#or shot i do not fucking caree can someone throw acid on each one of themmm

[i-merani]

Can someone blow up taliban like we can all chip in pleaseeee can someone save the women there

[shurisneakers]

shut in [5]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats, implied ptsd, violence

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: sam wilson nation how are we feeling after that trailer. only about a month to go for my two dumbasses to get the recognition they deserve!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Where are they?”

“We don’t know, boss.”

Their eyes glossed over with rising anger, masking its earlier aloofness.

“I’m going to need more than ‘I don’t know’.” Their voice was acidic, dripping with faux politeness. A bad sign.

“Police say they pulled off the highway at one point and then they lost track of them because there were no cameras.” The agent looked at his partner who only nodded in confirmation.

“They could have ditched the car before going on foot,” the partner suggested rather unhelpfully,  “We have no idea where they could be”

They were silent, mouth pressed in a hard line, leaving everyone in silence.

“Have I told you about the time my dad hired someone to fix the sink here?” they finally asked, looking away from the agents. “Some drunk fuck got in a fistfight and absolutely decimated the thing. Dad got someone to fix the hole in the wall and the fitting.”

They turned away, facing the wall.

“He did an alright job, that guy. Fixed up the place, installed a new sink. But there was a problem that he said he’d be able to fix only the next day, something about water dripping through an unsealed pipe.”

The agents just sat there on their chairs, feet cold. They knew where the story was going. It was a myth at their organisation, a cautionary tale to everyone who joined.

“My dad, he agreed. Said ‘Yeah sure, come back tomorrow’. Guy packed up his bag and was on his way out when my dad called him back. Asked him to hold out his hand for the money and then he just,” they paused, “cut one of his fingers clean off. Told him that he’d get his payment and his finger when the job was done.”

“I loved my father,” They skipped a beat before whipping their head around to look at the two agents. “But he was a coward. I would have shot him in the head.”

The agents looked paler than what they were a few seconds ago.

“If I tell you to do something, either do it perfectly or don’t do it all because the next time you’re here and those two are still alive,” they sneered, lunging forward to grab one of their collars, “I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes boss,” the partner was barely audible, speaking for the one who was breathing heavily, looking like he was on the verge of passing out.

“Go on then.” They smiled, letting go of the agent’s collar as he stayed frozen in his place. They dusted their hands off before straightening up. “Don’t return without good news.”

The frustration of not knowing something was not one you were used to.

You were used to knowing. The satisfaction of a puzzle. The ease of a predictable pattern.

So when this mystery wasn’t getting solved within twenty minutes, it was starting to affect you. You spent hours staring at the ceiling, replaying every detail for months leading up to the case. Every client you shook hands with. Every coworker you greeted with a nod. Every vile sicko you had killed.

And yet, no matter how much you thought and rethought and rethought again, it simply didn’t make sense. There was a piece missing. A hidden variable.

Sam helped wherever he could. He offered up arguments and rebuttals. If you had a theory, he’d find the flaw or the lack of proof. He was keeping it reasonable. Only snorted when you suggested that maybe the president was involved in a large scale extermination of underground mafias. A absurd theory that had no roots in reality.

“You could point out any official on the damn senate and they would have some connection to our gang that you can dig up with one Red Bull and twenty minutes on the internet,” he had said. “It’s too much of a liability if we get caught. They’ll just get exposed for all the nasty shit they’ve been hiding under the carpet.”

You knew this, of course, and it didn’t help to be reminded of it again because it also meant that one more theory was ruled out. And with each theory ruled out, the further away you were from your answer.

It was frustrating.

Sam was in front of the TV, lounging on the couch with the copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands. You were working on plausible solutions, drawing up flow charts to see what could be connected.

If Pierce wasn’t the common link then it had to be something else. You couldn’t proceed with the other spies theory because no one else immediately sprung to mind. There was one... but you decided against writing it.

If Ransone was telling the truth, and there was no way of knowing he was, Sam and you were unrelated and his being there was coincidental. You just had to rely on the employee-employer relationship you shared, if you could even call it that.

“Fuck,” you cursed loudly, tearing up the piece of paper and crumpling it. You groaned, holding your head in your hands. Your eyes were burning from straining it for too long and your shoulders were in pain from slumping over the table all day. 

You took a deep breath, shaking your head before instinctively reaching for another sheet. Your hand came up short so you fumbled around the table blindly, trying to grab at a piece of paper without spending the extra effort of searching.

“You’re not getting another sheet,” Sam’s voice came from above you. “You’re going to watch some shitty movie, eat some soup and relax for today.”

“Give it back, Wilson,” you muttered, reaching out your hand.

“No. You can use your unhealthy coping mechanism when I’m not around to see it. Half of this is my mess too and I’m not going to watch you have a breakdown over it.”

He was going to be annoyingly persistent; somehow he had exhibited that magnificently over the last few days. You knew better than to argue with him over something that he had made his mind up about by now.

“I don’t want to watch a movie.” You let your head fall onto the table, wishing that the cool wood would do something for the headache you felt coming.

You heard him set the paper back down, not saying a word. Your head was throbbing and all you wanted was the frustration to ease. It was killing you.

“Come on. We’re going outside.” That piqued your interest. Sam had never invited you anywhere before.

“Where?”

“Y’know; the outside. I know you haven’t seen it in a while but see if these words jog your memory. Sun. Grass. Win-”

“I know what the outdoors is, Wilson.” You smiled against the table, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing it. “I’m asking where exactly we’re going.”

“You’ll see. Put some shoes on.”

By the time you looked up he was already walking away from the table, leaving you to follow.

You sighed. He sounded too determined and you didn’t have many other options.

Pushing your chair away from the table, you went to go put on your shoes. __

“If in care you were planning to, I’m just going to tell you right now that you can’t kill me.”

The both of you had been wandering along the path for a while. When you met him by the backdoor, he had a bag with him filled with who knows what.

He declined to tell you what was in it either, despite you asking thrice.

“Calm down, Keanu Reeves. That’s not what I was going to do.” Sam gave a short laugh.

“I’m serious. I know karate.”

“So do I.”

“Krav Maga.”

He hummed in agreement. 

“Kickboxing.”

“Now you’re just insulting me. That’s level one.”

The path was littered with tree roots that stuck out of the soil, stray branches and leaves that crunched satisfactorily under your feet. One second of distraction and you were sure you’d fall flat to the ground. 

You both continued for a few more minutes before he finally came to a stop.

It didn't look very different from the rest of the woods until something caught your eye. In front of you, one of the trees stood out. The bark had large concentric circles, resembling a large dart board. A few indentations were already made in it; clearly it was being used for practice regularly.

“Here you go,” he spoke from beside you, handing you a tomahawk. “Go ahead, throw it at it.”

You looked at the tiny axe in his hand.

“Think of it as adult darts,” he encouraged, “Here, I’ll throw the first one.”

He extended his arm in front of him, pulling his wrist back before effortlessly throwing it at his makeshift board. It was two circles away from the bullseye he had carved out. It must have taken a while to make.

“This doesn’t look very safe,” you commented as he picked up another one, launching it at the tree. You followed its trajectory, watching it embed itself into the bark closer to the centre than the previous turn.

“That’s what makes it fun.” This man had no regard for safety protocols. Given, these were things that came with the job but it didn’t mean you did it in your free time. “It helps, just try.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked curiously, trying to assess his reaction. Pulling you out of the house for a bar game wasn’t exactly the type of thing people generally did for you.

“Because I wanted to.” He shrugged, not giving you any further explanation. “Try one.”

“Okay.” You followed his example, watching as it glided smoothly before landing close to his initial throw.

“Nice shot.”

A smile made its way to your face automatically as he handed you another one. You repeated your action, an unusual sense of pride establishing itself in you when it came closer to the middle.

“Now what?”

“Now we collect and do the whole thing again till you feel better,” Sam replied, making his way towards the tree and plucking the small axes out easily. His back muscles tightened against the material of his shirt in the process. It wasn’t a bad sight at all. “Endorphins and all that.

“Is this where you keep disappearing to?” you inquired, taking two of them from him when he returned.

“Sometimes.” He took aim before throwing it at the board. “There’s a few things you can do around here.”

“Your coping mechanism is extreme sports without proper guidelines.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” Sam took a step to the side, giving you space to take your turn.

“Have you always been this wise, or?” you teased, concentrating on the circles in front of you. Your shot came pretty close. 

When you didn’t receive a reply, you glanced at him through your peripheral vision. He wasn’t moving, a thousand yard stare in his eyes.

“Hit it.”

“I can’t.” His fists were bleeding through the bandages wound around them. He could feel the tear in his skin, the burn of flesh against sweat soaked clothes.

“I said, hit it,” Emil commanded once more. Sam could feel his chest rising and falling steadily from beside him, his putrid breath making him want to vomit.

“I can’t.” He could barely stand up. Exhaustion seeped through every muscle in his body.

“You’re weak,” his trainer spat. “Nothing but a fucking child.”

“He’ll die.” Sam looks down at the boy, bloody and mangled on the floor. He had passed out ages ago but that did nothing to stop them from forcing Sam to continue relentlessly.

“It doesn’t deserve mercy. You hear that Wilson?” He leered right into his ear. “Do you fucking hear that?”

Sam flinched, nodding his head. The saltiness of his sweat was fresh on his tongue, burning where it dripped onto his busted lip from his forehead.

“So fucking finish it.” He knew that if he didn’t listen this time, there would be consequences. He didn’t want to find out what it was because he had no doubt it would pain a hell of a lot more than bruised knuckles.

“No,” he whispered, eyes wandering over the body on the floor. “I won’t.”

“What’d you say?” Emil straightened up, taking a step towards him.

“I said no.” Sam turned around on his heel. He could barely stand straight but the spite running through his veins was driving him, giving him enough energy to not collapse right there on the spot.

“He said no,” his trainer repeated, leaning away from Sam. “He said no.”

He turned to look at Ransone. Sam had forgotten he was there in the darkness of the room, observing the fight for the past two hours.

“He said no.” He started chuckling. His chuckles soon gave way to hideous laughter. Stomach clutching, tear inducing laughter.

Before Sam could even realise the change in attitude, Emil’s entire demeanour shifted. He stepped forward, forcefully gripping Sam’s neck. He shoved him backward until his back was pressed against the wall, no doubt bruising his spine further than what it was.

“Say that again, you fucking idiot,” he growled. But Sam couldn’t say anything. He could barely breathe. He was terrified, but determined not to let it show on his face. “When I say something, you better fucking listen.”

His trainer observed his expression for a few more seconds. Sam didn’t open his mouth.

His trainer finally loosened his grip, letting go of his neck.

Sam’s knees nearly buckled but he kept his balance, coughs racking through his body. He felt lightheaded, swollen eyes watching Emil walk towards the body on the floor. The only friend he had.

“Maybe this oughta teach you a lesson.” Emil flashed a quick smirk at Sam before raising his fist above Riley’s face.

Within a split second a guttural cry escaped his throat as he launched himself at the much larger trainer, taking him by surprise. The pure rage he was feeling had him seeing only red, the adrenaline steering his body on autopilot.  

With their position suddenly switched, Sam found himself on top of Emil, bloody fists beating down on his face without a break. The pain didn’t even matter anymore.

“Fuck you,” he screamed, not giving him even a second to defend himself. “Fuck you, you fucking dickhead.”

When he could feel his trainer raising his arm to grab from behind, he took a pause from pummelling his face to grab his arm, twisting sharply it till he heard a crack. The roar escaping Emil’s throat didn’t dissuade him from finishing what he started, returning to landing a punch wherever he could.

He didn’t even know how long had passed before his body was being pulled away, kicking and cursing.

“You see how good it feels Wilson? You feel that relief?” Ransone held him tightly as he squirmed furiously trying to get back to beating the shit out of that asshole on the ground. “Next time you’re angry, remember that’s the only way to feel good. If you’re in pain, you cause pain.”

Sam’s flailing was reducing as the adrenaline wore off. The exhaustion was beginning to take hold of his body as he looked at the onslaught of blood splatter everywhere, two bodies side by side on the ground. He did this to both of them.

“Violence is your only friend. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Ransone let go of him. His feet gave out beneath him, chest rising and falling heavily. His shoulders ached as he dragged his body towards Riley, praying to every force in the universe that he wasn’t dead.

He was still breathing. Sam nearly cried out of relief, collapsing next to him. Ready to defend him if Emil woke up.

“Next time you want to let out some anger, come find me,” Ransone called out. “I’ll find you your next victim.”

“You okay?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Earth to Wilson.”

It seemed to work as he snapped back, blinking rapidly.

“You zoned out a little there. Everything alright?” you asked. He looked at you blankly for a second before realising what you asked.

“Yeah.” He gave you a half smile. “Yeah, I’m good. You done with your turn?”

The light that was there behind his eyes a few minutes ago had dimmed considerably. He looked weary. You recognised what had happened, what he was probably thinking of. You didn’t bring it up, not risking the chance of him reliving it.

“Kinda.” You pointed towards the target where a tomahawk was sticking out of the centre.

“Damn,” he whistled, resting his hands on his waist. “Best of three?”

“Didn’t know it was a competition.” You went to collect it. It was harder to pull out than you thought. You wondered how many times Sam had practiced it to make it look so effortless.

“Only if you want it to be.”

“Nah.” You walked towards him, handing two of them back to him. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time, huh.” He tested his throw before letting go of the handle. Bullseye. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

You only smiled.

Next part

[wienerbarnes]

When It’s Over

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,762

Warnings: canon level violence

A/N: back w cheek to cheek😌 there's some heavy inso from the fight scene from fatws w walker so peep that👀 as well as some linked references to past pieces!

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

The near-silent sound of the door clicking shut wakes you up. While you know if there was some kind of actual threat there’d be alarms and lights going off because of F.R.I.D.A.Y. 's security measures, your body still tenses at the unnatural sound.

Why is someone in your room in the middle of the night? Unless -

A sweaty and musky smell floods your nostrils as the intruder hunches over your body, burying their face into your neck and breathing in deeply before pressing a soft kiss. Bucky’s home.

You turn over and place your hands on either side of his face to kiss him properly but you pause when his face feels unnaturally wet.

“Is that sweat? Why are you all wet?” You whisper into the darkness, reaching over to turn on the lamp on your bedside table.

You gasp when the light reveals Bucky’s face, neck, and hair drenched in blood. You eyes roam the rest of his body to see his tactical gear in the same condition.

“Jesus, Bucky, who were you fighting?”

He smirks, fatigue clouding his features, “You should see the other guys.” Your eyebrows scrunch at the sound of more than one person as he reaches into one of his pant pockets, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper.

He hands it to you and turns away to begin stripping off his dirty clothes. You unfold it carefully so as to not rip it or mangle it up further to reveal your list, with all of the names crossed off harshly and a new one added at the bottom, a name not in your handwriting nor in your memory.

“Is this what you were doing? Who is the last name? I didn’t write that.” While you're upset he lied to you, you feel an indescribable sense of relief wash over you, a feeling you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. No more HYDRA after you. No more handlers. No more guards after your blood, your powers.

“The soldier who shot you. With the metal arms. I destroyed everything that even looked a little bit like a serum in every building I went to, so I think he’s the last super soldier. Or at least for now. I hope.” He tells you, finally down to his underwear. He’s still breathing kind of heavily, probably from pure exhaustion. He’s only been gone for six days and he took out all the names on your list. Did he even sleep?

You’re still holding the list in your hands when he emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered. He uses his towel to scrunch out as much water from his hair as he can and tosses it in the pile of dirty clothes. He pulls on a pair of underwear and doesn’t even bother putting on actual pajamas, approaching the bed.

“I promise we’ll talk about everything tomorrow. He’s supposed to be in Minsk. I’m so fucking tired…” He sighs, trailing off, taking the list from your hands and placing it on the nightstand, turning off the lamp.

“Where is that?”

“Belarus. Above Ukraine.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry for waking you up. And for not telling you, I didn’t want to -”

“Shh, don’t apologize. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m just glad you’re home.”

The thought of technically being free hasn’t hit you, it hasn’t even begun being processed by your brain yet. It probably won’t for a while, a few days, maybe weeks. No more HYDRA.

Bucky slumps into the mattress next to you, not even getting under the covers, too tired to adjust his position. You get out from under the covers as well, pushing yourself up against his back, spooning him like a backpack, trying to pull him as close to you as possible.

In less than a week, he got rid of everything and everyone you’ve been afraid of for years. People you had nightmares about, that hounded your every thought every single hour of every single day. He got rid of them for you.

He grabs your hand that rests on his chest and brings it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on it.

No more fear.

...

Bucky sleeps for fourteen hours, into the following evening. He wakes up to the smell of toasted bread, the crust around his eyes pinching at his skin until he brings up his right hand to rub it away. He sees your back at the counter and after another deep inhale, smells acidic tomato and smoky bacon.

Sandwiches for lunch. He glances at the clock to see the time as 5:18. Sandwiches for dinner.

He lets out a long yawn as he sits up, left arm reaching up to scratch at his head, hair feeling knotted due to the fact that he fell asleep with it wet. I need another haircut soon.

He gets up and walks around the kitchen island to greet you, despite missing most of the day. You turn to face him as you hear his footsteps approach and reach up to plant a long kiss on his mouth.

“I have mornin’ breath,” Bucky mumbles against your lips, hands resting gently on the tops of your shoulders as he feels your hand wrap around his naked waist.

“I don’t care. I love you.” You kiss him again and again, harder and harder each time.

“Babe,”

“You freed me.” More kisses.

“Huh,” He giggles against your lips, finding your affection amusing, but unknowingly needed.

“I love you. Thank you. You freed me, you saved me.” You repeat, kisses smacking in between your words.

He thinks back to the mangled list he tossed in your direction last night, how he came home covered in blood in an exhausted haze. You freed me, you tell him. From HYDRA, he understands.

“You don’t thank me for nothing,” He pulls away, hands cupping your face in order to temporarily stop your kisses, “I love you. I’ll do anything for you. It’s the bare minimum.” He tells you.

All you do is stare up at his blue eyes. As though he’s Atlas, holding up the world underneath your feet. The bare minimum. How he’s ruined you for any man or person at all with the way he treats you, the way he loves you. You don’t look away from him with your loving stare as he steals a piece of bacon off the pan on the stove before turning and going into the bathroom.

...

You, Bucky, Sam, and Joaquin occupy the small jet on the way to Belarus.

“Who are we fighting again?” Sam asks, half-serious, as he adjusts the shield on his back.

“His name is Jean-Baptiste Allaire. But I don’t think he knows that.”

“...Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“A bad guy.” Bucky answers this time.

I suppose that is all he really needs to know.

Soon enough the plane lands and the three of you go off, leaving Torres in the jet to monitor and wait in case there’s a need for backup, eventually ending up in a dilapidated building. You assume it’s a facility used to house the soldier, if Bucky was able to trace him back to here. They probably keep him away from the major facilities with most of the guards to limit the risk of him dying during raids or other compromises, you think.

“Be careful around this guy.” Bucky warns Sam as you get closer, approaching the building, slowly walking down a long hallway in order to find anything that would signify him being here.

Bucky slows down, causing everyone else to slow down as they approach the end of the hallway, allowing the only option to turn to the left, revealing a large cell, the soldier sitting in the corner.

A flash of confusion flashes across his face before it disappears, an emotionless expression replacing it as he stands, the whirring of his metal arms being the only sound as he approaches the three of you, ready to fight.

The three of you back up down the hallway to allow more space, but it doesn’t last long as he begins to attack, launching himself at Sam to start mindlessly fighting.

The soldier and Sam throw punches at each other and you run over to help, but as you come up to them, he whips around, grabbing you by the collar of your tactical vest, and throws you across the room with one swing.

“Woah!” Your body smashes into a wall, a loud creaking sound coming from the metal of his arms as your body makes impact and slams to the ground.

“Shit!” You groan, getting ignored as the three men fight each other. He’s strong as fuck.

Your vision stops spinning and you stand, a shield whizzing past your head, nearly decapitating you, and lodging itself into the wall behind you.

Bucky’s already got blood all over his face from fighting him, and you take a wild guess that the soldier has some sort of serum that’s the same or stronger than Bucky’s in his body.

He grabs Bucky and flings him to the side, his body crashing into the cell he was originally in. A metal pole with wires wrapped around it stands in the middle of the small cell, which Bucky’s body slams into, electrocuting him and knocking him unconscious.

You remember Bucky explaining to you one time that he was always going to be a lot more sensitive to electrocution and shock therapy after what HYDRA would do to him, regardless of how super he is.

You look to Sam to see the soldier straddled on top of him, throwing punch after punch into his face, then moving to tear off one of Sam’s wings with his bare hands, sparks flying around them.

Suddenly something flows through you. Not something; anger. Pure rage. You realize that this guy is out to kill and it’s like a switch has been flipped. You're reaching over towards the wall and ripping out the shield, throwing it as hard as you can and hitting the soldier in the side of the face.

You march over while he’s distracted and disoriented by the blood pouring out of his head and kick the side of his face, knocking him over and off of Sam. You use the same leg to kick at the shield that’s now on the ground, flipping it up into your hands, and slam the flattest part down onto his head, using it to block the punch he throws.

You toss it to the side and straddle him yourself when you get a split second of a chance, him hitting you with a gnarly punch - a Bucky-level, super-soldier punch - but you hit him back, ignoring the fiery hot pain that explodes in your face. Though not as strong, you feel your fists break his nose and crack his cheek bone, his blood making your hands stickier and stickier as you punch and punch and punch.

“Don’t! Touch! My! Friends!” You yell in between punches, using both your hands to slam down at the same time, blood dripping from your own face from his singular punch.

You slam both hands onto either side of his face, and in a second, you realize you’ve tapped into his brain. His arms drop to the ground beside his body and you’re in complete control.

Never have you ever tapped into someone’s mind so quickly. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the fiery anger of seeing your friends getting hurt that made it so easy.

You smile wickedly, laughing in his face, “Now, you’re mine.” You pant through your teeth.

“51, don’t.” Bucky groans. You glance up to see him on his hands and knees now, still feeling the after effects of the electricity, small sparks jumping from creases in his arm. You look over to the side to see Sam also leaned over on the ground, looking at you. Waiting.

They’re not scared of you, but they’re… wary. Everytime you’ve controlled someone’s mind, they’ve died. The man from prison. The scientist from the HYDRA video. Dead in a second because of your powers.

Bucky looks at you and he sees the same girl from that video years ago, one of few survivors of a HYDRA facility, smiling with blood caked in between the cracks of your teeth, pure powerful energy running through your veins.

The soldier lays underneath you, unmoving. You look down at him again and his eyes are pooling with fear. An understandable feeling for someone who’s aware of what’s happening, who’s present in the moment, but has zero control of their body. A feeling he probably knows very well being under the control of HYDRA.

He probably came into the picture after Bucky’s escape and the initial fall of HYDRA, a sad soul that was captured and forced to comply. A job that used to be yours. Tortured, arms torn away, and mind blended until he didn’t know anything other than to fight.

“I wasn’t gonna do nothing,” You reassure, “Maybe just… have him jog around the block in his underwear a few times. For fucking up my shoulder and all.”

You release his face from in between your palms, forcing his head to slam back onto the concrete floor.

“Don’t. Move.” You point at him with a bloody finger.

You take one final look at him before standing up off of him and turning to walk back in the direction of the jet.

“I’m not waiting around for the feds,” You mumble, exhausted. Your face is pounding less and less and just going numb altogether, which you don’t think is a good sign.

“Go after her,” Sam tells Bucky, “I’ll call Torres to come over and help me. And reach out to Shuri, see if there’s anything she can do to help him.” The soldier remains unmoving on the ground, eyes shooting around the room wildly, but body stiff as a board.

Bucky gets himself up, grabbing the vibranium shield and handing it back to Sam, who’s still groaning on the ground. It’s not easy fighting super soldiers, Bucky imagines. It’s not like Sam has mind powers.

He walks out of the building to try and catch up with you.

“Hey,” He says, gently reaching for your arm to pull you back towards him.

The blood from your shattered nose has now pooled down your chin and neck, soaking your tac gear. Bucky tilts your face up with barely any pressure. A thumb brushes across your face and you wince, but try not to move so he can assess you.

“I think your cheekbone is broken.”

“My fingers,” You all but whimper, bringing them up from your sides.

“Also broken. At least six of ‘em,” He presses and pulls along each of them, ignoring your wincing and pulls on your right middle finger, a pop sounding and a loud groan coming from your mouth, teeth clenching so hard you think you’ll crack them, “Five. That one was just dislocated.”

“You guys will help him, right?” You confirm, Bucky still gently roaming his hands along your body to check for major injuries.

“He didn’t do anything,” You whimper, and Bucky looks up to see tears in your eyes.

“Babe -”

“He’s not evil, he didn’t mean to do anything,” You cry, and begin to sob, your emotions overwhelming you.

“He didn’t, baby, we’ll help him as much as we can. Right now, we need to get you to the jet so we can go home and get you to the MedBay, can we do that? Can you walk, want me to carry you?” He coos, hating the sight of his girlfriend in both physical and emotional pain.

You sniffle and close your eyes, ducking your head, and Bucky takes your silence as a plea to be carried, gently scoping you up bridal style and carefully walking back in the direction of the jet. He hears a few more sniffles as you curl into his body, nuzzling into his jaw, as you close your eyes and try to ignore the pain in your face as much as you can.

“Can we go out tonight? To that little Italian place we went to that one time?”

“If you’re not too tired or in too much pain, sure, baby.”

“And a movie?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I’ll wine and dine you real good.”

“Red wine or white?”

“We can have that pink raspberry one you like. The one that tastes nothing like wine.”

“Ugh, don’t make me smile, it hurts.”

“Sorry. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[thefairyletters]

Showdown

Naruto and Hinata versus Sasuke and Sakura

According to stats: Naruto and Sasuke are almost equals, and Sakura is the most powerful Kunoichi, only second to Kaguya who is not a Kunoichi but a goddess. But if in Boruto, these two couples were to face each other for real (and not just spar) then it wouldn't be Naruto vs Sasuke while Sakura faces Hinata, contrary to what most of you may think.

Sasuke and Sakura have an extreme Intelligence advantage. The 3/4ths of the total brainpower in this fight would be coming from their team. Sakura is the second smartest shinobi in the Leaf village as an adult, only next to Shikamaru, and Sasuke is arguably a close third. It has been like that since their genin days. The amount of tactical planning going on from their side of the battle would be ridiculous. Naruto and Hinata are both the type to charge headfirst through sheer willpower and pressure, but this isn't going to work against any plan Sasuke and Sakura manage to think up. Brains are always one step ahead of brawns.

As an adult Sasuke shows us that he is capable of using the Rinnegan in far more versatile ways than he did in the war arc, when he was new to the power. He can jump dimensions, swap places with another body, affect the gravity around a person, throw immensely powerful genjutsus with a single glance, see any invisible barriers, predict movements, recognize patterns/codes/signals, and much more. Like holy shit y'all. You really think Naruto would preform as well as he did against war arc Sasuke now that Sasuke actually has a full understanding of his Rinnegan and frequently UTILIZES it?

Gravity and pull. Sasuke's Rinnegan gives him limited control of the gravity around a person or between him and another person. Using this, Sasuke has the ability to tap into some Deva path shit and yank Hinata towards him. It is immensely difficult to resist the pull, and someone as physically weak as Hinata would be easily ripped forward away from Naruto. Once they're separated, Naruto has no surefire way of getting Hinata back to his side and safe in enough time, because she would either be led right into a fatal punch from Sakura or a chidori or sword through the gut from Sasuke himself. Either way, if Naruto lets his watch on her slip even a little bit, she probably already dead or close to it. This could also be a support tactic. Sakura gets separated and is in danger. Using his Deva path pull Sasuke can drag Sakura out of a potentially dangerous situation and back to his side. Same works with the body swap. If Sakura is in a nasty situation, Sasuke can swap places with her in his Susanoo to easily tank a hit that may have killed her. That or he can swap her place with a rock if need be.

Two words: Summoning strength. Sasuke and Sakura hold two of the three boss summons in the three way deadlock. Naruto holds one. Hinata holds…nothing. It doesn't stop there though. Sasuke has at least two other powerful summons that we know of, and while they aren't as powerful as Aoda, they still give him some fair advantages. For example, Sasuke's hawk, Garuda, gives him an aerial advantage should he ever need to take to the skies as a countermeasure against Naruto. Naruto and Hinata have no summons who could reach Sasuke, and this gives him many solid opportunities. Sakura, on the other hand, has Katsuyu. Katsuyu can be spread out across the battlefield in various sizes to heal her allies wherever they may end up on the field. She could also be used in her original form to spit acid or protect the two from any taijutsu and most ninjutsu attacks. Katsuyu is stated early on to be extremely resistant to taijutsu and ninjutsu, and for fucks sake she can tank Pein's attacks with ease while protecting people inside, plus she survived Naruto's corrosive 8 tails chakra just fine. I see absolutely no taijutsu attacks that Naruto and Hinata pull getting through or truly damaging her, and Naruto would have to really put some effort into his more powerful ninjutsu techniques to take her down (also note that since Katsuyu has a very jelly like body type and is resistant to taijutsu and ninjutsu, Naruto's summons wouldn't be terribly productive on offense). But this leaves him wide open for counterattacks if he focuses too much on Katsuyu. And then of course Katsuyu can heal fatal injuries or at least sustain the life of a person fatally injured until help is given. The ultimate win for Sasuke and Sakura in terms of summoning.

Being an Active Shinobi is very important. Sasuke is an active shinobi. Very active. He is constantly on B through S rank missions, and Sakura has traveled with him on some of these. His teammate for this battle, Sakura, is still an active medical shinobi who easily accepts an S rank mission in the Retsuden novels and is originally dealing with part of it on her own before she teams up with Sasuke, who is also present. We have seen her fight in Boruto too. It shows that she is 100% still at her peak performance. Well, what about Naruto and Hinata? Hinata is a housewife who hasn't gone on anything above a C rank mission in years. She takes a B rank mission with her father and sister when Boruto is a toddler, and this is all we hear of it. She's rusty AF and doesn't have the experience nor mission bulk that Sasuke and Sakura have under there belt, nowhere NEAR it. Naruto is somewhat similar. He is, for lack of a better description, out of practice. He was only recently taking on S rank opponents in Boruto, and other than that he's been doing desk work and some minor shinobi guard training over the past few years. Sasuke and Sakura are more in shape and have more recent shinobi mission experience than Naruto and Hinata's combination, both by themselves AND as a team in a fight, which is immensely important here.

Everyone is always forgetting about how important Support can be. Sakura is a first class, kage-level healer at this point in the series. Her medical ninjutsu surpassed Tsunade's back in her own canon novel and is confirmed in the novelization of Boruto's movie a second time. Her ability to constantly heal or boost Sasuke's chakra in battle is important. Whereas while Naruto can amp up Hinata with a chakra cloak, Sakura can go even further. We see with Obito that Sakura can transfer her Byakugou seal markings with all it's chakra to another person she is touching, and in the Retsuden novels this is looked into further. By applying her seal to Sasuke, he becomes an absolute terror for even Naruto to handle. Imagine this: super fast shinobi w/ the Rinnegan abilities and Susanoo suddenly not only getting a chakra boost, but being able to automatically heal potentially fatal wounds completely over and over again for as long as the chakra exists. Sakura at this point has 15+ years of chakra stored in her Byakugou seal (we know this because she notes briefly in the canon novels after The Last that she has not stopped storing chakra and plans to continue doing so just in case she ever needs it). But let's say she didn't continue after that though. She would still have around 6 or 7 years of chakra in her seal. 6–7 YEARS OF CHAKRA. I don't care how much chakra you think Naruto has, it isn't anywhere close to the amount of chakra currently inactive within Sakura's seal, considering the fact that she could completely replenish Naruto's chakra with only 3 days worth of her general chakra. Sasuke would be a BEAST. Absolutely nightmarish on every level if this fight. And Sakura, so long as the chakra exists, would also be nightmarish - especially for those people who think Sakura and Hinata would end up dualing it out at some point.

Have we gotten to the whole dimension portal thing yet? Nope and this is a crucial winning point for Sasuke and Sakura. If in danger, in need of a new plan or simply to dodge away from a particularly crazy attack from Naruto, Sasuke can pull both himself and Sakura into a completely different space in the blink of an eye. He can also use this to jump around the space Naruto is in and really screw around with them. And if you're worried about Sasuke's chakra levels diminishing quickly, don't be. Once again, Sakura's Byakugou seal is the ultimate support ability. Remember that whole “she has at least 6-7 years of chakra even if she, for some reason, wimped out on her plans” spiel? Yeah…that's an easy fix. She helped Obito actually hold open AND SEARCH (people seem to forget that he had to use chakra to search dimensions) multiple dimensions when she only had 3 years of chakra in the seal, and even the she still had enough chakra left to reform the seal on her forehead soon after. Sooo…keeping Sasuke's chakra level high wouldn't be a problem. They can also use the dimensions for Sakura to heal and repair them both. Hinata can't heal and Naruto can't truly “heal" so much as his life force is just really strong, so they're at yet another disadvantage.

Terrain manipulation and swaps. This is where it gets really technical. Sasuke has the Rinnegan, and with it he can do serious damage very early on in the game when his opponent is not expecting such a rush. Try to imagine a scenario like so: Sakura winds up for a full power punch directly behind Sasuke as soon as the fight begins, or otherwise as early on as possible. She fires off the punch at Sasuke. Sasuke, at the last possible second he can manage, swaps his place with Hinata, and BAM. That's one down for team Naruto. Hinata would either be dead or close to it immediately after she hits the ground and stops. Same applies for a switch with Naruto. At that close of a range with literally zero time to dodge at that point, even Naruto would be fairly damaged from a point blank shot, and a damaged Naruto from the start spells bad news for Hinata - the girl basically fully depends on Naruto in the fight, she can't do anything to Sasuke or Sakura without his constant support.

Overall, we can go into arguments if whether Naruto is stronger than Sasuke or Sakura stronger than Hinata, but the truth of the matter is that it doesn't really matter. What matters is that Sasuke is at least competitively close in power to Naruto, and Sakura arguably the most powerful kunoichi in the series at the moment. Their power gap is extraordinarily close, so at this point it all comes down to who is best tactically suited and best prepared for this kind of nuclear fight. And honestly, with their ability to manipulate their surroundings and work more with the terrain and constantly replenish, there's no doubt about the victory. 80% of the time it'll be Sasuke and Sakura if they play their cards like they should.

Answer credits goes to Alex Hendrix, Quora

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Soulmarks, Part 17

First part

Previous

~~~

She swung her gavel idly as she jumped from gargoyle to gargoyle.

Even if she didn’t have a grin stuck to her face, she’d be smiling so widely that Joker would be jealous.

What a productive night she had been having! She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much go well for herself!

Lila would never hurt anyone again! Alya would be more cautious! Adrien and Tim would understand what it was like to have no one believe them! Joker and Harley were likely on their way! She was even on track to give Master Fu and Hawkmoth their just deserts!

And all she’d had to do was get a bit of a powerup and lose her morality!

Her eyes traveled down to the streets, where a crowd was slowly forming. A few of them were pointing up at her hostage.

She watched Bruce sway slightly in the wind. He was being careful not to move in the ropes. She didn’t know why. She’d secured him pretty well, the only way he’d fall was if someone broke the rope above him. Even then, they’d given Kaalki some bread. Tim would save him if he fell. And, if he missed, the bats were all waiting on lower towers to catch him.

Good. They couldn’t try to stop her if they weren’t closeby. Sure, it had taken holding Bruce off a ledge precariously to get them to do it, but at least she’d gotten all the bats distracted...

Well, that wasn’t completely true.

She found her soulmate, who was standing beside the stairwell with a frown on his face.

She giggled, leaning on her gavel.

“Cheer up! They’re about to get what they deserve!”

~

He sighed and closed his eyes.

He really didn’t know what to do.

Using a text-to-speech app to talk was difficult. Explaining everything that had happened to the bats had been hard enough, but even the idea of trying to have this kind of conversation with an app was enough to get him frustrated preemptively.

He had to try, though…

But how do you convince someone without morals that what they’re doing isn’t okay?

He pulled out his phone and took a seat on the ledge beside her. He was careful to stay out of view of the people below as he typed.

“Nette --.”

“Inamovibi-Lady.”

“-- they don’t deserve whatever ironic justice you’re about to give them. They deserve to spend their lives in jail like everyone else.”

The akuma shook her head slowly. “I wish it were that easy, Cheval, but they’re never going to face consequences. They keep getting out of going to jail by getting marked as insane and going to Arkham, then getting out of Arkham by letting psychiatrists find them sane. It’s happened a million times before, it’ll happen again.”

He sighed lightly. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?”

“Please, I know you’re doing this for me, but I don’t want this.”

She stepped off her gargoyle and strode over to him, leaning down until she was at eye-level. “You’re not the only reason why I have to do this. I have to think about the civilians, too. He’s a serial killer. He needs to be punished.”

Fine. Time to try the Disney approach. He didn’t know what else he could do.

He was glad he had to type to speak, now. It was difficult to look her in the eyes. But he had to. There was no way to put any inflection in his voice when he wasn’t speaking, so he needed to look completely earnest to get his point across.

“Nette, I know you’re in there. You need to fight back. What you’re doing isn’t right. You have to know that. Please, let’s just deakumatize you and go home.”

She shook her head slightly and carefully brought a hand up to cup his cheek.

“She’s in here alright, but that doesn’t mean she’s against doing this.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Are you sure about that?”

And then she pushed him.

~

She felt a twinge of… something other than anger or satisfaction as he fell. Even as she watched Barbara catch him, she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling.

It had been necessary. The moment he realized exactly what her punishment was going to be, he’d try and stop her. She couldn’t have him close enough to do so in time.

But still…

She tightened her grip on her gavel and turned away from the ledge.

Someone was in the elevator. She watched the number beside the doors slowly increase, climbing higher and higher…

Ding!

Joker and Harley stepped out.

She pointed her gavel at Harley’s hammer. “Hey, lookie! We match!”

The woman didn’t seem as amused, hefting her weapon onto her shoulder. “Aren’t you the bat’s newest kid?”

Inamovibi-Lady shrugged calmly and morphed it back into her yoyo. She’d just wanted to mess with Harley by pointing out an easy similarity, now she should at least prepare for the fight that was sure to come.

“No, that’s my friend. If he adopted me it’d be pretty problematic.”

“What do you --?” Began Joker, and then stopped and started laughing like he’d just heard the funniest joke. “I know who you are! You’re Robin’s soulmate!”

Harley’s eyes travelled to her yoyo and she joined in on the laughter. “So, that’s what this is about. Here for revenge, are you?”

“I prefer ‘justice’, but yes.” She gave a tiny, sarcastic bow. “Cliche soulmate, at your service.”

“Don’t you know that revenge is against the bat’s code? Just ask Jason Todd.”

Inamovibi-Lady didn’t know who that was, or how they were relevant, but she found she didn’t care at that exact moment. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not trying to join Batman’s little crew, don’t you think?”

“Okay. You really are new, aren’t you?” He sighed and pulled a gun from a pocket of his suit. “Since you are new, I’m only going to say this once: I’m the only one that gets to kill Batsy over there.”

She giggled and started toying with her yoyo. “Called dibs, have you?”

“They have a special bond,” said Harley with just a hint of annoyance.

Inamovibi-Lady raised her eyebrows slightly. “Sounds cute, but if you want rights to kill the bat, you’re going to have to fight me for it.”

Joker made a gesture with his hands, a ‘well, what can you do?’, and then raised his gun.

Tw: murder

She spun her yoyo in front of her idly and watched the bullets ricochet away.

Joker emptied his gun before he seemed to realize that none of his shots were hitting. Then he stared at it with confusion. “How is that possible?”

She giggled. “Who knows. Love it, though!”

He seemed to consider this for a second, then he grabbed Harley and practically threw her at Inamovibi-Lady. “Get her, poo!”

“Wow, great boyfriend you have,” the akuma joked. “Really seems like he loves you.”

Harley hefted her hammer and ran at her.

Oh, a sore spot?

She dodged a swing of the hammer and her eyes widened slightly as the ground around it exploded. Hm. That was a bigger problem than she’d thought it’d be…

Whatever.

“Honestly, though? You’re a smart lady, got a degree and everything, so… why the Joker?”

Harley swung again and Marinette had to do a back handspring to avoid having her head popped clean off. “We love each other.”

“Cute way of showing it, he has. He tossed you in chemicals.”

The hammer and yoyo connected, sending them both back a few steps.

“I mean, you’re a psychologist. The man’s got so many red flags he might as well be speaking in semaphore.”

“Shut up!” She yelled, slamming the ground in front of the akuma.

She went flying, skidding across the rooftop until she hit her head on the edge.

Harley walked towards her, mallet raised over her head for a finishing blow.

Inamovibi-Lady looked around wildly and her eyes locked on Bruce. This was meant to be something she did later, to distract the bats when she was killing Joker, but…

She hooked her yoyo around the rope holding up Bruce and pulled tight.

“NO!”

Bruce dropped.

Harley paused in front of Inamovibi-Lady, her mouth open wide in shock as she stared at where Bruce had been.

The akuma grabbed the hammer. “I’ll be taking this, thanks,” she chirped, before throwing Harley over the side. She watched her fall for a few seconds and sighed in relief when none of the bats went to save her, too distracted with getting their father to safety.

Harley splattered on the pavement.

She strapped the hammer to her back and turned on her heel.

She advanced on Joker slowly.

She knew his major weapons. He didn’t seem eager to try using another gun after the first attempt, so those were out of the question. Besides that, she could only see his acid flower. No cane, no cards…

He’d come wholly unprepared.

“Wow. You really didn’t think I was a threat at all, huh? Rude,” she said, twirling her yoyo idly.

“You killed him! You fucking killed Batman!”

Inamovibi-Lady rolled her eyes. “Please. The bat kids saved him.”

Joker looked slightly relieved, but it didn’t last long as she looped her lasso around him and pulled tight enough to start digging into his skin and clothes.

“Now, I wanted this to be long and painful, but I’m on a time crunch here, so… any last words?”

The man stared at her for a few seconds before breaking into laughter.

She would have frowned if she could. She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting a bat to be looking at her disapprovingly, but there was no one, so…

“What’s funny?”

“You. I was going for snapping your little boyfriend, but I got you instead! That’s hilarious!”

She narrowed her eyes in confusion. He got her? Snapped her? Was her translator working right? She was perfectly fine. He’d lost.

But he was still laughing. And she couldn’t stand it. His stupid, high-pitched laugh and that wide, ever-present grin and he shouldn’t be looking like that! He was finally getting what he deserved, this was payback for all those people he’d killed and tortured! Why was he amused? That wasn’t right!

She pulled tighter and tighter, but he wouldn’t stop. His acid flower malfunctioned and spilled acid over him, his bones were cracking, his blood was slowly leaking from his wounds… but he wouldn’t stop laughing. She pulled tighter. He had to stop at some point. She’d make sure of it.

And then her yoyo sliced clean through him.

He’d stopped.

Finally.

Tw over

By the time they’d gotten there, she was sitting in front of one of the craters Harley’s hammer had made. She thought it was pretty cool. Maybe she could start using it...

“Nette?” Said Dick hesitantly.

She looked up and waved. “Hi! Inamovibi-Lady. But hi!”

Barbara looked like she was going to be sick as she stared at what was left of Joker. All the bats looked a little green, actually, now that she was paying attention. Whatever, they’d thank her later, when the amount of deaths the city had per year went down.

She caught Adrien’s eyes and flashed a thumbs up.

To her surprise, he looked horrified. She’d thought that, even if the bats would have disapproved, he at least would have understood. It was for the greater good. They always worked towards the greater good. She’d done well…

Right?

She felt something drop on her and jumped slightly, only to realize it was just a coat.

She gave Tim a slight smile and mumbled her thanks. He only nodded and took a careful step back.

Inamovibi-Lady drew it tighter around herself. Had she always been shaking like this? Why was she even shaking? She should be happy. They’d gotten their justice.

Her gaze found their way to the yoyo in her lap. To the blood slowly dripping from the string...

She felt a weird pressure in her chest and brought a hand up to rest over her heart.

She’d killed people before, but that was different. They were always soldiers of akumas, she’d always be able to fix it at the end. But now everything she was doing was permanent, and she had murdered two actually sentient people. Terrible people who would have done the same to her if they were in her shoes, had even tried to do so, but people all the same.

God, what had she done?

Those people are gone.

Because of her.

She was only fourteen.

Why was this her responsibility in the first place?

Her grip tightened on her yoyo and she found Tim again.

“Master Fu’s house, please.”

~~~

Next part

Taglist

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[benaffleckofcrowdsurfing]

Star Treatment - 1

TBHC Alex Turner AU

cowritten with @walkingidler​

description: an escort, a millionaire, a hotel that breaks the boundaries of technology, time, and space, a flashing red light, and a shit ton of cocaine.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mentions of mental illness, light drug use, and assault. I’d rate this chapter PG-13.

THE BEGINNING

**********

“We’re just leaving now. Should only be a few minutes. Brielle is very excited to meet you.”

“Lovely. I’ll step outside and wait for her arrival.”

As Alex stepped outside, the warm Los Angeles air hit him like a swift palm to the face. He took off his blazer and waited, not quite knowing who for. He knew she was young and at least somewhat attractive, he had been quite impressed by the pictures that his friend showed him. Who knew, though. Girls in LA never looked like they did in their pictures. 

In only a few moments, a black SUV pulled up to the lavish restaurant. Alex smiled politely when a small brunette girl stepped out. Wow, he thought. She’s actually more attractive than her photos.

“I presume you’re Miss Brielle,” Alex took a step toward her as she strutted up to him, and shook her hand.

“And you must be Alexander,” the girl hummed. The word ‘Alexander’ left her lips like honey, leaving goosebumps down Alex’s spine. She looked up at him with bedroom eyes, her soft green irises twinkling under the moonlight. Alex couldn’t help but stare.

“Come on, Darling. There’s a bottle of wine waiting for us at the table,” Alex muttered, still admiring the petite girl’s beauty. She smiled up at him before putting her hands around his arm and allowing him to guide her to the table.

“So,” Alex pulled out the chair for Brielle. “How old are you, Brielle. You look quite young.”

Brielle thanked him as she sat down, and when Alex returned to his side of the table, she chuckled a bit. “I’m nineteen. I’ve been doing this for almost three years now.”

“Three years? That would have made you sixteen when you started. How did you get caught up in something like this so young?” Alex poured Brielle a glass of wine.

Brielle sighed. “You’re eager, aren’t you? Usually men don’t ask me my life story until at least the third or fourth date.”

Alex’s eyes grew wide and his face flushed. “Oh- I’m sorry. I’ve never actually done anything like this before, I guess I didn’t get the ‘escort manners’ memo.” 

Brielle laughed again. “No, don’t apologize. It’s refreshing to sit down and have dinner with someone who doesn’t just want to talk about their tough day at work or their failing marriage or their kids who are probably all around my age.”

“Right. I guess you’re probably used to married men. I forgot about that.”

“Do you not have a woman in your life, Alexander?”

“I’m actually on this… er - date… by recommendation of a friend to help me get over my most recent ex girlfriend.”

Brielle frowned at Alex and stuck her bottom lip out in pity. “I’m sorry, Alexander. I’m sure it was her loss. You’re a very attractive man and from what my higher-ups said, you’re quite the businessman.”

Alex chuckled. “Businessman. That’s a funny one. But - and just let me know if I’m prying, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable - you never answered my question. I want to know how you got here.”

Brielle exhaled and took a long sip of her wine before tucking her hair behind her ears and looking directly into Alex’s eyes; it was like she could see a universe behind them as they gleaned against the dim lighting. “I’m just going to say this now, Alexander. I don’t want pity. I’m a big girl and I’ve worked hard to get where I’m at, even if you may not see it as the most noble lifestyle.”

Alex nodded. “I understand, and trust me I’m never one to judge your lifestyle. I am the one who hired you, after all.”

Brielle pursed her lips into a small smile before continuing. “When I was fourteen, I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. I had been suffering from it for a long time before I was diagnosed, and it really took a toll on my relationships with my family. My parents were never the best people, they’re quite wealthy and are kind of your typical ‘Real Housewives of Los Angeles’ assholes. My mother told me from a very young age that it was more important to be pretty and polite than yourself, and my father never really paid attention to me. So when I was diagnosed, they kind of just wanted to throw me on whatever meds would make me a zombie and would keep me out of their hair, but I wasn’t having it. I deeply understood that I was who I was because of BPD, and even if I was irrational or ‘crazy’ or whatever, that was me. So I never took my meds.”

As Brielle fell into her own little world, painting out the picture of her teenage years for Alex, he watched her. He watched how her soft lips fell when she was speaking about her parents, how her eyes creased in hesitation before going on about her mental illness, how her delicate hands acted out everything she spoke about. He listened to her voice, taking note of the way she giggled through her story and put emphasis on words like crazy and troubled. Alex usually didn’t like American accents, but there was something about hers he couldn’t get enough of. She sounded intelligent, he could tell that there was a lot going on in her brain and it made him want to hear more.

“When I was fifteen, my mom found out I wasn’t taking my meds. She was livid. She screamed at me for hours, that was one of the worst days of my life. She called me a spoiled brat and a fucking psycho and said that having me was one of the worst mistakes she ever made. That day really pushed me over the edge. I couldn’t stand living with her anymore. I told her to take me out of the trust and to never speak to me again, and I left.”

Alex furrowed his brows. “You left when you were fifteen?”

Brielle rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. I was way too young to be on my own. But I had places to go. For that first year or so I stayed with some friends downtown. It was great. I got a job at a decent restaurant, and the friends I was staying with had an in to this club so we were constantly out partying and drinking and all that jazz.”

Alex frowned even more. “You were hanging out in clubs when you were fifteen?”

“Yes, Alexander. Fifteen. I dropped acid for the first time when I was fifteen. I did coke for the first time when I was fifteen. I had sex for the first time when I was fifteen. I was a bad kid.”

“I didn’t call you a bad kid, I just wanted to clarify.”

“Sure you did, Alexander.”

“I mean it.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Brielle, would you please just continue your story?”

Brielle shot Alex a dirty look before continuing. “One day, I was in the club, and a man came up to me. He told me he liked how I danced. I was like ‘okay?’ And then he told me he’d pay for me to sit with him and keep him company. At first I was like, ‘no, what the fuck?’ because I was a kid and I didn’t realize what he was asking, but I guess one of the guys we knew who ran the club saw and pulled me aside and explained it to me. He told me that if I wanted to pursue that, he could take care of the business side of everything, and promised to keep me safe. At that point I already had no morals for myself so I was just kind of like, ‘fuck it’, you know? Fast forward three years, and I’m still saying fuck it.”

Alex repeated the words to himself. “Fuck it.” 

Brielle bit her bottom lip and raised her glass. “To saying fuck it.”

Alex grinned and put his glass to hers. “To saying fuck it.”

They both laughed after drinking their wine, and a waiter came up to them. “What can I get for you two?”

Brielle looked down at the menu and hummed softly. “I’d love the salmon, please.”

Alex handed the waiter his menu. “I’ll do the filet mignon.”

After the waiter refilled both of their water glasses and walked away, Alex looked back over to Brielle. 

“I must say, Brielle. I’m absolutely enthralled by you.” 

Brielle smirked. “As I am by you.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Well,” Brielle took another sip of her wine. “You’re a lot younger than most of the other men I see. You’re unmarried, extremely wealthy, have a sexy accent, and are insanely attractive. I can’t quite figure out why you decided to hire an escort.” 

Alex bit his lip. “So you think I’ve got a sexy accent?”

“You’re missing the point.”

“Well, maybe I just wanted to be seen out with an attractive young lass.”

Before Brielle could respond, the waiter returned with their meals. 

Brielle let out an excited gasp at the sight of her dinner, making Alex giggle. “That’s a mighty fine lookin’ fish you’ve got there, darling.”

Brielle picked up her fork in a hurry, and let out a little moan as she took her first bite. “Oh my god, this is insane.”

Alex’s eyes grew darker at the sound of her little noises of delight. This girl was driving him absolutely mad, just watching her lips curl around her fork and smile into the salmon was getting him hot and bothered.

Brielle looked up from her meal and scoffed at Alex. “Are you gonna eat your steak or are you just gonna sit there and drool over me?”

“Wow, Brielle. I would’ve thought a girl getting paid to have dinner with me would be a bit less blunt,” Alex chuckled.

“Jeez, sorry that I’m comfortable enough with you to not be perfect,” Brielle blew a raspberry at the man across the table, and then smiled and stuck her fork out to him. “Would you like a taste?”

Alex cleared his throat in order to keep his composure. “I’d love some.”

Brielle stuck her tongue out slightly as she moved the fork toward Alex, and as Alex took the salmon into his mouth, she averted her gaze from the fork to his eyes. He was looking directly at her, so their eye contact was immediate. Both their eyes were dark, the heat of the moment building up between them. Alex had no idea that such a small gesture could get him going so quickly, and Brielle had no idea that she could feel the things she was feeling for a client. As the two of them backed away from each other and leaned back into their seats, they held eye contact.

“That’s absolutely heavenly. I should’ve gotten that instead of the steak,” Alex raved.

“I’m sure your steak is quite good as well, it looks fantastic.”

Alex lowered his voice a bit. If she was going to be bold, so was he. “Well open up then, have a taste.”

Brielle blushed a bit, the apples of her cheeks lifting when the corners of her lips curled into a grin. She leaned forward, resuming her eye contact with Alex as she took the steak into her mouth. She let out a few moans of delight as she sat back in her seat, nodding as she chewed. Alex bit his lip in satisfaction. He’d hand feed her bites of his meal all night if it meant he’d get to hear those noises.

“Holy shit, that’s a really good cut of meat.” Brielle mumbled. Her mouth was still full, and Alex laughed at her poor table manners.

The eccentric couple sat and finished their main courses, making small talk and getting to know each other better. At one point they talked about their favorite films, having a rather riveting conversation about one particular French film, Le Cercel Rouge. Alex practically proposed to Brielle when she had mentioned the movie, it was one of his favorites and he loved a girl who knew French cinema. They also talked about Alex’s two Akitas, Vesta and Vulcan. Brielle gushed over the pictures he showed her of them, she loved dogs and begged Alex to meet them (to which Alex replied something along the lines of “that can be arranged”).

“Alexander,” Brielle purred. 

They were eating dessert now. Alex had ordered a rather decadent chocolate mousse, and Brielle went for banana parfait. 

“Please, Brielle. Call me Alex.”

Brielle simpered. “Alright, Alex. You asked me how I got here, but how did you get here?”

Alex frowned. “I already told you. A friend of mine recommended I see someone to take my mind off of my ex.”

“No, silly. Not here, here. How’d you end up in LA? Where did your wealth come from? What do you do for a living?” Brielle pointed her spoon at Alex to emphasize what she was saying. 

“Well, alright. I’ve lived in the states officially for ten years now, but before that I visited quite often. I grew up in a little town in the UK called Sheffield, but my uncle owned a hotel here in Los Angeles and I often came to visit.”

“Oh, that’s really cool! Which hotel does he own?”

“Well, actually I own it now. It’s the Tranquility Base.”

Brielle’s eyes widened. “You own that thing?” The Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino was a massive building in the heart of Beverly Hills, and just so happened to be one of the most prestigious residencies in California. It was quite elusive. People were rarely seen going in and out, however it was widely known that this was where the most rich and famous stayed. 

“Yes ma’am.”

“So, I’m assuming that’s where your fortune came from?”

“Well, partially. My uncle left me a lot of money, plus the hotel, but I also, um,” Alex paused to find his words. How could he say this without exposing himself? “I’m an entrepreneur.”

Brielle narrowed her eyes at Alex’s last statement. “So you’re a drug dealer?”

Alex’s eyes grew wide. “How did you-“

“Alexan- er, Alex, I’ve been escorting for three years. I know that ‘entrepreneur’ is code for ‘I’m a drug lord’. It’s nothing to be secretive about. I’m trustworthy.” Brielle leaned back in her seat with a sort of cocky look on her face.

“Okay, yes. I’m involved in… that sort of thing. Another gift from my uncle. High standing in one of the most elite drug rings in the country. Both a blessing and a curse, but it is what it is.” Alex let out a breathy laugh and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bag full of a white powder. “Want some?”

Brielle’s face contorted into a Cheshire Cat smile. “You know, usually I’d decline. I may be dumb but I’m not dumb enough to take anything from a stranger. But I’m feeling lucky tonight, Alex. I trust you.”

“Off to the bathroom we go, then.” 

***********

It was only two more days until Alex arranged another dinner date with Brielle, and a few days after that he called upon her for a quick dog walk with Vesta and Vulcan. Alex didn’t stop thinking about her for days. He thought about her in the shower, while he was working, during meetings, he dreamed about her, he had even asked his driver to follow her around one evening to see what she got up to in her free time. She was driving him mad, making him sick. He wanted her - no, he craved her, and at this point he’d pay her every night if it meant he got to spend time with her. She may have been some dirty fantasy of his at first, but in only a month he felt that he had strong feelings for Brielle.

Luckily for Alex, she thought similarly. Every time her “boss”, Enzo, told her that she’d be accompanying Mister Turner, her eyes lit up. As much as she hated that she liked someone as old as Alex, she was fascinated by him. Brielle had even gone to the extent of asking Enzo for his number, so she could see him outside of work, but that hadn’t gone well.

“Bri, you know the deal. No seeing clients outside of work.”

Enzo and Brielle stood against the club’s back wall, looking out over the sea of people. 

Brielle scoffed after him and took a drag from the blunt the two of them were sharing. “Enzo, please. I’m not going to go behind your back and ask him for more money or anything. I just want to be able to see him outside of work.”

The tall man looked down at Brielle as if she had lost her mind. “Bitch, that’s the problem. You start fucking your clients for free and I’ve lost all my credibility. People will clown us, and I can’t let you cost me clients.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Enzo. You’re absolutely impossible. I’ll just ask him for it the next time I see him,” she whisper-shouted and began to walk away. Enzo chuckled before grabbing Brielle by the hair, slamming her against the wall and gripping her arm violently to keep her in place. She looked up at him with a spiteful look, “What gives, Enzo? Can you let me fucking go?”

“You’re forgetting something, Bri. I own you. You’re caught up with me, and there’s no getting out of it. You knew that the moment you started doing business with me.” Enzo bent down so his face was level with hers. He kissed her cheek before letting her go and taking the blunt from her hands. “You’ve got a date with Mister Turner tomorrow night. I’ll be watching you closely. Don’t do anything fucking stupid.”

Brielle nodded her head in compliance, and when he shoved her away, she stormed outside and kicked off her shoes. “I can’t fucking believe him. I cannot fucking believe him. I’m going to fucking kill him. I fucking- I can’t fucking- I-,” Brielle cried. She was warm to the touch, the tears streaming down her face seemed to be sizzling against her hot cheeks. She couldn’t do anything but sit on the sidewalk and cry, she had no one to call or talk to help her calm down. 

“Need a cigarette, Love?”

A familiar voice reached from behind her.

“Hey, Alex.”

 Brielle sniffled and wiped the tears off of her cheeks before turning around to greet him. Maybe In a different situation she would asked him why are you here, but she was just thankful to have someone there for her - no questions asked.

 Alex sat next to her on the curb, and pulled a carton of Marlboros and a lighter out of his coat pocket. He pulled two cigarettes out of the pack, and handed one to her. “What’s going on, Brielle?” 

“Just work troubles,” Brielle shrugged. She thanked Alex after he lit the cigarette for her, and laid back on the concrete to take her first drag. 

Alex ran his hand over her small arm, a dark bruise was forming from where Enzo had held her against the wall. His voice got quiet. “I can see that.”

Brielle panicked and ripped her arm away from Alex’s soft touch. “Please don’t say anything about this to anyone. Enzo and I just had a bit of an argument. I’m okay.”

“Brielle, I know how Enzo is. If you’re in trouble you can tell me, I’m here for you.” Alex’s voice was low and soft, he seemed genuinely concerned and it made Brielle’s eyes well up once again.

“I can’t escape, Alex. You know how people like that are. If I ever go against his word he’ll kill me,” she mumbled. When Alex put his arm around her and pulled her closer, she burst into tears. “I want out so badly.”

Alex sighed and kissed the top of her head, his beard tickling her forehead. They sat there for a moment, just waiting for Brielle to calm down a bit, before Alex stood up. 

“Come home with me, Brielle. Please. You need someone to keep you company.”

Brielle furrowed her brows and stood up to be more level with Alex. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Alex stepped closer to her, and Brielle quickly stepped away.

“I just…can’t.” She began to tear up again. As much as she did want to go with Alex, she was terrified of what Enzo would do. “Trust me, I’d love to be with you. I really would.”

Alex looked confused, but he let it go nonetheless. He was sure she had a valid reason. “At least let me drive you home. Please.”

Brielle smiled weakly and nodded her head. “Okay.”

Alex put an arm around Brielle and guided her to his towncar. He opened the door for her, and cleared his throat as the two of them slipped in.

“Brielle, this is my driver, Nick O’Malley. Nick, Brielle Roux.” 

Brielle said a quick hello to Nick, who didn’t say anything, but rather nodded at her. The drive home was quiet, it mostly consisted of Brielle sniffling away her tears and telling Nick how to get to her apartment, and Alex comfortingly rubbing Brielle’s thigh.

“Here we are,” Brielle muttered as they rolled up to her apartment. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alex.”

She planted a kiss on Alex’s cheek before slipping out of the car.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Love.”

[alexlabhont]

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter Seven

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing:  Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Everybody’s in!

Tags: @dopeyouth​ (If anyone want to be tagged in, just tell me)

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

CHAPTERS 

Previously

ONE-SHOTS 

Just a dance (Zoey x MC)

—————————————————————— 

“Hello?”

“Beck?” Zoey’s voice through the phone sounded scared, her walking was so strong and fast that they could hear it through the handset. It sounded as if she was running, actually. “I heard what happened. That miserable… How are you? Are you at the nursing? I’m going right now”

“No, I’m… I'm not really there…” Shit, they forgot to tell her their whereabouts… now it would be awkward.

“Did that prick send you to hospital?! God, I swear I'm killing him when I see him!”

“No. I'm not at the hospital neither…”

“Where are you, then?” Zoey was confused.

Ok, their time has come…

“I’m in Poppy's room.”

Silence. Beck could almost see her face of surprise and shock as if they were there in front of her.

“What?”

Beck waited, not knowing what to say, feeling a lot awkward.

“Ok, now I'm definitely going.”

“No!” They said quickly, hurting their rib accidentally. “Ouch!... Ouch... ouch... Please don't come…”

“And why not? Are you afraid I'll be making her uncomfortable?” Zoey ironized, making Beck sigh… Ha! They wish. It only took them to stretch their arm with their phone in that hand to make Zoey understand why she shouldn’t come.

“I WANT HIM EXPELLED! I want him so fucking far away from us that Google maps can’t be able to find him!”

“Oh my God, is that Poppy?”

“Yes…”

“I don’t pay you for making stupid questions! Just do it! Make it happen!”

The first thing Poppy did once they arrived was to call a doctor to check their rib out, it turns out it wasn’t broken, the doctor said it was just a bruised rib, although, the man also said it was better to have an X-ray to be sure. Poppy was next to them all along, asking even more questions to the doctor than Beck, observing attentive every time the doctor told her to observe, squeezing tightly their hand each time he touched their bruise to measure their pain. She was there… She really was there.

After that, Poppy locked herself in her bathroom, she needed to make a call, she said. She wasn’t counting that One could hear everything from there… Beck really wanted to apologize to the person she was talking to.

“She's been like this since half an hour ago.” Beck told Zoey.

“Who is she talking about?”

“Carleton Burnett.” Beck responded, having absolutely no clue about how to feel about it.

“He attacked my mate…! Yes, yes, my classmate, whatever. Are you up to the job or should I find someone else a lot more competent than you?”

Damn…

“Are you really telling me Poppy Min-Sinclair wants the guy who hurt you to be expelled?” Yeah, even in Zoey’s words sounded crazy.

“I don’t really think is just that…” Beck murmured, their head deep in thoughts. “But don’t worry, I'll go home as soon as I…”

The bathroom door opened, letting Poppy walk in to where Beck was. The girl looked just as fresh as how she went inside that other room the first time, as if nothing happened. That, until Poppy saw Beck on the phone.

“I…’ll call you later, ok?”

“Wait, is this Wade?” Beck frowned, why she wanted to know that?

“She is, why?” They asked, defensive.

“Gimme.” Poppy took the phone right from their hand without hesitation, she walked a few steps far from them while Beck was feeling alarmed.

“Poppy, I swear, if you yell at her…”

“Zoey?” Her voice tone was neutral, but nothing similar to the one she used to the person she called a few moments before. “First of all, I know you and I had a little encounter so I’ll making it quick. I’m taking Hughes for an X-ray, just to be sure their rib is not broken. I’ll have my assistant sending you the deets. Toodles~” And Poppy hung up, walking towards the bed to take a sit right next to them. “But first… let’s fix this mess…”

Poppy took cotton and alcohol from the little night table next to her bed, soaking it to start cleaning the little cuts and wounds on Beck's face.

“Now, I need you to stay still…” Poppy said, but the only thing Beck could think about was how close she was from them.

Her hot breath a few inches from Beck’s… there it was, that perfume, those honey eyes looking captivating while working, concentration adorning her flawless beauty. The burning feeling of alcohol in their wounds wasn’t new at all, but the gentle touch and the softness of her hands made them feel they were being taking care by an angel.

“I couldn't reach out sooner…” she murmured, Poppy hadn’t look at Beck to the eyes, but they were aware of every detail of her face. She did feel bad for it. “I saw you from afar… Why didn't you defend yourself at first?”

“What for?” their answer brought a frown from her, but they continued. “If there’s something I've learned from back home is that… sometimes, it gets worse when you fight back.”

“Why is that?” She asked, still frowning while taking care Beck's forehead.

“People like them have no honor whatsoever… But they have lots of friends” Beck said, a little chuckle in their voice, the good old days, right?  But the strawberry blonde bite her lower lip, understanding the meaning of what they said.

“He can try.” The death threat implied in those words was palpable, as if she could do something about it. But Beck didn’t need her protection, Beck actually hated it. They weren’t some fool who couldn’t take care of themselves, they felt unprotected, vulnerable all their life until recently times, and they weren’t going back to that.

“Why would you say so?” Beck clenched their jaw, remembering Carleton’s words. “Do you have business with him?”

“Ha! As if” She said, a weird laugh coming out of her.

“Really? Because I believe this was because of you.” Shit, that sounded bad, even their voice came out as from rancor. Poppy noticed that, moving off from them as if Beck was spitting acid.

“Are you really fucking blaming me?”

“Of course not!” Beck responded as fast as they could but it was too late, they already could see the harpy features transforming that lovely lady into a beast.

“You sure about that, Farmsville?” Poppy raised her eyebrow, that bitchy face of hers coming back to life. “Because it sounded like it. And you have to believe that if I wanted to make it physical it would be way, way worse than that but here you are in my room, laying on my bed because I absolutely hated to see that fucking caveman hurting you…!”

“He called you his woman!” Beck interrupted, Poppy was right in every creepy and threatening aspect, even in the actually cute parts as well, and Beck somehow knew that. They only had to remember how mad she was, the way she hugged him as if she wanted to protect them from that cretin on the floor. But then, something clicked inside their head.

And inside Poppy’s head as well.

“Wait… You were mad because he hurt me?”

“His woman?!”

Gosh… This is awkward. The whole moment and place were awkward.

“I can’t believe this.” Poppy was the first person in the room to speak after that moment of silence. “I mean, seriously what the fuck? We only had drunk sex, what? Once? Twice? My god, what a loser.”

“Did you two really had sex?” Beck asked. Well, the guy wasn’t that bad, but… No, it was pretty lame… kinda basic vibes with no spectacular thing whatsoever. Nowhere near Poppy’s inner circle, how the hell did that happen?

“I know, right? Gross. But I was kinda feeling insecure and Nobody right there was an easy and convenient target at the moment. Worse scenario ever. You so not want to see a boring Poppy.”

“What about your friends?” The only mention of them caused her to laugh in a very cold and ironic way.

“Friends? You know I don’t have any friends!” She said still laughing, the truth in her words being represented by her as a satire. “Do you realize who I am? I’m Poppy Min-Sinclair. I’m in constantly social danger, my parents, the society… This whole college! Everybody’s looking for an opportunity to take me down. To take my life down. And coming from an interracial crib, I don’t have the luxury to have friends.”

Her gaze, her posture and even the expression on her face were telling how confident she was about it. Like it was her against the world without sweating it. But the way her fingers played around with a piece of cotton and the slightly tapping from her designer shoes where saying something else.

“I also don’t need them. They’re an unnecessary hazard that will kick you the minute you left them do so.”

And, painfully, that was something Beck agreed with. They had one friend once, a best friend who became a secret lover, the only person in their life back then that was there no matter what… or so it seemed. Sooner than later, everyone in Farmsville knew about them both, and she had no remorse at all while she was throwing them under the bus. Even today, after so many years, Beck could close their eyes and listen to her call them a freak, claiming they were manipulating her, threating her to do awful things… the stupid apology after that later in the night, crying through the phone call because she got scared.

Well, yeah… Beck get that. She got scared, but Beck got the first beating of their life.

“So that’s why you want Carleton to be expelled? Because you don’t want anyone to know about you and him…”

“Oh my god, how did you even made it into top ten? Carleton is stupid. Anyone else would be a threat, but him? Please, nobody would ever believe him.”

“So why did you made that call?”

“Because I didn’t want him to hurt you anymore.”

“Me? Your so called enemy?” Ever since day one, by the way.

“Hughes, I consensually and publicly kissed you, how can you be so fucking dumb?”

Silence again, neither of them talking. Poppy trying to understand why it was such a big trouble, while Beck was trying to put the puzzle pieces in the right order, making it make sense. Because it actually did, but something inside them just won’t let them admit it all hundred percent.

“So… you like me?” Beck asked, a playful flirty grin, meant to annoy a little.

The strawberry blonde has never grunted so badly and exasperated as in that moment, but instead of a verbal reply, Poppy’s hands took Beck’s neck strongly and dominant, kissing them. She was rude at first, an angry, reassurance kiss, tasting just as how a “Shut the fuck up” would taste. But then, it became sweeter, it became intoxicating; those soft lips caressing theirs, sucking, biting… Beck’s arms looped around Poppy’s waist, feeling her coming closer to them, letting herself go in their mouth, savoring the moment, their lips just as much as they were doing it.

Gosh… Beck really wanted this…

Poppy slowly break apart, but they didn’t want it to be over just yet. Just a little more, please… they needed to feel that kind of warm in their chest a little longer. So it was their turn to kiss her again, and so they did, taking Poppy by surprise for a second, second that was used by her to move her fingers to their face, squishing a bit their cheeks, smiling against Beck’s lips, over and over, until the moment became one of those ones when you don’t actually know why, but you want so badly to laugh, to be happy in that fraction of time. And you are. So you chuckle despite the pain in your rib, both were chuckling, connected.

“Come one, Tushi-face…” She whispered, the smile still in her face. “You need an X-ray.” Beck growled, just like a disgruntled puppy.

“Uhmmno… I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

“Seriously, pamper me a little and turn on your brain, would you?”

“It’s not broken at all.”  Beck said, moving a little just to stand up from the bed with difficulty. “It hurts, but is not that bad… I actually know how a broken rib feels like. I’ll be fine.” The blondie pinched the bridge of her nose, wasted. “Just trust me?”

“I actually hate your guts, Farmsville.”

----

Next

[shutupandshipit]

Sharpen your blades - Ch.2

Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.

”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”

…..

Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Chapter: 2/20

Previously <- Chapter 1: Pairs

Chapter 3: Training -> Next

Chapter 2: Refusal

Katsuki laughed as he spun faster and faster, holding Izuku’s hands so that when his feet left the ice, he stayed in the air. The Death Spiral was their favorite trick to modify, and as they got older, they got bolder. They hadn’t been allowed to include this particular modification in competition, but Katsuki knew they’d get to one day.

That wouldn’t be for another couple of years, but that just meant they had time to improve together and individually.

Their coach, a tall spindly beta man, called from the rink entrance. “Alright, everyone! Come gather over here for a moment. I’ve got some announcements to make!”

Izuku’s blades bit back into the ice as they slowed, still laughing. “Are you excited, Kacchan? You put in for the single skate events this year, right?” he asked, grinning as they meanered away from center ice. They weren’t the only ones taking their time, but they were the furthest from the entrance.

Nodding, Katsuki’s eyes found the dusty yet still colorful ribbons and trophies that lined the ledge of the announcer’s booth. “Yeah, wanted to try it out. Can’t get better if I’m never alone, and I want my name to be up there! Right where all those first place trophies are. I’m going to be better than anyone else! You too, right?”

Izuku nodded enthusiastically, cheeks flushed pink. “We’ve never gotten to skate on our own before. I think it’ll be fun. But I want to skate as a pair in the December preliminaries before we go to seniors.”

“Don’t worry about that, dumbass, that’s years away! We’ll still skate pairs before then. Just not this year.”

Izuku nodded, but didn’t reply as they finally slid up to the forming group of skaters. They were all ages from the youngest being 3-years-old to the oldest being 17-years-old, but even at ten, Izuku still looked tiny compared to everyone else. Taking his hand, Katsuki pulled him around to an opening between bodies, and shoved him through so they could both see what was going on.

Their hands never left each other.

“Good, good, everyone is here,” Coach said, eyes scanning over them, “So, we all know that the April showcase in Yuuei is coming up. Is everyone excited?” The group cheered. “Fantastic! I have the skating assignments right here! Is everyone ready to hear them?” The group cheered again, deafening in the echoing space of the rink. “Great! I’ll start with our pairs. I’m happy to officially welcome Midoriya and Bakugou as our Alpha/Omega pair! They presented just two weeks ago, and I’m sure you can guess who presented as what.” He chuckled, but the sentiment wasn’t echoed by the group.

Katsuki’s ears burned.

The other skaters were dead silent, all eyes finding them as the scent of burning charcoal slowly filled the air. Even at ten, Katsuki’s temper was volatile, only made worse by Izuku’s sickly sweet embarrassed scent. Like rotting fruit.

Sure, everyone could smell that they’d had first rut and heat, but it just wasn’t something people commented on. Going through puberty was embarrassing enough without everyone also knowing when they presented. Everyone just knew, and that was that.

Someone cleared their throat. One of the older skaters, an alpha woman with long white hair and brown skin, spoke up, “Um, Coach, I might be mistaken, but both Deku and Kacchan put in for single skate this year. We all thought it would be a good idea for them to get experience on their own.”

“No, no, you’re right,” Coach said flippantly, “but I decided otherwise. Why fix something that isn’t broken. It looks better for us as a team to have an Alpha/Omega pair, and it’ll be easier for them to win since same-sex pairs are unconventional.”

The rest of the older skaters shifted uncomfortably, expressions morphing as the alpha spoke up again. “That’s really not the point here. The point is for them to have fun and experience new things. There’s others of us who pair skate.”

Katsuki was burning from the inside out, anger stealing the words from his throat. He didn’t think he’d ever been so angry before.

“The point,” Coach said with emphasis, “is to make our team look good. Looking good equals more attention which equals more money. Which is important to keeping this rink up and running. Skating isn’t about having fun, it’s about winning. They’re better together than either of them ever would be alone. So if Bakugou and Midoriya want to continue to skate with our team, then they’ll skate pairs. That’s that. End of discussion. Anyone who has an issue with that can take their chances finding a different team.” With a wave of his hand, he continued down the list of pairs as if there had never been an interruption.

Grinding his teeth, Katsuki ripped his hand from Izuku’s. He ignored the hurt whine that came from the other boy.

The alpha that had tried to defend them shouldered passed the coach with a hissed, “Fuck you,” just loud enough for the entire team to hear over his talking. She grabbed her guards and her gear, and they never saw her at practice again. When the coach got fired two years later though, they knew she was behind it. Too bad it was too little, too late.

…..

Rage roared through Katsuki, and suddenly, the burning charcoal scent of his anger crowded out Izuku’s acidic anxiety scent from his nose. Blood thrummed loudly in his ears as his temperature rose with each beat of his heart, much like the first time he’d been required to partner with Izuku. It had always been their choice until it hadn’t been, and that pissed him off more than anything.

He couldn’t even hear Aizawa’s next words.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he exploded, forcing himself not to look at Izuku when he heard the little unconscious whine the omega made. A sound that had his alpha screaming at him to ‘ calm, scent, protect, calm, help, protect .’ He hated it, hated the instinctual need, wished he could rip his alpha right from his chest. “This is a fucking joke, right? You expect me to fucking skate with him ?”

Aizawa slowly lifted his eyes from his clipboard, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes, I do. You two are the best for this despite the fact you can barely speak civilly to each other for more than a moment.”

A manic laugh spilled from Katsuki’s mouth, and the teammates near him took careful steps back. “That’s a joke! That has to be a goddamn joke!”

Yaoyorozu’s hand shot into the air, worry etched into her features. Katsuki wanted to rip it from her arm. “I also don’t understand, Coach. Surely it’d be more beneficial to pair myself with Shouto or Midoriya, wouldn’t it?”

‘ Yes, agree. Switch Izuku’s goddamn partner. I can’t- ’ he thought desperately, but knew Aizawa wouldn’t.

“No. The program I’ve selected for the top rank is going to be difficult. Even if it weren’t, I can’t have someone who has never skated pairs trying to master it in just three months. We just don’t have the time to get you up to that skill level. On top of that, I’m not going to move two of my top three over to pairs when Bakugou and Midoriya have skated pairs previously. They are also the bottom of my top five. They’re the best option to make partners,” Aizawa explained, voice growing monotone the longer he spoke.

Katsuki couldn’t and wouldn’t skate with Izuku again! It just wasn’t going to fucking happen! This felt like the last time they were paired up for their dynamics, and he hated the sick black feeling that bloomed in his chest. Every rank dropped, every point lost, every mistake made flashed through his mind as if they’d happened yesterday.

He could still remember the sound of Izuku hitting the ground, the failed catch, the other skaters’ gasps even as no one moved. The smell of blood thick in his nose, his hands trembling, the anguish on Izuku’s face.

He hadn’t been the one to throw him, but he was still at fault in the end.

“I’m not skating with Deku!”

Aizawa’s eyes returned to Katsuki along with the rest of his teammates, stony and set. “Yes, you will. If you don’t, I’ll drop you from the team and you can find another to skate with. With your legendary attitude, I can’t imagine many would want you. Your choice.”

He was being forced into a corner again, given an ultimatum that wasn’t really a choice at all. If it was between skating and never skating again, there wasn’t a decision to be made. The blackness in his chest only expanded, spreading through his chest and up into his throat, choking him.

He ground his teeth together savagely, an ache sprouting in his jaw. “What the fuck ever, but I’m not practicing with him. Fuck that.” It was stupid, he knew it was. Eventually, he would have to practice with Izuku. Eventually, he’d have to eat his own words. There was no way around it, not if they wanted to have any chance of actually placing. That didn’t mean he couldn’t master his part of the skate to the most minor of hand placements before attempting the larger tricks with him.

He wasn’t going to be the one to let Izuku get hurt again.

Rolling his eyes, Aizawa seemed to be done with the argument. For now. “As long as you don’t make us look like a group of fools at the charity event, I don’t care how you figure it out. No deaths, no injuries and no stupid mistakes. Now, back to what I was saying. If anyone else wants to waste my time today, just leave.”

No one left the rink, but Katsuki shoved away from the wall with a snarl and found his way to Kirishima and Ashido’s sides. The pair were grinning at him, Kirishima placatingly and Ashido goadingly. He didn’t wait for them to say anything. “Pinky, I’m going to need to borrow you for practice.”

Her smile was sharp as she ruffled her pink spikes. “Not even going to ask first?”

“Are you going to say no?”

She shrugged her pink clad shoulders. “No, as long as you help me with my program. I’m competing too, and I’m going to need time to practice.”

“Sure, whatever. Just need you for the stuff I can’t do on my own. Lifts, death spiral, that shit.”

“I can help, but why not just practice with your partner? Hm? I’ve seen the videos, Bakubro, you two were really good. You used to tear up the ice,” she needled, and Kirishima shot her a reproachful glance.

He sighed and smiled at Katsuki. “Listen, man, I don’t want to like pry or anything, but I think you should just practice with him too. Maybe if you talk?”

“Shut it. None of that is either of your business. Just fucking leave it,” Katsuki snapped.

They shrugged, and let the topic drop even if it wasn’t for good.

…..

Izuku hadn’t been able to pay attention to Aizawa after that, his mind racing in circles to figure out what he could do. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone, and he was sure that no matter who Katsuki practiced with, he’d be able to perform with Izuku when the time came no matter what. It was Izuku himself that he was worried about.

There were a lot of things he could practice alone. Foot work and jumps synced to the milli-second with whatever track Aizawa chose for them. His costume and hair. Hand placement. Endurance. There were also a lot of things that he couldn’t do by himself that were, in retrospect, the most important aspects of their performance.

Those included, but were not limited to, lifts and throws. To put it simply, he couldn’t perform any of the tricks alone.

Pair skating required an astounding amount of trust and understanding between partners, just like anything else where two people were working together. The only person he truly and completely trusted on the ice anymore was himself. That was no one’s issue, but his own. Now, he didn’t have a choice. While he knew he could trust Katsuki and his caliber, was sure that Katsuki would never drop or fail to catch him, he didn’t know if he could let himself be that vulnerable again. He didn’t want to disappoint Katsuki when he couldn’t bring himself to do a trick, and he didn’t know if Katsuki could understand why he couldn’t.

They hadn’t been able to understand each other for a long time.

Aizawa had made a terrible mistake.

With each beat of Izuku’s heart, phantom pain flared from his hip to his ankle, from elbow to wrist. It had been eight years since he got hurt, but the fear that it might happen again followed him every time he stepped out onto the ice.

“Midoriya.” Todoroki snapped Izuku out of his own thoughts with a hand on his shoulder, and he glanced up to find the others dispersing. Most pushed back out onto the ice, some sat down to put their heads together, others stuck around to ask Aizawa questions. His friends were still standing close though; Iida, Uraraka, Asui, and Tokoyami. “Most of my pair work has been as lead, so I can help you practice until Bakugou pulls his head out of his ass.”

Izuku wanted to protest, to say that it wasn’t all Katsuki’s fault, but he couldn’t find the words. Couldn’t make his lips move to form the ones he did have.

“Is that really wise?” Iida asked seriously as he leaned down to remove his guards and step out onto the ice. He remained at the wall, face tense. “Pair skating is already difficult enough, but practicing without your intended partner…”

“I have to wonder the same thing,” Tokoyami sighed, glancing over his shoulder towards where Katsuki was briskly correcting Kirishima’s clumsy pick placement, “Wouldn’t that cause more problems than it solves?”

Asui placed a considering finger against her lips. “It seems odd that he’s so against it too. I know he’s smarter than he’s acting right now, so I’m surprised he’d take the risk.”

“Not only that, but you’ll have to practice too, Todoroki! Wouldn’t it just be better to practice with him from the beginning?” Uraraka asked earnestly, “Why is he so against it anyway? I know you two haven’t gotten along in a long time, but this seems excessive. Coach Aizawa isn’t asking you to be friends, he’s just asking you to skate. I thought Bakugou knew how to compartmentalize better than this.”

‘ Then you don’t know, Kacchan .’ Izuku didn’t say that out loud, even if he wanted to. He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. After a moment, he smiled. “Kacchan isn’t the only one with reservations. It’s just… there’s a lot that we haven’t worked through.” Read: that he hasn’t worked through. Nothing that happened when they were younger was Katsuki’s fault, at least Izuku didn’t see it that way.

His friends rolled their eyes. “You don’t have to make excuses for him,” Todoroki said, leaning forward to check his laces before standing.

Except that he wasn’t. His friends and teammates knew that Izuku and Katsuki had both skated pairs for most of their childhood and knew each other through their mothers. What no one knew was that Katsuki had been his partner most of that time. His friends didn’t know everything that they went through after they presented. They didn’t know why they had decided to go singles after skating pairs for so long. They didn’t know exactly how Izuku had gotten hurt. Maybe one day he’d be able to tell them, but every time he remembered that he spent an entire year thinking he’d never skate again, it just made his breath grow short and his heart beat fast.

They didn’t even know that Toshinori and Aizawa were the only reason he was still skating now.

Swallowing thickly, Izuku forced a smile as he allowed Todoroki to help him to his feet. “I’m not.”

[eatsoaps]

Husk Sickfic

Paring (Husk x Angel)

Stomach flu/hangover 

WARNING FOR VOMIT/PTSD MENTIONS

    Sitting alone in the dim lighting of the bar served as small lonely comfort to the reluctant bartender in attendance. The day was slow with him mindlessly shuffling his cards around and nursing several bottles of alcohol while Charlie blabbed about her dreams and how to achieve them with the hotel. Now, everyone had gone to their rooms for the night except him. Zoning in and out with mindless drinking had him only a little tipsy. By two in the morning he had registered that he should probably go to bed as well….. Or just sleep on the bar. Nah, maybe not this time. Whenever he did that he was rudely awoken by Al or someone else with a scolding. He decided that he’d go to his room. 

    “Fuck!” he hissed when he finally moved. His body cracked every which way from the sudden movement, but that wasn’t the concerning part; he was hurting in his gut. It really hurt and was very sudden. He held his alcohol well and it was now he noted that the pounding headaches usually came after drinking. Trying to shake it off, he went upstairs to his room. 

    He didn’t care what room he had so long as he could drink; however the sudden twisting in his upper abdomen prevented him from wanting to dive into that random whiskey bottle. Again, trying to shake whatever the feeling was, he crawled into bed and did his best to sleep it off. It normally didn’t take long to get comfortable, hell he never even paid attention to comfort! Tossing and turning was what he was left with tonight, and boy did it puzzle him. Lying on either side gave him an annoying pressure that he couldn’t quite place, on his back only made him feel nauseous while face down just wasn’t comfortable in general and he couldn’t breathe well. Finally, he grew pissed and swung his legs over the bed holding his head in his hands. 

    “Fuck is wrong in there?” he asked himself. Softly placing a paw over his stomach he ran his claws through the fur on his head. Sitting upright made his guts flip and he let out a pathetic groan. Why was it hurting? He didn’t think he had eaten anything out of the ordinary, he didn’t remember what he ate in all honesty. He just wasn’t hungry. He took a few deep breaths and swallowed a little before lying back down on the bed. Like it did any fucking good. Another 30 minutes of rustling around in his bed he shot up like a bullet and eyed the broken trash can in the corner of the room. He looked away, remembering what a former soldier told him when he went overseas during his human life. 

‘If you think about it, it will happen.’ 

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Fuck it. 

He got up and moved to one of the public restrooms down the hall; in not caring about his room, he failed to recognize that Alastor gave him the one without a bathroom. Each step had him sweating and at one point he even needed to stop and take a pause for the sake of not ruining the rug and waking everyone up. He heard a door creak open. 

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

He immediately straightened himself out and tried to look normal. Footsteps sounded, trying to be as soft as possible. Were those….pink slipper boots? They were, and who better to own them than Angel Dust. Now he really needed to act normal! 

“Oh, hey Kitten! What you doing here?” Angel softly purred as he caught eye. 

“Minding my own business bitch, take a lesson.” 

“Nah that don’t pay well. Wassup? You look like a shit had a shit.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Thanks.”Angel cocked his head and stared at Husk, he looked green in the white of his fur and the grey was duller. Was that sweat? “What are you doing up anyway?” 

“Well I got the day off tomorrow and I planned on stocking up on some junk food Veggie keeps hidden.” 

“Isn’t it Vaggie?” 

“Same thing.” 

“Whatever just go away.” 

Angel huffed, “You’re clearly sick though.” 

“No I’m fucking not, just mind your own fucking business for once instead of barging in and ruining everyone!” his stomach clenched which left Husk fighting every muscle in his body from grabbing it and doubling over. 

For a brief moment, Angel dropped, but picked right back up. “Come on. Let me help ya. It’s a sad sight right here, kinda funny too.” 

“Can’t you take no for an answer? I thought whores understood rejection?” 

Okay, that stung a little. “Did you drink perfume or some shit? 

“Why don’t-” Husk took a pause, his stomach was churning. It hurt and he felt the acid creep up his throat. He could swallow only so much. “-you...fuck.”

“Husk?” Angel had a soft spot for the cat, he was hot and gave him drinks! He also knew what it was like to be under an overlord. They had talked about it one night. “Hey man you good?” Angel’s voice was like water: garbled and incoherent. Husk lurched and clasped a hand over his mouth. He pushed Angel away and dashed to the bathroom. Tossing a stall door open, he crashed to the ground and began to heave. The stomach inside him contracted, but after his second unproductive heave did he finally manage to bring something up. He coughed and spat out more of whatever had caused this. He slightly jumped when he felt a soft pair of hands rub up and down his back, another set massaging his wings that tensed up every time he puked or gagged, the last set of Angel’s arms kept his ears back while rubbing the nape. He didn’t even have the energy to push him away. 

“There ya go kitten. Easy.” Angel softly soothed. Husk gagged and brought up more vomit into the toilet, coughing and sputtering. He thought his head was about to burst, the throb was so painful. Another wave of vomit, this time with tears mixing in. He spat the remainder into the bowl. 

“Ugh, fuck.” he grit his teeth and tried to even his ragged breathing. An arm draped across the toilet, one was positioned carefully on his stomach. He had forgotten what it felt like to be so sick, the last time was when he had food poisoning in a camp somewhere. He had also forgotten that this was literal HELL. In hell, everything bad was doubled. Broken leg meant worse pain and longer heal. Stabbed? Well you’d heal faster but it would still hurt like no other. And sick? Well if anyone got sick in Hell it lasted longer than it would a breathing human. Part of punishment. Husk reached up to flush the contents down and placed his head on the cool toilet lid. 

“Are you done kitten?” 

“...Yeah.” 

All that strain made Husk lethargic and apathetic. He no longer cared about what happened, that was fucking horrible. He just wanted the bad feelings gone. 

“Come on.” 

Angel helped Husk stand on his feet and had him rinse his mouth out in the sink as quickly as possible. They left the bathroom and went further down the hall. 

“Where am I going?” Husk asked. 

“My room.” 

Husk tried to push Angel away, “Why?” 

“It has a bathroom inside, your’s don’t. You also can’t spend all night in a public bathroom. Plus you can barely stand as it is. Don’t act as if Charlie wouldn’t have my head for not doing a thing.” 

Husk wanted to throw Angel onto the ground and run back to his room so he could curl up and die again alone. Nah. That wasn’t going to happen and he knew it, the muscles and energy had all gone into making him feel like shit and left him walking on a tightrope with a tilting wheel above him. When the two arrived in the room, Husk wasn’t all surprised by the look of it. A stripper pole, soft furniture, different shades of pink and black, of course a vanity covered with makeup and a shelf of sex toys. He rolled his eyes. 

“Mention this to anyone and you can kiss all the booze in the world goodbye you fucking pest.” 

“Daw~ for me only Husky? Don’t mention it. I’ll tell Cha you’re sick and too drunk to tell whose room is whose. I’ll say I tried to throw ya out but you wouldn’t budge. Sound good?” 

Husk had crawled onto Angel’s bedsheets, mmm…. warm and soft. He didn’t even reply to whatever the spider said, the sheets and mattress felt amazing, he started to purr and it was only when he caught Angel smiling down at him did he realize the situation. Shit! What the fuck am I doing? He made a sorry attempt to get out of the bed, he knew the slut would talk and he’d be humiliated. He didn’t want things to be worse than they already were. Quickly jumping off the bed made him double over in pain as a giant cramp rolled through his abdomen. 

    “Hey, watch yourself. I ain’t gonna tell anyone, I learned from Pa that snitches get ditches at five years old.” 

    “Fuck you.” 

    “Maybe when you’re better. Let’s go, come on! Back to bed kitten.” Angel guided Husk back into the bed, he noticed that his gut looked tense, he could practically see the muscles cramped up through the fur. “Jesus you’re tense.” 

    “I know. Now shut up. Why’re you even helping me dumbass?” 

    “You remind me a lot of my sis when she’d get sick. I’d always be the caretaker and she’d be mine. She’d fight me tooth and nail until I gave her something comfortable, then she’d melt like Mama’s garlic butter. Just a nice nostalgia feeling I guess. Besides, maybe you’ll owe me?” he ended with a tease of course, but after a warning glare from Husk, he backed down. “I’m kidding! Jeez! Here, just get on the bed, I’ll even rest away from ya.” 

    The bed felt amazing and warm, and it didn’t smell horrible in this room either. Angel had even been so kind as to place a bucket right next to him in case his stomach decided to abuse him again. Zoning back in, he realized that Angel had gotten into the bed and put considerable distance between them. Another cramp seized Husk’s body and he curled in harder on himself. He felt a gag coming on and groaned when he had to drag the bucket closer to his face.

    Angel glanced over at the bartender and felt a pang of sympathy. He placed a hand over Husk’s back and tried to massage the muscles that were bulging out. Thankfully they did relax as Husk threw up again into the can. He felt a lot warmer than normal? Angel had no idea what the temperature for a cat was let alone a demonic one. He could only guess it was a fever high enough to cause discomfort. After throwing up the remainder of vomit from his mouth, Husk rinsed with the warm bottle of water Angel had sitting next to him (unopened) and then plopped back down on the bed softly panting. The spider stopped rubbing his back in order to take care of the bucket; the cat needed to bite back a whimper from the loss of comfort while the cramping came back. He felt ashamed when he let pained moans come from his throat when he wrapped his paws around his middle. 

    “Think ya got a stomach bug which means you got about four days until it’s gone.” 

“Cool.” 

    “Molly liked it when I rubbed her back or stomach.”

Husk rattled as a shiver blew past him. Angel pulled the covers over his body. “Don’t fucking try anything or I’ll poison your drinks.” 

“Please, a whore may know a lot about rejection, but they know more about consent and roofies.” 

“Smartass.” 

Angel shifted to where one set of hands massaged the back and only one hand went over Husk’s stomach, the other was used to scroll through his phone. Within minutes, the cat was out like a light and purring louder than a racecar. Angel smiled and snuck a picture or eight. When he started to feel a little drowsy, he noticed that Husk had moved in a way that made it to where Angel was basically holding him sideways. CUTE! A few more pictures saved onto his phone and he was set to sleep. His rest may have only lasted an hour or two since he was woken up by Husk bolting up to vomit. The cycle was repeated until there was literally nothing in his stomach. Angel continued to rub his stomach. 

    Come morning, Husk awoke to the sound of rustling. “Fuck is that?” he mumbled. 

    “Sorry babe! Just gotta get Fat Nuggets some food and then a walk, it’ll be thirty minutes. Charlie knows about the story I told her last night.” 

    “Fuck you what did you tell her!” Husk reared up with his wings fluffed up and defensive mode on. If only he looked as threatening; truth be told it looked more like a tiny kitten was trying to roar like a lion. Angel couldn’t help but laugh. 

    “Relax, I told her you got sick last night and were too drunk to notice you were in the wrong room. I told her moving you wasn’t an option and said you tried to claw my normal eye out. She said she’d give you the next three days off and sent up some ‘get well’ shit.” he gestured over to the nightstand next to the cat. Placed on the tray was a set of medications that would barely do anything, but it was better than nothing. After vomiting all night, the waters she gave him looked amazing.

    “Hmm.” 

    “Do you wanna try to eat?” Angel asked. 

    A baby gag, “Ugh fuck that.” 

    Angel walked over and placed a hand on Husk’s forehead, almost astounded that he didn’t wack him back. “Definitely certain you got a rising fever.” 

    “In Hell, wow.” 

    “Shut up.” 

    Most of the day was nothing new. Charlie put Angel on caretaker duty (much to Vaggie’s concern) just to make things easier. Hopefully. It gave Angel bonus points, Husk got taken care of, Angel out of the way, the place would be quiet. In honesty, while Husk reminded him a lot of his sister when she was feeling down, he also wanted a chance to get closer to the cat. He was curious and also bored. Kinda wanted something to do. Being a sex worker meant that he had to care and cater to whatever the clients wanted, this time it was for something nonsexual. Sure he enjoyed sex, but it was nice to do something other than it. His day off would otherwise be spent wandering around and getting into trouble. Not looking to get chewed out was his aim. 

    “Shit babe how do you still have something inside you?” 

    “I’m not *huurk* babe you himbo.” Husk retorted with a pathetic spit. “Fuck. This is worse than when the boat was on the sea towards the battle….” 

    “Battle? What battle?” 

PTSD WAR FLASHBACK TW

    Whether it was the increased fever or what, Husk had no idea, but he had seen this many times before. Back in the war, not knowing which battle. He was instructed to shoot whatever came that wasn’t wearing US Military garb. A rustle among the trees, he turned, saw uncovered skin and lanky build. They were carrying something. A bomb? He shot at them straight in the head and they fell. Crying could be heard, but the person was dead, he went to inspect whatever was the sound and his heart dropped when he saw it was a toddler. The child ran towards him and then fell over as a fellow soldier shot them down. He turned and threw up right there, crying and praying it wasn’t real and apologizing over and over.

    PTSD WAR FLASHBACK TW OVER

“Husk, hey, it isn’t real. Whatever you seein’ ain’t real. It ain’t real right now.” 

Husk snapped his head back at Angel hyperventilating with wide eyes and then quickly bent over the fresh bucket that was being held in front of him. He gagged and spit and heaved and threw up whatever left he could. All the medicine, water, one single bite of toast was all gone; even then he still tried to bring up something until he was reduced to dry heaving. 

“Hey now, in and out. Breath in, then out. There ya go. Va bene (it’s okay in Italian).” 

It took a while, but Husk was back on track, the fever had definitely spiked and now he was experiencing shellshock again. “-ter.” 

“Huh?” 

“Wa-er.” 

His throat had been puked raw by the acid he could barely speak, but Angel managed to understand what he said and gave him an uncapped water bottle which he gratefully gulped down. 

“Hey go slow or you’ll-” the water didn’t stay in his stomach, “- puke it back up. Baby sips.” 

By the time the bucket was cleaned out, Husk was cared for and Angel got him as comfy as he could, he noticed that the cat was clingy when he was sick. Angel was the big spoon whether Husk knew or not. Belly rubs and back massages felt great after the whole ordeal. Unfortunately, he had three more PTSD episodes after that. 

***

“I gotta go to work or Val’ll have my head!” Angel sighed, trying to pull his many limbs out of the cat’s grip. 

    “No.” 

“Husk.” 

    “No.” 

Husk had reached his peak in the fever and acted like a kitten starved for attention. Angel knew sick clingy people made some of the best and worst patients depending on the situation. Eventually, the spider managed to pry the other off and set on for work where he spent the day modeling and having only one film session with a guy that loved being stepped on. He managed to avoid any conflict with the film crew and Val, so he finally left early with an abundance of praise. Quick and easy! Once he was back in the hotel, he went straight to his room where he found Husk sleeping bent over an empty bucket with fresh tear tracks along his matted fur lines. Angel gently shook him awake. 

“Rise and shine moonpie! Get your head out of the bucket.”

Husk blinked up at the spider and turned away into the blankets. “Not now.” 

“Well you can either lay your head in a horrible position that is sure to rattle yer neck to bits and pieces or you can-”

“Angel. I-....Can-” Husk was really struggling with what he was about to say next. “Can you…. rub my head a little?” he asked shyly. 

Faster than a bullet, Angel was right there getting to pet the cat, he was amazed at how soft the fur was. Of course it was to make him feel better. “Think you’re stomach wants to stay inside ya?” 

“Shh.” 

“Okay babe.” 

Husk did not throw up anymore after that night; by the time the four days were over, he pushed Angel away and got himself sorted out. He hated to admit that the spider was a good caretaker, and he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t comfy (sometimes) during the stay in Angel’s room. Once he was back working the bar, he handed Angel a free drink. 

“Here.” 

“Oh really Husk! Thank you!” 

“Shut up.” 

Angel winked at him and understood. The drink was a thank you, and he was happy to oblige. The two carried on a calmer setting around each other now. Husk still grumpy as could be, but with more sarcasm towards Angel rather than pure annoyance 100% of the time. 

Oh my Lord you can tell where I gave up trying to write good. My brain was absolutely dead. But I've noticed there's a lack of sickfics in this fandom so I'm deciding to fix that as best I can. I haven't written in a long time so I am sooooo rusty. Oh well. ❤️❤️

[molachaka]

cigarettes - sabito (fluff)

Assumptions made the boy hesitate to give his heart to her.

"You're smoking?"

Sabito did not reply to your high-pitched question, instead, inhaling more of the aired wisps and letting it out in the night, swept off with wind.

Offended at the lack of response, you stomped towards the man on the park and pulled the cancer stick out of his fingers – the putrid smell of acid smoke burns your nose unpleasantly, scrunching your face on the process.

Your coworker did not move on the bench, but he did set his eyes on you before huffing out the smoke in his mouth. Right on your face.

"Ugh, Sabito-!" You coughed and swat the dirty air away, completely letting go of the still burning stick to the ground.

The pink-haired man couldn't help but chuckle pleasantly at your reaction - finding it adorably cute, before grimacing at that sudden thought and looking back at the bright city view behind you with more focus than needed.

Truthfully told, he likes you – even much so that he thinks he might be falling for you. Any other day, he would have repeatedly tease you, soak up your attention – both good and bad – and try to get some charm points to get you to notice him but...

News on the corps you're already dating someone. On the fucking internet. Who the fuck does that?

Sabito scorned at the thought of losing you to some stranger he couldn't even punch of.

That's why he's here, smoking miles away from where you parked on your own car, but can you believe his terrible luck? You're here too.

His mind wants to ease his thoughts off you, take his moment to be fond of the cigarette taste in his tongue rather than his mind wandering of what your kiss would taste like, and maybe perhaps go to a bar and drink this stupid, dejected feeling away.

But here you are; your very being torments him in such, disgusting(ly good) way.

"You shouldn't smoke you damn idiot! You already got sick last week with a stupid cold," you crossed your arms and shot him an unhappy look, giving him your side eye with a cute sneer to boot. 

"Now you're going to kill yourself slowly with a literal cancer stick? Unbelievable!" You lecture him as you always do whenever you see him doing 'bad' things, and usually... he would have soaked them all up as he watches your lips move tantalizingly, wandering when he could kiss them until he'll snapped out by a good slap on the back with a foreboding threat coming from you.

This time, he's not in the mood to even breathe in the same air as you. Sabito did not hide his growing frown. He doesn't know if you're doing this for fun, or you're just torturing him. Because all of you - your words, your act - they all seems to relay on him with mixed messages.

And he hates them. He's sick of them. Perhaps part of you for dating someone else that isn't him too. But he also hated the fact you're acting 'concern' to him when just a day ago, you threw a memo pad on his temple after taking the last bite from your pudding.

With your hurtful words of his habit traveling from one ear and another, Sabito mused at that one thought.

He has to say, the dessert you craved so much is sweeter with your taste on it. Always have been. Then again, he couldn't pull the same stunt anymore now that you're in a 'relationship'.

Sabito let out a long, dreaded sigh at such reality. With an aggro tone, the man folded his hands on his chest and blankly stared at you with tired lavender eyes.

"Now why would you care?"

Your jaw dropped at his sudden question and your eyes widened in disbelief – shutting yourself up from your minutes long lecture about the importance of a healthy lung.

He usually just listens to you with a sly smirk on his face, so you didn't expect him to ask such a trivial question now out of the blue.

You expected him to defend himself – maybe tease his way out like other times - not counter you with such a sentimental question.

"It's bad for the health!" You retorted quickly, too quickly for the pillar to notice your ever blushing form. "It's common sense!"

"Common sense?" Sabito tilted his head like a sly fox scrutinizing its prey. "Do you snatch cigarettes from every smoking person you see in this district?"

One of your eye twitched at his sarcastic tone, before blushing madly at the way his amethyst eyes looked up at you with sharpness that makes you feel judged.

"N-no, but-"

Sabito hummed nonchalantly, sitting straight from the bench and walked towards you.

"Is that so?"

Each step he takes is like an earthquake that shook your core, and with an expression like that; Narrowed eyes, teasing grin and a sense of luster of colors in those purple mirrors - you couldn't help but be frozen in your place out of shock of this new light on his personality.

"I'm asking you again this time," Sabito took your chin with his thin fingers, the pads rough on your skin and creating an evident contrast that warms your cheek. When his sharp nose brushed on yours, you felt your breath-hitching in your throat. You find it impossible to pull yourself away, especially when he's staring you down with soulful lidded eyes.

He exhaled, the warmth on his breath flushing your face just as his question did to your chest.

"Why do you care?"

The telltale of smoke in his breath lingers, and you feel like you're melting from both the heat from your cheeks and the way his body pressing against yours.

"I-I," you gulped, heart ramming in your chest – vision dizzying from the focus you have instilled in his stare. "Just care for you..."

A hand gripped your shoulder, squeezing them with a tight hold - and before you know it, you're pinned on the nearby street lamp with Sabito smirking down at you like a predator would a helpless prey.

"Easy, isn't it?" Warm lips stretched tantalizingly slow, before disappearing besides you - the soft flesh skimming against your ear.

He whispered your name huskily. "I'd like more of your honesty next time."

___

Sabito spat out the tea you prepared for him, getting an earful from you at the process. "Can you not? I just finished cleaning the house."

"So you're saying..." His body started shaking at suppressing his laughter as his fingers traveled up to his hair and gripped on them - eyes closed and a big aloof grin on his face. "You're 'dating' an anime character? On a game?"

My kami. Why.

You slumped your shoulders exaggeratedly and looked at him with a lost, yet annoyed expression. "Is it really that hard to believe?"

He cannot. Sabito can't-

Full blown laughter echoed around the room - the deep octaves of his voice trembled in your chest as you tried hard to scrubbed the tea of your beloved floor.

"Shut up" You shouted, embarrassed and cheeks warm from his joy. "I'd rather date someone who'll love me for me even if they're just two dimensional."

Laughter soon became dying wheezes as Sabito threw himself on the floor at your reply - cradling his stomach as tears bites his lavender eyes. Shit, he doesn't know if he'll feel bad at your predicament or relieved that you're single, but holy shit.

Why have you torture him with this information? Why? He might as well sounds like a broken woodpecker right now.

You glared at this man before throwing a dry towel at his face in tantrum, hoping he'd suffocate from it. "Well if you think that's funny - don't dare try to kiss me and ask if I'm single on the same night, you damn idiot." Crossing your arms, you couldn't help but puff your cheeks at the memory - sure it affected you since you do care for this man more than you wanted to but, you felt belittled after telling the damn truth. "I should've just screamed rape when I had the chance."

"You know," Sabito composed himself, a hand on your coffee table as he inhaled the much needed air for his lungs. "You don't need to date something two dimensional. When you can date me."

The sight of your face suddenly fuming red made the man laugh an easy laugh and he did not hesitate in pulling you against him for another kiss.

And the way you melted against him made him crave for more.

Sabito cradled your head and gripped your hair with a soft hold, tugging on it lightly to make you gasp. The air that escaped your lips traveled down in his stomach in a pleasant buzz. He captured your lips with ferocity that melted your frame against him, his hand traveling down to hold you down on his lap to feel you more.

Your arms snaked around his neck, and the weight of them settled on his chest as your own pressed against his - the feel of your tongue against his own drugged him with lust, and he pulled himself away from your lips to trail down kisses down your neck to savor more of you; groaning appreciatively when your back arched before him. And the moaned you gave him when he latched on your neck with a soft bite egged him to do more.

The way you smell... your reactions, and how you feel above him - all of those did no justice with the way you uttered his name in a breathless plea, and it made him stop to kiss your lips with a lust-filled apology leaving his own.

Because Sabito hopes you'd forgive him for what he'll do to you tonight.

When he only need to ask the truth and receive hers.

[nightcoremoon]

so for the first time I saw batman: the killing joke.

...

it was okay I guess. but massively overrated. I expected some fucking masterpiece of cinema but instead it was just two unrelated short films that were more style and flash than substance.

so first off, barbara's storyline was mediocre. franz wasn't a compelling villain; just a creep, and a trust fund brat. oh wow he's a mafia kid who stole his family's fortune by hacking. if it was the falcone family I'd have cared more but it wasn't so it's just some faceless deathfodder rando. who gives a shit. the whole situation was just a vehicle to shove batman's dick into babs. which kinda fucks over bruce's character here and judging by the timeline kinda makes him a bit of a groomer, yikes. bruce and gordon have known each other since bruce was a young boy and we know that bruce is way older than babs so yeah bruce totally knew her from birth until present day, he literally utilized an active power dynamic to police her crimefighting activities, and he should have fucking known better and stopped her when she kissed him because it would (and did) compromise their professional dynamic, but hey, batdick. and at least barbara recognized that she was behaving emotionally rather than logically when it came to bruce and paris and took the high road out. that would be a serviceable standalone episode to write her on a bus in a serialization but THIS IS A MOVIE. so for a waste of an already short runtime it's like having an appetizer before your meal but instead of something like a crab cake before stuffed flounder, you get greasy onion petals that are more fried batter than onion before getting a well done cheeseburger that's just a glorified hockey puck on a sponge with a kraft single on top. the animation and vocal delivery were excellent of course, not gonna disparage that aspect, so it was well made, but the writing was just not very good. a polished turd. quantic dream must have developed it then because it feels like I watched a david cage production.

so in a 78 minute movie, five of which were the credits, we had a half hour Disney/Pixar short except those bring joy and this brought boring. also there were a lot of shots of her ass tits and underwear that were obnoxiously male-gazey and there was a token gay for the sole purpose of dangling a carrot on a stick for the queers. look kids, warner brothers and dc comics cares about the lgbts! give us money! a waste of time before the real reason why anyone came to see the movie that literally only exists to pad out the runtime to make it a feature length (even though paying a full ticket would've been a total ripoff because, again, IT WAS ONLY 78. even 9 was 81 minutes long and that had an amazing storyline so I forgave it, but 78 minutes? ugh.

also, GOTHAM RAGE??? CRINGE. SO CRINGE.

alright now for the joker segment.

*ahem*

what the fuck? that sucked! *throws tomato*

mark hamill and the joker's lines and the art and the cinematography and the choreography was all good and the plot was cohesive. I get it.

but holy shit was the writing weak as fuck.

okay so some rando breaks the J-ster out of Arkham (already unlikely but ugh whatever), he didn't turn a trick or recruit or anything, he just went to purchase a carnival. or, steal one. but wait, he DID recruit, but he went to get all of the stereotypical Circus Freak™ stereotypes. little people, fat lady, bearded lady, wolf man, strongman, diaper man (wait, what?), and the two headed woman. I guess if you don't really think about why all of them were super readily available in the outskirts between arkham and gotham [i just realized they both end with -am] then it makes enough sense. and then literally right after that HE RECRUITS SOME GUYS TO HELP HIM KIDNAP GORDON. and then strips and photographs barbara. um. ew. you can tell the writer and director were men. Alan Moore is constantly molesting women in his comics and this one trick pony should be put down already. but whatever. the plot is weak and it only gets saved by the flashback sequences.

oh.

oh no.

they're not that great.

he's a failed unfunny comedian who just wants some money to move his wife to a better house so he turns to thievery with the mob. OR YOU COULD JUST STOP GOING TO THE BAR AND BLOWING IT ALL ON BOOZE. I mean the cops knew where to find him after all so clearly he's a repeat customer (or moore is a bad plot writer who relies on convenience and shut the fuck up and don't critically analyze it). alright so he gets wrapped up in the mob to perform a heist on a playing card factory. GET IT, BECAUSE HE'S THE JOKER??? and he uses the moniker of the red hood to retain his anonymity. I expected the mobsters to be working for francisco but no the paris storyline was only cooked up screenplay for passing the runtime so why would they do something clever and interesting and make the film cohesive? that'd be really stupid to make the movie feel more like one movie and not two short films. at least when grindhouse & planet terror did it they advertised themselves as an anthology film. whatever. he falls in the vat of acid which melts the red hood to his face and I gotta say that's actually a pretty good idea to get his face white and his hair green and his lips red. I like that part. oh wait I forgot about the most important part! his wife gets shoved in the refrigerator. OH WOW THAT'S JUST SO COMPELLING AND ORIGINAL, TOTALLY NOT SOMETHING THAT ALREADY HAPPENED TO GREEN LANTERN. TWICE. although she wasn't literally shoved into a literal refrigerator like alex was. rip in frozen pieces you absolute legend of a trope namer. alright, so... so the joker is sad because his wife died. you know, the wife we saw for two minutes and knew the moment we saw her drenched in sepia she was gonna die. and she died offscreen. kyle's gf died and he was fine. gordon's wife died and he was fine. batman's parents both died and he was fine. oh boo hoo someone I love died! fuck off. I am so goddamn sick of people trying to justify their evil with "I was sad once". it's a stupid trope and it's not compelling. the only valid version is doctor doofenshmirtz' evil(er) version in the PF movie because it's hilarious that it's because of a toy train because that's the emotional depth that fridgewomen is treated with in all of these storylines. but at least batman said so. oh yeah, I almost totally forgot, batman's in this movie.

batman punches people and nonlethally takes them out. by suffocating them and letting them get stabbed and throwing them into pits of spikes and HEY WAIT A GODDAMN SECOND! okay let's just ignore that bit and hope that the little people squeezed between the gaps in the spikes and the strongman could breathe in the face mask and the two headed women had KO gas and the fat lady was fat enough that the knives only stabbed her cellulite. it wouldn't be the biggest reach one would have to make in watching this fucking disaster of a plot mess.

now I did like that it was actually batman, and by that I mean he gave a shit about the insane because he recognizes that mental illness is not a cause of dangerous or criminal behavior, just a potential exacerbating factor if it wasn't treated. yeah he brutalized mobsters and crime lords but they were mostly in self defense while gathering intel. he politely asked sal maroni and the sex workers for information and they gave it to him without violence- he manhandled maroni but only after he reached into his pocket for a cigar which could've been a gun. also batman says sex work should be decriminalized if only by not ratting them out to the cops. he was a genuinely good person in the second half of the movie. too bad it was ruined by the shitty first half that made him a borderline groomer.

joker's song was... bad. mark hamill performed his ass off but the song wasn't that good. it just tried to be willy wonka if he was a voyeuristic monster. oh yeah have the only girl character be paralyzed stripped and photographed only to give her father ManPain™. again... the fuck? joker and batman were both gross but, again. male writers. if it was a one-off I could drop a thermian argument because, alright one and done makes sense, especially 1988 standards. but it saturated and soured the entire goddamn movie because of abhorrent pacing decisions. so you're goddamn right I'm gonna bring it up twice! joker was a creep, his plan was dumb, nolan and burton and lord/miller and even ayer had better motivations. YES I AM SAYING THAT JARED LETO'S JOKER HAD BETTER WRITING THAN MARK HAMILL'S JOKER. not nearly to the level of ledger nicholson or galifanakis but hamill didn't have a lot to work with here and I maintain that his performance was amazing; honestly I like his the best out of all of them but just... not here. but I think I can cut some slack to firelord ozai and luke skywalker even if he just phoned it in here which he didn't. writing was just weak. and that's all there is to it. don't anon me and threaten to remove my bones ok?

alright so batman and joker fought and joker got the upper hand and was gonna kill him but it was a prop gun. haha. they had a heart to heart and batman tells joker that he wants to help him get better, even after joker killed robin and molested barbara and traumatized gordon and did countless other travesties, he still said he would help. but joker said no, and told a joke that was good enough to make batman laugh. and then the credits rolled.

...

what a completely pointless and empty ending. oh it's deep and meaningful and poignant? ok sure, I guess, movie, but you didn't earn that. shyamalan did the same thing a dozen times. that doesn't make him any less of a shit writer.

I can understand the concept of batman laughing at joker's joke, humanizing him.

I get it. I see what they tried to do. I respect it.

but this movie was massively overhyped and overrated and I expected it to be so much better than it was. but overall to me it was just another batman cartoon to throw on top of the pile. maybe it was influential to graphic novels. maybe it shaped batman into what he is today. it published right as tim burton's movie and I can respect its place in the pantheon of comic history. but sometimes things that are classic...

aren't that great.

citizen kane, casablanca, the maltese falcon, the treasure of the sierra madre, gone with the wind, singing in the rain, all of them are classic and legendary pieces of art. but they're just not that good, interesting, appealing, watchable, or FUN. they were good at the time- I mean come on we all know them today- but on going back you'd have to really appreciate the finer details to still love the movies today. and this belongs there, in the vault, to be appreciated from afar. influential if dated.

but god am I still disappointed nonetheless.

TL;DR

it was just okay. had some good ideas, had some really bad ideas, had some ugly stuff. overall mediocre. first half 5/10, second half 7/10, overall 6/10.

[snowdice]

Things You’ll Never Do (Part 4 of the Series “Is There Anything Left of Patton?”)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil & Logan, Logan/Patton(?), Virgil & Patton (?)

Characters: Logan, Virgil, Patton(?)

Summary: Season change. Life changes. Patton doesn’t.

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Past major character death(?), Look it’s a zombie AU so you can probably guess why there’s a question mark after everything involving Patton. Angst. 

The fourth part of a series of one-shots called Is There Anything Left of Patton?

Previous parts:

“Something Left”

“Someone You’ll Never Meet”

Food You’ll Never Eat 

Logan glanced up as Virgil shifted on the couch next to him to pull the blanket he was wearing more securely around his shoulders. He was working on patching his hoody once more and seemed even more anxious without its normal weight around his shoulders than he had been in the past week. Logan tried to ignore him but couldn’t help but grit his teeth just a bit as he squirmed around a bit more, jostling Logan with the movement.

“It’s getting colder,” Virgil commented.

“It is,” Logan agreed, hoping that would be the end of it.

“Yeah…” The other man started to tap his foot and stopped sewing altogether in lieu of fiddling with the fabric in his hands.

Logan closed his eyes and took a breath. “We will be fine, Virgil,” he assured. He knew, of course, why Virgil’s anxiety rose as the temperature dropped. He hadn’t gone into detail, but Logan had pieced together from what he had said that his last winter had not gone well. There had been a reason why he’d been alone when Logan had found him last spring, and it was not anything like the reason Logan himself had been “alone.”

“I know,” Virgil replied.

Logan nodded and went back to his book.

“But what if…”

Logan snapped his book closed. “Virgil,” he said, and it was a good thing Patton was currently tied to the rocking chair out of reaching distance because the sharpness of his tone drew the man’s attention instantly. “As I have explained multiple times before, we have plenty of supplies for the winter.”

“But what if there’s a big snowstorm and the solar panels break, and we freeze?”

“We have stored battery power as well as gasoline for the backup generator. If all else fails, we have a fireplace and wood.”

“But then we wouldn’t be able to cool the food and we’d starve…”

“If it is cold enough that we could freeze to death, we can simply put the food in the freezers outside in the snow instead. Besides, all of the canning you insisted on doing this fall would easily get us through the winter twice over.”

“What if…?”

“Then we die Virgil,” he snapped. “What do you want from me?!” The other man slammed his jaw shut. Logan sighed. “I will go on one more hunting trip for the season if that will assuage your anxiety. You can make jerky out of whatever I bring back. However, you will need to find some activity to amuse yourself during the winter months other than overpreparing supplies else we will surely drive each other mad.”

“…Fine.”

“Very well. I will go tomorrow,” Logan said and then paused. “Do you want me to put Patton downstairs while I’m gone?” Recently Logan had simply… stopped putting Patton downstairs during the night and Virgil had yet to protest. It was likely not a rational decision, but he… didn’t like putting Patton downstairs. Logan knew logically that the distress he expressed when he realized he was being put in the cage was not true human suffering, but it still always left a bad taste in Logan’s mouth.

“Nah,” Virgil said glancing at the mentioned man still pulling at his leash. “It’s cool. Patton and I’ll just hang out.”

Logan tried not to show his relief on his face. “Very well.” Hopefully by the time he got back, Virgil will have calmed down some, or at very least, Logan would have more patience to deal with him.

  Virgil glanced through the inventory Logan had carefully written out and marked off the one can of peaches that he’d eaten for breakfast. There were still enough cans for four cans of those per week until next April, but the numbers only partially calmed his anxiety over the situation. He sighed and tried to forget it, walking into the living room and hoping to find something productive to do.

He paused in the doorframe. “Patton? What are you doing buddy?” Virgil asked. Patton was standing in the corner of the living room trapped between a potted plant and the wall like a video game character clipping. He stared at the plant blankly. “Pat,” Virgil said a little more sharply to attract his attention. He turned at the sound to start toward Virgil and promptly walked right into the potted plant, tumbling it and himself over. “Patton!” he exclaimed, rushing over to him.

He realized his mistake a moment too late. He must have moved in the wrong way or spoke with just a bit too high of a pitch because Patton suddenly went from his must-investigate-weird-object mode to attack mode. Virgil tried to hop out of range of the leash, but felt a hand grab his ankle with surprising strength considering how the zombie was usually easily pushed and pulled with the lightest of touches. Virgil’s leg was pulled out from under him and he fell. “No!” Virgil said as he was yanked backwards. He tried to find purchase on something, but all he could do was dig his fingers into the carpet. They often forgot with how docile Patton was 95% of the time, that Patton had all the strength of an adult man and perhaps a bit extra from the turning. “Patton please! I hate it when you do this!” Virgil groaned. He was pulled inexorably back by the hold on his ankles, his fingernails scrapping against the ground uselessly like a scene in an old horror movie.

Weight flopped down on top of him, a knee digging into his back. Cool breath brushed against the back of his neck and too cold fingers grabbed at one of his ears. A chill went up his spine.

Virgil flopped his forehead onto the floor in defeat. “You know,” he grumbled. “If you’re not going to eat me then WHAT IS THE POINT OF THIS?” Patton’s fingers tried to find the source of the sound, but Virgil was luckily on his stomach and could easily press his mouth against the floor. That didn’t stop the fingers from scraping against his neck though. “I fucking hate you sometimes Patton,” Virgil hissed. Patton just patted at his cheeks. “Logan!” he called. “You didn’t possibly get back from your hunting trip and just not tell me, did you?!” There was no answer. Figured. Virgil pushed against Patton’s hold and was shoved firmly back down, fingers digging into his hair with renewed vigor.

Unfortunately, when Patton got like this, there wasn’t much you could do without help besides waiting and hoping. He had to lose interest in you before you could get away from him. The problem was that even if he did get bored, when you tried to wiggle away, there was every likelihood he’d just get more intrigued by you and the cycle would repeat again and again.

They went through the process a couple of times before Virgil was finally able to get away from the weird forced cuddling. He shoved back suddenly, and Patton toppled off him. Virgil scrambled away and out of the leash’s reach before he could get grabbed again. Patton rolled, confused at the sudden exodus of his pillow and got caught up in the leash. He promptly started fighting with it.

“Ugh,” Virgil said flopping on his back on the floor. After a few more moments, he stood up and surveyed the damage. The poor plant was likely unsalvageable, the pot it had been in now broken into three big pieces and a few smaller ones (he’s glad they didn’t roll onto that), and wet dirt was everywhere.

Virgil sighed. “We both have mud all over us now Patton.” He was careful to pitch his voice low. Patton barely even spared him a glance. Instead he just continued to claw at the leash.

Well, Virgil couldn’t just leave him there no matter how much he wanted to after that trauma. He edged carefully around the writhing mass on the floor and grabbed the edge of the leash, quickly untying it from the armchair he’d been attached to. Next came the game of untangling Patton from the leash while said zombie did everything he could to resist Virgil’s efforts.

Eventually, Virgil managed to get him untangled and gave a non-so-gentle tug on the handle. He stumbled forward, made a hissing noise, and tried to pull himself back the other way. Virgil dug in his heels and tugged, whistling a couple of times to get his attention.

It took probably 20 minutes to drag him upstairs to Logan’s bedroom. He tied him to the headboard of the bed. “Stay,” Virgil commanded, uselessly he knew. He dashed into his bedroom and quickly changed into a different outfit before returning.

Patton had sat on the floor while Virgil had been gone. “You got mud all over the rug,” he moaned. Well, that would be a problem for later. First… he ran down to the kitchen where the water supply was and wetted a washrag.

He did his best to wipe the mud off of Patton’s face and arms despite the way he fought back like Virgil was pouring acid onto his skin. “It’s just water, you asshole,” Virgil hissed, throwing down the rag once he’d gotten the worst of it off.

He turned toward the dresser and started rooting through the drawers a bit roughly, trying to find something in them that would be easy to wrestle Patton into. He dug through the clothing, growing more and more frustrated by the moment. He pulled out something that looked promising: a pair of sweats with some university logo on them, but as soon as he held them up, he could tell they were too small for Patton’s waist. He tossed them over his shoulder.

They made a clanking noise when they hit the floor. He paused, blinking over at the pants. There weren’t any buttons or metal on them to make that noise. Now that he was paying attention, he noticed when he reached over to pick them up that they had an unusual weight to them. He dug his hand into the pocket and pulled out an engagement ring.

Oh.

It was easy to forget sometimes that Patton wasn’t in fact some really stupid dog he had to deal with. He’d been a full person once who liked to cook and garden; in fact, the peaches he’d eaten this morning were grown and canned by his hand. He’d kept a closet full of stuffed animals despite being a fully-grown adult, and, by what Logan had said, had no shame about that fact. The truly horrendous 100-pound armchair they tied Patton to in the living room was picked out and somehow dragged into Logan’s home without his knowledge or consent by that man.

Patton had been someone who was loved so much that Logan couldn’t let him go even now, still looked at him with all of that love even now. He was a man who’d bought a ring and made plans for a future that would never come.

All of Virgil’s agitation at Patton drained from him in a moment.

“I…” Virgil said, drawing Patton’s attention to him, though he could never reach him from where he was tied up. “This is a really nice ring Pat. Nice and simple. He would have loved it.” He would have loved anything Patton gave to him. “Would you want him to have it, I wonder.” He looked over at the man, searching for an answer on his vacant face. “I think…” Virgil concluded. “I think that would be cruel, and I think that you didn’t like to do cruel things.” Virgil nodded to himself and carefully placed the ring back into the old sweats’ pocket, folded them up, and put them back where they had been in the drawer.

He much more calmly picked out a pair of pants and a shirt. “Okay Patton,” Virgil said and turned to him. “Let’s get you into something clean.”

Thanks for reading!

Ah and we finally have foreshadowing for the plot. Gee this AU moves slowly...

...

What plot you ask? Well.

Want to read more? The next part of this series is...

There are Things You Have Lost 

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Hurt (E.D.)

Summary: Some stories start with a meet-cute, but this one starts at the end. 

Warnings: mentions and descriptions of sex, swearing, ANGST

Word count: ~ 2100

Hurt - Series Masterlist

Ethan said he loved her and she took him at his word. He said she was his soulmate and over the years he had become an integral part of her being. You see, Ethan Dolan wasn’t one to go around throwing the L-word so carelessly. He’s the kind of guy who shows his feelings, and he did. Day in and day out, for four years. Then one sunny Sunday, under a cloudless sky, the pair sat in comfortable silence in their backyard, watching over Grayson’s kids as they ran wildly around. And he spoke, changing her life forever.

“I’m in love with someone else.”

Ethan Dolan doesn’t say the L-word so easily…that’s why the pain of hearing it said about someone other than her had nearly shattered her. And sitting across from him now, each armed with a lawyer by their side; this wasn’t how she imagined her marriage with Ethan going.

The worst of it all…she never saw it coming. He simply announced he was in love with someone else. It would have been kinder to kill her. She couldn’t even react in the moment, staring at his side profile in shock as she tried to collect herself. He didn’t even look at her. Not even a glance.

She wanted to throw a fit and curse him out, but she couldn’t. Not when she had promised Grayson to keep his kids happy for the day. She couldn’t act out in front of the little ones.

“I’m sure you’ve gone over the details.” Ethan’s lawyer spoke smugly, thinking this would be an easy win. But Ethan? He was still too much of a coward to look her in the eye again.

“We did and my client finds the offer ridiculous.” Her lawyer remarked, making Ethan roll his eyes and sigh. He played with his late father’s ring, twisting it continuously – a nervous tick as Y/N remembered.

“Considering there was a prenuptial signed, I’m sure you can see my client has been more than generous.” Y/N chuckled dryly, unable to contain her emotion. She couldn’t stop herself from giggling out of control, the unusual situation seeking an atypical response.

“I’m sorry, but does she need a minute?” Ethan’s lawyer asked with contempt, noticing the young woman start to collect herself and the pieces of her sanity that were so evidently far from picture-perfect. There were many cracks in her mind and heart right now, the ability to cope shunned by other, much stronger emotions.

To survive, she must be this person filled with a bitterness she can’t control.

“She

is to be the mother of his children, the kids they planned to have together. Had he at least given her some reason to think there was anything wrong or lacking in their marriage, she’d be much more accepting. But there wasn’t. Hell, they even had sex almost every day during their marriage, even that Sunday morning after which he decided to tear her heart out and stomp on it.

Since then, the girl he met years ago on the beach, the one with the big eyes and the bigger heart is now consumed by a hatred she never knew could take root. She wasn’t human anymore, but a persona she crafted to keep herself going.

“Who is she?” Y/N asked, her voice firm with a slight crack at the end. She poked his chest repeatedly, talking in hushed tones while the kids were taking a nap, not wanting to alert them to anything being wrong.

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Ethan replied, almost annoyed by her show of affection and the betrayal in her eyes that have been swimming in tears for the past two hours…tears she swallowed and kept hidden deep inside.

“It matters and you know it.” She felt herself cracking at the seams, her hands latching onto her hair as if she fears her brain might explode. “Did you fuck her?” She bites down on her lip, shaking violently as the thought of his body on top of hers makes her sick. He had been kissing every inch of her skin merely five hours ago…he whispered the sweetest things in her ear as he guided her to her orgasm. He had interlocked their fingers as he thrusts deeper, cumming inside. This morning, his hands on her, his cum dripping out of her…it was all endearing. Now? It made her sick to her stomach.

“I didn’t.” Ethan looked at her, a fleeting glance more than a proper look. It’s as if he’s assessing the damage, checking if she’s about to break. And she was. She was standing on the edge of a very tall cliff…the one she believed was his love. But now he was on the other end, pushing her down and he had no intention on catching her when she falls.

“I didn’t even kiss her. I wanted to wait until I told you. Out of respect for what we had.” He added, looking at his hands instead of her face. She wanted to chuckle…she wanted to strangle him. That’s how much she hated him right now. She could have killed him and not batted an eye. She never understood how crimes of passion were possible. How could a person experience emotion so severely, so deeply and all-consuming that they were blinded by it?

She understood now.

“Respect? If you had any respect for me, you wouldn’t have been fucking me this whole time like I was still your number one girl. You wouldn’t have whispered ‘I love you’ this morning when you woke up to my smiling face nor when you were balls deep inside me. You have no respect for me. I see that now.”

“I’m fine. Better than fine, actually. Especially since I’m not accepting these terms. Not by a long shot.” Y/N stated plainly, clasping her hands together as she placed them on the glass table in front of her. Leaning in, she smiled wickedly, a decisive glint in her eye – one that would scare Ethan had he dared to look at her.

“The prenuptial I signed had a clause on cheating. I wouldn’t get anything had I cheated or if I had been the cause for our divorce on any grounds. And I wasn’t. Your client here couldn’t wait to tell me he is in love with someone else and that he’s simply waiting for me to be aware of the fact before he starts fucking her. I believe I deserve a little more than twenty thousand dollars for his actions.” Her eyes narrowed at Ethan, wishing he’d just look at her. She wanted more than anything for him to look at her and see the monster he created. She wanted him to beg for mercy…for forgiveness. And only then would she tell him to fuck off and leave him on his knees. She wanted revenge.

“And what is it that you’d like?” His lawyer decided to indulge her. Just for a moment.

“The house is my number one request.” She wouldn’t even live in it. In fact, she can’t stand being inside. Those walls carry too many memories, most of which are now tainted. No…she’d have it on the market the moment she got the deed on her name alone.

“The Jeep.” She’d sell it for parts, just as a cathartic experience.

“And I want never to see his face again.” Her harsh words finally made a dent. Ethan looked up just in time to catch her fiercely wild gaze, enough to see the hate within.

“Not gonna happen.” His lawyer stood up, tapping Ethan on the shoulder but he found himself too engrossed in her, almost as if she put a spell on him. He was in disbelief. How quickly her love turned to hate as if she didn’t even fight it. She let that negative emotion swallow her and pour acid into her soul, but he understood why. He deserved, he was aware. It didn’t lessen the hurt that overcame him as he saw she was no longer who he knew.

“You changed.” Ethan threw the statement in her face as an insult. It was meant to make her feel inferior as if she was the one making the mistake. Like this was her fault.

“Yes. I did. Drop the judgy tone. You don’t get a say in how I fix what you broke. You don’t get a say in anything concerning me at all.” She stood, leaning on her sprawled out hands that stuck to the table like they were glued to the glass. “You’re the one who cheated, remember?” She added, feeling herself growing faint, but she refused to show how her knees are on the verge of buckling or how the back of her neck is drenched in cold sweat.

“I changed by turning my skin from porcelain to steel. I’ve become stronger, fiercer and a lot less trusting. If my ‘soulmate’ could do this to me, anyone would do far worse. I’ve learned from my mistake and I’ve adapted accordingly. But you? You’ve become a coward.” She spat, the weakness she felt in her legs now consuming her body.

“And why is that?” Ethan snorted, looking down on her trembling hands. He knew her well enough to notice something isn’t quite right. But he kept it to himself. He didn’t want to overreact. She wouldn’t want him to show he cares anyway.

“This is the first time you’ve looked me in the eye in the past two months. And you still can’t even keep eye contact for more than a few seconds.” She felt herself falter, her mouth dry as she blinked faster to keep her vision from blurring.

“You LEFT ME!” She raised her voice, her tone alone is an indicator of her fading. “And I hate you for it.”

That’s the last she remembers as her eyes closed shut and her body dropped to the ground. It wasn’t rigid sort of a blackout, rather limp. Managing to knock her head on the desk, she began bleeding from the cut the glass edges left on her scalp, the blood excessive and unrelenting.

“Call 911!” Ethan ordered his lawyer, jumping over the table without a second thought. He checked her pulse, drawing a deep breath once he realized she’s still alive. For a moment he feared she was gone and it scared the life out of him. It felt like his world collapsed on itself and he found it hard to breathe.

He pressed paper towels against the cut blindly. He couldn’t even see where it was, only the blood gushing out.

“You’ll be okay. Okay?” His own voice was no longer as steady as before, a river of emotions breaking through.

The paramedics came in quick, forcing Ethan to step back as they loaded her on a stretcher and into the ambulance. He remained in the office, his clothes mattered with her blood – his on-brand clothes ruined.

By the time she came through, Y/N had seven stitches in place and a killer headache to match. Her back hurt from hitting the chair on her way down and her arm was lightly bruised from the fall as well.

“Don’t worry, dear. You’ll be fine. Took a nasty fall, but you and the little one are just fine.” The older nurse reassured her, placing a hand on her lower abdomen with a soft smile on her pale lips.

Y/N smiled, nodding in relief. She was worried about her…wait a second!

“Little one?!” She exclaimed, seemingly more panicked now then when she just came to.

“Yes. The baby. Oh, guess the fall was a little rougher than I thought.” The nurse laughed, but Y/N caught her by the wrist just before she walked away.

“Pregnant? I can’t be pregnant.” Y/N insisted, the sound of her heart beating drowning everything else.

“Have you had sex?” The nurse remarked. Y/N went silent, closing her eyes in utter defeat as she realized what’s happening here.

“Not since the day I found out my husband is in love with someone who isn’t me.” She replied in resignation, swallowing thickly as tears pooled in her eyes.

She wanted to look back on her life with Ethan fondly, to preserve some good memories. That wasn’t possible…at least not yet. Not when she found herself linked to him once again and this time it wasn’t just by a piece of paper that stated they were legally bound in matrimony…this was much worse. He was literally inside of her and while she wanted to be the mother of his children more than anything, this was the final blow.

“Can you please get me a doctor? I’d like to talk about my options.”

PART TWO

PART THREE

Tags: @dolandolll @xalayx @godlydolans @heyits-claire @peacedolantwins @dolanstwintuesday @accalialionheart @ethanhes

[peteywillproceed]

“We Were On A Break!” - Part 1

Author’s Note: Sooooo, I’ve been watching Friends again and I was really inspired to do some kind of crossover with my writing. I tried to make it pretty unobvious, but I really enjoyed writing this! It got really long so I split it into two parts :) hope you enjoy x

Word Count: 3,270

Summary: Even broken up, you and Tom still can’t agree on anything - including, it seems, how exactly you even broke up in the first place...

“Really, Y/n, sleeping with my best friend was the best you could come up with?” Tom glared at you whilst loud music pounded through your head.

“Why the hell do you care, Tom? We’re done, over, finito – you saw to that!” You yelled back, throwing out a hand as Harrison tried to awkwardly shuffle past you. “You can stay there.”

“Don’t tell him what to do! And I never broke up with you, we were on a break!”

You nearly screamed at his words, fisting your hands in your hair and throwing you head back. God, he was infuriating, had he really been this bad when you were dating him? It hadn’t even been that long, just a couple weeks since you’d sat on his bed, sobbing your heart out as he broke up with you. He knew just as well as you that he’d never said anything about a bloody break, yet he threw the excuse out there any chance he got.

“If we were on a break, Thomas, how comes the word never actually came up in the conversation, huh?” You spat, acid coating your tongue. You were done, absolutely sick and tired of this bullshit, just wanting to graduate and move on with your life and forget about this idiotic relationship you’d entertained for five months.

“I thought it was implied!”

You rolled your eyes, pushing past Tom and spinning on your heel to look back at him. “Well then, take this as me implying I’m gonna sleep with other people!”

You raced away from the random bedroom and shot down the stairs, snatching your coat up from the forgotten pile on the banister. You hadn’t even fucked Harrison; you’d stumbled into that room, crying and frustrated over being abandoned by your friends and feeling horribly single, and the stupid boy had followed you in there. You’d always liked Harrison, he’d always been the rational one, but just as you’d finished calming down and snuggled against his chest, Tom had burst into the room, a girl you’d never met before under his arm.

And then he’d had a go at you for having sex with someone you definitely did not have sex with.

The whole thing was outstandingly obtuse, but then again ‘outstandingly obtuse’ was basically Tom in a nutshell, especially if he thought ‘I’m breaking up with you’ was the same thing as ‘I’d like to take a break.’

As you stepped out of the frat house and into the bitter winter air, you pulled your coat tighter around yourself and shivered in the bite of the wind. Your phone was pressed against your ear as you dialled your roommate, multitasking so you could pull your gloves on. She picked up on the third ring, her voice thick with sleep, and you felt wildly guilty about waking her up.

“Is there anyway you could come pick me up?” you choked out, hearing footsteps approaching from behind. The last thing you wanted to do was have a break down in public, let alone one in front of a total stranger.

“Was he there?” Sarah suddenly sounded wide awake, and you couldn’t help the giggle that erupted from your lips when you heard her curse as she struggled to get dressed.

“Yeah, it was just a bit of a shit night.”

You heard her sigh on the other end of the line. “Y/n, I don’t understand what you ever saw in that guy.

You paused for a second as a thousand memories came flooding to the surface, reminding you of the thousands of good times you’d shared with Tom. You could still see his face the first time you took him on a rollercoaster, how you’d felt your heart flutter the first time you’d kissed him. And suddenly, you felt tears flooding your eyes, and you wanted to kick yourself for letting yourself be upset over him again. As the footsteps behind you grew louder, you rubbed the tears away angrily, not wanting to expose yourself, and shook your head.

“Honestly, neither do I.”

“I’ll be there in five,” she hung up the call, knowing full well the last thing you needed right now was her sympathy.

You came to a stop on the pavement, leaning back against the brick wall of the first house you came to, and stared up at the night sky. Inky blue was scattered with sparkling diamonds, spinning violently fast above your head. If you’d wanted to, you could have sat there and calculated the exact speed they were moving, but you didn’t really feel like putting your physics major to use right now.

“Y/n?” a disembodied voice said, and your heart stopped.

“Thomas?” You growled, recognising the voice anywhere.

“I, er, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Your eyebrows shot into your hairline, your body going rigid with anger. “You could’ve done that three weeks ago.”

“I know but…” he swallowed audibly “you looked upset.”

“Upset? I looked upset?” You paused, balling your hands into fists as you couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. “No, Tom, I’m beyond upset. Upset was you breaking up with me. Upset was dealing with the aftermath. I’m fuming.”

“About what? What the hell are you fuming about? You just slept with my best friend!”

“I didn’t, actually Thomas, which you would bloody know if you’d actually asked him!”

“Then how comes you were in the bedroom together, huh?”

“Jesus Christ!” You lost it, throwing your hands into the air in rage. “Why do you think you have the right to know everything I do? You lost that privilege when you ended things!”

“We were on a break!”

Before you could punch his stupid, smarmy face, a car pulled up alongside you, and Sarah hung out the window. Tom flicked his eyes over to the vehicle, staying silent as you kicked the pavement in frustration and stepped out into the road. As you buckled in and she pulled away, you tried desperately to keep your eyes fixed ahead, and not drifting back to where Tom was stood on the pavement, staring after you with his lip tucked between his teeth.

“Wanna talk about it?” Sarah asked, one hand on the wheel whilst the other grasped your shoulder.

“He’s just being impossible,” you sighed, and she threw you a look.

“Honey, aren’t they all?”

***

It had been a few weeks since the party, and you were grabbing some coffee from a tiny little café you’d discovered in first year. You were still angry about the whole situation, mostly frustrated that neither of you could actually agree on how you’d broken up, but at least you no longer wanted to punch a wall whenever you saw Tom on campus.

Your fingers wrapped around the steaming mug as you made your way to the last available table in the entire place. It was meant for a couple, but you figured nobody would mind if you sat down and gave it up for someone who needed it. You settled into the chair and spread your notes across the table, only seconds later engrossed in your revision.

It may have been hours or only a few minutes, but you didn’t look up until a deep voice shook you out of your thoughts. “’scuse me, is this seat taken?”

“Oh no it’s-” you faltered as you glanced up, eyes locking on the familiar pools of deep brown. “Tom.”

“It’s Tom?” he raised an eyebrow, a shit eating grin spreading across his face as he held out his hand “Hi, Tom, nice to meet you! I’m Tom too!”

You stifled a giggle, batting his hand away and rolling your eyes. “Just sit down, dipshit.”

Tom collapsed into the seat and you tried to go back to concentrating on your revision, but he kept setting his coffee down to look at you. Having had enough, you threw down your books and fixed him with a look. “What?”

“Nothing, darling, just not used to watching you work so hard,” he shrugged, and you didn’t know if it was a thinly veiled attack or just a piss poor attempt at a compliment. Given Tom’s rep, you were more inclined to go for the latter.

“Well, can you stop staring? Unless you have something important to say, I’m working.” You were trying to keep calm, but the edge in your voice crept through your carefully built defences, and Tom seemed to take the hint that you weren’t in the mood for games.

“Alright, well, I guess I do have something important to say.”

You head snapped up, your reading instantly forgotten. Even if he suddenly said he was joking, you knew there was no way you were going back to that today, and, with some resignation, started stuffing the notes into a folder.

“Well go on then,” you glared, crossing your arms. “It better be spectacular.”

Tom shrugged, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “I guess it might be.” When you refused to entertain his games, he shook his head and sighed. “Look, Y/n, I know things aren’t so good with us right now. But I didn’t mean for us to fall out this bad.”

“Whatever happens, we were still together, even if not for very long, and regardless of how things ended we should still be civil. I still care about you, a lot.”

Your breath hitched in your throat; hearing Tom say those words made your heart flutter, even after all the crap you’d both gone through. “So what’s your point, then?”

“Well, my point is that we’re gonna be around each other, We have the same friends. We might as well try to make an effort, and I thought I’d start by offering you and your roommate tickets to the frat’s Christmas party next week.”

You raised an eyebrow, the irony not lost on you that last year’s Christmas party was when you’d first kissed him. It was another few months before you’d finally got together, but that was really the start of your relationship, and you wondered if he was doing this on purpose. But on the other hand, tickets were hard to come by, and it was supposed to be the best party on campus. It was sweet what he was doing really, and you begrudgingly swallowed the last of your coffee.

“Sarah can come?” You asked warily

“Whoever you want,” he smiled, pulling the tickets out of a pocket in his coat. “Just try not to shag any of my mates.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but you still bristled at the comment, sweeping the tickets into your bag as he stood up to leave.

“I’ll sleep with whoever I want, thanks Thomas,” you said, although it came out much louder than you intended. In the quiet café, almost everyone turned to look at you, their brows furrowed in annoyance. You held your hands up and bit your lip, fighting the urge to kick Tom as he looked down at you and smirked.

“I’m sure you will, darling,” he laughed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his duffle coats. “See ya later!”

***

“This is so loud!” Sarah shouted in your ear.

“Sorry what? You just deafened me, I can’t hear a thing!”

“Oh ha ha,” she rolled her eyes “is there nowhere I can get a drink around here?”

“Try the keg table sweetheart,” a Texan drawl you’d recognise from halfway across the world said.

“Cameron!” you squealed, spinning round and leaping into the boy’s arms. He was the only one on your course you really spoke to outside of lectures, and he’d graduated last year. “What are you doing here?”

“A little bird told me you might be here tonight,” his eyes slid over to Sarah who’d conveniently disappeared into the crowd. “And I missed seeing you.”

You grinned at him, sandy hair and blue eyes still exactly how you remembered them. His arms curved round your small frame easily, and the familiar scent of sandalwood and apricot wafted up your nose as you buried your head into his chest. You’d done this so often with Cameron, curled up after a particularly hard physics lecture, and you’d just pass out next to him. It was normal for you, but something about today felt different.

His hands were on your waist, gripping your hips as rock music blared all around you. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest, and you could’ve sworn you smelt the sickly sweet smell of alcohol on his breath. Something felt different, almost tense between you both, and you jerked back to look at him.

“Are you okay?”

Cameron frowned, nodding vigorously. “Yeah, everything’s good.”

“It’s just…” you started to try and tell him how it felt, but you were cut off as Tom strode over to you and interrupted you, his eyes lingering on Cameron’s hands.

“Y/n! You made it!” Tom cheered, narrowing his eyes on Cameron. “Who’s this?”

“This is Cameron, from my physics class,” you smiled, trying not to feel defensive as Tom reached forward to shake his hand.

“Nice to meet you mate, who invited you exactly?” he asked, eyes wide and innocent, and you almost choked.

“Tom!”

“What? I’m just being friendly!”

You ran your eyes over him, noting the messy hair and the eyes rimmed with red. You scoffed, gently plucking the beer out of his hand and passing it to Cameron. “No, you’re drunk.”

“C’mon, Y/n! Don’t be a buzzkill! Live a little!” Tom almost sang, and you felt your body go rigid with annoyance. Here you were, at a stupid party you hadn’t even wanted to come to in the first place in an effort to get along with him. Yet there he was, drunk off his ass, insulting your friends and looking like he’d been hit by a truck.

“Get over here,” you spat, grabbing him by the bicep “Cameron, just give me a moment. I’ll come and find you when I’m finished with him.”

Marching Tom out of the room, you barely paid any attention to his protests and the weird looks people gave you, practically dragging him up the stairs. You muttered to yourself, trying to figure out which one his room was, when he pointed at a half-closed door near the bathroom. You straightened yourself up and pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind you.

Suddenly, it hit you that you’d never been in Tom’s bedroom before, always meeting up at your place or somewhere central. It wasn’t anything like you imagined – for one thing, it was insanely tidy. And there were rows of books stacked neatly onto buckling shelves, a well-made bed underneath a poster of what looked like London, and a hard wood desk scattered with study things. You wondered why he gave you such a hard time for studying, when he clearly was just as bad.

“Y/n, come on, this is my party!” Tom pouted, and you could barely contain your laughter. He looked like a three year old.

“And you can go back down when you’ve sobered up. You’re gonna hurt yourself if you carry on like that.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, and you moved towards the en-suite in search of a cup and some face cloths. When you found what you were looking for, you filled the cup with some water and took it back out to him, finding that he’d collapsed onto the bed.

“See, you’re even tired,” you smiled, helping him sit up and bring the cup to his lips.

“You’re too nice to be, y’know,” he mumbled through his mouthful of water. It was the truest thing you’d heard him say in a long time, and you swallowed the nasty retort that came with it.

“Trust me, I know,” you said instead, and he looked up at you, seeming grateful you weren’t giving him a hard time.

“Who’s that downstairs anyway?” he continued.

“I told you, it’s just Cameron. We’re really good friends from physics.”

“Didn’t look like it.”

“Huh?” you frowned, and Tom scoffed loudly.

“Oh please, he had his hands all over you.”

“So? That doesn’t mean anything,” you said, but in your heart you knew it wasn’t true. The way he’d looked at you, the weird position of his hands, it had brought an atmosphere between the two of you you’d never had before, and maybe Tom was only giving a name to something you couldn’t. “And even if it did, it wouldn’t have anything to do with you.”

“I know,” Tom said simply, a small shrug escaping him “but I can’t help the way I feel.”

Suddenly, you felt like the room was spinning and you couldn’t catch your breath. You could barely focus on Tom as he seemed to swim before your eyes and you fought to get a hold of yourself. Was he really saying what you thought he was? Or were you misinterpreting it, like you always seemed to do when it came to Tom?

“What?” you whispered, and he came into focus long enough for you to see him reach over and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Like I said, I can’t help the way I feel about you.” His fingers trailed over your jaw and cupped your cheek, eyes locked on yours. You gulped, seeing him move towards you, and all at once it was too much. Not long ago, he’d been screaming at you, and now he was confessing he still liked you? It felt too weird, too foreign, and you jerked away from his touch.

Hurt spread across his face, but you knew he was too drunk to remember this in the morning. You started to move your mouth, no words coming out, and reached to grab your fallen coat. “I…I think I should go.”

“Wait, no, please don’t,” Tom practically shouted, and you jumped at the desperation in his voice. “I’m sorry, that was too much.”

“Yeah, it was,” you sighed, but the tingle against your lips seemed to tell you otherwise. You hadn’t wanted him to actually kiss you, had you?

“Are you tired? I’m really tired. I think we should go to sleep,” Tom was rambling now, and you bit your lip in frustration. What did he expect you to do? Lay down beside him and fall asleep like nothing had happened?

His eyes bore into yours, imploring you to stay. And even with all your resolve, you could feel yourself breaking, drawn towards the arms that had held you whilst you’d fallen asleep more times than you could remember. With a little gulp, you made your way back towards the bed and kicked off your shoes, so you could curl up beside him.

He slung his arm around you and pulled you into him, and just like that the last few reservations you had melted away, as Tom’s familiar smell engulfed you. Slowly, your eyes began to flutter shut, weighed down by your confusion and exhaustion, and you took a deep breath. Drifting off, images of your time with Tom flashed before your eyes, and you finally fell asleep to the sound of his gentle breathing.

 It had been so long since you’d been like this, just the two of you curled up under the bed sheets, but the warmth and familiarity of it all made it seem like no time had passed between you. For now, you were lost in your own little fantasy, content with the soft glow of light and little snores from Tom.

 You would deal with the consequences in the morning.

 Part 2

 Taglist

@zabdisamor @jinxfanfics

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Will you be writing another fic? Because your previous chapter got me thinking of Marinette being dipped in the chemical thing like Harley and had been and becomes crazy like them.

Yeah… trigger warnings. I don’t really know the words for a lot of triggers but if you’re squeamish around emotional and physical abuse or Stockholm syndrome I would suggest not reading this

Also, fun fact: this actually was an alternate ending for Satisfied I considered but ended up not doing because it was darker than I wanted the fic to go

Also also, you don’t need to read Satisfied to read this one. There are a few references to the story, but really all you need to know is that Marinette is using the horse miraculous to spy on the Rogues

She hummed lightly as she went around the warehouse, gathering her things (Catwoman had a tendency to take her things, then get bored of them and leave them in random places). She was just about to open a portal when Joker spoke:

“Wait, NightMare, could you come back later tonight?”

A chill ran down her spine and Marinette spun on her heel to face him.

“Of course, Joker, sir. May I know why?” She said as pleasantly as she could.

He only smiled wider behind his mask.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek and opened a portal for herself.

~

Marinette stepped into the warehouse again and hugged herself tightly. There were no Rogues in sight outside of Joker, who was leaning against his cane as he waited for her.

But, while this worried her, what really messed with her was the fact that he was standing on a tarp. She strained to remember whether or not the tarp had been there earlier, because if it hadn’t…

She tasted blood and quickly released her tongue.

The plastic crinkled beneath her as she walked over to him.

“What did you need me for, sir?”

He didn’t answer again.

“Is something wrong?”

The man finally looked at her and icy dread flooded through her veins. He wasn’t smiling.

But she didn’t have time to figure out what his expression meant, because the lights chose that exact moment to flicker and die.

Marinette made two tiny portals and slowly moved them around, using the dim blue light that they gave off as a kind of makeshift flashlight. It was barely anything, she could still only see a few steps ahead of her, but at least it was better than the total darkness she’d just been in.

She looked around for Joker and couldn’t help but panic a little bit when she couldn’t find him. Where had he gone? He was just next to her, and the tarp crinkled underneath her with every step, how had he just up and disappeared without her knowing?

“I’ll go find the fuse box,” she said softly. There was a very low chance that this was a coincidence but she wasn’t going to risk her identity quite yet.

Her eyes peered around the darkness and she started to walk, only to hear the tarp crinkle behind her. She whipped around in surprise just in time to see the mallet coming towards her face.

Her head jerked back so painfully she swore her neck snapped and she found herself weightless.

Or, at least, she felt weightless right up until she slammed into a wall headfirst. She became painfully aware of just how not weightless she was as her body crumpled in on itself.

She slid to the floor slowly. Her head pounded painfully and she could barely see through all the colorful lights dancing in her vision. She tried to shake her head to get rid of them, but it only seemed to make it worse.

Harley came into view and Marinette cursed when she realized that she was the one to hit her with the mallet. The woman wore an uncharacteristically sad expression as she pointed it at her.

“You were really working for Bats the whole time?” She whispered, her voice soft.

“I don’t…” She swallowed back bile and blood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please…”

The woman in front of her sighed. “Liar.”

She raised her mallet and Marinette tried to move her body. It was supposed to move, she was telling it to move, why wouldn’t it move?

The mallet came down on her and her eyes rolled back in her head.

~

God, five senses and all of them sucked.

People were screaming in her left ear. Someone must have manually turned on her comm. Every word felt like a mallet to the head (something that she now could say for certain). Their voices blended together, though, and it was useless to even try to discern what they were saying.

Her nose was bleeding. Every painful breath through her definitely broken nose was accented by the scent of her blood.

She’d tried to breathe through her mouth, only to taste blood instead of smell it.

Someone had bound her in her own lasso, and they hadn’t been gentle. The rope dug into her skin and chaffed against her with every breath.

The lights were back on. She wished they weren’t. The lights were so bright that even having her eyes open a sliver sent pain racing through her skull.

But she needed to see. She peeled her eyes open.

The Rogues were all standing over her, betrayal etched on each of their faces.

Outside of Joker, who looked like he was having the time of his life.

She didn’t really know which was worse.

“So, she’s finally stopped dreaming!” Said Joker brightly. “Now, we have limited time before the bats start tracking you -- if they haven’t already -- so be a doll and tell us which ear your comm is in.”

She opened her mouth to tell him to fuck off, only to choke on her own blood.

“I’d suggest telling us, it’ll be a lot less painful for you,” said Penguin, pointing his umbrella at her.

Marinette glared up at them, lips pressed together tightly.

“Right, we’ll have to guess,” said Catwoman.

Penguin nodded. He tipped his head from side to side as if considering before he positioned his umbrella under her left ear. She could feel the cold blade against her earlobe and horror filled her as she realized what was happening. He pressed down on her stomach with his foot to hold her still and then sliced upwards.

Her ear fell to the floor beside her.

She nearly bit her tongue off to stop herself from screaming. Unfortunately, she couldn’t help the rest of her reaction: her body wouldn’t stop shaking, tears and blood spilled from her head.

Joker leaned down next to her and checked the wound.

“Wrong one!”

Her eyes widened. But it was the right one. Her tear-filled eyes found Harley’s. Surely, she could tell he was lying. That was her thing. Marinette couldn’t tell them -- if she opened her mouth she would sob, and she could not let them hear that -- but Harley could.

But the woman averted her gaze.

And Penguin pressed harder into her to hold her still again and poised his umbrella over her right ear.

And then he chopped that one off, too.

A guttural scream escaped her lips despite her best attempts to stifle it and she thrashed around desperately.

Joker leaned down and gave a mock gasp of surprise. “Oh!” His voice sounded tiny and far away. “Guess I missed it! Oopsies!”

He reached into her left ear and dug her comm out with his gloved fingers. She spasmed around in her bindings, sobs slipping from between her lips.

She couldn’t even manage to stay conscious long enough to watch him smash her comm -- her last chance of being saved -- under his foot.

~

She woke up to the sound of metal scraping against metal.

It was just Harley and Joker right now, and they were pushing the heavy lid off of a vat of acid.

She was also still tied up, but that was hardly important to her at the moment.

Wait, actually, now that she was trying to get away, it was definitely important to her.

“Oh, look who woke up just in time, Harls!” Said Joker when he noticed her slowly inch-worming away.

She cursed quietly and then shot him a glare. “So, what’s the plan here? Throw me in acid and see if it kills me? It won't.”

Joker laughed, waving her off. “Of course not! This is trial number two of my experiments.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh? An experiment? You have an independent and dependent variable? How are you quantifying it? Where’s your control group?”

Harley shook her head, giving her a look like ‘shut up if you know what’s good for you’.

Marinette, in fact, did not know what was good for her.

“Besides, that implies that you’ve done this before.”

“I have! On Red Robin. Of course, that experiment failed… he didn’t kill Batman like I’d asked him to, but I think I know where I went wrong!”

She raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t heard about this.

“You see, for him I had to be careful how much I tortured him. If I had killed him then it would have been a waste of time and effort. But with you… I can do whatever I want with you and you won’t die.”

Oh. Fuck.

Still, she gave him a cocky grin. “But he snapped out of your brainwashing and everything. Clearly, torture doesn’t work. I doubt the amount you do will make it any different.”

His eyes narrowed.

“We’ll see about that.”

She took a deep breath as he picked her up and brought her to the edge of the vat. She just had to make sure to hold her breath for as long as possible…

Except, the moment her skin touched the acid, she screamed.

It felt like every cell in her body was attempting to break away from her. She screamed until her throat was raw. Every movement pulled another sob from her lips.

She needed to breathe. But there wasn’t anything around her to breathe in besides acid. She tried to hold it off as long as she could, but it was useless. She acid streamed into her nose and mouth and suddenly the pain was on the inside, too.

A different pain started on her scalp and suddenly cold air rushed over her.

Joker had pulled her out by her hair, and was now holding her torso above the acid. Sure, everything still in the acid and her insides were still on fire, but it wasn’t all of her anymore.

“If you want it to stop, just say please.” He cupped his free hand to his ear like he was about to listen to her.

She opened her mouth, prepared to beg despite her pride, but all that came out was acid. Had she forgotten how to breathe? To speak? She tried to force some air into her lungs, she knew the basic motion for breathing, but it couldn’t seem to push through any of the acid.

“Well, if you have nothing to say…”

He pushed her head back under again.

God, she wished she was dead. Her body was trying so hard to die, she could feel it. The problem was the stupid suit she was wearing: the horse miraculous wasn’t about to give up its user without a fight.

She mouthed the words, but it was useless. You have to actually say them. No sound left her lips, so she was forced to remain painfully alive.

She slowly curled in on herself in the acid, unable to do anything besides cry.

And then a hand pulled her out again. This time, to her surprise, she fully left the vat.

She looked at Harley through heavy eyelids and the woman reached out and gently closed her eyes for her.

Joker sounded annoyed as he spoke: “You’d better have some good suggestions, Harley.”

“Of course! I was a psychiatrist, I can break her for you! Here’s what I suggest we do...”

Marinette didn’t get to hear the suggestions, she was too busy falling unconscious.

~

She woke up on the floor of what appeared to be a lab. Clinically bright lights assaulted her eyes and she had to keep her gaze on the ground to stop herself from crying.

She wasn’t bound anymore. This didn’t mean that moving was easy. Her body shook as she pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“Ah, she’s awake!” Said Scarecrow’s voice.

Her head whipped around to where it had come from, she hadn’t noticed another person with her, and found it was only a speaker on the wall. Oh. That made more sense.

“Now, this is a new batch. I’ve been working to perfect my fear toxin, and I think this is the one! Do tell me about your experience when this is over.”

She watched as the gas flooded into the room. Adrenaline coursed through her as she looked around. She needed a way out.

There! Maybe! Whatever, she had no other options!

She ran to the observation window. It was one-way glass, she couldn’t see through it, but they had to be there. She threw herself at it as hard as she could and groaned in pain when she realized it was bullet-proof glass. Now she knew how Hood had felt when he’d crashed into that window. No wonder he hadn’t moved for twenty minutes afterward. Her body throbbed painfully.

And why should she move? It wasn’t like she was going to be able to avoid the gas.

She closed her eyes as the gas enveloped her.

For a second there was nothing.

She allowed herself to think that, hey, maybe it was a bust. He’d said it was a new version, after all...

And then she heard screaming.

Her eyes snapped open and she watched with horror at the scene unfolding in front of her.

She was at the Wayne Gala, if the fancy outfits and semi-familiar surroundings meant anything. But it wasn’t the calm, posh event that she’d been told about: everyone was running around and screaming at the top of their lungs.

And she could see why.

The Rogues stood at the door, their goons behind them.

And they were all holding machine guns.

“Tikki, spots on!”

She ran through the crowd, pushing past terrified civilian after terrified civilian. She could see the bats doing the same.

And then they opened fire.

People fell to the ground, riddled with holes.

She couldn’t think about it. She ran faster, desperate to do something. Anything.

A shot nailed her in the head.

She was unconscious before she’d even hit he ground.

Marinette groaned as she pushed herself to a sitting position. Just a nightmare, then. Sunlight glared down on her and she brought up a hand to use to block some of it out so she could open her eyes a little.

And god, did she wish she hadn’t. The area around her was covered in bodies. People, the ghost of their last moments of terror on their face, all slumped over each other, motionless. Dried blood coated the grass.

“Oh, thank god, you’re up. You can fix it, right?” Said Tim, and she quickly turned to look at him. She hadn’t been expecting to see him or the rest of the bats there. She breathed a sigh of relief. They were okay, at least…

And then she processed what he’d asked her.

She looked at the floor to avoid their gazes, which was decidedly a mistake. Bile built up in the back of her throat.

So… so much blood…

Damian clicked his tongue. “C’mon, hurry up. They’ve been dead for ages. They’re going to smell soon.”

Her eyes snapped back to him, and she would have been angry at any other time. Now, though, as she looked at them all…

“I… I didn’t summon a lucky charm. I can’t… I’m so sorry...”

Jason’s eyes widened behind his mask, and then he groaned and brought his hands to his hair. “What the fuck do you mean you can’t?!”

She winced.

“You didn’t think to cast a lucky charm beforehand?” Said Damian with a scowl on his face.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it.”

“How? It’s literally your thing,” said Dick.

Marinette felt tears spill over the front of her mask and she brought up a hand to wipe them away, only to find it was coated in dried blood.

“What the fuck do we even keep you around for?” Jason said, pulling her attention back to them.

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. “We should have known after that whole ‘murdering a clerk’ incident.”

“That was an accident!”

“The only way you could kill someone accidentally is if you were an idiot.”

“I’m not stupid, but it was an accident!”

They weren’t looking at her anymore.

“I told you we should have tried harder to make her give up after the convenience store stuff,” said Bruce with a tiny frown.

“No, what we should have done was never involve her at all,” said Damian.

Marinette hugged her knees to her chest. Every word they’d said was like another tiny knife through her heart, but…

She looked at Tim. He’d been silent for a while. Surely, he would understand. They were friends, after all, had been even before the costumes and vigilantism. At least he had to have some sort of care for her --.

But then he sneered at her. “How did you fail at the one thing we needed you to do? Could you be any more useless?”

Her heart shattered.

“I’m… I’m not useless! I can still do things! I messed this one up… really bad… but that doesn’t mean I can’t still be useful!” She pushed herself to her feet and ran to him. She grabbed his arm. “Please! I promise, there’s still so much I can do! Please --!”

But he pulled his arm from her with a disgusted expression.

She watched the bats walk away and slowly fell to her knees.

“Please… I’m not useless… Please...”

She buried her face in her hands. Tears trickled between her fingers.

“Don’t leave…”

~

You’d think that, after the third or fourth time, having your friends leave you would hurt less. That you would be numb. But it only seemed to get worse and worse.

Every single time she saw their disgusted expressions, every time she listened to their hurtful words, every time she watched their retreating backs…

It cut deeper and deeper.

She wanted it to stop. Why wouldn’t it? Was there anything she could do to stop it? Or would she be doomed to be alone for the rest of her life?

The screaming restarted.

She sighed and opened her eyes to terrified elites.

Here we go again...

~

A hand gently shook her awake and she opened her eyes.

This was new. Maybe the fear toxin had decided to get creative this time.

Harley was leaning over her.

Marinette would have screamed if she could, but her throat was raw from crying.

Still, she sunk into the floor as much as she could.

“Hey, darlin’, it’s okay…” said Harley gently. She held out a hand and Marinette flinched. Then she realized that the woman was offering a glass of water.

She frowned. Was it poisoned? She didn’t think she had a deep-rooted fear of being poisoned, but there was no other reason the woman would be doing this for her.

Harley sighed quietly and took a sip, then offered it to Marinette again. “It’s not poisoned, darlin’.”

She raised her eyebrows slightly and slowly downed the water. It wasn’t enough. She felt like she could drink an entire pool’s worth of water and still be thirsty. But she wasn’t going to risk asking for it.

The woman smiled faintly and reached out a hand. Marinette flinched again, but the woman continued on to cup her cheek.

It took everything in her not to lean into the woman’s touch. When was the last time she’d had skin-to-skin contact…?

But there had to be some sort of catch.

“Why?” She whispered, her voice raspy.

“Because it’s been a long few days for you.”

Days? No wonder she felt so awful.

“Aren’t you mad? I was going to betray you…”

“I wasn’t mad, just disappointed,” she said, running her thumb along her cheekbone gently.

God, the little affection felt amazing…

But…

“I’m not going to kill Batman. I’m not of use to you.”

The woman withdrew her hand. Marinette felt like crying. Damn it, why did she have to go and ruin it like that? She could have pretended for longer. No wonder people left her so often. She wasn’t even smart enough to know when to lie...

“But you could be,” she promised.

Her head shot up to look at Harley, but she was already leaving.

The wall opened up and she paused before stepping through to give Marinette an unreadable smile.

“I’ll let you think about it. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

The door shut behind her and green gas began to flood the room.

~

Harley was back again. This time, she had given her a granola bar.

She scarfed it down. Her face reddened when she saw Harley looking at her and she wiped a few stray crumbs from her mouth.

The woman chuckled and reached out to get some crumbs she’d missed.

Marinette closed her eyes.

“I know you’re trying to ‘break’ me. I heard you tell Joker you would. It won’t work.”

Harley didn’t say anything, just allowed her to continue on.

“The whole ‘psychological torture’ thing isn’t that different from just torturing me physically. It takes longer and uses more resources. Don’t see why you bother.”

She sighed quietly. “There’s more to it than that, darlin’.”

Marinette frowned.

“Wow, weren’t you supposed to be smart?” She made a quiet ‘tsk’ sound and pulled her hand away. “Maybe you were right, you can’t kill Batman. I don’t know why we expected you to be able to beat the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’ when you can’t even figure out what I’m doing…”

She knew it was just to get a rise out of her. She knew it was meant to annoy her. Didn’t mean it didn’t work.

“I’m not stupid!” She hissed.

The woman smirked a little. “Sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not!”

“Really?” Harley laughed. “It’s not like you can prove it stuck in here, and it’s not like you’re going to try and kill Batman. You said it yourself, you wouldn’t do that. So, what, are you going to do taxes?”

She jutted her chin out. “I could. Give me your tax papers. I’ll do them.”

The woman raised her eyebrows slightly and gave an unreadable smile, reaching out and ruffling her hair.

Marinette allowed herself to lean into her touch. Just a little.

She watched the woman leave and broke into a smile.

Not only was she going to be able to prove that she could be useful (she’d done taxes with her parents several times as a kid, she could do Harley’s no problem), she was going to do it without agreeing to kill Batman.

Also, since the fear toxin apparently wasn’t making an appearance this time, she was almost getting bored.

She was going to call the fact that she was about to do Harley’s taxes for her a win.

~

A few hours later, Harley stepped in and dropped the stack of papers in a half-awake Marinette’s lap.

She startled and looked around wildly to figure out what was going on. Then she relaxed when she saw the woman. She was handed a crayon and she raised her eyebrows.

“Only writing utensil you can’t kill anyone with,” explained Harley. She grinned at her. “You sure you can do this?”

“Of course I’m sure!”

Harley laughed and leaned down, pressing a kiss to Marinette’s forehead. “Good for you, darlin’.”

She beamed as she got to work.

~

Harley smiled faintly as she walked in a few days later. She offered some coffee and a few cookies. Marinette gave a whoop and took them from her, relishing in the taste a little. Was it at all nutritious? No. But it was a hell of a lot tastier than water and granola bars.

“How’s it coming along?”

“Done!” Said Marinette brightly, handing over the papers.

The woman raised her eyebrows as she flipped through it. Her eyes scanned them and she chuckled. “Wow, it’s all correct…”

“Oh, it’s no big deal.”

It was a big deal. She’d spent days poring over every number she wrote, overthinking even the most basic math problems. But she wasn’t going to say that. Harley looked so proud of her, surely she’d be more proud if she thought it wasn’t that hard.

And, to Marinette’s delight, the woman leaned down and wrapped her in a hug. “Nice job, darlin’! You’ve done so well!”

~

When the door opened again, Marinette beamed and looked up.

Only for her smile to drop.

Because Joker was with Harley.

She squeaked and attempted to fade into the wall behind her.

Harley made a quiet ‘tsk’ sound with her tongue at Marinette’s obvious horror. “Now, now, darlin’... be nice.”

Marinette hesitated, but she did carefully walk over to Joker and shake his outstretched hand. “Nice to see you,” she strained.

He looked a little bit impressed, though not that much.

Harley, however, openly smiled. She wrapped her arm around Marinette’s shoulders and pulled her into her side. “Thank you.”

She nodded ever so slightly.

~

They waved at his retreating back and Marinette waited until the door was closed behind him to speak: “I’m not going to kill Batman. Not for you, and especially not for him.”

The woman pulled away from her with a frown on her face.

She tried not to whine at the loss of touch. After all, it was her fault. She’d ruined the moment, once again, by admitting that she wasn’t going to be useful in the one way Harley so desperately wanted her to.

“Really?” She sighed and shook her head. “Maybe you and Joker were right. Maybe I’m putting too much work into this… I don’t know. I’ll let Scarecrow have you while I figure it out. Who knows how long that’ll take.”

Marinette squeaked. “You’re coming back in the meantime, right?”

“I don’t know.”

Nononononono she couldn’t be left alone again! Especially not with the fear gas! That was even worse!

But…

She couldn’t kill Batman either.

She couldn’t.

Right?

She watched Harley leave and fell to her knees. She could see the fear toxin slowly streaming in.

~

She found she had made up her mind.

The bats had yet to find her, despite it having been around a month from her approximations. If they’d really wanted her back, wouldn’t they have done so by now? Sure, it was made harder by the fact that they couldn’t track her, but weren’t they supposed to be the ‘World’s Greatest Detectives’ or something? They must not be trying.

And, besides…

When she’d broken the news, she’d been wrapped in a bone-crushing hug.

Marinette choked back a sob, though she didn’t know why. She hugged back, burying her face in Harley’s neck.

It felt so good to be held like this. Like she mattered. Like someone cared about her.

She would do anything to keep it that way.

A part 2 has been made

[ofsinnersandsaints]

i’ll fight for you

rating: G word count: 3074 one shot

AO3

The Mighty Nein are fighting a dragon for Reasons Fjord dies, because he's a selfless himbo Jester saves him because of course she does Hand holding, beaches, and kisses

Shit.

Shit, fucking, shit-balls.

Fjord would ponder later that his internal voice still had a bit of twang to it, but for now he was focused on the pretty blue body which was currently not moving some thirty feet on the other side of the cave.

Caduceus was too far away, but Fjord knew he could do some good now; the only down side was the dragon between himself and Jester, but fuck that.

He pushed away from the stone and ran as fast as he could across the stone floor, and when the dragon swiped at him he tried to duck out of the way but the thing was so massive it’s giant claw easily scraped down the side of his arm.

Fjord could feel the warmth of the blood dripping down his arm, leaving a trail of red drops in his wake. He could feel how weak he was now, but he’d deal with it later. Jester was the priority.

Dropping to the ground beside her Fjord put his hand on her sternum, and thanked the Wildmother Jester was still breathing.

Not dead, not yet.

“Let me help her,” Fjord began pleading-praying, he corrected himself. It wasn’t pleading when you knew someone was listening, when you knew someone cared. “Please, let me help her.”

He focused on the injuries he could see and the beat of her heart beneath his palm, the rise and fall of her chest with each breath. “Open your eyes, Jessie. Let me see your eyes.”

Beneath his hand the rich green magic accumulated and spread across her chest and Fjord thought about how little power he still had, but it would be enough to keep her alive and when it came to Jester, he’d always give his all.

The magic faded and Jester inhaled sharply, her eyes opening.

“There you are,” he smiled when his gaze met hers. “Sleeping on the job, Jester?”

“It seemed like a good time to take a nap,” she teased back, her hand reaching up to touch his which was still pressed against her body. She sat up and looked over at the dragon who was staring at the space where a crossbow bolt had come from. Fjord knew Veth was somewhere in the shadows, but even he couldn’t see where she was.

“Shit, my spiritual weapon is gone,” Jester grumbled as she sat up. Her hand still holding his. “Are you okay?”

“I’m right as rain,” he lied, keeping his left hand out of her line sight. “You better heal yourself.”

She nodded and with a shaky hand reached down to clutch the symbol hanging from her skirt and the bright purple magic swirled around her and he watched the paleness of her skin darken as the color returned. “Okay, I’m better now.”

Fjord nodded as a blast of energy shot from Caleb’s hands a second before Caduceus sent a wave of healing through the group. A wisp of sound came from his right and from the dark a flash of something silver in the air before the dragon snarled. In the darkness came Veth’s voice, “Take that motherfucker!”

The dragon took a swipe at the darkness and there was a small screeching noise, but half a second later Beau appeared, and climbed up the dragon, using her staff to bash the creature on the side of the head. It never ceased to amaze Fjord how a single person could do so much damage. Near the dragon's foot Yasha was raging with her terrifying sword.

Feeling a little better, Fjord stood up and twirled his wrist to send his sword singing. “Ready to get back in it?” he asked Jester, but didn’t wait for an answer as he ran up to the beast and sliced through dragon scale and muscle.

The howl of pain and anger terrified the shit out of him, but he stood his ground as Jester’s lollipop appeared above them and then smacked the dragon hard on the head with it.

The rest of the Mighty Nein took their swings in turn until there was a quiet rumbling.

Fjord looked down automatically, expecting to see the pebbles below him rattling on the stone floor but they were perfectly still. It was then Fjord realized the sound was coming from above him and watched as the dragon took a few steps back and opened it’s wide mouth from which a blast of something acidic forced it’s way from throat to cavern and Fjord tried to dive out of the wave but he still wasn’t used to the way his body had changed.

He stumbled and felt the full force of the acid hit him, the feeling unlike anything he’d ever experience before as every inch of his body burned with a sizzling sound.

Fjord groaned and automatically dropped his sword, the weapon disappearing the instant it left his fingers, as everything he had left him. His knees hit the ground and the heel of his palms scraped along the rough stone and the pain kicked in that little thing he had from whomever had born him.

From one second to the next everything went from dark silence, to raging noise and light. He was unsteady as he came back to the land living, but he managed to throw out a couple shots of eldritch blast while he was still on his knees and could see Jester out of the corner of his eyes, her hand stretched out in his direction.

There was a purple haze over everything for the briefest of moments; a gift from Jester at fifty feet away.

He stood up, it wasn’t much she’d given him but it was enough to keep him going for now.

Fjord tried to keep track of what was happening but he was barely able to stand up; he saw flashes of magic and the roar of a dragon.

This time when the acid hit him, he didn’t feel it.

Everything just immediately went black.

Jester screamed when Fjord hit the ground.

Beau swiped at the dragon as she ran towards the cleric, and in response the black wings beat in the small space throwing both Beau and Fjord’s bodies across the cavern. Jester helped Beau stand up but she was already pulling away and grabbing Jester’s shoulders tight enough it hurt. “You have to get him out of here.”

Jester blinked at her friend, then looked to Fjord’s body. “I have to heal him.”

“You have to get him out of her,” Beau repeated. “No matter what you do, the dragon can take him out again. You have to get him out of this cavern.”

Jester nodded, knowing Beau was right, and ran towards Fjord. “I’m going to take care of you,” she promised, hearing how shaky her own voice was. “Let’s get out of here.”

She wrapped her hand around his and whispered to the Traveler, the doorway opening up beneath them, and together they fell through and landed on the soft moss of the swamp outside the cave where the rest of their friends still fought.

“Fjord?” she asked after she cast another heling spell. “Fjord?”

But he didn’t wake up.

“No,” she said, the tears streaking down her face before she finished the word. “No. No, no, no, no.” She checked his pulse and couldn’t feel anything, and it was then she realized his chest had stopped moving. “Fjord!”

Jester fumbled through her bag to pull out the diamonds and placed them on his chest. What would have happened if they didn’t have the gems? A whole life, bereft of Fjord, flashed through Jester’s eyes and she could feel her heart squeezing desperately in her chest.

“Traveler?” she whimpered. “Wildmother?”

She needed to finish the spell, knew she had to do more than just place the diamonds and whisper a few words.

Jester had to pull him back from wherever he was.

The fear that he was with Uk’otoa, that she wouldn’t be able to get him back from the fuckface terrified her, but she’d fight for Fjord.

There was warmth around her, something more than the humidity of the swamp, and then the Traveler was sitting across her on the other side of Fjord’s body. His mouth a grim line from under the cloak.

“You know what to do,” the Traveler told her.

Jester nodded and brushed back the hair along Fjord’s temple. He needed a haircut, she realized, the thought a soft thing in the chaos of her head. “You have to come back Fjord,” she told him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t know how to do this without you. I don’t want to know how to do this without you.”

Following instinct, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, to his cheek. “You’re mine, Fjord Tustktooth, and you’re not getting away from me that easily.”

There was a heavy silence, between the beats of her heart, but it was enough for Jester to panic.

Then Fjord’s hand tightened on hers a second before he inhaled sharply.

With a shriek laid her body on top of his in an attempt to hug him and Fjord’s hand awkwardly patted her back. “You okay?” he pulled back, shifting in her embrace so he was sitting up but her arms still wrapped around his shoulders. “Hey, are you crying?”

“You died, Fjord!” she yelled, punching his arm.

“Ow, shit. That explains why everything hurts.”

She laughed, the sound a little hysterical to her own ears. “I asked if you were okay, and you lied to me. I should have healed you sooner.”

Fjord shook his head. “No, Jessie, you needed to heal yourself. If you’d gone down, I couldn’t have brought you back-dead? You’re sure I was dead?”

Jester settled next to him, her hip touching his, as she studied his face. “I’m really, really sure Fjord.”

He seemed to study her face, his hand reaching up to brush away the drying tears on her cheek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that.”

She nodded and didn’t resist the urge to lean into his touch. With eyes closed she soaked up the feeling, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that again.”

“I’ll try,” he rested his hand on her shoulder, his fingers brushing against the strands of her hair. “Thanks for saving me. You’re my hero.”

“That’s what we do,” she reminded him cheerfully, trying to push away all the fear and terror she could still feel creeping around the edges of her heart. “We save each other.”

“DID YOU SAVE FJORD BECAUSE WE’RE RUNNING FROM THIS DRAGON BECAUSE THE CAVE’S GOING TO COLLAPE DON’T ASK WHY. YOUCANRESPONDTOTHISMESSAGE.”

Jester furrowed her brow as she answered Veth, “Yes, I saved Fjord. Are you coming to us?”

“WHERE ELSE WOULD BE GOING? YOUCANRESPONDTOTHISMESSAGE.”

“Veth?” Fjord asked as he stood up, taking Jester’s hand and pulling her along with him.

“Yeah,” she kept her hand tight in his, not quite ready to let go and needing the reminder he was alive and with her. He squeezed her hand once as if he understood. “The cave’s collapsing apparently. She didn’t say why, but I think it’s going to be a quick escape.”

“Anything we can do to help?”

“I don’t think so.”

Their five other friends came running out of the cave, Caduceus carrying Veth in his arms while she screamed. “We’re safe now,” Caduceus was saying and he patted Veth on the head. “You can stop yelling.”

“This is my regular voice!” she shouted even as the big man set her down. “Why do we keeping running into dark places with dragons, this was a terrible idea.”

“We’ll keep doing it as long as they have stuff we need,” Beau answered, looking relieved when her eyes landed on Fjord. “Oh, thank the gods. You’re okay.”

“Thanks to Jester.”

“And Beau,” Jester piped up. “It was her idea to get you out the room.”

“Thanks, first mate.”

Beau’s smile was small but full of everything. “Anytime, Captain.”

“We’re getting out of here,” Caleb announced. “But I’d like to get away from the mouth of this cavern as it will take me a minute to draw the circle.”

“Down the hill,” Fjord decided and everyone started following the small trail down away from the cave entrance.

Jester realize a couple seconds later she and Fjord were still holding hands, but she wasn’t about to be first one to let go. She snuck a glance over at him and he looked pale, his feet almost dragging along the dirt. “Are you okay, Fjord?”

She saw the moment he thought about lying, but he shook his head instead. “I might go unconscious again if a bird looks at me wrong.”

Jester laughed and took Sprinkle off her shoulders and put him on Fjord’s. “There, Sprinkle will you protect you from birds, and I’ll protect you from everything else.”

Fjord laughed and tugged on their joined hands, and together they walked down the mountain together.

The group made it down the mountain safely so Caleb could send them back to Nicodranas where they would be able to figure out exactly what the object they’d just risked their lives for actually did.

While Caleb hid in his room with the item, Beau went to meet up with someone from the Cobalt and Veth spent some much needed time with her family. Caduceus said something about tea and no one asked any follow-up questions, but Yasha did go with him.

Fjord found Jester in her room, looking at it was always such a weird experience for him. What must it be like to always have a place you could go back to? This was the room Jester had grown up in, and even as an adult who could save the world, she still had a place in her mother’s house. “Hey, Jester. You busy?”

She looked up from an orange she had place on her desk. “Nope, Mama’s working so I was just practicing my tattooing. What’s up?”

He shifted on his feet, tried to be more confident than he actually was. “I was going to go for a walk, would you like to join me?”

“Oh!” She looked a little flustered but smiled and put down her things. “I’d love to.”

Together they walked out of the house and were silent for a few minutes as Fjord tried to figure out the words he wanted to use and how to say them.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and he almost smile at the burst of sound coming from her. He wondered how long she’d been trying to hold them in before they’d broken through her sealed lips.

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re being very quiet,” she answered as she looked at him. “Not that you talk a lot, but it’s a very intentional silence.”

“Do you mind if we wait till we get to the beach?” he asked and she nodded.

When they got to the sand they both sat down and began pulling off their boots. “Shit, I always think I make up how good the sand feels, but every time…”

“It is pretty great,” she agreed, shoving her boots into her bag and then taking his and doing the same. “Is it the dying thing? Is that why you wanted to talk?”

Leave it to Jester to skip over the easy stuff and go straight for the heart.

“No,” and figuring this was as good a place as any, he settled on the sand and picked up Jester’s hand. “It was the coming back to life part.”

She was quiet, but she shifted closer so her arm was pressed against his. It was weird how used he was to no physical contact, every time Jester touched him or grabbed onto him it was a shock to him while it seemed so casual and normal for her. And yet, he was constantly terrified she’d take it away.

“I saw her,” he finally said. “The Wildmother, I mean.”

“Oh!” her smile was bright and warm. “That’s wonderful! I was worried you were going to see him. Did you?”

“No.” He’d been afraid of that too, but thankfully the sea monster who owned a part of his soul had not been around, but Fjord had felt him. But he didn’t want to think about that and looked down at their intertwined fingers, a green and blue pattern that reminded him of mountains and rivers. “But I heard you.”

There was a rush of red beneath her cheeks, giving them a little bit of a purple hue. “Oh.”

“You should know, I’d never try to get away from you.”

“It was stupid-“

“Hey, it wasn’t stupid. We’ve both had a lot of people who walked away from us, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility. But you should know, the only reason I’d ever leave was if I didn’t have a choice.” He paused and seemed to add as after thought, “Which I did.”

Her eyes narrowed with confusion. “Did what?”

“I had a choice,” he answered carefully. “The Wildmother said I didn’t have to go back, if I wanted peace I could stay with her. It was fucking beautiful, Jester, and it was calm. So calm.”

Jester’s face remained carefully neutral, but she couldn’t control the look of hurt in her eyes. “You wanted to stay?”

“I thought about thinking about it,” he admitted. “Then I heard you, and nothing compared to hearing you say I was yours. Not even heaven.”

Her eyes were wide and her mouth was parted a little in surprise.

“I like the idea of being yours, Jester. And I wonder if maybe, on the off chance, you’d be okay with being mine.”

This time Jester’s smile was a little amused. “Didn’t you know, Fjord? I’ve been yours for a long time. I was just kind of waiting for you to realize.”

And he kissed her.

There on the beach where they both came from, with the sound of the water a familiar sound in their ears, the ocean breeze a caress on their skin.

“You’re not allowed to die anymore,” she told him, brushing her nose with his. “But if something happens, I’m not letting you go without a fight.”

“Right back at you, Jester.”

He kissed her again, and the place he’d always known suddenly became a kind of home.