," It wasn't exactly conventional - sharing a very intimate shower after an interrupted first date, but then again, nothing about this man was conventional and her life had already been turned upside down no less than twice recently. The woman didn't lie, the gentle, caring touch felt soothing.

Arching her back, she lifted her arms to repay him with the same, raking her fingers through his hair, leaning into the shudder that ran throughout his body. It was nice to bask in whatever they had going on, so the motion to face him was almost reluctant. Water droplets stuck to his eyelashes and his eyes were tired but not in a way that suggested he'd kick her out first chance.

Their kiss was sweet, slow, like they already were familiar with each other in a special way. The woman tugged on his lip with her teeth - such was her character - and he pressed closer to her, raising a hand to hold the side of her face. In muted curiosity, she couldn't help but wonder if there ever had been someone that waited for him once his battles were over.

Tony's eyelashes, the very same that had no business being this long on a man, fluttered against her cheek as they stood under the shower, letting water wash away the day.

"I've always wanted to kiss in the rain, like they do in the movies. This is the closest I've gotten," She whispered, gently kneading the arch of his shoulders. "Feels better than it looks, to be honest."

Tony snorted, reaching for the knob to turn it off. "Cheesy," He teased her, wrapping a warm, fluffy towel around her body. Both people made quick work of drying themselves, exiting the fogged up bathroom, making way into the bedroom, padding soft on the carpet and falling down on the bed carelessly.

"I'm the queen of cheesy one-liners," The woman raised her eyebrows, scooting under the sheets next to Tony who opened his arms wide, a smirk on his face. She didn't give him the chance to reply, slotting her lips over his instead and groaning as their heated bodies once again rested against each other.

She ran her hands over Tony's defined pecs, glossing over the arc reactor, raked nails over his tummy, eating up the sighs leaving his mouth at the gesture. He was a beautiful man, she wasn't going to lie to herself. The warmth that settled low in her belly grew, spreading throughout her limbs and temporarily overshadowing the exhaustion.

The engineer, too, was quite excited - his erection poked her hip - and content to be steered to her wishes by the hand in his hair. Groans and sighs left his moist, parted lips as his eagerness bled into his hands, grip firm and steady on the panting woman's hips.

Adrenaline did something to her body, caused it to ache sweetly, a hunger to be satisfied only by a lover's touch. And touch she did; her mouth tasted him, alternating sucking gentle marks onto his throat and nibbling on the skin stretched thinly over his collarbones. Tony's sighs grew in depth and volume with every silent action of worship.

No inch of his body was left untouched, the woman was an all-hands-on-deck kind of lover, happily making her way down until soft lips wrapped around the crown of his cock, making his hips arch into it, hands fisted in the soft white sheets. "You devil," Tony gasped out, limbs turning to jelly, watching the woman all but devour his cock.

She popped off minutely, a trail of sticky saliva running down her chin, sticking to his glistening cock. "The power of Christ compels me?" With a smirk, her tongue trailed from his balls to the very tip, paying extra attention to the frenulum, making Tony shudder and gasp out an embarrassed laugh.

"Uh-uh," Stripped of his usual snark, he was but a man at her mercy.

"It's not very compelling," The predatory stretch of her lips widened as she took mercy on him, giving his cock a few slow tugs with her hand. Her mouth, her hand and his cock were dripping. "Gonna let me do all the legwork, Mr. Stark?" She sat up straighter, inadvertently drawing his eyes to the apex of her thighs where the woman's sex glistened in the dim light, lips swollen and inviting.

It sounded like she was mocking him, teasing him, egging him into a lustful frenzy none of them had the energy for but craved anyway. Tony Stark wasn't the one to back down from a fair challenge so he relented, flipping them over with ease, landing between her spread legs, eyes drawn to the momentary bounce of her breasts. Tony wasted no time in suckling a hard nipple into his mouth, humming in response to her choked-off moan of surprise.

"Tony," Her body arched into his touch, tender skin hot under the callouses on his fingertips.

"Yes, demon, dear?" A lopsided grin and laughter in his eyes preceded the wet stripe Tony licked down to her navel. "Wasn't there something about not telling demons your name? Guess you have power over me now," He trailed off cheekily, soft breaths puffing over her mound.

The woman bit her lip, peering down to rake a hand through Tony's hair, snagging a fistful to gently steer him towards her pussy. Tony's smile was one of satisfaction as he obediently followed her silent order, nosing along the line of her cunt, dipping his tongue to run slow, sloppy lines through the soaked folds.

"Fuck," She mumbled, spreading her legs without shame. "Yeah, right there," Her fingers turned white at the agility of Tony's tongue on her clit. He was swift and relentless in pursuit of the spots that made her moan and clench around nothing. The moisture of her sex soaked his goatee but he couldn't care less.

He growled when she attempted to withdraw, wrapping his muscular arms around her thighs to keep her still for his pleasure, wringing noises that increased in volume with every stroke of his tongue on her sex.

"Tony- please, Tony, I'm gonna-" The warning was brief; her back arched as a broken moan found its way past her moist, parted lips, her pussy spasmed, dripping all over his face and the sheets.

The engineer hid his smile against her thigh, discreetly wiping the obscene amounts of moisture she produced. It wasn't very long until her hands, slightly shaky, were tugging him upwards to meet his face in a rushed, graceless kiss. There was an equal lack of finesse in the glide of his erection along her sex.

"Okay?" He mumbled into her ear, lining himself up with her fluttering cunt.

"Please," She gasped, her hands pushing his hips onto her, eagerly lifting up to accept the sweet intrusion.

There was a quiet stutter in both of their breathing, hearts thudding against their ribs as he finally bottomed out, the thickness of him nestled snugly inside the rippling muscle. The pace he started out was agonizingly slow and inexplicably sweet, neither of them wanting to end their coupling prematurely but not being able to hold back the need that consumed them both.

"Fuck, you're so good to me," Tony's mumbling was overshadowed by the slick sounds coming from the place they were joined. "Gonna fill up this pretty pussy."

The woman keened at the idea, digging her nails into his ass, pulling him further into her.

"You'd like that?" He picked up the pace, blunt tip of his cock catching up with the tail end of her previous orgasm and re-lighting the fire in her belly anew.

"Yeah, Tony, please," No trace of the previous coyness in her voice, the woman was more than ready to beg, murder and steal to feel the man come undone in her arms.

It didn't take long, not with the adrenaline making their blood sing and the chemistry they shared. The brutal pace of Tony's hips quickly grew sloppy and erratic, the tightening of her inner muscles egging him on. He chased his release with deep, powerful thrusts that had the bedsheets rustle pitifully and beads of clear swear drip down his forehead.

As soon as her body arched once more, Tony let go of his control, slotting himself deeply into her spasming heat, cock throbbing as he painted her insides white with his seed, groaning incomprehensible compliments and profanities through his teeth. Chest heaving, the engineer couldn't do much more but let himself carefully fall onto her chest, aftershocks making him twitch when the woman began running a gentle hand through his hair.

"We're doing this again," He decided, still breathless but already a step ahead. She laughed.

Tony Stark taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @downeyreads @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @slothspaghettiwrites @bluecrazedandbeautiful

[stanknotstark]

Toxic + Toxic = Healthy

Summary: You and Loki break up. Both of you deal with it uncharacteristically. Loki sleeps with girls that look like you and you mess around with Thor in retaliation. It’s all very healthy stuff here.

You and Loki had had an unceremonious falling out a couple weeks ago and called it quits on the relationship you had built. You had been dating for 6 months but Loki had started an argument about how you didn’t love him, that you lie to him, that you probably sleep with men behind his back. Everything was false, of course, you’d never do that to Loki and it hurt that he even thought that. So, you told him that you need some time to think and Loki having to have the last word said maybe breaking up is the best option. You agreed and while you saw the shock in Loki’s eyes at your agreement you were too pissed to care and left. 

What makes it awkward is that you both live in Stark’s tower and still have to interact with each other. What makes it even more awkward is that the rest of the Avengers walk on egg shells every time they’re in the same room as the both of you. 

You’re taking it like a champ, you feel. You only cry about it when you go to sleep at night, in the privacy of your own room. Sometimes when you spar with your teammates you might hit a bit harder than necessary. You even manage to speak with Loki civilly. On the outside it would appear that you’re completely fine with the break up, but on the inside and behind closed doors you’re literally falling apart. You’re sure the only person who realizes this is Natasha because that woman sees everything. 

You almost lose your composure the first time you see Loki bring a girl back to the tower. It’s only been three weeks and he’s already whoring around. You’re livid, he claims to love you then gets over you in three weeks? Bullshit. 

What you fail to realize at first is that the girl he brings to the tower kind of looks like you. It isn’t until you’re in the kitchen eating breakfast that you realize this. She comes in, only wearing one of Loki’s too large t-shirts and enjoys a bowl of cereal with you. 

You don’t get mad at the girl, you’re mad of course, but she’s not the problem. She doesn’t know what happened between you and Loki. She has no idea you even dated Loki. So you talk with her like you would any stranger. With a happy smile, a joyful voice, and morbid curiosity about having a new person in the tower. 

“It’s really cool to see the tower from the inside. I always look up and imagine what you guys live like.” The girl says with a smile at you. 

You smile back, “It’s pretty laid back, honestly. Nothing too exciting happens around here.” 

“That’s what it looks like,” The girl laughs a light laugh, “I doubt I’ll ever come back, Loki said it was a one time thing, but I’m happy I got the chance anyways.” 

You squint at the girl when she’s not looking at you because she’s eating her cereal and question everything. Loki doesn’t do one night stands. That’s what the god had told you the first time you both fell into bed together. He had explicitly stated. “If I bed you, I mean to have you forever, I do not play games when it comes to courting.”

You hum at the girl and truly look at her. Her hair is cut at about your length and although the color is a tiny bit off it’s still in the same general shade as yours. Her features are vastly different from yours but her body shape is almost exactly like yours too. 

At this conclusion you’ve thought of three things. One, Loki is trying to make you jealous. Two, Loki is showing there are many other girls just like you he can use. Three, Loki is still hung up on you and has really bad coping skills. 

You bring you mug up coffee to your lips as you ponder over your conclusion and raise your eyes when Natasha walks into the kitchen. She raises her brows at the girl, with a glance to you, who introduces herself as Nat reaches in the fridge and pulls a carton of eggs out. 

As Natasha waits for her pan to heat up so she may cook her eggs she questions the girl. 

“What is it you do?” 

“Oh, I’m an accountant for a small company here in-” The girl stops and looks at you, concerned when you start choking on your coffee, “-are you ok?” She asks, you nod still choking a little but get it under control. 

“I used to be an accountant, I started out with a small company based in Colorado then moved here when Stark offered me a better job.” You tell her. 

“Oh! I just started my job seeing how I just graduated, but it’s my dream to work for someone as significant as Tony Stark.” 

You smile and nod, “I’ll put in a good word for you, see if we can get you a promotion you can’t deny.” You say, glancing at Nat who is smirking devilishly at you. You truly do want the best for this girl but at the same time you’d like to see Loki squirm with his one night stand working in the same tower he resides in.  

The next time it happens is two days later. This time you’re in the common area with Bruce, teaching him how to play Minecraft at night when the elevator dings. You both look up and see Loki ravishing some poor girl on the elevator’s wall. They let out small moans and gasps. Then Loki turns and looks out the elevator to see you and Bruce staring at them, game completely forgotten. 

You’re sure Bruce is wide eyed and blushing like crazy, you can’t see his face seeing as he’s turned towards the elevator. However, you control your face and look bored with a raised brow at Loki. 

“My apologies, I thought I had pressed my floor.” Loki says.

The girl he was just basically eating up giggles and pokes her head around his body to look at you two. 

“We’re really sorry!” 

They both pull from each other but don’t truly stop touching, they’re just in a presentable position now. Loki pushes his correct floor number and you watch as they disappear in the elevator. 

When Bruce looks at you he’s not blushing or wide eyed. He actually looks a bit green in the face. 

“You ok?” You ask, confused. 

“It’s wrong of him to do that to you. He’s smart, has to have his floor memorized. The only way he’d hit this floor was because he knows you’re here.” Bruce says with a sigh, the green hue in his face receding. 

You chuckle, nodding to the controller in Bruces hand so he can continue harvesting his wheat. 

“It’s ok, he’s always been really bad when it comes to coping skills.” 

Bruce watches the TV as he harvests wheat but gives you a glance with a raised brow. 

“The women he’s bringing to the building look like me. Or at least the first one did for sure, I wasn’t really looking at this one. The last one even had the same job I used to have.”

Bruce frowns at the TV then realization dawns on his face. “Now that you mention it, this girl did have the same characteristics as you...” 

You hum with a small smile. “Loki is going to be Loki, I’m just trying my best to get over him and move on.” 

You watch as Bruce pauses the game and looks at you with an evil grin. You’re a little shocked because you’ve never seen the doctor show any emotions like this. His eyes are far away in thought, but he smirks with malicious intent. 

“What if you dated one of us? Not really, but in public you would kiss and hug, hold hands do all the couple stuff in front of Loki?” Bruce asks. 

Your face must be shocked because Bruce chuckles. 

Breaking from your shock you smirk back at the doctor. “And just who would I date?” 

Bruce thinks for a second, “Well Loki....” Then you see a sinister look come over his face. “Thor.”

You gasp and slap Bruce on the shoulder, “That’s evil, Bruce!”

Bruce chuckles and shrugs his shoulders with a now timid look on his face. 

“I live with a bunch of people that have perfected getting under each others skin, I’ve picked up on how to do it too.” 

“I’ll talk with Thor later. Tell him of your nefarious plan, it’s genius!” You say relishing in the fact that you’ll be able to break Loki’s heart more, the god deserves it you justify. 

You talk with Thor and kickoff the plan right away. The next morning, Loki actually comes in and has breakfast with his one night stand across from you at the table as you enjoy staring at the newspaper, waiting on Thor to come in. They’re being sickly cute, feeding each other, giggling, and just overall making you want to throw up. You know Loki is truly nothing like this, he’s just putting on a show for you. 

When Thor walks in he gives a big good morning, throwing you a smirk Loki misses because he’s too busy kissing ass to his girl. Thor makes coffee for you and brings it over to you. When he sets it in front of you he says, “Just how you like it!” 

Then Thor leans down and takes your lips into his. Thor really puts on a show and brings a hand up to caress at your jaw as he delves into your mouth with his tongue. When he pulls away you’re breathless and look up at him with adoration. Both the gods really know how to use their mouths...and tongues for that matter. 

You lick your lips and look at the girl Loki brought home when she makes a remark. 

“Looks like we’re not the only ones who got lucky!” She giggles. 

You smile at her, glance at Loki who is glaring daggers into you, then look back up to Thor as you raise your coffee mug to him and say, “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Thor smiles down at you and offers to make you breakfast but you decline saying you need to help Tony with something. Before you leave the room Thor pulls you into another kiss, lets you go, and slaps your ass as you walk away. You give a small yelp and giggle. Enjoying every second you feel Loki glaring at you before you leave the kitchen. 

You spend a few hours with Tony just talking as he works on his suit. You came down here to hide and be happy at the whole situation that had just happened. Tony laughs uncontrollably when you tell him what’s going on. 

“This is either gonna turn into amazing make up sex or a really big argument.” Tony says, wiping a hand over his face, smearing it with oil. 

You laugh as you sit on his work table, swinging your legs. 

“As long as he hurts just as much as I do, I don’t care which one happens.” 

“That’s toxic.” Tony states without malice. “But so is Loki so it kind of cancels each other out, right?” He asks, throwing you a devious look tapping his wrench to his chin as he does. 

“Ya, we’ll go with that.” You say, jumping from the table, getting ready to leave the lab.

“Thanks for letting me hide for a bit.” You say.

“Anytime!” Tony says over his shoulder as you leave. 

You’re walking down the hallway to your room when Loki materializes out of nowhere and pins your to the wall. His left hand pins your waist to the wall, his right hand is balled in a fist and rests on the wall next to your face. His face is inches from yours, absolutely livid. 

“You play with fire without thinking about the consequences, sweetheart.” Loki spits out the nick name you used earlier.

“What? You didn’t expect me to fight back when you started fucking girls three weeks into our break up?” You ask through gritted teeth. “You were supposed to be in love with me Loki, if you were really in love you would have waited a bit longer.” 

Loki’s face turns to regret before he gets angry again. 

“You could have went for anyone other than my brother, you can’t act like you’re holier than me.” 

You scoff and push at Loki who doesn’t budge. “You started it when you brought home girls that look like me. Making me think I was expendable, replaceable.” You say, your voice cracking when you say replaceable. “I may act like I’m fine all the time but my heart is in pieces Loki. You decided to take my heart and step all over it like I meant nothing to you!” You begin crying.

Loki furrows his brows at your tears, like he actually cares that he’s the one who made them fall. 

You close your eyes so you don’t have to look at his face anymore. Silently crying there. You feel Loki wipe your tears with his right hand, his left hand keeps you pinned though which is smart because if you could break his grip you’d run from the situation. His right hand stops wiping at your tears when they stop falling and slides his hand down till it’s cusping your neck.

“That was not my intention.” Loki finally says in a soft voice. 

You open your eyes and frown at the god. “So it was just you trying to cope in a really bad way...” You say, deflating in his hold but leaning into his hand. You haven’t felt his touch in weeks and your body is practically craving it. You hate that you react like this. 

Loki gives a sad smile. “We are a concoction of toxic chemicals. We may not get a happy ending...” Loki whispers, his thumb caressing your jawline where his hand holds your neck, his eyes roaming over your face, “But I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re worth every second.” Loki finishes, closing his eyes and kissing you.

You lean into the kiss, tasting Loki and losing yourself in his mouth as he dominates your weak fighting with tongue. His left hand comes up to grab your hair and pull at it causing you to gasp into his mouth. He practically swallows the gasp and moans. His right hand squeezes your neck then drifts down over your breast, making sure to flow over your nipple, and then grabs your hip in a bruising grip and pulls your body to arch into his. 

When you pull from his kiss you look into his eyes and see nothing but love and lust. Then it changes to a frown and insecurity. 

“Did you sleep with him?” Loki whispers, not sure he wants to know the answer. 

“No.”

Loki sighs and uses both hands to hug you into his body, burying his face in your neck. When he pulls away to look at you you see the love there again.

“I love you.” He says sweetly. 

You smile up at him, “I love you too.” 

[heywoodvirgin]

WIP / Ghost In The Shell

Untitled wip of the first GITS fic I’m working on. Attempting to rewrite the boat scene with Motoko and Batou as I felt it, giving the characters voices between the dialogues lines. I like it so far, so have it :) 

Characterization gives me a hard time, I always think I’m writing off character even if it’s probably not the case? I don’t know. 

*

“A cyborg who goes diving in her spare time.” 

“That can't be a good sign. When did you start doing this?” 

“Doesn't the ocean scare you? lf the floaters stopped working.”  

Chain questions he knows will stay without commentary, an edge to the last one, tone slightly shifting from playful to querulous that he tries to chock back with a sip of beer. 

The questionable choice of eyes implants makes the man hard to read to most people, but not to her, yet she can't lie, sometimes she needs to look behind the silver discs that never reflect anything but light, and as time passed she could have, perhaps, picked up and collected patterns and pointers, yet as perspicacious as she is, it remains always knotty to pin the looks her partner gives, or what exactly he's trying to hide, if he is trying at all. She'd seen it before though, stolen glances at pictures she shouldn't go and look for, but she went and did, just to confirm something, appease a morbid curiosity, look deeper into his "humanity", or maybe she just wanted to know the color, file it away for a future quip. She couldn’t look more than a few seconds before closing the file, the feeling that stayed with her afterward must’ve been the retribution for her displaced curiosity.                                                                    

“Then l'd probably die. Or would you dive in after me?”  

Her tone is seasoned with the unhid provocation of someone who already knows the answer. 

“No one forced you to come out here with me. and I sure as hell don’t want a lecture” she adds for good measure. 

“l just–”

Throat slicer, his Major, makes him dig his heels in like an amateur as he averts his eyes from her disrobed back. And he’s exasperated that he can’t finish his thought, offer his honesty, or just work on an equally cutting reply. When she serves gratuitous cruelty as she does now, part of him always wants to give up already, yet his ghost whispers that it’s in such times that she needs him the most, to dig past her decoys, scratch the steeled skin she so stubbornly envelopes herself in, see to the wounds behind, be a tenacious friend. 

So he gives her her space and his back, gaze lost in the skies on fire, and by the time she comes out of the wheelhouse, fresh and changed, the night is already blue around them. She lets the silence linger, aware of his spaced sips. He’s thinking of what he’s gonna say next without bumping into her walls again. There have always been communication loopholes between them from time to time, and that’s fine, he thinks, as long as they always work past them. She feels his eyes on her as he mulls another question over and as she stares at the cityscape looming in the mid-distance.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 5: Dana's Work Friend

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Friday, April 3rd, 1998. Scully comes into the office in a flurry of coat and red hair. She doesn’t greet him, just drops her briefcase on the desk and sinks into her seat across from him.

“Mulder, I have a favor to ask of you, and you’re probably going to hate it, so just bear in mind that I have exhausted all my other options,” she says, somewhat breathless.

“You’re really selling it,” he deadpans. “What is it?” he asks, settling into his chair and leaning his elbows on the desk.

“You remember Mark,” she prompts, and he nods. Ugh. If only he could forget.

“Well, it turns out that Mark is extremely - almost agonizingly - social, despite having a demanding job and a young child to raise.”

“Sounds awful,” Mulder comments.

“Hence my current predicament. He’s invited me and my friends out for drinks tonight, so his friends can meet me and I can meet his and he can meet mine… “ she rambles before refocusing herself. “He’s not aware that I’ve lost contact with most of my friends. You’re kind of the only one left.”

Mulder had suspected as much, but confirmation of her increasing social isolation is like a punch in the throat. “Are you sure there’s no one else?” he asks softly, not wanting to rub salt into any wounds.

She shakes her head, lips pressed together. “Unless the Lone Gunmen count as my friends,” she replies. “Which in this case is somehow worse than having none at all,” she muses, some humor in her voice.

“Good point,” he chuckles. “Sure, count me in.”

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, and he melts all over again. He’d do anything for her. Even if it means meeting Mark. Ugh.

“It’s worth mentioning,” Mulder says after a moment, “If you don’t want to go, you can always just not go.”

“Shockingly, I have thought of that,” she says dryly, opening her briefcase and pulling out a folder. “But I think it would be good for me to meet people and hold conversations that aren’t related to criminal or paranormal activity. Might be good for you, too,” she adds, glancing up at him.

He pulls a stack of files out of his inbox on the desk. “I’ll stick to ‘ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night’,” he says.

“‘Good Lord, deliver us',” Scully replies, finishing the old prayer.

Mulder looks up at her and finds her smiling at him, and his whole body flushes with heat and adoration.

“Let’s elope,” he says, and she rolls her eyes fondly before burying her nose in her work.

I’m not kidding, he yells inside the prison of his own thick skull.

After work he and Scully drive straight to the bar together, a yuppie place in Foggy Bottom near George Washington University Hospital.

“Have you ever been through their ER?” Scully asks, scanning the street for parking. “I imagine you’ve been through enough hospitals to warrant a map on the wall with little pins stuck in it.”

“I can’t possibly remember them all at this point,” he says absently, tugging at his seatbelt uncomfortably. Why is he nervous? He’s just here to show Scully’s man friend that she’s not entirely a basement-dwelling hermit.

And Mulder’s the best she could do? God, maybe she really does need to get out more.

She parks, and he feeds the meter while she touches up her lipstick in the rearview mirror. She looks sweet and and rosy, flushed with nerves and traffic, and he could so easily scoop her up and kiss her-

“Alright,” she says, climbing out of the car and closing the driver’s side door a little harder than necessary. She smooths her hair down. “I’m ready for battle.”

“I’m prepared to fall on my sword,” he assures her, guiding her onto the sidewalk with a hand on her lower back before realizing he probably shouldn’t touch her so familiarly when her… friend might see.

“It’ll be fine,” she says over her shoulder as she grasps the bar door’s handle. “Just behave,” she hisses, and they enter.

The onslaught is immediate.

“Dana!” a voice calls out through the bustling bar, and Mulder sees a man waving them over. He’s got neatly styled dishwater blond hair, broad shoulders, and dimples at the corners of his mouth as he smiles at them. Not bad, Mulder thinks, unsure of how to feel about this new information.

He barely has time to process it before they’re enveloped in a tight swarm of strangers. The blond man, presumably Mark, loops an arm around Scully’s shoulders and gives her a side-hug.

“So glad you could make it, Dana,” he says, and proceeds to go around the circle of people and rattle off names Mulder has no reason to remember. Instead, he watches Scully, the way she greets each person as they’re introduced. She’s cool and calm, smiling politely, shaking hands and saying ‘nice to meet you’ to each of the five - no, six - people in the group.

“I’ll grab you two some drinks,” Mark says, glancing at Mulder. “What’s your poison?”

“Shiner,” Mulder says.

“Same for me,” Scully says. “I’m going to freshen up-”

“Sure,” Mark says, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Two Shiner Bocks coming up.”

That’s how Mulder and this exuberant, Golden Retriever of a man end up sitting at the bar together, nursing sweaty beers and waiting for Scully to return from the bathroom.

“So you’re a work friend of Dana’s?” Mark asks over the noise of the bar.

Mulder was about to set his drink down, but he reconsiders and takes another swig. “In a manner of speaking,” he replies.

Dr. Mark Whatever-the-fuck seems confused. “I don’t follow,” he says.

“I’m her partner,” Mulder says flatly. Since 1993. I’ve seen her naked, cradled her injured body my arms, saved her goddamn life. Have you?

“Oh!” Mark says, clearly making mental connections. “Oh. Sorry, I just- it’s nice to meet you… Fox?”

“Just Mulder’s fine,” he corrects him.

Mark laughs. “Sorry for the confusion on my end; I think Dana only said your name once and I went and assumed Fox Mulder was a woman. And you know what they say about assuming,” he adds with a nudge.

Once. Only once? Maybe that shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. Whenever he meets someone new in Scully’s life they always throw out the usual ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ line, so he knows she talks about him to others. But not to this guy. Why not to this guy?

Mercifully, Scully returns from the restroom. Mark hands her her beer. “Thanks,” she says softly, giving him a small smile with her lips closed tightly, which strikes Mulder as odd. He knows she’s somewhat self-conscious about smiling with her teeth, but something he sees in her face doesn’t feel quite right.

Of course it doesn’t feel right to you, he thinks. She’s smiling at some other guy.

They’re swept along in a current of conversation, scrambled introductions, and drink orders. He’s introduced to a handful of people he’ll selectively erase from his eidetic memory, standing across from Scully in their little circle instead of by her side. He doesn’t like it. Another man has his hand on her back, although respectfully keeping it between her shoulder blades. Any lower and Mulder would have to excuse himself to have a panic attack in the alley behind the bar. Or throw up.

He’s glad Mark’s friends aren’t particularly interested in making conversation with him; he’s tired and ready to go home. Luckily, the Doctor himself calls the night early, at half-past eight.

“I promised the little one I’d be home to tuck her in,” he explains, and Mulder’s stomach turns from the purity and sweetness of it. “She gets to stay up a little later on Fridays.” He gives Scully another half of a hug and says his goodbyes.

The group disperses pretty quickly after Mark leaves, and Mulder and Scully are left alone outside the bar.

“So, you met Mark,” Scully says simply.

“I did, yeah.” He can sense that she wants him to say something more. “He seems... nice,” Mulder adds.

Scully nods. “Yeah, he’s nice.”

Mulder’s beginning to think ‘nice’ is the only word anyone’s capable of using to describe this guy.

“I’ll bet Bill’s gonna love him,” he comments, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Scully shakes her head, smiling. “I knew there had to be a flaw in him somewhere,” she jokes.

Mulder surprises himself with a huffed laugh. This moment with her is strangely precious, despite the circumstances. He doesn’t know how many moments like this he has left, if he’s being honest.

“I’m happy for you,” he says tenderly, and maybe if he says it enough it’ll be true. She deserves this, he reminds himself. It’s become almost a mantra, a lead weight that keeps him from drifting away.

“Are you?” she asks, catching him off guard. “I caught you staring holes into him more than once.”

“I wasn’t,” Mulder says defensively. “This is just my face.”

She gives him a look that clearly says ‘I call bullshit’, and he folds. “He didn’t know who I was,” he says, and it sounds monumentally stupid out loud. “He though Fox Mulder was a woman.”

“I-I don’t know why he would have thought that,” Scully says, pensive. “I never implied-”

“Fox is an unusual name,” Mulder interrupts. “It’s an honest mistake if you just hear it without any context.”

Scully looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry about that,” she says softly. “About all of this. I owe you one.”

Mulder reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, and it seems to have a grounding effect on both of them. “I’ll put it on your tab,” he says.

“Do you want me to drive you back to work?” she asks. They’d left his car in the garage at the Hoover building.

Mulder shakes his head. “You’re almost home,” he says. “I’ll get a cab.”

He ends up walking instead.

The night air cleanses his senses as he makes the half-hour trek back to the Bureau. Their time in the bar had felt sluggish and hazy, despite the fact that he only had a beer and a half. He spend the entire evening focused on Scully, the only sharp image amidst the blur of patrons.

Mark hadn’t kissed Scully goodbye, and Mulder’s relief at not having to witness it was overshadowed by a morbid curiosity. She and Mark had been dating for three weeks; he’s not sure how often they’ve actually gone out, due to the doctor’s shift schedule, but he assumes they’ve seen each other a few times at mass in addition to whatever outings they’ve gone on in the evenings. That was ample time to get to know each other physically on some level, wasn’t it? A peck on the cheek at least.

Mulder’s biased; he’s touch-starved and in love with her. He spends most of his nights on his couch in the dark, touching himself and thinking about Scully. Kissing her, taking her clothes off, tasting her; his mental catalogue of scenarios is robust and well-used. If given half the chance to love her…

Maybe that’s it, he thinks somberly, stepping over sidewalk cracks. Maybe chances are taken, not given.

That’s not how he wants to love her. He wants her to choose him all on her own, and yet he never let her know he was a choice. And now there’s Mark.

But Mark doesn’t kiss her.

[arsenicxarcana]

THD: Truth Or Dare

posting this now bc it’s been in my head but i’m not actually sure the next chapter of Taming Him Down is gonna go that way (it could go in so many ways)

SFW, you heathens

***

“I dare youuu..”

Lucio paused, glancing around in a clearly put-on sort of way, pretending to look for something before his gaze settled back on them, a light flush in pale cheeks.

“.. to kiss me.”

“Wh--”

“On the mouth.” He added, matter of factly.

The magician frowned, feeling their own cheeks heating up again. “Oh come on, we’re just friends.”

“I kissed my friends all the time. You can ask ‘em.”

There was no way in hell they were going to ask anyone that once knew him about that, for any reason. Even to sate some sense of morbid curiosity.

They were struggling for a response to this, trying to figure out how to let him down gently. And yet, at the same time.. part of them wondered if they needed to let him down at all. Maybe it would be good for him.

No, no it was just like telling him about Vesuvia. Taunting him with what he can’t have. This was such a bad idea.

“Tsk, coward.” After a moment, the former Count sat back with a disappointed, fake-affronted little sigh. “Clearly I’m too repulsive for you.”

“You’re not repulsive.”

He was grinning. It looked a bit pained.

“Prove it.”

Damn it. He was doing this on purpose. If they stuck to their decision, then he could take it as another excuse to beat up on himself. He might even genuinely internalize it, judging how the grin faltered a bit, eyes unsure.

But it had been so long since anyone had done anything like this with him, they were sure of it. Maybe not even since he was the Count. He may not be able to handle it anymore. What if they hurt him, somehow?

The magician sucked in a deep breath and reached out, gripping Lucio’s face with both hands and gently easing him closer towards them, unable to miss how his body tensed and his pulse picked up, breath quickening in what they hoped wasn’t fear.

“Just relax. It’s okay.” They murmured, attempting a little chuckle. “I’m not that bad of a kisser.”

“.. p-prove it.” It sounded more like a plea than a challenge.

Before they could let their racing thoughts take over and pull them out of it, they leaned forward, carefully, gently guiding him into position, feeling him shudder against them even before their lips met, delicate flesh slowly pressed together, warm and surprisingly soft despite how he’d been living.

They could feel him practically melt in their hands, pressing insistently into the kiss with a soft whimper, both hands resting on their shoulders, trembling fingers curled tightly into their clothing as if they were the only thing keeping him from collapsing outright. They could do anything they wanted to him in this moment, and he would welcome it as long as they kept touching him.

Something inside them wanted to keep touching him, alright, let themself explore his body again with both their hands and more kisses, drown him in kisses just to hear more of his helpless whimpering, feel him melt and relax until he couldn’t move, completely spellbound by pleasure he hadn’t experienced in years, pleasure that only they could give him, now.

They wanted to make him theirs, in all senses of the word. Much the same as the first footprints on freshly fallen snow, the first word written in a new book. It was uncharted territory, now - he hardly remembered anyone else.

But that wasn’t fair to him, was it? He wouldn’t have a choice. He wouldn’t have the chance to share that with anyone else if he ever got out.

They couldn’t even keep him.

Reluctantly they pulled away, gasping for breath they forgot they needed, and like clockwork he awkwardly lurched forward to try to close the gap again, easily stopped by one hand against his chest.

“I’m sorry.” The magician sighed. “It’s your turn. Truth or dare?”

His eyes were unfocused and yearning, a steady stream of tears rolling down flushed cheeks that he didn’t seem to notice.

For a moment they thought he might try to kiss them again anyway.

“T-truth.” Lucio croaked, finally. “Wait, no--”

“Why did you ask me to do that if you knew it was going to hurt you?”

“It didn’t--?”

They gestured at the tears.

He slowly lifted his right hand up to one cheek, wiping some away and staring down at his own hand with that same distant curiosity. “Oh. I don’t know. I thought it would be fun.”

They frowned. “Well? Did you have fun?”

A dreamy little smile was on his face, only assuaging some of their guilt.

“.. yeah.”