#really should have made black bolt the last real story for a time and then have small fun minis that are a simple adventure or event tie-ins

[xkeyon]

I once thought all the mistakes were so obvious that this was a nightmare/psychic attack. The Kree found a way to get by his psychic defense to put a situation where every time he said no to serving the Kree bad things happen. The mistakes was his mind trying to make sense of the Kree's out of date information.

But no instead we get a stupid death of story where Marvel can't really decide the actual status of the Inhumans.

hold on wait this page from doti is actually fucking hilarious. the pen with his tiny logo on it . the smallest bandaids in the world on his forehead. the fact that he crushes the whiteboard like a piece of paper. his entire city's population of like 15,000 people died but he only wrote down 4 names that aren't immediate family. he's never even been seen talking to glass girl and it wasn't even canonized that her alias actually is glass girl until this page specifically. he made that shit up!!

[mutable-manifestation]

The Ghost King (of Miscommunication) Ch. 21

Part 1-12,Part 13,Part 14,Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20

Part 21!

So this kinda got long. I wouldn't be able to fit the explanation part without posting off of my ao3 schedule. Also the chapter would be, like, way longer than the ~2K I've been aiming for.

So! Here's this, and I'm gonna try to post the explanation-scene as a separate chapter on Thursday or Friday. (It'll probably be big on its own anyway).

Info: Self-concept upon death hugely impacts ghost form, and Sam & Tucker expected white hair bc of Danny. So by the time Jazz became a ghost (read: Died) it was just an expectation that white hair and green eyes would be a part of that.

(Danny's own palette swap is an effect of his beliefs about what happens when things burn [white to black] and bleach in heat [black to white - like the flag on the moon]. White hair being associated with stress/death, green eyes because green was all he could see, etc. Just a lot of jumbled, morbid, last-minute thoughts while he was dying combined with pre-existing, subconscious beliefs about life and death.)

Jason's form is his exact form from when he died - minus all the injuries and plus the full-white eyes (not just normal eyes behind a domino mask - I know that varies by version for some robins. This is full-whites. They do still turn green when he's angry tho)

***

Jason only realized he’d been tricked after they finally called it a draw.

For all a snowball fight barely counted as a fight, he certainly felt calmer after getting some of his energy out.

He’d been so distracted enjoying himself he hadn’t even thought of using the chaos to bolt - not that he would have anyway, given he still didn’t know where to find a portal home.

The girl flits in front of him just in time for him to catch his breath.

“Nice to meet you,” She holds out a hand, grin as exuberant as it had been throughout the game - minus the feral tinge of competitiveness.

“I’m Danielle,” she offered as he shook the proffered hand. “But call me Elle - or Dani with an i if you want to mess with someone.”

The mischief on her face at the suggestion made him think she’d done so before.

She almost certainly already knew his name, but not telling her himself would be rude - a death sentence if they really were fae. Still, that she hadn’t prompted him should make it safer. Maybe.

(If the initial kidnapping was permitted by Danny hearing his name then he certainly didn’t hear a prompt from him, but who knows if inaudible whispers count. At least he can see that Danielle’s mouth hasn’t moved)

(Not like he isn’t already kidnapped anyway. What’ll they do, double kidnap him?)

“Jason,” he says as he disengages from the handshake, smiling genuinely despite himself.

(And he meant to smile, he did - he’d read enough stories to know how important being polite to the fae is; one wrong word and you’re 15 ribs shy of a full skeleton. Or a brother shy of a full family. It was half the reason he’d spoken as little as he had - but he hadn’t meant for it to be real)

“I’m sure Danny told you aaaaaall about me already, and yes, I really am that cool.”

Danielle - Elle - breaks Jason out his mental spiral. He just manages to smother his laugh with a cough.

“Ah, the tour actually got kind of off track, so I hadn’t had a chance to mention you yet.”

Elle gasps dramatically, putting both hands over her heart and flopping to the ground at Danny’s proclamation.

“Oh, I am wounded! I am shattered! I am abandoned and unloved!-” Danny laughs “-I am filing a formal complaint! I am requisitioning forms to have my darling emotional support Panther, Palu, moved to the Palace-”

“You- Emotio-WHAT!?” Danny reels back, expression horrified.

Elle floats up to sit a foot off the ground, arms and legs both crossed. She glares at him for about 5 seconds before sticking out her tongue and grinning.

“I’m kidding, you big chicken.”

“She ate my cape made with Actual Stars, Elle.”

Elle laughs at Danny’s clear relief and the following pout. Jason himself fails to suppress a snort.

“Well,” Danny huffs, turning to Wulf. “While these two are busy laughing at my expense, I wanted your opinion on something.”

He gestures to a more distant tree with his eyes, and Wulf follows as he floats away - probably aiming for out of earshot.

Elle abandons her laughter to float upright just in front of him - the floating equivalent of standing, he supposes.

“Anyway, like I said, I’m Elle. Long story short Danny’s ex-arch-nemesis who shall not be named wanted to adopt Danny and handled the ‘no’ really poorly and tried to clone him. I was the only surviving clone, and after trying to kill Danny on said manipulative ex-nemesis’ orders he managed to change my mind about said nemesis, helped stabilize me, and eventually ended up adopting me.” She said, in the most nonchalant manner possible, which, wow, the story really did not call for.

Jason desperately wants to know the long version.

“Sooo…” she drawls, smile gaining a teasing edge, “I guess you can actually just call me big sis.”

She laughs at his suddenly blank expression.

“No? How about ‘best big sister ever?’ Oh! Oh! Or ‘Coolest big sister in the Realms?’ Get it? Cuz ice powers.”

She flits around him as she speaks, wiggling her fingers and loosing a few flakes of snow at the last bit for emphasis, giggling.

Jason isn’t sure how to respond without insulting her somehow.

To any of that, really.

“Never expected to have a baby brother,” she muses, “but then with how readily he adopted me despite my origins I guess it isn’t all that surprising. Especially with you being a halfa and all. We’re really rare, I’m sure you’ve noticed. Or maybe not - you are only like a week old, technically.”

“I’m 22,” he corrects, unbelievingly.

She snorts.

“In human years, maybe.”

And hey. Wow. Jason is not a fan of that.

(Yes, he’s glowing. Yes, he’s visibly de-aged 7 years. No, he has not accepted any of the potential implications that has regarding his human-ness.)

Jason has roughly 100 more questions after her little info-dump than he did before.

Before he can debate risking those rib bones, what can only be one of the infamous ‘eyeballs’ shows up.

It sure is an eyeball, just one giant eye takes up most of its head, but for the thin green outline that connects to the rest of its body - only seen by the matching green of its hands, which themselves bear off-puttingly long claws.

It is also wearing quite possibly the most pretentious robes he has ever laid eyes on.

This coming from someone who grew up watching Brucie Wayne play air headed, carefree rich boy like it was his true calling - the man had a designer collection of dramatic robes to greet unexpected late-evening guests with.

“Phantom.”

“Greg.”

“That is not my name.”

By the terse greetings and short follow-up, this was a common exchange.

The eyeball - Greg, why not - turned its eye on Jason just then.

For all its size, the eye moved just as fast as a normal one. The motion was wrong in some indefinable way; grotesque to see. He did his best not to react, cautious of setting the being off; this one seemed more volatile than those he’d met thus far.

Despite the lack of a facial expression, Jason couldn’t help but feel like he was being sneered at.

Thankfully its attention on him was brief, turning back to address Elle after only a beat.

“If you are quite finished shirking your duties to play in the snow, the Valhallan representative is waiting to speak with you.”

“What??? He isn’t supposed to be here for another hour,” Elle questioned, brown pinched.

“It has been an hour, Phantom.”

He floats to her side to point towards the palace.

“If you would be so kind, I would like to get this over with.”

“Uuuuuuugh,” Elle groans, drifting slowly in that direction despite the apparent distaste, “Can’t you just watch from your lair like Clocky always does?”

“You know very well that matters of exceptional import and tumultuous path selection require personal observation in order to maintain timeline coherency. All royal meetings for-”

“‘-at least the next three weeks fit the criteria.’” Elle makes air quotes as she speaks, turning to face Greg while still floating towards the palace, backwards.

“I know, I know. Blah blah regulation, blah blah timelines, blah blah paperwork. Heard it. Got it. Thanks.” She concludes with an eyeroll, before looking back at him.

“Have fun with the rest of the tour!” she yells, smiling and waving as if she was already a mile away. “Make sure Danny shows you the map rooms!”

And then she turns and zooms away.

He can sense the faintest bit of rage coming from Greg, and he barely hears the muttered ‘Insufferable abomination’ before the…guy?...eye… follows suit.

He watches until the eye disappears into the building.

At which point he hears a small sigh from beside him.

He nearly jumps out of his skin in startlement, whipping his head around to find Danny floating placidly by his side, saluting into the distance.

“Good luck, Elle,” he says mournfully, “Rip to your good mood.”

“That bad?” Jason asks, resettling his nerves.

Danny snorts.

“The Observants always make everything either as boring as they can or as difficult as they can. It could be worse though; the Valhallans are a party people so it should balance out. Best case scenario they’ll spend the end of the meeting annoying ‘Greg’-” he adds air quotes at this, grinning, “-together.”

‘The Observants must be the eyeballs then,’ Jason thinks. ‘The name is a bit on the nose…or eye.’

“Anyway!” Danny twists and drifts to float in front of him. “We’ve got another hour or so before dinner; ready to get back to the tour?”

Jason opens his mouth, then pauses.

He takes a glance around and asks “Where is Wulf?”

“Oh, he’s off picking up a preorder - Volume 15 of, uh…something? I don’t remember the name. But don’t worry, he’ll be back in a few hours.”

And wow, the promise that Wulf isn’t just hovering unseen in the background does a lot to untense muscles he hadn’t realized were tensed.

“Right. Sure, tour away.”

He held in his questions, for all that he was bursting at the seams for answers.

Because really: Clone? Archnemesis??? Was this a hero-villain thing or a fae politics thing? Cloning generally wasn’t a thing heroes did, but kidnapping wasn’t either.

What did Elle mean by ‘Halfa?’ Or technically a week old???

Also: brother? Adopted? There’s no way, right?

Being yanked off of the streets of Crime Alley by some dude living in a veritable castle to be adopted with little to no explanation was not something that happened to people twice.

Let alone when he is, in fact, a grown-ass man.

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

The next section they visit is Elle’s, located close to the final tower on the same side as the Specters’ had been.

The first room is filled with complex ice sculptures - a panther the size of a horse, a normal-sized cat, a few of the yetis, a kid in a pirate garb with a parrot, a girl covered in…Lunch Boxes? Danny, Jazz, and Spike were scattered among more unfamiliar statues.

They take their time in this room, Danny pointing to a lot of the people depicted and giving him names to go with faces - he even recognizes a few of them from earlier parts of the tour, and makes sure to commit them all to memory.

Then came the rooms that looked like a cosmopolitan’s dream collection.

A room dedicated to world maps through the ages - little groups of similarly-aged maps slowly orbited each other in globe-like patterns while newer versions and even a few of alien worlds lined the walls.

At least 3 rooms are dedicated to photos from all around the world - he spotted the Eiffel Tower, the Pyramids, the Congo from above, the Great Wall of China, Niagara Falls - plenty of well-known tourist locations, as well as a wide variety of nature shots. The nature shots took up an entire floor-width room, and were arranged to transition from one biome to the next.

The next room is full of souvenirs; postcards, foods from around the world frozen in more of that crystal-clear ice, weapons, clothing, jewelry - a little bit of everything.

Another swift pass-through - and by, since one of them was occupied - of the meeting, sitting, and nap rooms has them finally arrive at the room that was probably the reason Elle said ‘map rooms’ and not just ‘room.’

It was domed like an observatory, but instead of the night sky it showed that infinite green.

Different sections zoomed in and out, just slowly enough to take in. The room is scattered with cushions and telescopes aimed up. At the very center stands some kind of machine, spitting out paper which, when he floats over to look at it, reveals a single, ever-growing map.

“Elle is obsessed with travel,” Danny says fondly. “She was away more often than not at first, but then she got the idea to map the Realms - a map that can be referenced rather than a single ‘take me where I ask you to’ artifact.”

He floats up towards the dome as he speaks.

“It might seem pointless with how much paper an infinite amount of realms will take to map, but the mechanism feeds the map data into a computer that sends everything to be incorporated into Tucker and Technus’ Zone Map App. It updates constantly, what with the fluctuations in the Zone, but it’s always improving.”

“Fluctuations?” Jason asks, processing the ‘infinite amount of realms’ remark.

“Think of it like space; there’s gravity against the constant growth of the universe. The zone expands and contracts, like the flow of a tide. Except it’s moving in all directions instead of just the two.

But it expands more than it contracts, and just like on the sea or in space things can drift closer together or farther apart. Following specific streams can help, but only so much. Reliable navigation was pretty hard to come by before Elle, Tuck, and Technus started working on this.”

“Impressive,” Jason says softly.

And it is. The thought of mapping a veritable ocean with important bits that never stayed in the same place…it seemed nigh-impossible.

Opposite the third tower - “We can tour my tower after dinner,” Danny had said - lay the section belonging to Jazz and Spike.

The first thing they come to is familiar - the library.

“Anyone can use the library, but Jazz is the one in charge.”

Jason stops cold.

“Jazz.” He echoes.

Jazz, who had so calmly and proficiently wielded a gun.

Who had gifted him a gun.

Who had expressed her own love for literature.

They’d even briefly discussed some of the classics and yet-

“Jazz made that impossible excuse for a sorting system!?”

He couldn’t bring himself to worry about upsetting him, he’d just have to risk the ribs. That ‘sorting’ system was a travesty that could not stand unchallenged.

Luckily, Danny only chuckles a bit.

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” he snorts, shaking his head.

“Not that- how are you supposed to find anything!” he shouts, throwing his hands into the air.

“You ask,” Danny answers, brow raised.

“WHO!? THERE’S NO RECEPTIONIST!” Jason scrubs his hands against his hair in frustration.

Understanding dawns on Danny’s face at that.

“Here, let me show you,” he says, nodding to the doors before zooming through.

Jason follows, anger simmering under his skin - fully his own, for the first time in years.

“Library,” Danny says as Jason comes to float beside him, “May I please see The Guide to Phantom Palace?”

A book soars from a wall shelf to float, wiggling in front of him like an eager puppy.

“Thank you!” Danny says brightly, before turning to hand the book to Jason.

“The library is sentient,” he explains. “Good manners are key, by the way - Jazz is in charge, but the library can and will kick people out if they're rude or incautious with food and drinks.”

Jason stares at the book in his hand a moment, frustrated at the simplicity of it and the hour he spent looking aimlessly, but at least a bit soothed at the presence of a way to actually find things - even if the organization still makes no sense.

“Why the emotional organization system, then?” He finally asks.

“That’s for Jazz,” Danny answers. “This library is a part of some psychology project she’s doing - the return system, at least. Ask the library for the book you want - or you can ask for suggestions based on certain criteria. It’s sentient, it can help you find things - and when you’re done with it you put it back where you think it should be based on your own emotions.

Or if you don’t want to participate you can just put your books back on the shelf by the desk and Jazz will rearrange them however she sees fit.”

“Psychology project?” Jason asks after pause.

“Ah, you’d have to ask her. She told me all about it when it was first getting set up, but as much as I tried to understand it, it was all Greek to me.”

“Anyway!” he claps, “Now for the rest!”

The rest of Jazz’s section seems to follow the psychology theme.

A rage room that looks well-loved - battered, glowing clubs and a variety of damaged items from tech to glass to dummies that appeared to be slowly healing themselves.

A soothing room full of soft things and calming music and candles and even a few flowers.

A sound-proof room for quiet, a therapy room for meeting with ‘patients.’ Then of course there were the business meeting, paperwork, sitting, and nap rooms. And a combat room.

The nap, combat, and sitting rooms seemed to be shared, with the second part of the section - Spike’s - branching off from the sitting room.

Spike, of course, had his own cursed paperwork and meeting rooms.

Then came the ‘this is the home of an artist’ rooms.

An enormous circular room was dedicated to acting as a color wheel, the walls slowly shifting from deepest reds to darkest indigos, with every shade and color in between. In the center of the floor was the darkest shade of black, radiating out to a blinding white where it met the walls - the ceiling was the opposite, a bright white dot radiating darker until it met the walls as a void-like black.

A room filled with sketches and paintings, a room full of blank or half-made canvases with pencils and paints and brushes floating all around - seemingly where they’d been abandoned, a room full of miniature landscapes matching both locations he’d seen on earth and the strange landmasses he’d seen on the journey to the castle. And then what Danny called an archive room, where Spike stored older projects that he no longer wished to display.

Skalfred found them just as Danny finished explaining the room.

“Perfect timing!” Danny grins, turning to Jason. “Race you there?"

They’re near the library. Jason knows the way.

He zips around Skalfred and out the door in lieu of an answer.

He can just faintly hear Danny sputtering, ‘You cheater!’ coming out around the echoing laughter behind him.

***

@mayoota-blog1 @kyrianclawraith, @do3y, @someonebored0100 @omegasmileyface @a-star-with-a-human-name @akikoyuii @newgraywolf @tytythehistoryguy

Fun Facts!

Elle’s name - she initially chose Dani because she didn’t want to change herself just to differentiate herself from Danny - lots of people have the same name, and she has just as much right to it as Danny.

But it also made her feel too much like a copy and less like a person - especially with the confusion when she started living with the Fentons.

Then Jazz suggested Elle would be a nice name - it’s part of her name already and it’s like Elle Woods, known badass. They then watched legally blonde, and Dani decided it was a really cool name and started going by Elle. She’s a lot happier with it - no more discomfort when being spoken too, and they can still call her Dani when she and Danny are both in the room and they want to annoy the Observants or other people by doing The Bit(™) [both pointing to themselves ‘who me’ - other person, also in on the bit, facepalming and saying ‘Danny’ - them ‘which Danny.’ Of course no one told the observants Dani also goes by Elle. One time one got tired of it and went ‘Obviously the Danny with the crown of fire.’ And Danny makes the Crown of Fire appear (separate little mini-rings-transformation) at the same time Elle pulls a Burger King Crown actively on fire from her Halfa Pocket Space and they both go ‘which crown of fire’ and it is by the blessing of not having organs alone that the observant in question did not immediately have an aneurysm from sheer, apoplectic rage.]

Palu - Danny is a dog person, Elle is a cat person. Palu is named for Cath Palug - the closest thing I could find to a cat-equivalent of Cujo’s namesake. Same neon-green fur as Cujo, but all-purple eyes. Palu can be the size of a cat (around twice Cujo’s puppy-size), but can get up to the size of a horse (just slightly smaller than Cujo’s max). Unfortunately, Palu is very fond of Being Enormous And Also Hunting Everything That Moves That Isn’t Dani, so they put her in one of Sam’s conservation areas where she’d be happy. She liked it enough to move her lair - an incredibly large pet-bed in a small forest of cat trees - and Dani visits whenever she wants to see her.

[theglitchywriterboi]

Into The Darkness

Hello Elda [@betweenthetimeandsound] !!! I'm your person for the Valentines Day exchange from @writeblrcafe !!!!! [Some words in the story are meant to be italicized but for some reason Tumblr undid all that...]. Anyway onto the story, I hope you like it & I hope you have an amazingly lovely Valentines Day !!!!! ^_^

The walls of the house bleed with the pain of old memories, both long forgotten ones & those that stuck. It’d been seven years since Ash had last walked through these halls. At the time he left he didn’t think he’d ever have to come back here again.

His father died, to Ashs pleasure, and given he was an only child, he had inherited the house.

It felt as though the walls spoke to him. Taunted him with the memories they shared together.

Ash was not inclined to keep it.

His partner Dev supported him in this. The two were looking for a home, and while if they had stumbled upon a house of similar making during their search, they would’ve loved it. But this house had too much built into it. Ash could never stay near here, let alone call it his home. It hadn’t been his residence for a while & it had never been his home.

Even though it had been stripped down, not a piece of furniture in site, it still felt the same.

Ash looked out the window. The real estate agent was supposed to be here hours ago. Dev had called several times. Apparently traffic was really bad.

While they continued their wait, the two sat on the floor of the former living room. The orange light from the oncoming sunset filled the bare room.

Eeeeaaaaaaakkkkkkkkk

Their heads jerked towards their right. The sound seemed to be coming from the staircase.

“Mrs. Vivson?” Ash called out, wondering if they had somehow missed the agent coming inside. He hadn’t noticed before, but past the threshold of the living room, it was pitch black. Not poor lighting - it seemed as though everything but the room they were in had boon enveloped by pure darkness.

Dev, who had been sitting next to ash on his left, leaned forward to get a better look. Ash looked at him, and saw Dev looked from the window back to the darkness. It was good it wasn’t Ashes eyes playing tricks on him he supposed.

“Whys it so...” Dev started.

“I dunno…” Ash replied. He stood up & made his way towards the darkness.

As he got closer, the world past the living room didn’t look any clearer.

His nose practically touched the space between the living room & the hallway. He turned around & looked at Dev, who had since stood & had been hesitantly following Ash.

“A-Ash?” A shaky voice called out from the darkness. Kyo? Ash thought for a second, before brushing away the thought. Kyo had been missing for years. Long before Ash had even had the chance to leave himself.

But the sound of screams, that resembled the sound of Kyos far too closely for Ashs liking, broke through his thoughts.

Without thinking, Ash bolted towards the sound, not for a second registering the fact this couldn’t possibly be his long missing brother. Even if he was alive, how would he… His voice sounded exactly the same as it did when they were kids���

As the darkness enveloped him, it was as if he were transported to another world. The layout of the room was the same, but everything, not that there was much besides the walls, looked ragged & worn. The paint peeling & the floor splintered. It reminded him of how it looked when he was little.

A hand touched Ashs back, momentarily causing him to jump back, only to realize it was simply Dev who had followed behind him.

Looking back at where the two last were, it appeared the same. Soft orange light filled the room, the walls & floor perfectly maintained.

It was weird, but Ash couldn’t focus on that right then. He heard soft crying that sounded like Kyo coming from upstairs. He looked at Dev.

“Do you hear that?” He asked.

Dev nodded. “Are… Are you sure we should go up there? This is weird… Maybe we should turn back,” Dev explained.

“I can’t… I can’t until I’m sure its not Kyo up there,” Ash had mentioned Kyo to Dev in the past, so he was aware how important closure was for Ash. Maybe thats why, regrettably, Dev didn’t protest.

As the two crept up the stairs, vines, leaves, & debris filled more and more of their path. There was practically nothing when they first began their trek up, so the sudden change on a small flight was odd. Though nothing about this was normal.

The two reached the top.

Ash knew where to go. Where the crying came from. The source of the leaves & vines.

It was all clustered in front of Kyos old bedroom door.

He dreaded going inside. He had been in there a couple times since Kyo went missing. It was the nicest room in the house. Even though Kyo was missing, it still weirdly felt full. It comforted him.

He hated his parents for not making the house nice until after Kyo left. The day he went missing, suddenly the house became spotless, the structure was maintained… If they had kept it together before Kyo went missing then maybe… Maybe he wouldn’t have…

Dev held his hand & gave Ash a comforting squeeze. Ash turned to him & gave a weak smile, before the two pressed on.

The vines were sharp & spiked. But that didn’t deter Ash. his hands bled as he ripped the vines away from the door. He didn’t care though. He had to get inside. Dev help - which Ash felt bad about. He didn’t care about his own being, but he didn’t want Dev to hurt himself.

It felt like forever for them to clear the door. Realistically, it wasn’t long, but when you’re digging through what feels like glass, even a minute feels like hours.

Taking a deep breath, Ash attempted to open the door.

Locked.

He twisted the nob with all his might, but it didn’t budge. Did they come all this way for nothing?

Dev gently nudged Ash out of the way. Though he was confused, Ash obliged & moved out of the way, only to see Dev begin to slam himself against the door. The cries from the room got louder, as if whoever - or whatever, wasn’t expecting that.

Finally the door burst open, the actual door fell to the floor as Dev himself nearly fell in as well, only to be saved by Ash.

The two tentatively entered the room, slowly examining it. It was filled to the brim with vines, leaves, & a plethora of other plant life. One thing stood out though.

One single tree, by the window. Kyos former favorite spot.

Ash made his way over to it, carelessly ripping away any plant that was in his way.

“Stop stop stop stop,” A crying voice said.

Kyo? Ash thought to himself. It sounded just like him.

He didn’t like the thought of hurting his little brother, but he had to be sure. So as his heart ached at the sound, he ripped the plants away faster as he rushed to the voice, which was now a sobbing mess.

When he & Dev reached the tree, Ash paused. The crying was so loud. He reached & pulled some of the plants away, but the crying further intensified. He couldn’t just…

Dev once again stepped in, ripping away the rest of the plants. He too seemed distraught by the sound of a child screaming & crying, but while nothing was said between the two, he knew how important this was to Ash.

As the last of the plants was pulled away, it revealed a small child. Kyo.

He didn’t look a second older than he was when he left, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appear differently.

Kyos eyes were tired, as if he had lived a thousand lifetimes of torment. His body appeared fused to the tree. Some looked melded to it, while others seemed as though someone has sewn that part to the tree.

“Kyo? Wh-what happened?” Ash asked in disbelief.

Kyo continued to cry as he replied, “I wanted to protect us,”

He & Dev looked at each other confused, “What do you mean?”

“They said if I stay here they’d keep everything nice,” Kyo explained through sobs. Ash felt uncomfortable while being there due to the general atmosphere, but up until then he didn’t feel watched or as though he was prey. But now he felt like he was about to be somethings next meal.

“Wh-who said that?”

“I don’t remember they just left me here,” Kyos voice rose as he cried louder slurring his words as they mixed with sobs. “They said they’d make the house nice & the food good, but they left me here,”

Ash thought back. He didn’t recall anyone interacting with Kyo that they didn’t already know. But the changes did line up with what Kyo said. The day he left the house appeared impeccable, the food was always good & fresh, even though his parents rarely went to the store. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed until now. Maybe it was because it was so normal to him he didn’t register. Even the furniture got better, and their parents sure as hell didn’t have the money for new chairs, let alone refurnishing the entire house

“Lets lets get you out of here,” Ashe said, reaching for Kyo.

Kyo squirmed though. It was weird seeing him move. It was like seeing a statue moving.

“No! They said if I left the house would go bad & we’d never get to stay here,” Ash didn’t understand. As far as he knew, Kyo didn’t know the changes actually happened, so why would he want to stay?

“Kyo, we have to go, the house is…” As he was about to finish, he realized he didn't know what to tell him. Lie & tell him his effort - his pain, had been for nothing? Or risk him wanting to stay because it had worked, the house was better?

Before he could think of a response, Dev cut in, “The house is fine - you really helped,” He started. Kyo looked mildly comforted, but still suspicious seeing as this was a man he didn't know speaking to him, “But you guys have to move - and your guys’ new house is much nicer,” For a second Kyo seemed intrigued, before quickly suppressing that curiosity.

“No! I'm supposed to protect this house, not some new one! We're supposed to be here - together!” Kyo stubbornly shouted.

“You don't have to do that anymore Ky. We'll be safe, we'll be okay, & we will be together,” Ash tried, but Kyo remained stubborn.

Ash & Dev shared a look. They couldn't leave him there, but he was being stubborn.

That's when Ash decided to move quickly.

Before he could even think about his actions, he grabbed Kyo [as much of Kyo as he could that is. A great deal of him was still attached to the tree], and pulled with all his might.

Kyo screamed, his flesh pulling & ripping with every pull. It hurt Ashes heart, but he kept pulling. Dev quickly got Devs plan & latched himself onto Kyo, pulling along with Ash.

“STOP, LET ME GO! LET ME GO THIS IS ALL I'M GOOD FOR, STOP STOP!”

Ash was concerned regarding what his brother was saying, but he didn't have time to address that. Around them the house began to shake, rumbling & crumbling with every pull, every scream. But the two kept going. They kept going until Kyo was in their arms.

He attempted to squirm away, but due to his new injuries [along with the fact he was a child], he didn't have much success.

The walls began to boom, the deterioration accelerating now that Kyo was detached from the tree. A scream that didn't sound quite human rang out through the air.

Ash cradled his brother as the now trio began to run. Dev led the way out.

Some stairs cracked as they ran down them, whereas others floated up through the air, detaching themselves from the rest of the house. Loud stomps could be heard following them, but Ash refused to look back. Vines attempted to grab them, narrowly missing each time. The living rooms orange glow was in sight.

A pained scream rang out once again, coming from everywhere & nowhere at once.

Dev entered the living room, turning quickly to grab Ash & Kyo, pulling them in with him. Claws slashed at Ashs leg, unsuccessful at grabbing him, but causing him to feel as though his leg was about to be gushing blood.

But the second his leg hit the threshold of the living room it was… Fine.

He jumped up & began to examine Kyo.

Kyo was there & he seemed… Fine. No wounds, still breathing, just around 15 years younger than he was supposed to be.

The three didn't say anything. The house around them wasn't the same as it was when they entered. The changes were slower than they were when they had entered wherever Kyo was, but they still happened rapidly. The paint began to peel first, then the floor slowly began to feel rougher.

None of them wanted to go near that place again & they were in too much of a hurry to try & get to the front door. Ash pulled the window open, holding a now quiet Kyo as they jumped out of the window, Dev following close behind.

As they tumbled onto the grass, a car pulled into the driveway.

“My apologies Mr. Quartz!” Mrs. Vivson said, rushing out of her car. “Oh my & this must be the son you two mentioned - hello Kyo” She said with a smile, bending down to his eye level & holding her hand out for him to shake, to which Kyo timidly took it.

Ash & Dev looked at one another in confusion. Neither of them asked her what she meant.

As Ash looked around, the world appeared… Different.

Everything was the same, but certain sections of the street, certain windows in people's houses… They all had that same chilling, unnatural darkness…

[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

hello ma'am id like to request a captain rex x f! or gn! reader,, maybe he's promised to take reader out on a date after he returns from a mission and when he does he asks you out and stuff bksbegksgjsn hope that provides inspiration

Ooooh I love this idea and it really did spark something in my brain so thanks for that!! :D. So happy to be writing again. See below for some happiness and fluff!

Date Night With The Captain

AO3 Link

Pairing: Rex x gn!Reader

Summary: You and Rex have been pining over each other for a while now, thankfully your good friends in the Elite Guard intervene to help speed things up.

Warnings: General Audience. Don't think there is any. One bit of swearing.

Word Count: 1.5k

It was another warm, smoggy day on Coruscant. The hatch door to the landing bay of the Republic Military HQ was open, allowing whatever small breeze the planet had to offer through. The top of your Republic issued jumpsuit was tied around your waist, letting the trousers hang loosely around your lower half, in attempt to keep yourself cool. You had the radio on as you worked beneath a red A-Wing, your mind on autopilot as you rewired, cut and welded through the repairs. Casually rolling back and forth on your dolly, humming along to the newest song the radio had to offer.

Given your work as a mechanic for the Republic since the start of the war, you’d gotten to know a lot of the clones from various battalions. You always had fun working on the ships for the Wolfpack as they were natural pilots who took a real appreciation in your work. In return, you made sure to always touch up the artwork of the two buckets and General Plo’s face for them on each ship, as you knew how much it meant to the men. Other battalions, while lovely, really did love to make your job difficult. Aka, the 501st. The clones weren’t too bad when it came to flying, it was more the involvement of General Skywalker which usually meant most of your ships didn’t even make it back, and the few that did were in a questionable state. Captain Rex always had the job of checking the ships back in to you due to Skywalker’s fear of facing your wrath for another ship mishap.

Captain Rex... you felt your mind drift to think of the clone you’d been getting close with over the past few years. He was easy company. A strong, friendly presence that was always welcome in your repair bay. He’d usually stick around for longer then he should, relaying their latest mission as he nursed a cup of caff while you worked away. You’d developed quite a crush on the Captain as time went on, how could you not? His buzz cut blonde hair, his caring nature, and that handsome face which despite being a clone, had something unique about it that made you smile every time he looked at you.

Yep, you were crushing bad on the Captain. But it wasn’t entirely one-sided. Just before he departed for his last mission, you think he was attempting to ask you out on a date before his comm went off and pulled him away and back to the war. You’d been running that interaction through your brain ever since he left, trying to guess how he would’ve liked to finish his sentence.

You let out a sigh at the thought. A person could dream right. You were suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when someone yanked your dolly from out under the ship, taking you with it. You were presented with a helmet-less, Commander Fox who’s curly hair was hanging just above his eyebrows. He didn’t say anything as he shoved a cup of caff in your direction.

You got yourself up from laying on your back and gratefully accepted the caffeine “Cheers, Fox”

“You need to take a break every so often” he stated while sipping at his own beverage.

“Rich coming from you” you winked at him, “Let me guess, Stone forced you to take a break by sending you to bring me a drink and make me take a break”

“Pretty much”

“Classic” you enjoyed the comfortable silence which fell between you both. Despite his overly stressed exterior, Fox was one of your closest friends. He and the other Elite Guard Commanders always made sure to check in and look after you and you did the same for them.

After a few minutes, he spoke again “Oh, Thorn needs your advice on something. He asked you to meet him in the mess hall”

“Dating drama again?” You questioned with a chuckle.

“Most likely” Fox replied with a roll of his eyes.

You bid Fox a farewell and set off to find Thorn. The military base very much stuck to a black and grey colour scheme so it was near impossible to distinguish one hallway from another if you didn’t know you way around by memory. Your jumpsuit made some swooshing noises as your legs skimmed past one another while you walked. Tools and bolts rattled in your pocket as you went. A contrast to the quiet you found in the hallways this evening.

Eventually you spotted Thorn standing outside the mess hall where he waved you inside and disappeared into the room.

You eventually caught up and walked in and the sight you were met with took your breath away. The lights in the hall were dimmed and there was a single table set up. A few candles lit up the centre and there were two portions of standard mess food waiting on either side in their signature metal trays. Standing next to the table was an awkward looking Captain Rex, his armour still dirty from battle. He had his helmet off, letting you see the flush of pink on his cheeks as he rubbed a hand down the back of his neck.

Thorn was practically bouncing with excitement as he pushed you forward into the room. “Well you kids have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t dooo!” He shouted as he ran out the door, closing it behind him.

You and Rex stood there for a moment, taking each other in. He looked quite vulnerable in that moment, waiting to see your reaction.

“Hey Captain, glad to see you’re back safe and sound” you said with a smile as you walked towards him. “What’s all this?”

“Well, I uh, I’ve been meaning to take you out for a while now, but things kept getting in the way. I know it’s not Coruscant’s finest dining experience-“

“It’s perfect” you cut him off, smile beaming on your face as you realised everything you’d been dreaming about these past months was true. “How’d you manage to pull this one off?”

“It was Thorn’s idea to be fair, he managed to get Fox on board to give us access to the mess hall after hours.” You chuckled at his words, of course they were meddling. Not that you minded of course, you knew exactly what you signed up for when it came to being friends with the Coruscant Elite Guard.

“You hungry?” Rex asked, much more relaxed now he had your approval on his surprise.

“Absolutely starving” you replied as you took your seat opposite the handsome Captain.

The pair of you chatted away as you ate the standard food that the base pumped out on the regular. Rex filled you in on his latest battles and 501st drama. He mentioned that it was only him from his battalion who had returned, and he was only back for a couple of days with the General to give a briefing to the Council before heading back out again. Which explained why Fives, Kix and Jesse hadn’t come storming into the repair bay to say hello to you.

You relayed what you and the guard had been up to, the pranks that Stone and Thorn had been playing on poor Fox, any fun stories about Palpatine that Fox had bitched about to you all.

Everything came so naturally with Rex; you spoke for what neither of your realised was hours. The candles burning slowly down until they were nearly running out of wax. You didn’t realise how much you’d missed his presence until right now.

Seeing an opportunity, you took his hand in yours on the table. Running your thumb over the hardened skin on his knuckles. “This has been probably the best evening I’ve had in a long time” you admitted, blushing.

“You and me both. But it’s not quite over yet” you cocked your head at the trooper in front of you as he hit something on his comm link and suddenly some slow jazz song started playing through the room’s speakers. Rex stood up and offered you a hand to join him. You nearly swooned at the entire thing. You’d never experienced romance like this. How did you get so lucky that he’d chosen you for all of this?

You took his outstretched hand as he led you to a slightly more open portion of the hall. You wrapped your arms around his neck, he was about to put his on your hips but paused and quickly asked for permission with a quiet “May I?” before he did so. It surely was not possible for a living being to be this adorable, handsome, perfect. Right?

The pair of you began to sway casually to the song that was playing. “So how did I do?” He asked with a small smirk on his lips.

“Honestly Captain, you couldn’t have done anything better. This is perfect” you smiled up at him. Your eyes met his fiery amber ones, filled with such warmth and content. You couldn’t wait any longer, you leaned up and placed your lips on his in a soft, first kiss. Both your movements were slow against one another, enjoying the languid pace set by the dancing and music, letting it guide your kiss.

You pulled away and met his eyes again. Yep you were falling for this man. Badly. But from the looks of it, he wasn’t too far behind you.

The pair of you danced the night away, the war forgotten for that one evening.

Back to Masterlist

[diary-of-deadweight]

Masterlist.

Fic Idea by @leximills666

“Anything new?” You asked, sitting yourself in the spare chair between Darcy and Jimmy, who handed you your cup of caffeine. “If you consider Pietro teaching the twins how to stream snacks from the kitchen then no.” Jimmy spoke up, his eyes glued intently to the television for any missable details that could play in your favour. “But Jimmy did almost spill coffee onto Director Hayward.” Darcy shoots the mortified male a amused look as you slapped a hand onto his shoulder, trying so hard not to burst out laughing at the mental image that gave you an good amount of serotonin, “I’d pay good money to see you actually do it, serves him right for calling my friend a terroist.”

It was common knowledge that you and the Maximoff twins were close friends after their introduction to the Avengers as you were gaining some semblance of understanding of your teleportation powers and it’s limitations before trauma bonding with the pair over being Hydras successful lab rats. So when Hayward slagged off Wanda it took Darcy, Monica and Jimmy to hold you back from ending his whole career John Wick style. The bastard got real lucky but you couldn’t promise that the next time was going to have him leave a briefing room without a few bruises and even bruised ego. Fuelled by the frustration of recent events that left you feeling helpless as you were forced to watch the sitcom shenanigans Wanda and her dead yet somehow not dead husband and her adorable twins get into that only made it feel like a horror after they end, leaving you with more questions then answers that weighed on your darkening eyebags and breaking every last ounce of paitience you once thought you had along with the sleepless nights of theorising that went nowhere without someone bringing up a flaw made keeping your powers in check a little more difficult that you’d scare Jimmy, Darcy and Monica on a plethora of occasions.

You just wanted to get them out and be done with Hayward’s suspicious ass. I mean it was clear as fuck that vision was in bits and pieces in the video servalence footage. What was he doing with him? Why did he wait this long to show everyone something that would’ve benefited the opertation from the beginning? THAT was suspicious behaviour and yet no one was gonna question it?! Gotta love corruption I guess. “Anything new Dr Lewis?” Speaking of corruption, here it was in human form standing behind you there with his ‘stick up his ass’ attitude; it really pissed you off that you’d love nothing more then to slam your fist into him punchable bitch face until it’s unreagnisable. Sensing your hatred and thirst for violence, Jimmy places a hand on your shoulder and gave you a stern look that read ‘no...not yet at least.’ Sighing you gave him a passable smile before talking a long sip of coffee, making sure to slurp annoyingly loud as possible when Hayward looked at you unamused that you couldn’t help retaliating with a tight lipped smile and the middle finger. Darcy had to cover her mouth from bursting out in hysterics while Jimmy sighed like a disappointed parent but you knew he was trying to hold it together internally as Darcy was. “Nothing worth reporting back on sir.”

Hayward didn’t say anything other then let out a grunt then making his way out of the room not without a snarky comment from you of course, “don’t let the door hit you on the way out directior” to which he replied with as swiftly “appreciate the concern (l/n).” Making sure he was out of sight Darcy burst out laughing so hard she had to lean against you for support while Jimmy allowed himself to chuckle a little had your chest warming up, erasing any forms of pent up frustration like magic. Spending time with these beautiful bastards were what made the sleepless nights worth it in your opinion, knowing that you weren’t alone in wanting to help Wanda instead of harm. “What’re they laughing at?” Monica asked, a dazzling smile adorned her face as she nursed her own coffee between her hands; You shrugged nonchalantly looking back at her with fake innocence that told her more then she needed to know. “The sleep deprivation must’ve caught up to them.”

“Shut up!” The dark haired woman nudged you in the side, almost spilling your coffee in the process, “(y/n) threw some serious sass at Hayward earlier, should’ve been there Monica it was hysterical.” Monica only laughed in response as she patted you on the back, proud that she wasn’t the only one sick of Hayward’s shit, “I guess I should’ve. Would make a great memeory to share in the future” she sat in the chair next to Darcy turning her attention to the screen where Pietro was attempting to be slick and nab a snack while Wanda was cutting onions unflinchingly, only to slip and land flat on his back scaring Wanda as the unseen audicene laughed. Stupid and as cheesy as it was it didn’t fail to make you crack a smile while reminiscing of a similar memory that stuck out like a sore thumb. You and Pietro thought it be a great idea to compete against one another in order to see who’d get to the kitchen first, spoiler: he won by a narrow margin, that still had you calling him a cheat to this day, and decided to hide from you behind the counter like the little shit that he was. Long story short you entered the kitchen thinking you won, he jumps out scaring you so badly that you end up teleporting ontop of him.

“Hey (y/n).” Darcy’s voice brought you back from your thoughts and to reality. The thought of teleporting in there and getting your friends out has been a recurring one though your required to feel someone’s energy signature and with how well getting inside visuals went the likelihood of you sensing Pietro or Wanda for that case wasn’t going to be a piece of cake if it was you’d already have done it by now. “Yes Dr Lewis?” “Think you could-“ teleport inside? Trust me I’ve thought the same thing but the barrier is a major issue standing in my way of actually getting inside and out without trouble.” Despite all odds that didn’t stop you from wanting to give it a try if it meant trapping yourself also you wouldn’t hesitate to do it in a heartbeat. So it took your friends aback when you abruptly stood up from your chair, shoving your coffee into Jimmy’s hands and made a mad dash out of the room and down the corridor unapologetically shoving everyone aside with Monica and Darcy in hot pursuit while poor Jimmy placed your coffee down by your chair and bolted in hopes of catching up but when he did you were already teleported into the barrier that was dragging you into Westview before their eyes.

“(Y/n)!!!!” Monica yelled as she ran towards you, hand outstretched to pull you back but only grasped air when you disappeared form sight, she was so close to saving you but was too late non the less. Darcy and Jimmy shared a look as they came to her side as the feeling of helplessness became more evident within them. “Come on Monica, we can probably catch them on the television.” She said solemnly as they walked back to base.

-meanwhile in Westview-

Scared and confused you found yourself wandering aimlessly down the streets in your new attire of plaid shirt, leather jacket, high waisted trousers, converse and a locket that help a picture of you, Pietro and Wanda inside before finding yourself on your ass looking up at a silver haired male in a black leather jacket, Hawaiian shirt, jeans and worn down sneakers.

“What the-,” his chocolate eyes widened as they landed on your face, “(y/n)?! Is that you?!” His voice was just as you remembered it you smirked, outstreching a hand in a silent jesture to be helped up, “you think I’d let you wander too far?” He chuckled, hauling you off the floor and into his arms, face buried into his neck savouring the brunt sugar smell you’ve missed so much. “I should’ve guessed you’d be several steps behind.” He whispered into your hair, placing a kiss there, immediately comforting you before pulling away to drag you down the street without explanation towards a familiar house that belonged to the auburn haired female who was currently cleaning up after her kids when she saw Pietro, giving him that parental stare. “You’re a bad influence on my kids Pietro, you’re lucky to be my brother or I would’ve blasted across town by now.”

‘Well that ain’t foreboding at all.’ You thought to yourself as you took in the fact that you were finally reunited with the people who meant the most to you, you couldn’t remember when you got here nor how other then the fact that you wanted to visit Pietro and Wanda and that you could teleport. “If it’s any constellation, look who finally decided to pay us a visit.” The silver haired male stepped aside to reveal you in all your unsure glory as Wanda’s eyes widened like they did with Pietro but she didn’t any waste time in running towards you and holding your face in her hands, tears lining her eyes and you couldn’t help but lean into her warmth. “(Y/n)?” She whispered softly. “Hi Wanda, sorry I’m late.” You said as Pietro held both of you close to his chest protectively while Wanda laughed weakly her hand dropping you grasp yours tightly, “all is forgiven now that we’re together...as we should be.” Her eyes flashed red for a split second.

“Yeah, together at last.”

[moonbaby26]

Title: Rare Company

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation from previous chapter. Several days after your initial meeting, Loki returns allowing some unexpected time together. And spurring you to wonder what could become of this, as well as trying to address what your own feelings might be for this new god.

Warnings: None, just fluff this chapter.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys

My Masterlist

——————————

Things had fallen back into routine after a while. Even if you still caught yourself daydreaming from time to time. You had imagined working up the nerve to ask your father for permission to visit Asgard. No one from your family had in ages from all you could tell, and what an act of diplomacy that could be.

Instead of roaming far and wide as you normally would, you had more kept to these southern seas as well. That little voice inside you wondering if Loki would return. The forest nymphs had delivered word to your sea nymphs that he had departed back through what you now knew as the bifrost the very same day you had met him.

He’d only lingered a couple more hours they’d said, seemingly in thought within the forest before he’d called out for the bridge to reopen and had disappeared the same strange way he’d come.

You had taken the form of a dolphin today, idly swimming around the fishing boats you’d come upon in open water. They should know you symbolized luck. And if they seemed grateful, you’d gladly chase more fish into their nets in your boredom.

But it was then that another group of dolphins appeared, though you recognized them instantly for the nymphs that they were.

Excitedly they darted around you.

“He’s back, that prince of Asgard! And he calls for you, milady!”

The shock had been immense. You really hadn’t known if he would return. But you’d hoped, hadn’t you? And now he was actually asking for you by name.

Of course you must go to him. You were a goddess of your word after all.

———————————

And he was at the same beach you’d been on the first day he’d appeared. Through father’s magic, you could travel the hidden currents of the deep ocean, being wherever you needed to be within minutes rather than hours or the days that it would have taken mortals.

You swam slower though as you neared the shore, still underwater as you’d taken your spear from one of the nymphs once more. He was still a stranger to you after all. Though maybe that would change? It was hard to say why he really would have returned again.

There was a nervousness that was so foreign to you as you finally swam shallow enough to stand up and begin to walk from the waters. The gills on your neck that only opened when you were under for any real length of time, now dissolved back into smooth skin as the dry air reached you.

Your dress clung to your wet body as well, far more sheer in the sunlight, and for a moment you wondered if Asgardian culture was more modest in the view of their own bodies or not. You couldn’t remember reading about that.

Hopefully he would not think it obscene. But as you made eye contact with him, you really could read nothing in his gaze. Only his body language looked impatient as he sat in the weak shade of a tree long gnarled by the ocean’s winds.

You bowed lightly in greeting as you stopped before him, even though you still held your spear upright in one hand. “Prince Loki of Asgard, I am pleased to see you again.”

You did notice that fleeting look through his eyes at that, as if he was once again trying to decide your sincerity.

“You think me a fool, don’t you?” Was what he finally said though. Not quite as cutting in tone as the other day however, but still very guarded.

You straightened at the accusation, though curious to his point.

But he continued before you could respond. “You are no minor goddess, (Y/N) of the sea,” He repeated, seeming to mock your wording from your last meeting. “I read more on your kind once I returned to Asgard. Care to introduce yourself with less deception this time?”

You smiled before you could help yourself. So you were the deceptive one? When the very first time you’d ever laid eyes on him, it had only been a false image. What a strange choice of words.

But had he really done the same thing you had then? Gone home and studied you? Was he annoyed that there would be any subject he knew so little about? You wanted to know if your own studying had been enough though, as this time you answered him in the language of the Asgardians, or what you hoped was at least close enough to be intelligible.

“I did not lie to you. I am the daughter of the sea. Because my father is the sea...Poseidon, king of the sea, and god of the oceans, earthquakes, storms, and horses.” Which yes, made you a princess you supposed, niece of Zeus, and sibling and cousin to so many others in the pantheon of gods and goddesses that was the Olympus royal family.

His eyebrows raised a little as his own language came off your tongue. But you could see it would still take far more for him to really show himself impressed even as a slight smirk did cross his face for the very first time. “Your intonation still needs much work, goddess. We can keep to Greek for now.”

True, beginning to learn a new language just through the written word was far different than actually hearing it spoken. “I haven’t had much time to study since you first came.” You smiled back. “I did try.”

“Clearly.” He answered, though still seeming to be just the slightest amused you thought.

“So is that the only reason you have returned? To chide me for not announcing myself a king’s daughter?” You asked, but trying not to sound as curious as you truly were.

He did pause a moment, but you were realizing that seldom did he find himself without quick words. “Partly I suppose.” He responded. “But you also said that I was now a guest here. Unless that hospitality has been revoked, I am choosing to take more time from Asgard in a place where I will not be bothered.”

So he still was mostly wanting solitude after all then? Though slightly disappointing, you knew it was something you could well understand. You wondered if his family could be as chaotic as your own. “This is a good place for it then. To not be bothered I mean. And yes, I stand by my offer of your being a guest here.”

After waiting this many days you really would have preferred to be in his presence more than a few moments. But it would be rude to impose yourself as well. “I will leave you to yourself then.” You spoke, already resigning your own self to likely the rest of the day alone as a shark or a dolphin. Well, maybe something that could dive even deeper. You now felt like going lay in a trench somewhere actually.

“Wait.”

The call back surprised you, even as it had sounded more like a command, pausing your rising disappointment as you glanced back over your shoulder.

“I had actually intended just to read today. But as you evidently have been reading at times as well, unlike so many others I know-” There seemed to be quite a bit of resentment to whomever he was referring to there, “I could be inclined to return to Asgard briefly and fetch some books from our library for you as well if you would like to read with me.”

You stared at the abrupt invitation. Did he really mean for you to sit with him, reading together then? So he was not entirely averse to your presence any longer?

Your silent stare only had him keep talking as if he thought he might need to further persuade you though. “I am sure you would get a far more accurate representation of Asgardian culture and history from our own authors, rather than whatever it was you had clumsily dug up here.”

The air of superiority had returned to his tone as he’d mentioned their writers of course, but he was likely right. If you wanted to read about Asgard, what better source than from the Asgardians themselves?

“I would appreciate that very much,” You said truthfully, albeit still with some surprise.

“Then it is done.” He said decisively, then standing to walk back to the forest.

“Loki,” you called before you could stop yourself though. You also realized it was the first time you had said his name this informally. You paused, unsure if this was something he generally allowed or not.

But when he looked back at you, you saw no anger in his eyes. He looked a little caught off guard himself, but only for the briefest moment.

“I...” You tried to not lose your nerve. “May I follow you? Not to Asgard of course,” You clarified quickly. There were far too many protocols that could be broken there, “But close enough to see the bifrost open? I’ve never seen it.”

He hesitated to consider your request. You supposed any good steward of their kingdom would. But even if you were trying some attempt at subterfuge and intended to force your way to Asgard, what threat could a single Olympian really pose? Especially only a water goddess at that.

He must have agreed you were no real threat either as he finally nodded, motioning for you to follow him.

And once you had reached that clearing again, this time you were close enough to see the symbols his last entrances had cut into the ground. Such a unique way to travel you thought.

But you were smart enough to still keep your distance as you did back back away as you saw him look to the sky.

“Heimdall!” He called. “Open the bifrost, I need to return!” He said in his own language.

For a moment nothing happened, but then the birds began to fly as the trees shook in the growing wind. You could just see the sky, a swirl of clouds beginning before a light as bright as any of Zeus’ lightning bolts erupted down with that boom you had heard before. Loki disappeared into the light, the wind whipping all around you before the bifrost vanished back into those clouds just as suddenly and there was silence again.

“Amazing,” you breathed, just to yourself and any still lingering animals that may have heard you.

—————————-

It felt like far longer than it really was you were sure. Your anticipation just stretching out the minutes as you’d waited for his return.

But when he did come back, in all the same dramatics as his exit with the bifrost opening, then closing to leave him there again in the clearing, he now had a satchel of several books.

You assumed Asgard may be a good deal cooler in temperature than your sandy beaches for as much of him that was covered in clothing. So you tried to help find the best shade that you could, and with an unblocked pass for the cool ocean breeze as you sat together beneath more trees.

“I’ve put a spell on these to make them waterproof,” He commented, “Though do still take care, some of these are from Father’s personal collection.”

“That’s practical,” You admitted, not at all offended, but awed really that he would bring such rare items for your viewing.

It was a bit of a slow go for you though, everything being written in the Asgardian language. But you were happy to find that you could understand enough with some effort, and that the gist of the stories and the histories being told were still coming across to you.

You weren’t sure how many hours the two of you sat that way. Every now and again you could see one of the sea nymphs peeking out from where the waves were breaking, keeping a curious eye on the two of you.

Eventually it was him that finally closed the last book he had been working through though. “I suppose I should return.” He said.

You were gentle with the book you still had, closing it as well as you handed it back to him. You felt as if you should say something more, but a simple, “Thank you,” was all that really came to mind in this moment.

He quieted though, looking out to the sun, now low over the darkening ocean. “It is not as fully terrible here in Midgard as I first assumed.”

You chuckled, how often would he make a habit of these insults? “I suppose any place can have its good qualities.”

But you badly wanted to ask him what had brought him here in the first place then. If he was to come to the mortal realm, wouldn’t it have made more sense to stay to the north where he was already legend? Why come here to the lands of the Olympians?

“You do have a way of staring through a person when you’re curious about something. You realize this don’t you?” He asked you in return though, just observing your features then.

You blinked, genuinely wondering if he possessed telepathy and you hadn’t known it.

“You’re looking at me in the same way as when you wanted to see the bifrost. So what do you wish to know of Asgard that could not be found in those books?”

You hesitated. He was still a god after all, and you knew how fickle they could be. You didn’t wish to anger him with your nosiness, but it would also be rude to ignore such a direct question.

“Well...I’m wondering why you came to our land to begin with. No Asgardians have set foot here in many ages from what I can discern. Why would you be so different?”

“You think me different?” He responded immediately though. Concerning you actually, before he scoffed, “Then you are intelligent. I am nothing like those I came here to seek relief from. My fool brother and his equally boorish companions.”

“Thor?” You asked innocently enough.

But the look he gave you as that name came off your lips would have been far answer enough before it became the key that opened the gates.

“He has been completely insufferable since Father bequeathed him Mjolnir!” You could see Loki’s jaw tightening slightly, the frustrated expression growing and so similar to that angered one you remembered on his illusion’s face that first day in the clearing, when it’d been pacing and cursing.

“Is that what happened recently?” You asked reflexively, but still believing that you already had the answer.

“Oh, he’s been using the hammer for years of course. Yet it always belonged to Asgard, not him. A relic of our realm. But now it is truly his per Father’s public declaration. Thor’s hammer,” He mocked, “Worthy to the one who will one day succeed Odin to take the throne. Father has now cast Thor as his official heir in our people’s eyes with this blunder.”

You remained quiet to digest the information he was providing you. So Loki felt slighted, no disgusted actually to learn the throne was seemingly all but promised to his brother now. So had he really already had that high of expectations for it?

“I guess Asgard and Olympus aren’t so different after all,” You finally mused, though trying to keep your tone even rather than sounding patronizing. “I mean, Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon. Our three kings, they overthrew their father Cronus and locked him in Tartarus to claim rule. Admittedly Cronus had eaten Hades, Poseidon, and their other siblings previously though.”

Loki stared at you and you just smiled oddly then. “My family has not always been on the best terms with each other either.”

“Your grandfather ate your father?” Loki asked as if to reaffirm the insanity he’d just heard. “I thought that was just a myth.”

“No, father has the scars still,” You admitted. “Cronus devoured his children as he didn’t want anyone to succeed him. But my grandmother Rhea, she hid Zeus away when he was born. And Zeus forced Cronus to regurgitate the others later.”

“Ugh,” Loki said, making a face.

You laughed, glad you seemed to at least get his mind off of Thor for the moment. “That all happened ages before I was born though. Luckily it’s now more frowned upon to treat your children in such a manner. Those were the old ways.”

“And you do have many siblings don’t you?” He questioned. “I read the Olympians were quite, how should I say, prolific in their child bearing.”

“Truth I’m afraid. Which is why I like to keep to the seas rather than Father’s palace or Mount Olympus. At least you only have one Thor, rather than a dozen.”

“Gods,” Loki spoke, the evident horror in that thought too much to contemplate seriously.

But you were just smiling again, realizing how much the ice had finally been broken to even be having this type of conversation right now. You were honestly enjoying the back and forth. It would be a shame to not do this again sometime.

And you had to try and convey that, at least somewhat if you could. You didn’t know how many other chances you would have. “Before you go...I did mean it, Loki, when I said you were welcome as a guest here. You can always come back when you need a little hideaway from whatever transpires to irk you in Asgard.”

He stared at you again then. It troubled you though of how little you seemed to be able read him at times. As if he could just cast a curtain between you whenever he wished.

“Perhaps I just may.” Loki said at last though with little emotion, then finally standing now and collecting his satchel of books.

It was only then that you really realized how dark it had already gotten with the sun now setting. And you caught yourself admiring him a little in the red and purple hues now coming from the sky. He really was so different than the gods you’d known before. Should you say something more?

As you stood as well, picking your spear back up from the sands, you saw several nymphs quickly sink back down into the surf, pretending as if they were not also very interested in how else you may say goodbye to him.

“You must not often entertain guests,” Loki spoke though, evidently having noticed your audience as well even as he began to walk away from you.

“Not men,” You answered honestly, though pausing as you realized how that really sounded. You continued though, not sure if you were making things sound worse or better. “Mostly we stay at sea. And I have no interest in unwashed sailors.”

But he stopped at that before entering the forest. He posed such a simple question to you then, although one that could mean so much more. “Yet you have interest in me?”

You felt as if you’d been hit in the chest at his words. Said quietly even as you saw his blue eyes on you once more, analyzing...waiting.

But how could one word have so many meanings? Interest as in he was just a curiosity, a strange foreigner to study like some new sea creature you had found? Or interest like a friend, to read together and talk and vent on the very particular family aspects you shared just as you’d done today?

Or...and this was surely the most disconcerting of all, interest as in how he could feel if you were allowed to touch him? How he would taste if you could kiss him? Your kind took lovers frequently. That should be no secret to him or anyone else. But just because other gods and goddesses of Olympus bedded one another left and right, it didn’t mean you did.

But did he you wondered? Did he have his choice of consorts at his palace, a full court always vying for his attentions to try and pull themselves further up the social ladder via way of his bed? Surely he would, wouldn’t he?

Yet your hesitation in answering was enough to indict you of your own desires you feared. Surely if he meant little, that would have been an easy response. To think on it this long, just made your confession for you didn’t it?

You took a breath, trying to remind yourself that you should fear no man. On a whim you could transform into a great shark and consume any prey, you could move the waters themselves, wreck ships, destroy harbors should you truly wish to. These were the gifts given to you from your father.

You were a goddess after all, not just an enamored young woman. And all you could do was speak the truth. “I do have interest in you, Loki.” You finally answered. “But to what path that will take is highly dependent on your own desires I’m sure. I know nothing of Asgardian preferences when it comes to choosing who to court, if at all.”

He had only been looking at you before, but now turned to fully face you. Unlike yourself, it seemed he had no problem in finding words though. “Your beauty is not something rare in Asgard, that is true.” He said, yet continuing before you could feel that as too harsh a barb, “But your mind, your ability, and even your desire to learn of what is outside your own world, that may be something wholly more compelling.”

Yet this didn’t sound like something that should be considered rare to you, or enough to set you apart at all you thought. And he seemed to read this disbelief clearly on your face as he then admonished you for it.

“You think I exaggerate? That even one of those vapid headed children could sit still for more than an hour without having to go break something or fight someone to prove their worth? Or that any other would sit here with me as you have done today and it not be just farce to try and get closer to my brother or to get in Odin’s favor?”

So you had been right on one thing at least. The Asgardian court did have its share of social climbers then. Maybe in this you could finally see some weight to his words. Because what did you care of such things? Your father was already a king. You did not need to seduce a prince to find anything in your life that you could not have by birthright already.

But if this was his way of admitting he at least approved of your company, it still didn’t clarify as to what all he really wanted from you.

“Well, I still leave the decision as yours. You know how to find me should you be willing to see me again. If you bring books, I will read with you. If you only want an ear to listen, I will do so. And if you desire for more...we can address that as we come to it.” You said, in what you hoped was a mature sounding way to deal with these burgeoning feelings.

“Very well.” He answered too simply though. And you were sure you saw some enjoyment in his eyes as your expression showed you were left a bit unsatisfied by that. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

And it was night by then, the fresh stars now fully surpassing the light from the fading sun. You stayed on the beach this time though, watching him disappear into the wooded hillside.

In not too much time, you then heard the boom that signaled the bifrost’s open and close and you knew that he was gone.

————————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[deewithani]

Welcome to the Triumphant

Prologue

Work Rating: 18+ (Explicit)

Chapter Rating: M

Paring: Pirate!Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: Approx. 1k

A/N: This is a pirate AU set on Earth, so ranks are changed as appropriate, however there will be historical inaccuracies in the telling of this story, since it is a work of fantasy. Inspiration drawn from Anne Bonney, Pirates of the Caribbean, Treasure Island, and countless other stories both real and dreamed.

You should have expected this.

You wanted riches, gold and jewels and all the things children whispered about when they pretended to shoot each other with sticks and claim their prizes from their giggling friends. You wanted to be respected, and if you're being honest with yourself, you wanted to be feared, just a little bit. You wanted to have stories written about you by all the great writers, their works praising the glory of the great Pirate Queen who dared to grab hold of her destiny and sail the open seas, brave and daring men at her beck and call, ready to lay down their lives for their brothers in arms and for the treasures that awaited their victory! You were a romantic, and there was nothing more romantic than sailing for adventure, and if you were being honest with yourself, finding true love.

But you should have expected this, mop in hand, swabbing the deck for what felt like the thousandth time since you set out to write your story on the high seas. Pirating was a dull business, long periods of sailing from one port to another occasionally broken up with a skirmish, and that is if you were truly lucky. This was the reality of pirating. More often than not any ships your menaced simply surrendered, giving up their loot without so much as a pistol shot. And the loot! Hah! So much furniture, bolts of fabric, dishware, cooking utensils, anything you could imagine that was needed for a life. So much that was not gold and jewels and all the riches of the wealthy.

You have been crew of the Triumphant for a few months, and you may not have been pleased with the bounty the ships of the sea provided, the Captain and the rest of the crew were more than pleased to take what was offered, filling the ship's hold with their plunder before giving each their share and heading back in to land. The shares for most of the crew didn't last long once the ship docked, spoils quickly traded or sold, gold and jewels spent for a few pleasurable hours in between the legs of another. Some crewmen had a family on the islands the ship would frequent, some had families on every island. But they would be broke soon after returning home as well, leaving treasures and necessities for their wives and children before setting sail yet again.

The best part of it all, though, was that they never asked about your business. They took you for your word as to who you were and didn't question it further, even though they had seen you scratch underneath your breast bindings and squat at the latrine. As long as you did your duty on the ship and were ready to fight and die with them, they didn't care what was in your breeches. You ate your hard tack like any other man and put yourself behind a cannon when the Triumphant was readying to take another ship, and you didn't grumble too much when all you did from waking to sleep was move up and down the deck with a mop and a bucket.

It was all surprisingly mundane and human, you thought to yourself. Halfway across the world from where you were born, where polite society said your purpose was to spread your legs for a man and give him children, you watched as children tugged on the skirts of their mothers as your ship came into port, women who had came here to escape the harsh realities of their own lands, only to wind up in the same position they were fleeing, taking men that they didn't want to bed to ensure their survival. There really wasn't anything new under the sun.

You suppose you should be grateful, you thought while the ship was nearing the dock, and your mind wandered easily to how you came to live your adventure, as dull as it had been thus far. You left your village the day you were supposed to be married to a neighbor's son. He was a good boy, to be sure, but you weren't interested in bearing his children. At least, not at that moment, there was too much life to live and not enough freedom to live it. Early in the morning hours of your wedding day you donned some of your little brother's clothes, cut your hair short, stuck a hat on your head and made your way to the docks to join the Royal Navy. No one took a second look at you, and if they did, they didn't care that you were a young woman trying to disguise yourself as a young man. You had barely made it to Bermuda before your ship was set upon by the Triumphant and you were pressed into service on the new ship.

The men of the Triumphant looked as rough as any men you had ever seen. Unwashed, unshaved, and certainly smelling permanently of sweat and salt and grog, but they were pleasant enough once you actually came aboard, setting you to work and letting you know what was expected of you now that you were a swabby on their ship. Once the new crew had boarded and were instructed of their new duties, the Captain of the ship emerged from his quarters. He captured your attention immediately, as no man had before. Captain Wolffe looked as you thought a real pirate should, as you expected from the many stories passed around the women of your social circle, his thick black hair curling until it reached the top of his crimson doublet, which was tied closed with a purple sash, dual pistols and cutlass at his waist. Heavy mutton chops framed his cheeks, connecting to a mustache that was curled upwards at the ends. He stepped out into the assembled crowd of men and peered out with one uncovered eye from underneath his wide brimmed hat.  

And then he spoke, and lightning shot down your spine.

“Welcome to the Triumphant.”

~~~

Taglist: @ashotofspotchka @gummywurme @bobabitch88 @the-empress-strikes-back @tacticalsparkles @rebelpitstop

If you would like added to my taglist, please let me know.

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 17: Blackout

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Oh no, you made things complicated. Lol. I'm having more fun writing Kung Lao than should be allowed. Hopefully you guys enjoy! And yes, I know this is tropey but I also don't care LOL, it's a fun trope.

Part 16 Part 18 Chapter Index

The hotel was surprisingly crowded. You weren’t sure what you’d expected but you hadn’t expected it to be bustling with tourists. There was a festival happening, you should have expected this. A bit outdated, the hotel was still clean and inviting. A welcome reprieve from the stone walls of Raiden’s Temple. You’d arrived early and still had to wait in line. Raiden had ‘transported’ you there which had been a wild experience in and of itself. You’d walked into a bolt of lightning and had come out in a quiet alley unseen.

It had been so long since you’d walked amongst the average civilian that it felt straight up bizarre to be walking along the streets of the modest city, especially in your hanfu. It was all you’d had, after all. No one looked at you twice other than to greet you politely. Most of the other folks staying at the hotel for the festival were couples on a romantic getaway which had made it instantly weird to be waiting in line with Kung Lao to check into your respective rooms.

Thankfully, the line moved quickly and once you’d checked in, you dropped off the few belongings you’d brought with you. The room was tiny with a single bed, a desk taking up nearly the rest of the room. Atop the desk was a television and beneath that was an old, ancient mini fridge. It would do well enough. This was the most technology you’d seen in weeks. Afterwards, you’d found Kung Lao and told him that you would meet him in an hour. You’d made note of a clothing store down the road and wanted to see if there was anything worth buying.

He, of course, decided to join you. No one trusted you alone anymore. He didn’t say it like that, but you knew that Raiden had told both him and Liu to keep an eye on you. You felt like a ticking time bomb.

Once at the shop you were disappointed to find that it sold mostly yukatas and kimonos. You supposed it was better than the flowy hanfu. At least you could pick out something that would be your own rather than something that had been handed to you.

Boy, you missed the internet.

You picked out a few pieces that you could work with a bit easier. Most of the hanfu were dresses or long flowy robes. Here you’d been able to find a few women’s kimonos that had hakama pants as an option. You had never been so excited to see pants in your life. You didn’t need the whole kimono, just the pants. Some constricted around the ankles while others were left open. You grabbed both and were extremely pleased.

“Sometimes, you’re a very simple woman.” Kung Lao had patted you on the back when you’d showed him the pants in excitement. You had to agree. In that moment you were very simple. Pants had brought you joy. You’d wandered away from him after that to find a few tops, belts, and jackets. Thankfully, you’d had your wallet on you when this had all begun so you had some money on you. In Raiden’s Temple, money hadn’t been necessary, so you were happy to spend it on the few things you did need.

They weren’t jeans and a t-shirt or even cute dresses, but it felt like a step in the right direction toward feeling like yourself again. You hadn’t realized how much it had bothered you until then.

Kung Lao had purchased just enough for the day in flattering red and black. That seemed to be his aesthetic though you could picture him in blues too for some reason. Then you made your way back to the hotel and to your rooms on the top floor. You had gotten rooms next to each other. You went to get changed and were happy with what you saw even in the half mirror on the desk. You stood on the bed to get a better look. Black hakama pants and a grayish-lavender and black top with a white sash tied around your middle. You then pulled your hair back in a ponytail and admired yourself in the mirror. Even though your hair was a mess you looked much more like yourself.

Your white roots had grown out a couple of inches now. It didn’t look bad, but it definitely didn’t look like it was on purpose either.

Oh well! You jumped off the bed and then left the room to find Kung Lao waiting for you, leaned against the wall next to your door. He had one foot propped against the wall, arms folded across his chest, hat obscuring his face as it often did. The clothing he’d bought wasn’t too terribly different from what he usually wore with the notable exception that he had sleeves which was truly a shame. He tilted his head up just enough to greet you before stepping away from the wall. You hadn’t left him waiting that long and yet he acted as though he’d been there for ages.

You noticed the jade ring from his usual outfit was woven into his outfit with the sash around his waist laced through it. It was kind of sweet that he always seemed to have it on him.

“Is that significant in some way? Special?” You asked, gesturing to the ring. He looked down at the ring in surprise and then nodded down the hall. You walked slowly through the hotel toward the stairwell.

“It’s a relic from my ancestor, the Great Kung Lao.”

“Oh, wow. About that, though… I’ve heard people mention him, but I had never heard the name before you. I know that he’s of some importance which has made you important…”

“I am incredibly important, thank you.”

“Yes, very. Keep talking.”

“He was the first champion of Mortal Kombat who had come from the Shaolin Order of Light. He defeated Shang Tsung and won the tournament.” Kung Lao seemed as though he had told this story a hundred times but was still proud to tell it. It was oddly sweet. “He was champion of Earthrealm for fifty years before the tournament was corrupted and he was killed. Even so, he is held in great reverence. He was a remarkable warrior.”

“Is that why you have a dragon mark?”

“Yes, that is why I have the mark. It’s also why I was sent away so young. I’d already been training long before I’d met you. When I left it was because it was time for me to go live at the temple.”

You stopped walking before the stairs and he stopped just in front of you and turned to face you. “Then why were you so bad when we would pretend to fight?”

“I held back. I wanted you to have fun too. Besides, it felt nice to be normal back then.” He laughed and you caught up to him and started down the stairs. “I was thinking that we should come up with a story as to why we’re here.”

“Should we?”

“Obviously. We need a reason to be here.”

“Other than the reason we actually have?”

“And when a bunch of strangers ask you why we’re here, are you going to tell them the real reason we’re here?”

“Point taken.”

“We need a cover.”

“Do we really though? I don’t remember ever having to justify my actions that intensely to strangers before. We can just be visiting.” You jumped down the last two stairs to the landing between flights. Pants felt great. Kung Lao seemed to either be overthinking your trip or grasping at straws to get to some end point. Or he was going to cause trouble. You would never forget the look that both Raiden and Liu had given him on their way out.

“I’ve been asked three times what brings me to Mount Osore during the festival. I came up with a lie on the spot but I’m no terribly proud of it or anything.”

“And what is this lie you came up with?”

“I said I was here on a date. Everyone else seems to be here on a date, so it was the first thing that jumped to mind.”

You rolled your eyes at him and he laughed in surprise, waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You caught up to him. “Really, Kung Lao?”

“What? It’s the first thing I could think of! The people asking me were on a date and so I stuttered that I was too.”

“Kung Lao, no.”

“Come on, Y/N.”

“Can’t we just say we’re visiting and that it’s no one’s business?” You walked into the lobby and he hurried in front of you and took your hands, clasping them between his. You sighed. “Would you…” The lobby was very crowded.

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Would you,” he continued, talking over you, “do me the honor of going on a cute little pretend date with me so that we can sneak into an ancient Buddhist Temple built within the caldera of a volcano so that we can uncover an ancient and possibly cursed artifact together?” You stared at him in disbelief, but it was taking every ounce of your energy not to burst into laughter. He was such a dork. “I will get down on my knees and ask you again if you don’t answer me.” He got down on his knees and you broke. Laughing, you pulled your hands free, grabbed his arms and tugged.

“Oh my god, get up, Kung Lao.”

“It’s a great cover, Y/N.”

“It is an exactly okay cover. But fine. I haven’t done something terribly embarrassing in a while, so I guess I’m overdue for this.” You agreed at least. He was right. It was a good cover considering this whole place was filled with couples. Besides, if it got Kung Lao to drop the subject then you would be happy to agree. The whole display had made your cheeks burn.

“Embarrassing, huh? Come on, Y/N. It’s not such a bad thing, is it? Could be worse looking guys to end up with, right?” He walked at your side again, making a teasing kissy face and leaning close to you. You leaned away with an awkward and nervous laugh.

“If you keep doing things like that then you are going to get smacked.”

“Worth it.” He held the door open for you and together you left the hotel. Outside a bus waited to take tourists to the shrine for the festival. People were already loading onto it. Kung Lao offered you his hand and you looked to him skeptically. He grabbed your hand anyway and then you walked onto the bus. “You’re going to have to get better at pretending.” You found seats near the back of the bus and even as you sat, he didn’t let go of your hand. You felt incredibly silly. Yet, it also made your heart flutter. As much as you had given him a hard time, you also happened to think it was an incredibly sweet and kind of wholesome idea.

Funny enough, you had thought of this moment before but in a much different context. Maybe in a life where your childhood together hadn’t ended so traumatically. Where you’d stayed close friends and he’d have asked you out when you were old enough. In a way, you felt like a silly schoolgirl, something you hadn’t felt in years.

If he hadn’t died then this was exactly where you would have wound up. Somehow that made you feel much less silly and you finally relaxed. Kung Lao pointed out several interesting things on the side of the road through the window and you listened to him chatter on until the bus was pulling up to the shrine. You waited for the others to get off the bus and then you walked ahead of Kung Lao and stepped off it.

The shrine was huge and it took your breath away.

So much so that it made you dizzy.

A river flowed before you then beneath a red bridge. To the left of the bridge there was a white beach lining the bluest and most artificial-looking water that you had ever seen in your life. Rocks were piled alongside the shore in strange formations. Beyond the bridge there was a stone path that led to the shrine in the distance, and it was lined with old lanterns. You walked to the edge of the stone path where the bus had dropped you off to try and get a better look at the water.

That was a teal color you had never seen before in nature. In your mind’s eye, you recalled your vision and it made your stomach drop. You took a step further and were suddenly grasped around the waist and pulled away from the edge of the stone. Then Kung Lao looped his arm in yours. “You looking to take a dip?”

You hadn’t realized that you had almost walked right into the river. You hadn’t been thinking. The water had bewitched you, it seemed. You needed to get a closer look at it but now that you’d been turned away from it, the feeling had gone. From there you could smell the acidity in the humid air. That was likely why it was so blue. “Pay more attention, okay?”

You weren’t sure what to say to him. It was surreal being there. This place was exactly the same as it had been in your vision but also years, possibly centuries had passed since then. The shrine buildings themselves were much larger than they had been then. They were even a different color. Your head was spinning as you tried to take in everything at once. It was an overload. You grabbed Kung Lao’s arm to try and ground yourself. You felt as though you were floating and the wind would take you away.

Kung Lao led you onto the bridge and at its apex you sat and watched the water trickle beneath it. He helped you lean your elbows against the railing and then placed a supportive hand on your back.

“It’s okay. Take a second.” He seemed to realize that you were having a difficult time. How could you explain that you were struggling to wrap your mind around being in a place where you’d had such a vivid and violent vision? You were grateful for him. Your heart was racing and you watched the water flowing beneath the bridge, over the rocks. Your stomach had dropped. It felt as though you were intimately familiar with this place, as though you had spent years there, but you had never once seen it before. At the same time, everything felt completely new. Your brain was waging war with itself. “You okay?”

“Yeah, this is just… surreal.” You were finally able to collect your thoughts enough to talk.

“You went a bit gray. Figured you needed a minute.”

“I appreciate it.”

“So, where do we go?”

“There’s a well inside one of those buildings.” You nodded to your right where the shrine was at the end of the stone path.

“Vague, but okay.” He peered to the right and then pointed. “It’s off limits.” From there you could see a series of ropes that blocked off the building from visitors. “Great.”

“It’s crowded enough here. I’m sure we can sneak in just fine.”

“Of course.” He leaned next to you on his forearms, hands clasped together. “This place is a little spooky.”

“It is. I read a brochure from the hotel lobby. The monks here believe that it’s the gateway to hell. The river beneath us is supposed to represent the Sanzu.” You pointed below you. It was a little spooky, you supposed, but it was also incredibly beautiful.

“I read about that. I also read that there are holy water bathhouses and volcanic cauldrons with crazy colored water.”

“Yeah, and a lake of blood.”

“I hate that, Y/N.” He stuck his tongue out at the idea. You laughed. He was too funny. He had this way of making you feel at least even about the big and often uncomfortable things sometimes. Other times he drove your anxiety through the roof. Thankfully, this wasn’t one of those moments. “What do you say that we get to sneaking in and find this thing so that we can have a bit of fun for the rest of the day, huh?”

“That sounds nice.”

He took your hand once again and you walked over the bridge and along the stone path. The lanterns were decorated for the festival along with the rest of the shrine. Monks walked about, greeting visitors and answering questions while explaining various attractions. Most visitors, and there were many, were straying from the temple in favor of the white sands or the volcanic cauldrons. You and Kung Lao walked until you reached the ropes before the shrine. You stood there for a time in the shade, waiting for your moment to sneak in unseen.

“Coast is clear,” you whispered and turned to keep watch while Kung Lao snuck into the shrine. Once inside, you waited for your opportunity and followed him. Inside, the building was ancient but to you it seemed oddly brand new. It wasn’t the same shrine that you remembered from your vision. Much had changed since that wicked man had been there.

No one was waiting for you inside the small entryway or in the room beyond. That seemed like the central room, with space for prayer and a dip in the center for dining. The floor was lined with tatami mats and the ceiling was high, windows on the second floor spattering sunlight throughout the room. Halls branched off in each direction and you suddenly felt overwhelmed with choice. It had seemed so much simpler in your vision.

“Lead the way but be cautious. We’re not alone.” Kung Lao spoke in a hushed tone, staying close to you but alert.

“Yeah.” You started through the room and down the closest hallway, checking to see if it was empty first. Kung Lao took your hand and you urged him along with you. Your stomach was in knots and his hand there continued to keep you grounded. Several times you encountered monks going about their business and you had to duck into other rooms or sneak back around corners. You somehow managed to remain unseen, having to huddle together in strange spaces and hide in enclosed areas. It would have been fun had it not been so damn frustrating.

None of it made sense! As you turned down another hall, you sighed in frustration. You’d wound up there twice already. Your gut kept sending you there and back to the central room but there was no indication that it was the same place that the vision had taken place in. Kung Lao suddenly pulled you back into the side room and held you against the wall near the door. There were footsteps in the hall, and you held your breath until they had passed. You made to go back into the hall, but Kung Lao pinned you in place.

“You’re leading us in circles.”

“I know. It’s hard to explain. It’s like someone’s moving everything around while we’re walking. It doesn’t make any sense. I think I’m going one way and then we’re back to where we started.” It was making you sick to your stomach, as a matter of fact.

“You can do this. Just focus.”

“Kung Lao, you have no idea what’s going on in my head right now. I am focusing.”

“You’re right I don’t. So, tell me.”

“I’m not sure that I have the words to explain that the room we’re looking for should be right around the corner but then it isn’t.” It really was disorienting to expect to be in one place and end up in another. “It shouldn’t have been this far back but also this place is ten times bigger than it had been in my vision.”

“I need you to try still.”

You were mixed up. It was like someone was moving rooms in your head and before you knew it, you had once again led him back into the central room which made both you and Kung Lao groan in annoyance.

“Oh good. We’re back. I was worried.”

“It should be right here, but everything looks so different!”

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’ll figure it out.”

“It’s not okay, Kung Lao. It should be right here. I wish I could just show you.” The frustration was radiating off you, you were sure. “I can’t-”

“Is someone there?” A voice from somewhere down the hall called and footsteps approached from a distance.

“Fu…” Kung Lao whispered and then grabbed you and searched for somewhere to hide. The closest hall was too far. You were caught. “Don’t panic.” He urged you to the wall with surprising care and you made a sound of surprise. What did he mean don’t panic? You were instantly panicking. Don’t panic? What was wrong with him? He leaned against you and tilted your chin up and his head toward you like he was going to kiss you, obscuring you both with his hat. “Act natural, Y/N.” His lips brushed against your cheek, just next to your lips. “I swear, you’re terrible at this.” You were stiff as a board, so he had every right to scold you, but also he was pretending to kiss you so what the hell were you supposed to do with that? What was natural in this case?

You gave him a swift but soft punch in the gut and he laughed against your cheek in return. That made you feel a bit better. He lifted his head just enough and you peered toward the door nearby, waiting for the monk that would inevitably kick you out. You could have had time to hide at this rate. Kung Lao’s lips were pressed against your cheek and they were soft even if it was just in a mock kiss close enough to your lips to look like you were sneaking a private moment.

You peered around the corner, thinking maybe you were in the clear. Kung Lao did the same and when you turned back to tell him that maybe the monk had decided to turn away, you found him extremely close to you. Intimately so. His dark eyes were serious and that always scared you for whatever reason. He tilted your chin toward him and all other thoughts slipped out of your brain.

What were you doing there? Where were you anyway? And why? Did it matter?

Not right now it didn’t.

His hand was on your chin, thumb brushing just below your lip, urging your lips to part just enough. You dared not breathe to break the tension of the moment. The sneaking and searching were gone completely from your thoughts. All that was left was the boy that you’d so admired in your youth grown into a handsome man with his hand against the wall at your side, the other inextricably lost below your lower lip.

His eyes were searching you, but you dared not look back into them for fear of what you might find, for fear of what it might reveal to you. His breath warmed your lips before they were on yours, parting them like a blossom in a soft and singular tender movement. A far superior kiss than the one he’d pretended to give you for the sake of saving your skin.

His lips were sweet. Not like sugar or candy, but sweet like the lingering taste of honey at the bottom of a cup of tea. It was a feeling of sweetness rather than a flavor. The moment was still and soft, his lips treasuring yours as though they were something sacred and special. They pulled back just enough from yours that you could feel your lips resisting to part as if they had minds of their own. His eyes were searching you still for answers and in wonder, but you didn’t dare meet them. Yet, you could feel his gaze and beneath your fingertips, that had betrayed you and now rested on his chest, you could feel his heart beating almost as hard as yours.

His breath graced your lips again, but you dared not breathe. You wanted to say something, even just a whisper of his name, but no words would come and you sat there, lips parted in waiting, avoiding his eyes, hand clutching the cloth at his chest, unsure of where you even were or why. This was Kung Lao.

Your Kung Lao.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as they were on yours again, but the softness was gone, though there was something about them that was still sweet even so. The force of his kiss pressed you against the wall, leaving you no escape- not that you wanted to escape. This was a moment that the ten-year-old inside your head had both longed for and not understood. You would have been a fool not to return his kiss, to taste and experience his lips the way that he was with yours and so you did. You kissed him and it was like a storm inside you beyond your control, building with electricity with every moment that passed.

There was a tender moment of acceptance where it felt as though time stood still. The soft moment faded quickly to frenzied desperation. There was no space left between you. Kung Lao was pressed against you, body warm and strong, hat nearly pushed back off of his head as he favored kisses over his possessions. Your hands moved up his chest, to the sides of his neck, fingertips then tangling in the short, messy tendrils of his hair at the base of his hairline. Your heart was doing flips, brain completely turned off to anything that had happened before this, even if somewhere in the distant reaches of your mind you could hear your instincts telling you that you had to stop. Whatever muting effect had been triggered in your brain had seemed to impact Kung Lao as well.

In one swift motion, fluid and strong, his hands were at your thighs and he had lifted you and pressed you against the wall, urging your legs to wrap around him. Your arms slipped naturally around his shoulders, pulling him closer between hot and increasingly sloppy kisses.

“Excuse me?”

Ah, yes. The monk. That was right.

You stopped kissing him.

Kung Lao’s lips finally pulled from yours and you could feel that your own were left slightly swollen from the desperation and passion of those precious few moments. When had you gotten so tangled up in each other? His chest was rising and falling against yours quickly and even though he’d pulled back his lips lingered close to yours as if to consider defying the monk further.

“My apologies.” The monk sounded embarrassed and bowed multiple times. “This area is closed to the public for the festival.”

You finally managed to regain your thoughts and untangled yourself from Kung Lao. You placed your feet on the ground and cleared your throat though your face was likely as red as his robes. He released you from his grip though he made no effort to step away. You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat and forced your brain to work.

“Is it?” You sounded surprised and were grateful that you had. You hadn’t expected to be a very good actor after all that, but you had been surprised to be interrupted and also confused as to where your mind had gone. It was more feigning innocence than lying. The monk nodded and looked as though he sincerely felt bad for interrupting you. “I’m sorry. We had no idea.”

“It’s no worries. I will happily escort you back to the festivities. Follow me.”

“Sorry about that.” Kung Lao, who you had never seen at a loss for words, seemed to finally regain himself. Just like that, he was back to the goof he’d been when you’d first arrived. “We were just sneaking off to have a private moment. Didn’t realize it was off limits.”

“It happens all the time. You’d be surprised.” The monk led you back through the central room and into the entryway. You elbowed Kung Lao as you followed the monk and he laughed beneath his breath. Once outside the monk bowed to you and then left you alone. You leaned your head back and stared into the sunny blue sky with a sigh. You needed a new plan. That one had gone off the rails in a way you hadn’t expected.

[allegra-writes]

"Bad together"

Prologue: Benjamin Reilly

Peter Parker x Reader

General audiences

Warnings: none.

"And if I'm dead to you

Why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed"

My tears ricochet - Taylor Swift

"... It's a disaster! Look at her! It's like someone took a look at Black Cat, selected everything that made her sexy and then took it out!"

Black Cat. The name froze the young photographer on his tracks right outside his boss' office. He hadn't heard that name in a long time, the last sighting had been well over a year ago. He would know.  After all, it had been him, the very last person to have seen Felicia Hardy, alive or dead.

"What are you talking about? That looks hot af, not to mention badass!" Jade's persuasive voice reached his ears, making him smirk: It was no secret the chief editor had a soft spot for the young intern. And, on her part, the petite brunette was a firecracker. Poor old Jameson didn't stand a chance. "Come on, dad. Single handedly taking down three of the Kingpin's goons? That's impressive. It deserves to be one of the slides!" 

"Not if we don't get a higher quality picture. That blurry video is good enough for a thumbnail, but not for a slide" Slides were a big deal, they were the Dailybugle.net's equivalent of a front page, and if J. Jonah Jameson took something seriously, it was his web site. He prided himself in the quality of the "receipts" of his "tea", as if that validated the trashiness of the bullshit articles he posted, more fiction from hyper imaginative wannabe writers than serious work from real reporters. 

"Well, then let's get the pictures. Where is that star photographer of yours?" 

The photographer rolled his eyes, typical Jade. As if the queen of cool didn't know his name. As if she hadn't graced his bed a handful of times already. 

"That's a good question. Dolores, get me Reilly!"

"I'm here, Jonah" Ben finally stepped inside the office, throwing an envelope on Jameson's desk before throwing himself on a chair across it. He could feel Jade's eyes on him, almost like a physical caress, trailing from the long, slick back curls on the top of his head, to the muscles of his arms, threatening to rip open the seams at the sleeves of his white t-shirt, to his jean clad thighs. Still, he didn't turn to look at her, refusing to give her the satisfaction. 

"What do you have for me today, boy?"

Ben gesticulated vaguely with his head in the direction of Jade, and Jameson caught the hint. 

"Jade, out!" 

"But, dad, my story!" The petulant reply left her mouth before she could stop it, undoubtedly the product of years of habit. But she had the grace to look embarrassed and leave the office without another word, trying to save whatever professionalism she had left. 

Once she was gone, Jameson opened the envelope, flipping through the various pictures of a masked figure swinging around New York in a black and red suit. 

"Hmmm… these are good" the older man praised, staring at the images of a frustrated robbery at 5th avenue

Ben snifled nocomitically,

"There was a fire at 16th avenue happening at the same time" He offered, "we could use that. Spider-Man forgets his roots and leaves his old neighborhood to fend for itself, running off to save some pretty socialite…"

"Oh, that is excellent! See, this is why I like you, kid. You have initiative. Unlike these snowflakes out there. Oh, but Spider-Man is a hero. Hero, my ass"

"Well, when you watch your so called hero sit back and do nothing as your life gets destroyed" Ben shrugged, "the rose colored glasses tend to fall off…"

Jameson made a face at that,

"Yeah, about that… I'm sorry. For the role the Daily Bugle played on that…"

Ben shook his head, 

"You thought you were getting the truth out there. It's not your fault to have been played, along with half the world. Plus," he added, sounding genuinely enthusiastic, "you gave me this job. And now we can really tell the truth"

"Even when our idea of the truth is somehow different" The older man scoffed, flipping around a picture of Spider-Man sat on what appeared to be a hammock of his own webs, eating a hamburger and reading something that looked suspiciously like a comic book, "Still hung up on that high schooler theory of yours?"

"Well, if it talks like a brat and acts like a brat…" Ben took out another envelope, this time containing a few burger king wrappers and, effectively, a spider-man comic book. 

"Where did you even get these?"

"Harlem" was Ben's curt reply, and Jameson knew that was as exact a location as he was going to get. 

"So you still believe this is a copycat? Some kid playing dress up"

Ben simply shrugged again. 

"Well, there seems to be an epidemic of those lately" Jameson admitted, indicating Ben to come closer, passing a tablet to him, "Jade just handled me this, take a look"

Ben took a deep breath, steeling himself, already knowing what he was going to see in it. Yet, a part of him couldn't help but hope to be wrong. To hope the silver haired figure facing three much bigger, stronger looking ones as he pressed play, wasn't the same one he had spent weeks memorizing last summer. Wasn't the body he had found solace in, when everything fell apart, once again, for the hundredth time in his life. 

To hope it wasn't you. 

But when in his twenty-two or so years of existence, had things ever gone his way? 

Ben felt the screen crack under his fingertips.

"I've heard of her" he lied through his teeth, "didn't even think she was real, to be honest. Extremely elusive, and cunning." That much was true, "I don't understand how something as mundane as a security camera managed to catch her…" 

Unless you wanted to be caught, that was. 

"Well, I don't care if she's the fucking Loch Ness monster, I want an HD picture of her on my desk tomorrow to go with Jade's article. I already have a headline: New Catastrophe Jen wreaks havoc on Hell's Kitchen" Jameson's eyes lit up with glee as he weaved his hands up in the air, like writing on an invisible marquee. 

Ben snorted

"Don't you mean Calamity Jane?"

Jameson's face fell, the color rising to his cheeks, characteristic vein popping on his forehead. 

"I meant what I meant, boy! Now, what are you still doing here? You have 24 hours to get me that picture"

"I'm going to need 72," came Ben's unphased reply, "and I want twice what you pay me for the spidey pics"

Jameson's vein looked about ready to explode,

"48 hours. And deal."

Ben jumped from his seat and bolted out of the office before his boss could change his mind, not realizing until it was too late that he was on a collision course with a sweet looking short haired blonde girl. 

"Watch where you're going! Jeez!"

"Me? You're the one who crashed against me!" 

Ben rolled his eyes, but crouched next to the girl anyway, helping her gather the papers that had been sent flying on impact back together.

"Peter? Oh my god, is that you?"

Of course. What an idiot, he should had recognized that annoying, shrilly voice the second he heard it. It had caught him off guard, something he knew he couldn't afford. But how could he had ever imagine he could run into Betty fucking Brant, Yale cum laude, in the freaking dailybugle.net headquarters of all places?

"Sorry, sweetheart. You must confuse me with someone else…" He mumbled, lowering his head even more in a vain attempt to hide his face.

"Of course not!" She insisted, "You're Peter, Peter Parker, we went to Midtown together!"

"Miss, I have no idea what you're talking about…"

"Don't be silly, Peter!" She chuckled, completely deft to his tone or the way his whole demeanor had changed the second she had called him by the old name. "How have you been? Oh, just wait until I tell Ned, he's going to be so-"

CRACK.

At last, the tablet that had been in peril ever since Jameson had put it in Ben's hands, the one that contained his assignment, met its demise, both broken halves falling to the ground, along with all the papers he had picked up for Betty. It was several moments before he could get the shaking of his hands under control, before the tar black rage inside him subsided enough for him to be able to move without shifting. But it had.

"Peter Parker is dead." He deadpanned, dark brown eyes finally meeting Betty's stunned blue ones, "Tell Ned that, he'll probably be glad to hear it"

With that, he stood up and walked away, leaving a confused and agitated Betty behind. 

To be continued...

[hencethebravery]

v i c e  v e r s a

This is the extremely brief story of how a rebellious, narcissistic little whelp fell in love with a smarmy, mustachioed bureaucrat (and vice versa).

+ Agent Mobius sits in an unremarkable cubicle in an unremarkable corner of an unremarkable building in a famously remarkable city. He wakes up and pages through his old travel magazines and not infrequently spills some of his coffee all over them. His subscription expired a year or so ago, and for whatever reason he has not been able to find the time to renew it. He finishes his breakfast and walks a couple blocks (if the weather’s nice) before hopping on the train another 30 minutes to the office, where he always greets security and they sometimes greet him back.

Agent Mobius has been working for the CI division of the Internal Revenue Service for the last 15 years, and he has been maddeningly close to catching Odin, the CEO of Asgard, Inc., for about 10 of those.

He’s worked other cases of course—made an impact in a plethora of other ways (his superiors take comfort in the consistent quality of his work), but they so rarely consumed him with the same degree of ferocity as this one. And it’s not because he’s been trapped within a “will they, won’t they” cluster-cuss with Odin’s impossible son (his youngest) for about 3-4 of the 10 years mentioned.

And no, it’s not a conflict of interest; if anything, he’s undercover.

B. (”Bee”) is his favorite co-worker. He knows almost nothing about her but is completely committed to making sure that he is her favorite co-worker. He’s winning her over. Absolutely.

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Mobius.”

He scoffs and adjusts his belt. He has almost certainly said things dumber than that.

Mobius treats himself to salads from Sissy’s Café 2-3 times a week. They’re on the pricier side because they’re so large, which is really the only way to eat a salad, otherwise you’re still hungry and it was nothing but a waste of money and wilted lettuce. On a seasonally comfortable day he’ll grab it to-go and grab a table at a small park nearby, which is generally speaking one of the nicer parts of his day, unless of course—

“You are terribly predictable, I hope you know.”

Mobius huffs and stabs his fork into a particularly thick bit of spinach and avocado. “You say that as if you’re not, which I find hilarious.”

“Well you would, I am famously quite funny.”

He tries to ignore the fact that the code-word “Young Prince,” has finally gotten the haircut he’s so desperately needed (even more so does he try to ignore the fact that he’d been the one to suggest it). Loki is in black today (surprise, surprise) despite the bright, warm sunshine, and his t-shirt fits snug across his shoulders.

“Nice haircut,” Mobius notes between sips of his ever-warming seltzer.

Loki gives the barest hint of a smile, which is unfortunately one of Mobius’ favorite things, if only because it is one of the few real things about the man.

“Not that you asked, but I stopped by because I have some information for you.”

Mobius sighs. Loki loves claiming to have information, which Mobius more-or-less loves to follow-up on despite the fact that it is unreliable about 85% of the time. Happily enough for Mobius, Loki isn’t a huge fan of his father either, although he is a fan of his father’s money, which doesn’t really work in the IRS’ favor.

“Oh?” Mobius replies, disinterested. “And I’m sure it’s just as helpful as your last little ‘tip’ was.”

“More, actually, and frankly I’m offended by the accusation.”

“I’m sure you are.”

The few seconds that follow would be familiar to anyone who had for whatever reason been observing this strange almost-mating ritual that had been occurring over the years. A comfortably quiet exchange of mutual gazing where Loki secretly admired the bent in Mobius’ nose, and Mobius secretly admired the crinkling around Loki’s eyes when he did that almost-smile he reserved for a lucky few.

Loki clears his throat and reaches across the table for the seltzer, taking a sip whilst decidedly ignoring the look of disbelief on Mobius’ face.

“Excuse me—”

“Yes, excuse you, if you’ll recall I was about to share some very valuable information. The most valuable, you might say.”

The last time Loki interrupted Mobius’ lunch with “valuable information,” he’d wasted an ungodly amount of time and money pursuing a lead (and raiding the office of a rather well-respected Senator) that went nowhere, all because this Senator had made a pointed and correct comment at some rich-person function and Loki has never been able to not take something personally for even one moment in his absurd little life.

“And why should I believe you this time?”

It’s the fidgeting that gives it away—how starts tapping his fingertips against the empty can, his eyes looking anywhere other than at Mobius. That maybe he’s telling the truth this time.

“I’m... tired, I guess.”

“You’re ‘tired.’”

He looks up, briefly, before he returns to this out-of-character bit of looking anywhere else.

“My brother’s off... saving the world,” he starts with a sneer, “Sylvie’s about to have a family—”

“She’s still your family,” Mobius interrupts, “don’t be stupid.”

“But that’s classic me, isn’t it?”

Mobius silently disagrees, but he’s so afraid to burst this bubble of self-awareness—to ruin what has started to feel like a critical, life-changing moment, that he cannot possibly bring himself to speak.

Loki opens his mouth as if he has more to say, but he closes it and places a small black hard drive in the middle of the table instead. When Mobius looks closer, he notices that it’s engraved with a small bolt of lightening. His heart starts to tap in a series quickening, uncomfortable beats. 

“Loki—”

“I’ve had it for a while,” he admits, “if you knew how long you’d probably want nothing more to do with me.”

Mobius has made the moral arguments before; probably to the detriment of the argument itself. That no single man should be able to accumulate so much wealth—that his notoriously stuffy, humorless job is “really important, actually,” and stopping his father could help a lot of people, least of all his own son, and “good god, Loki, what the hell are you even trying to prove?”

“It’s for admittedly selfish reasons,” he continues before Mobius can correct him, “regardless of the final outcome.”

“Why’s that?” Mobius croaks, wishing his tie was just a little bit looser today (so goddamn tight, every single day—)

“Well,” he grins, looking back up at him, finally, “if you’re not undercover, there’s no... what’s the term? ‘Conflict of interest?’”

“Yeah,” Mobius laughs, “yeah, that’s the term.”

Loki pushes the drive across the table. “Take it,” he says, “it’s time you had it.”

"Feels like it should be heavier.”

Loki smirks.

“Shut up.”

Mobius glances at his watch and notices, with surprise, that he’s gone about 5 minutes over his lunch hour.

“Time to go?” Loki asks, the words painted with a nervousness that seems foreign to him.

Agent Mobius has never once returned late from his lunch hour. He respects the agency’s time too much, and what real good has ever come from his lingering? But when he looks back at Loki, who has so recently cut his hair—who suddenly fidgets and appears genuinely nervous, he considers the importance of making exceptions to certain rules. To “loosening his tie,” so to speak. And besides, Bee will cover for him (he’s pretty sure).

“Nah,” Mobius answers, sliding the drive into his coat pocket, “I can be late.”

[walltowallfandoms]

Halloween: The Romance of Michael Myers

It's a classic story of boy meets girl...and killing.

Warnings: Attempted kidnapping, dubcon, knifeplay, stalking, graphic smut, graphic violence.

(Also readable on AO3)

Chapter One

It officially began with a flower.

Iris opened her door to the cool spring air, ostensibly to collect the morning paper, but really to jolt herself awake. She had classes later.

Her academic commitments were promptly forgotten, however, when she bent down to pick up the paper...and noticed something on top of it.

Rubbing her still bleary eyes, she picked it up for closer inspection. It was a flower.

An iris.

Someone had left a very appropriate gift for her.

The question was...who?

Iris held her floral counterpart closer to her face, examining it closely, as though there'd be any clue of whoever left it.

There was.

Gently splotted on the beautiful purple petals...were little flecks of blood.

Something itched at the back of her mind, as she returned to her original task of retrieving the newspaper. She gave it a cursory once-over, then her eyes darted back up to the headline on the front page.

"Haddonfield 'Boogeyman' strikes again. Four people killed in a brutal home invasion, serial killer Michael Myers suspected."

The thing itching in the back of her mind suddenly shot to the front.

A shelved memory came flooding back in vivid detail, from all those months ago.

___

She'd picked out a lovely sexy witch costume, like Samantha from Bewitched, but sluttier. Did her face up a bit. Worn practical but flattering shoes.

And then she'd left the house. After dark. On Halloween. In Haddonfield.

Against police recommendations, against her own nervousness... against whatever better judgement she should (but didn't) have had.

She'd roamed around town for a while, keeping an eye out for any Boogeyman who may cross her path.

That was what she'd come out there for, after all.

She had been a fair bit away from her house, and closer to the graveyard when she'd heard the screaming.

People in fear. In pain. In trouble.

She'd quickened her pace, heart thudding in her chest as she made her way in the direction of the screams.

A few houses up, there had been a frightened young woman in a bee costume, bolting from the front door to the lawn.

She hadn't made it very far, though. A hand had reached out, grabbed her by her wings, and dragged her back inside.

Iris had jogged up to the house, as quietly and inconspicuously as possible, and had peeked inside.

She'd let out a tiny gasp at what she'd seen.

A man—over six feet tall, she'd noted—had been brutally stabbing the bee girl with a large kitchen knife in the front hall.

Iris had watched silently in morbid fascination as the man finished his job, stabbing the girl for the last time, her screams quieted into quickly fading into burbling.

The man had stood there for a moment, bloody knife in hand, and had appeared to be admiring his work.

Then he'd turned around.

Iris had let out another, slightly louder gasp. Her hand had flown up to her lips in an "oh my!" gesture.

The man who had stood before her, the killer...had been none other than Michael Myers himself. Bloody knife and coveralls, expressionless white mask, knife dripping blood.

It'd been him, alright, and Iris couldn't fight the flip-flops her stomach had been doing.

Michael had stood before her, regarding her for a moment, then had used her awestruck stillness as a solid opportunity to strike.

He'd grabbed her by the throat, pinned her to the wall, and had begun choking her.

Iris had been in total shock when the Shape of Haddonfield had lunged at her and wrapped strong hands around her throat.

She'd been unable to believe that the real Michael Myers was squeezing her neck. Was touching her.

She'd noted, as the oxygen was leaving her body, that his hands were rough, but not uncomfortably so.

What had been uncomfortable, however, was that he was slowly killing her. She hadn't wanted their encounter to end so soon, especially as his hands on her skin had awakened something in her.

Something that had to be sated.

Close to passing out, Iris had managed to groan out two words to her would-be killer.

"Harder, daddy."

The Shape had paused his strangling of her, and simply stared at her for a long moment. Though the mask had concealed his face well, she had been able to notice a glint of confusion in his eyes. And, as she'd looked down, a tent in the lower region of his coveralls.

Meow~

Michael had suddenly released his prey, and she slunk to the floor, held her throat and gasped for breath.

As Michael had continued staring down at her, head cocked to the side (as if contemplating what to do with her), Iris had taken that time to let her eyes roam over him.

He was tall. Quite tall. With strong, powerful, veiny hands. Even in the coveralls, he had cut a strong-looking figure, unable to completely hide his musculature. The bulge at his groin had seemed fairly big. His breaths had been steady and loud.

Iris had been jolted out of her lustful sizing up of the Shape, when he'd grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up to her feet.

He'd held a sash in his hands—from one of his victims' pirate costume, she'd noticed— and turned her around and tied her hands behind her back.

Then he'd clamped a large, rough hand over her mouth, marched her outside to one of the cars in the driveway, and opened the trunk, shoving her in.

He'd slammed the top down, got in the driver's seat, started the car with no-doubt pilfered and bloody keys, and backed out of the driveway.

Iris had been an odd combination of calm and giddy during the drive. Where was taking her? What would he do to her once there? He hadn't seemed like he wanted to kill her anymore, so he probably had another use for her.

Her suspicions had been confirmed when the car came to a stop, the trunk popped open, and Michael had lifted her bodily out of the trunk and onto the ground, then clamped a hand over her mouth once again.

She'd noticed they were in the town's park, and that he was leading her to the edge of it, where it gave way to the woods.

He'd stopped, forced her down on the ground, face up, and knelt over her, still-bloody knife in hand.

He'd slowly traced the point of it across her neck, down her collarbone...and to the waistband of her underwear when he'd pushed her dress up to her hips.

He'd slid the knife past the waistband, and cut the offending garment away in one fluid motion. Then he'd lowered the knife, and seemed to take in the sight of her lower half bared to him.

This had been very exciting for Iris. He'd spared her life, taken her to a private location, cut away her panties, and then stared at her like a lion stares at its prey.

The flood of nerves, excitement and arousal had had her near delirious, and she could feel her pussy get wetter and wetter in anticipation.

Finally, Michael had apparently had enough looking, and had begun touching. His thumbs had stroked her thighs as the rest of his hands had pried her legs apart. He had adjusted his position to kneel between her legs, and then tugged at the zipper of his coveralls.

Iris had watched closely as Michael had revealed a (somewhat tight) black t-shirt beneath his coveralls...and his big, throbbing cock.

Iris had bit her lip when saw that thing. It was big. Long and thick, simultaneously exciting and intimidating. The Boogeyman was packing.

Said Boogeyman had stroked his cock a bit before lining himself up with her entrance. Iris had moaned when she felt his tip push past her folds, and had gasped when he'd pushed all the way inside her.

She'd barely had time to adjust when he'd pulled most of the way out, then pushed back in again. Iris's eyelids had fluttered when he'd settled into a consistent pace, filling her needy pussy.

She'd panted and moaned as Michael thrust repeatedly into her, the fabric of his coveralls rubbed against her bared skin, barely believing that it was actually happening.

Michael Myers was fucking her.

And fucking her good.

She'd felt so full...it was so good. So fucking good. Overwhelmingly good.

"Mmmichael…" she'd let out his name in a soft moan, toes curling in overwhelming delight.

This had seemed to have a pleasurable affect on him, as he had immediately begun to thrust harder and faster, breaths no longer steady.

Iris hadn't been able to stop herself from letting out estatic moans, groans, gasps and whines when Michael sat up and pulled her ankles up to his shoulder, fucking her at a new angle. His cock had begun to rub against her g-spot, and it hadn't taken much longer before she was cumming.

The building pressure inside her had exploded into absolute ecstasy, and she had let out a cry that had been promptly muffled by Michaels large hand over her mouth, which had only added to the experience.

Iris's orgasm had summoned Michael's, and he'd let out a few grunts as his cock twitched inside her, filling her with his cum.

He'd continued to hold her there for a minute, before he pulled out, dropped her legs, and zipped up his coveralls.

Iris had been panting and gasping, her head swam, she tingled all over.

Her already jackhammering heart had beat even faster when she saw him pick up his knife again. He'd grabbed her by the throat once more, pulled her up in a sitting position, then reached behind her…

And he'd proceeded to free her wrists from their bonds, the knife easily sliced the sash.

Michael had stared down at her for a brief moment, then had promptly turned and made his way out of the park.

Iris had sat up, a little dizzy, and attempted to process what had just happened.

Michael Myers, the Boogeyman himself, had just fucked her senseless.

___

Iris smiled to herself as she relived that lovely memory, lost in thought for a bit until she glanced back down at the flower in her hand.

The flower. An iris. Clearly, he knew her name, meaning that he must have been stalking her for God knows how long, without her realizing.

He knew her name.

He remembered her after all. She figured he'd had his fun with her and that would be that. But apparently not.

Her smile growing larger, Iris sniffed the flower again and went back inside.

"Guess he couldn't forget good pussy."

[wizkiddx]

honeymoon morning

Honestly I apologise in advance bcos this is pure sickening, god awful fluff. It’s shit bit fluffy af and warmed my cold heart of stone a little ahah. Kinda imagined that its actress!reader too, but doesn’t acc have to be (oh and for the purposes of the story also married Haz off to the readers best mate). On a real, really didn’t excute the idea the way I wanted but hey-ho. T x 

Summary: the morning after the wedding and there are some beans to be spilt in between all the happiness

The best morning of her life. Y/n knew it would be just that. I mean, it already was - she woke up in the arms of the man she loved, that she could now call her husband forever and ever. Tom looked glorious; still asleep as he lay on his back, slightly tilted toward her side and his arm outstretched as if he was waiting for her to come back to bed and join him. Even unconscious, Y/n still wanted to please him in everyday possible so she did just as he wanted. Tiptoeing from the doorway on their ensuite, she pulled the cord of the white silk robe slightly tighter round her stomach. Before she lay down next to her husband, she smiled gently and pulled her still wet hair to one side, smelling like apples of the hotels free sample shampoos. As if rehearsed, as soon as she settled on the white pillows, ontop of Tom’s outstretched arm, he rolled almost ontop of her, throwing his other arm over her side and squeezed. Y/n couldn’t repress that little giggle his actions illicited, making the brunette around her groan and mumble something incoherent meanwhile pressing his head further into her hair. 

Which made him pull back and slowly blink awake with a scowl. Her hair was still wet. 

“Hi husband” She grinned, loving the way his scowl at being awoken morphed into this shit eating smile. 

“My beautiful wife huh?” Tom tucked a clump of damp hair behind her ear before letting his palm rest on her glowing cheek and just staring into her seemingly ever changing eyes. No matter how many times he looked into them, Tom always managed to see something different and exciting in them. Something else to fall deeply and helplessly in love with. 

“Yesterday was…”

“Everything.” Tom finished off for her, before pressing his lips to hers as she shifted to lean over him. 

“Uh-huh. But now it’s today. Which means… you gotta get up!” She eventually got to the point, sitting up and therefore avoiding his second attempt to meet lips, once again making him pout. 

“Is it too much to ask to just spend a day in bed with my wife?” His wife. Boy did that sound like music to her ears.

“Yes because everyone is waiting downstairs for us at breakfast!”

“They can wait there till tomorrow for all I care.” Indignantly, Tom closed his eyes pretending to go back to sleep.

“And… because I got you a marriage present.” That got his attention. Eyes flying open, as he pushed himself up so he was sitting against the headboard of the big four poster bed, Tom looked quizzically at his wife. His wife. 

Giggling at his oh-so-predictable reaction, Y/n leaned off the bed to pickup the small gift wrapped box on the floor.

“Y/n you really shouldn’t have I didn’t know we were doing this-“

“Oh shut up and open it would you?”

“Unless this is a toy for… you know, then you really should have.” Even half asleep, Tom still had something on his mind.

“Tom! Just open it before you ruin the moment anymore.” She wasn’t really mad. She was smirking and jokingly rolling her eyes at his idiocy. He was her idiot though. With a confused look, Tom followed her instructions, carefully unwrapping the silvery gift paper to reveal a navy blue velvet box. He looked up momentarily to question Y/n, who just gestured for him to open it. Going at a painfully slow speed, he lifted it up to reveal an old and tattered watch. It had a cracked glass front yet Tom could still see the ‘Rolex’ logo branded onto the face of it. 

Not going to lie - he was confused. Y/n knew he already had multiple nice watches he wore regularly. All of those were in better nick than this. 

“I umm-“

“It’s an old Rolex. I thought you could do it up like your dad did for you.” She whispered, with this massive smile just because she knew Tom still didn’t understand.

“Oh I er… I mean I could I’m not sure-“ Tom stammered, she seemed so proud of herself, yet he couldn’t really understand why and didn’t want to disappoint her. To be fair him being a bit slow wasn’t an uncommon thing, Tom would hold hid hands up and admit he wasn’t the smartest. Whereas and completely unknown to most people, Y/n was really really clever, I mean she was nearly going to be a doctor. That was one of the things Tom absolutely loved too, the way she would be able to make leaps and figure things out the average person would just stare at confused. So fair to say, she was used to explaining things to him. 

“You know your Dad gave it to his first born on their eighteenth, your eighteenth birthday. And I thought you could do with all the 18 years because I dont fancy you as a professional watch-fixer.” Tom was still absolute clueless, waiting for more of an explanation. 

“18 years?” The number seeming a bit random but oddly specific to Tom.

“Well you know… 18 years from now when your son or daughter turns into an adult. When they aren’t our little baby anymore.” She whispered, taking his hands in her and pressing it against her ever so slightly bloated stomach. 

And then finally it clicked. His eyes grew impossibly wide, pressing lightly on her silk-clad stomach as he sat forwards.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Tommy we are going to be parents!” She smiled whilst nodding, totally enamoured by the look of sheer joy on his face. 

“This isn’t a joke right?”

“No I swear to you. 12 weeks yesterday.”

“You’re serious? We’re going to be parents?” Y/n just nodded in response this time, before instantaneously Tom’s lips were on hers, pouring all the passion and love and excitement that he could on her. After a few moments they pulled away, yet keeping their faces impossibly close.

“I love you”

“I love you and… well I love them too.” Y/n was so in love with the man in front of him. He just was going to be the best Dad in the world and there was no-one she would rather start this journey with. In complete honesty, yesterday the first thing she’d wanted to do when she saw Tom standing at the altar was tell him. It had been impossible, the last weeks of keeping ‘shtum’. But she’d only found out when she noticed she was 3 weeks late on her period, by which point Tom was away filming. They’d agreed that so they both had a quality honeymoon, to finish any backlog of work before the wedding, so it was a 8 week holiday with just the two of them. It had also made the reunion that much better, having been apart for almost 2 months before the wedding. 

“You want to see them? I had the scan really early yesterday morning?” It was an unnecessary question, as soon as Y/n even mentioned it Tom bolted up like an excited puppy. With a knowing laugh, Y/n then slipped her hand under the pillow to produce the little white card and offering it to him. Tom took the card, while with his other hand pulling her flush with his chest so she was sitting half on his lap. Slowly Tom lifted the front of the card, to reveal the black ultrasound print. For all he knew that could be an ultrasound of elephant dung; but the fact that he had it on good authority it was his wife and baby, Tom swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful. Knowing he was more than hopeless at this, Y/n took him through slightly different blobs on the picture, demonstrating the head, an arm, a foot. 

“Why didn’t you tell me though? You had to do this by yourself?”

“By the time I found out myself you were already in new york and… well its not something to say over the phone is it?”

“Y/n as perfect as this is, you could’ve sent me a text for all I care. I wouldn’t have let you do this on your own! Have you been sick or-“

“Not technically on my own… don’t be mad but Y/f/n was there when I took the test, she was the one who said I should.”

“I should’ve guessed that to be fair” Tom rolled his eyes playfully, of course Y/f/n knew they were basically joint at the hip. She probably sensed it with her best friend powers.

“And yeh mornings aren’t very fun but thats supposed to ease now we’re over the first trimester.”

“I-fuck I don’t know what to say… I just love you.”

“And that is all I’ve ever wanted.” She whispered against his lips before they connected once again. It was just so full of gentle, care and love for each other. The moment was just perfect… until her phone rang. 

Y/n pulled away, receiving an almost whine from her husband, reaching to answer her phone. 

“Hey… yeh yeh I know we are on our way, just had some news to spill… I think he’s happy yeh-“ she giggled, as she watched Tom gently pull back the sides of her robe to reveal her belly. At only 12 weeks, she was barely showing at all but now Tom looked he didn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed last night. “-… I’m not sure let me check hang on” Y/n spoke into the receiver again, Tom already knew the moment it rang it would only be Y/f/n. Only she would have the audacity to interrupt the couple the morning after their wedding. 

“Tom so… I kind of made arrangements just incase, because this is a pretty good time just because everyones here. But I figured you might want to keep it a secret for a bit when its just us that know?” He looked toward the window, apparently deep in thought, before turning back to her. 

“I’m spoiler king right? Might be safest to tell them before I explode.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeh course, you know I can’t keep a secret, one look at Haz and he’ll know something is up”

“Actually he might already know too-“

“WHAT”

[fourmarkdove]

Fawn - Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |  Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Masterlist

Title: Fawn - Part 3

Words: 3.2k

Summary: Yennefer confirms Geralt’s suspicions and a rift is created between you and the White Wolf. Angst. Suggested smut. Fluff. Hurt/comfort.

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, miscarriage, abortion. If you’re triggered PLEASE skip ahead. Please check out the trigger warnings (tw:) in the tags!

A/N: Don’t blame me. It was that fricking wish! I’m not happy about it, either, but it’s canon. Comments welcome. Thanks for reading as always!

Like an expectant father waiting outside the delivery room, Jaskier paced just outside the tent while Geralt sharpened his sword near the fire.

“No. Get out before I portal you away,” Yennefer demanded yet again when the bard poked his head in and asked for an update. 

“She’ll come out when she’s ready,” the burly Witcher grunted. Another plume of purple smoke rose from the tent door and static sizzled inside. Jaskier began thinking of a verse that needed to rhyme with “plume.”

Wiping her hands, she emerged and motioned at Jaskier: “Watch her. Geralt, you’re with me.”

Sauntering across the way to her own much larger, and much more richly furnished tent, Geralt followed behind like a puppy.

“Well?”

“Well? Well, I saved her life, darling,” the raven haired woman smirked, turning to face him once they reached the foot of her lavish bed. Tossing aside the cloth, she twirled a finger and a dozen candles lit around the space.

He was not impressed by simple tricks. “What happened? It wasn’t just poison, was it? It was a curse.”

“Yes, my love,” she sighed, bored with conversation, so she lifted his shirt and ran both hands up his muscular torso, making the tense fibers just under his skin twitch. “I lifted it though.”

Craning his neck low, he crushed his mouth to her plump lips. The relief and gratitude expressed in his kiss melted when feral heat took over. They were souls bound together by a wish he made years ago to save her life. As such they were drawn time and again to this exact moment.

She moaned, tugging at the ties on his breeches pressed against her stomach. Biting down on his bottom lip suddenly, she flattened her palms to his chest and pushed him back to the bed, intent on climbing him and claiming payment for a job well done.

*

“So she’ll be able to travel soon?” Geralt huffed lazily, one arm under his head on the pillow. 

“You’re really taking her back to her father?” Yennefer sighed, playing with the glistening sweat droplets along the center of his chest.

“That’s the plan.”

“Well, if you do travel with her just have her take it easy the next few days.”

“Why?” He arched an eyebrow down at the naked woman still tangled up with him under the sheets.

“Well, she’s with child, Geralt. But the child is much smaller than it should be. She probably needs to see a real healer to have it dealt with anyway - given the circumstances.”

His brow furrowed sharply and he gripped her upper arms, dragging her off of him as he sat up. “Dealt with...?”

She sighed, running the back of her fingers down the sinews of his forearm. “Mm. She told me who the father is. I just went to his wedding just last month. It's a bad idea to show your new bride your bastard child. So yes… dealt with.”

“Wedding?” he mirrored, breaking into a cold sweat. “Did you tell her this?”

Yennefer shrugged and rolled over. “I alluded to it. Hmm. You know she may not need a healer on second thought. Baby isn’t well. Body might try to reject it after this, so watch for - where are you going?”

Stepping into his breeches, he glanced over his shoulder at the raven haired woman lounging in bed still. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Why? Did you want to attend with me? The food was decent but the wine was weak. I so would have loved to have dressed you, though.”

His frustrated growl was not lost on her but she didn’t budge by the threatening sound of it. “She told me where you met. Geralt, I said I’d try to save her life but she’s your whore. I’ve done more than enough here, my love. If you leave this tent tonight, I’ll be gone by daybreak.”

He didn’t even have his pants tied before he stalked out of the tent barefoot into the dewy grass. Jaskier heard him coming from his own cot opposite yours. Finding it quite impossible to sleep anyway, he met the Witcher at the tent flap opening.

“That witch gave her something to sleep but it’s not quite doing its job,” the bard forewarned, touching Geralt’s shoulder. He held his friend back just a moment longer to catch his golden-eyed attention. “It’s not you she’s been calling for.” 

Jaskier excused himself, ducking past his friend breathing hard with his jaw clenched. Every muscle up the back of his legs and across his spine snapped into tension; the coppery scent of bloody cloths left on the table sent his senses into a frenzy the moment he stepped inside.

“N… no… n...” you moaned in your fitful sleep, writhing and grasping at the pillow under your head.

Cat eyes dilated in the near dark, his attention drew to the shadow of your body tucked under a thin blanket. In two strides, he dropped by your side and dragged the tear-soaked hair from sticking to your cheeks. 

Your head rocked back and forth on the pillow, your expression wrought with grief, one hand grasping at nothing but air until his fingers closed over it. 

He lifted his brows in the center, anguish lining his forehead. Your breathing came in hiccups, clearly crying in your nightmare.

“Wake up, little fawn,” he rumbled, pulling deep from within to sound calm so as not to frighten you. “Come on, wake up.”

“Ah…” Your legs shifted under the blanket and you inhaled deeply.

Your wet eyelashes flashed open, revealing still slightly ink-stained black tears rolling down your cheeks. “Where is he? Where’s Acheros?”

Rolling his eyes at the sound of his name, Geralt backed up into the shadow of a tent peg. “That’s a good fucking question.”

“Why did he leave me in that horrible place?” You pressed, eyes bleary from tears, pain and exhaustion.

“Hmm,” he grunted, sitting back against the other cot.

“He said he’d always come find me. ‘Nothing in all of eternity could keep us apart,’ he said.”

Another frustrated grunt as Geralt sat back. As Jaskier stoked the flames of the fire outside, the walls of the canvas tent illuminated with flicks of orange light.

You stayed silent a long time, letting the length and breadth seep into your conscious thought. Curling up on yourself, you rolled over into the tent wall and away from the brutish man sitting in silence across from you. “Is it true? Did he - get married - without me?”

“Mmm,” Geralt hummed in the affirmative, dropping his head back as the reflected orange flames danced on the ceiling. He cursed under his breath. 

There is a screech a striga makes when you deliver that final death strike straight through its heart; the sound is horrendous up close. Because of their circulation system, it takes them a moment to go, all the while realizing they’ve met their end. And then there is the soft little squeak of a rabbit as its neck is being broken. It doesn’t understand what is happening to it and doesn’t expect the end.

Neither startled cry at their moment of death is as difficult to listen to as your trembling gasp and wailing sob at the exact moment your heart broke in two.

Snarling his upper lip in disgust, he planted a fist on the ground to stand up, but stilled hearing you speak into your own hands.

“But… this is his child. And... I’m his.”

“Fuck.” Geralt replanted himself and sighed harshly, rubbing his rough thumb of one hand into the palm of another.

“What?” you shuddered, glancing over your shoulder. “But I love him...”

“You’ve said,” he husked, glancing at the exit with an arched brow and a changed mind. Waking you from that nightmare, he actually considered taking you in his arms and comforting you with all of the strength he had in him. He was not particularly given to tender moments, but if you’d have asked, even whimpered, anything at all, he’d have moved heaven and earth to shelter you.

You turned away from his frustrated growling. “Where is he? He should be here.”

With a huff of rage, he lifted to his feet and took the one large step to the door. Rolling over, your torso twisted and you yelped at the sharp pain. “Ah - fuck! What -“

“You were very sick,” he oversimplified, glancing behind his shoulder. “Yennefer…”

“Yennefer? She says she’s the ‘Love of your life’? I thought I was dreaming but she’s really real?”

“You should know Yennefer saved YOUR life.”

You mewled, ripped the covers down your thighs and tugged at your torn shirt, trying to find the source of the overwhelming pain.

Setting his jaw, he breathed deep and clenched his fist to keep from absolutely roaring at you. “You wouldn’t have survived - to be reunited with whoever this arsehole is, since that’s clearly all you can think about.”

It was neither his tone nor his words that shook you, rather the ache in your belly. “Something feels wrong.”

“As it should. Sleep.”

“Fuck you,” you spat holding your middle, getting up onto your feet much more slowly than he did. Bumping chests, you glared up at him. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew and you didn’t say a damn thing.”

Nostrils flared, patience dwindling, he looked over your head; he knew the second he glanced down and saw the pain in your eyes, it’d just add fuel to his  fire and one of the two of you needed to be levelheaded. 

“Not for certain until Yen told me a few minutes ago. Although I had suspected something like this when you told the story yesterday.”

Suddenly alert, you bolted toward the tent flap, but a heavy arm across the front of your shoulders blocked your way. Desperately, you reached both hands out. “Please! I need to go home. I just need to see him. He’ll explain and fix it.” 

Your pained gaze finally lifted to his, digging your fingernails into his forearm locked across your chest.

His sharp gaze narrowed. “There’s a reason he didn’t come back for you. Showing up on his doorstep, now, won’t produce the results you want, I guarantee you.”

“But - I did everything I was told to do,” you gasped, blinking back tears that spilled down your cheeks anyway. Dropping your head, the tears dripped freely onto the ground. Tilting your shoulders just slightly into him, you bumped your forehead against his chest and stayed like that a long while.

“I hate you...” you sniffled and hiccupped, speaking slowly, clearly drained.

“Mmph.” He grunted, holding the back of your bare neck.

The rage had worn around the edges like two fighters in the last round dragging their feet; both of you were slow to swing back.

“Come on,” he encouraged as gently as he could muster, thumbing behind your neck. “Lie down.”

He sighed, glancing down at your trembling, balled up fist thumping against his chest.

“I-I h-hate y-“ you sobbed, nosing into his chest. “I h-aate-“

“I know,” he grumbled, closing his hand around your fist. “You hate me.”

He rested his chin on your head and carded his fingers through your hair. Feverish tears eventually gave way to panting, then to soft breaths against his skin.

“What am I going to do?” you croaked, dragging your fingertips down his spine, releasing the muscles you’d been clawing into. “I don’t know what to do.”

“The first thing you’re going to do is get some rest,” he graveled overhead. Not giving you a second to protest, he collected your wrists from behind his hips and drew you back to your cot, throwing open the covers with his free hand.

“I don’t want to sleep,” you whined, giving him a side eyed glance.

“Lie down and count geese then,” he huffed, clearly not budging on it.

With a long sigh, you crawled in and curled up, pressing your face down into the pillow. Your eyes closed when the blanket rugged up over your shoulders.

Hearing your voice just barely mumbling into your pillow, he came down onto a knee and tilted his head. 

“Hmm?” he graveled just above a whisper. “You don’t mean that. … No, you don’t. … Hm? Fine, I will. Sleep.”

Settling down cross legged, he reached over the short expanse between you and the edge of the cot. As promised, he smoothed over your hair, and hummed a deeply soothing tune, the one he’d sometimes hum to Roach when she was being groomed. 

Tag Team: @ly--canthrope​ @marswritings​ @fire-in-her-veinz​ @thiclikeh0ney @uncoolcloudyhead​ @michelle-1185​ @boop-le-snoot​ @tearsontape13​ @confusinglump​ @mary-ann84​ @the-soot-sprite @wanderingsoulcelticheart @henry-cavill-obsessed​ @ruthoakenshield​ @nerra75​ @raspberrydreamclouds​

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |  Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Masterlist

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (5)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Admittedly, this is kind of a filler/transition chapter, but I have big plans for this story, and I’m really excited for y’all to read what happens next. Expect an update every weekend this month! 

*****

The nightmare sinks its claws deeper as Mac tries to dislodge it. He knows it’s a dream, and Mac tosses and turns as he grapples for control of his mind. 

The images in his mind persist. He's back in the Sandbox, but this time Bozer is with him, and Bozer's dying from a bullet wound before Mac can carry him to safety. Mac's had the dream a million times, and it always ends the same way. 

I know you won’t let me die, Bozer says. But seconds later, his eyes turn glassy when his soul leaves his body. 

Mac’s throat closes, cutting off his oxygen supply, and for a moment he thinks he’s going to follow Bozer into the afterlife. 

It’s just a dream. He’s just lucid enough to remind himself of that. Wake up, Mac commands his body. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. 

The nightmare won’t let him. 

Suddenly a different set of claws grip Mac’s shoulders, and the voice ordering him to wake up isn’t his own. He tries to jerk away, but the claws dig in. 

Not claws, Mac realizes. Hands. Slender ones, with long fingers. Nails biting into his skin through his worn t-shirt. 

He knows those hands. 

“Wake up,” Riley hisses, and it’s enough to finally yank Mac from his dream. Mac’s eyes snap open, automatically scanning his surroundings. The bedroom is pitch black, but Mac can just make out Riley kneeling above him, her tired face twisted in concern. Her hands are on Mac’s shoulders, but not pinning him to the bed like he first thought. Her touch is light, and her thumbs make gentle sweeps across his collarbones. Mac’s own hands find Riley’s forearms, but he doesn’t push her away, nor does she lay back down. “You okay?” she asks. 

Mac tries to play it off. “Yeah, bad dream. That’s all.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, considering that he’s drenched in sweat and the final and most disturbing seconds of the dream are lingering longer than the rest. He knows it’s not real, but Mac can’t quite shake the sick feeling. 

Riley exhales, and Mac finds himself mirroring her breathing automatically. Sliding a hand down to her wrist, he presses two fingers into her skin, feeling the steady thrum of her pulse. It’s faster than he expects. 

Almost as if in explanation, Riley says, “You scared the shit out of the dog, not to mention me.” 

Mac winces, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Slowly, Riley releases him and lays back down, leaving plenty of space between them. Mac misses her touch the instant she lets go. “Want to talk about it?” 

That throat-closing feeling returns as Mac contemplates what to tell her. Part of him wants to share, but a bigger part hesitates when the explanation dies on his tongue. “Not really,” he finally says. 

“Okay.” Riley says, pausing. “You’re wide awake right now, aren’t you?” 

This, at least, he can admit easily. “Yep.” 

There’s another long pause, filled only with the soft sound of their exhales. Just when he’s about to tell Riley to stop worrying about him and go back to sleep, she says, “Come here.” 

Mac stills. That weird tension still lingers between him and Riley, causing awkward silences and stilted conversations. So this…this is unexpected. 

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But, her voice is soft and reassuring, and who is he to turn down a free opportunity to cuddle with the woman he loves? Even if it might be a mistake. 

As soon as Mac scoots across the bed, Riley pulls him into her side, guiding his head to rest on her non-injured shoulder. Riley’s side of the bed isn’t nearly as warm as his, but her body is soft and Mac likes how they fit together. Mac can’t help but sigh in contentment as Riley lightly scratches his scalp, and he lets an arm settle over her waist. They’ve fallen asleep together plenty of times over the years, but she’s never held him. Not like this. His heart pounds at the intimacy of it all. 

But as Mac slowly starts to relax, the pulse in his ear doesn’t slow like it should. Because it’s not his heartbeat he’s hearing. 

It’s hers.

Does that mean…?

“So,” Riley says, breaking the silence. “It’s later.” 

The realization feels like a slap to the face. That’s why her heart is beating so fast. Not because of their close proximity, but because it’s later and there’s still that unresolved thing hanging between them. Mac’s fleeting hope that Riley’s racing pulse meant something else is nothing more than a fantasy in his head. 

Swallowing his disappointment, Mac starts, “Riley, I really am sorry—” She cuts him off. 

“Stop. You don’t need to apologize again. I forgave you the first time.” Her fingers sweep behind his ear, making him shiver slightly. “It’s my turn.” Riley takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for not listening to you. Like, really listening. Your concerns are legit, and I shouldn’t have brushed them aside and followed Matty blindly.” 

Oh. 

“I hate this situation just as much as you do, and I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.” Her voice catches slightly. “Also, I lied to you this morning, in the car. I knew I needed to apologize. I just didn’t know how to say it yet.” 

Pointedly ignoring the intimacy of the gesture, Mac brushes his thumb over her ribs in a way he hopes is reassuring. “It’s okay.” 

Riley tenses beneath him, and Mac freezes instantly. “It’s not, but thanks for saying that anyway,” she murmurs, relaxing again. Her fingers resume their path through his hair, catching on the occasional tangle. 

Mac doesn’t know how to reassure her that it really is okay. So instead he confesses, “Sometimes I hate this job.” 

She’s quiet for a few long seconds before responding. “Me too.” 

It’s weird voicing it aloud. They’re all painfully aware of the downsides to the job, but rarely does anyone directly mention it. Maybe Riley is on a similar page as him after all. 

Mac questions, “Are we doing the right thing? Playing along and letting innocent people get hurt just so we can take down the whole organization at once?” He needs to know her answer…needs confirmation that this whole op isn’t just one massive wrong choice. 

“I think the good we do outweighs the bad,” Riley says after a few moments. “At least that’s what I tell myself so I can sleep at night.” She shifts, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, their hips press together before she pushes her knee uncomfortably into his thigh. Mac squirms, trying and failing to find a good position, ultimately taking a chance by slotting his leg between hers. Riley inhales sharply, but she doesn’t push him away. Mac tries not to read into it. Lying like this is intimate and intense and yet so easy. So right.

Mac pushes the heady feeling aside, ignoring the way it crackles in the background, threatening to consume him. They need to have this conversation, without distraction. Even welcome ones. 

“Riley, we helped them kill people,” he says, and Riley’s hand stills in his hair. 

“We can’t save everyone, Mac." 

The thrumming in his body stops so quickly Riley might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water on him. 

His heart cracks as she softly repeats, "We just can't." Like maybe she's breaking her own heart too by saying it. 

He wants to kiss her chest—to press his lips to her heart in an attempt to soothe the ache there. 

Mac understands all too well. It’s not the countless lives they have saved that stick with him, but the few they couldn’t. Zoe, the researcher who drowned in the Arctic to save her students. Jill, who fell victim to one of Murdoc’s murderous games. Charlie, who sacrificed himself so Mac wouldn’t have to choose between saving his friend and saving hundreds of innocent people. Lasky, the nuclear plant engineer who was just doing his job. Mac’s father. His aunt. Jack. 

Riley clears her throat. "So, yeah. I think we are doing the right thing. It just sucks.” 

Mac agrees, even though he can hardly admit it to himself. But there’s still one thing he doesn’t understand. “I don’t get how Matty seemed so okay with all of this,” he says. 

“Come on, Mac. You know Matty hates this just as much as we do. She wouldn’t ask us to play along if she didn’t think it was necessary.” Riley’s fingers resume their steady, sweeping path through his hair, and Mac takes comfort in the gesture. 

He sighs. “You sound like Jack.” 

“I learned from the best. Don’t tell him I said that,” Riley warns, but Mac can hear the smile in her voice. 

He tilts his face toward the ceiling, imagining Jack looking down at them from whatever afterlife he found himself in. “You hear that, old man? She admitted to learning something from you.” 

Riley snorts, giving Mac’s hair a sharp tug. “Oh shut up.” She means it to be playful, but it sends a bolt of desire through his body. 

It’s too much, with her hand in his hair and their bodies intertwined, and the intimacy may very well burn Mac alive. Every nerve in his body goes on high alert, and his grip on Riley’s rib cage tightens automatically. 

“Sleep,” she murmurs, clearly mistaking the tension in his body as coming from somewhere—anywhere—else. Riley is one of the smartest, most perceptive people Mac knows, and yet she has no idea how he feels about her. Maybe that’s a good thing, he reasons. It’s easier that way. Less complicated. 

Although full-on front-to-front cuddling isn’t not complicated. 

It doesn't take long for the gentle pressure of Riley's fingers to win out, and Mac melts into her touch, letting his body grow heavy. Sleep beckons, and his eyelids flutter shut of their own accord as Riley wraps her free arm around his back, pulling him closer. Again, he thinks she feels like safety. 

In his last moments of consciousness, Mac mumbles, “I like this,” before drifting back to sleep.

*****

For the first time, Riley is already out of bed when Mac wakes, and he’s positive it has something to do with the fact that he’s still on her side of the bed. 

Cuddling with her was a mistake. Even if it led to the best sleep he’s had in a long time. 

Burying his face in Riley’s pillow, Mac takes a deep breath. It smells like her. He hears the front door open and close, and then Riley’s muffled voice fills the apartment. Mac can’t quite pick up what she’s saying, but he thinks she’s on the phone rather than talking to Harley. 

Suddenly getting up seems like a daunting task. 

Not caring if it makes him a coward, Mac stays in bed, taking the opportunity to study the bedroom decor. This is day nine of the op, and before now Mac never bothered to appreciate the work someone put into setting up the safe house. It’s too modern and minimalist for his taste, but he has to admit it looks nice. The bedroom walls are a soft light gray, with a handful of paintings of different sizes and framed photos of him, Riley, and Harley scattered throughout. More of the photos Bozer took are in the hallway, but Mac’s never given those more than a cursory glance. 

Across from the bed sits the single, expensive-looking dresser, with overstuffed drawers that don’t quite shut all the way. One of Riley’s drawers is completely open, and the t-shirt she wore to bed last night hangs haphazardly over the edge. 

Mac’s eyes catch on the photo sitting on top of the dresser, beside the plant he keeps forgetting to water. It’s one of the wedding photos, and it’s the only photo Mac has really paid attention to, since he stares at it every day while getting dressed. The photo is of Riley and him slow dancing, and she’s looking at him like he hung the moon. And he’s looking at her the exact same way. 

More than anything, Mac wishes it was real. 

The bedroom door creaks open, and Mac cranes his neck to see Harley’s fluffy head peek through. She doesn’t enter. Instead, Harley watches him cautiously, almost like she wasn’t expecting him to be awake and is now unsure what to do. 

Mac pats the mattress. “It’s okay. Come on.” When she doesn’t move, he adds, “I’m sorry I scared you last night.” His apology must be enough, because Harley jumps on the bed with him. She stands between his outstretched legs as Mac rakes his hands through her fur, scratching her butt the way she likes. “How about I get you a new toy to make up for it?” he asks. Tail wagging, Harley licks his face in approval, and Mac laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Riley raises her voice—she’s complaining about something, although Mac still can’t determine what—and both Mac and Harley turn their attention to the sound. 

Harley looks back at him, and Mac starts to think that he wasn’t far off the other day when he noticed Harley playing protector. He smiles softly. “Go check on her.” 

Harley jumps off the bed immediately, surprising Mac when she glances back at him on her way out the door. 

Still smiling, Mac gets up to start his day.

By the time he emerges from the bedroom, Riley is playing fetch with Harley in the living room while she’s on the phone. Surprised the call has lasted this long, Mac raises his brow, silently asking who she’s talking to, and Riley holds up a finger. One second. 

While he’s waiting, Mac wanders into the kitchen in search of breakfast. 

Riley’s next throw ricochets off the wall, and the tennis ball hits Mac’s thigh. “What do you mean he’s not in the database?” she shrieks. “Bozer, practically every criminal in the world is in that database.” 

Mac freezes midway through unwrapping a muffin. 

Riley pinches her nose. “Then run the sketch through the DMV database. The guy who tailed me has to exist somewhere.” 

He swallows. “Tailed?” 

“Hang on, Boze. Mac just walked in.” Exasperated, Riley moves her phone away from her face. “I took Harley for a walk while you were still asleep, and some guy tailed me. Don’t worry, I lost him long before returning to the apartment.” 

Mac bristles. Riley had been in danger, and he was asleep. Why didn’t she tell him where she was going? He tries not to think about all the bad things that could’ve happened. “You think this guy is part of the Patriots?” 

Shrugging, Riley says, “That makes the most sense. But it’s hard to know for sure when we don’t have personnel records.” 

That’s just one of many problems with this op—no official list of known members of the Patriots. Mac and Riley have no choice but to learn about people the old-fashioned way. 

Pinning her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, Riley retrieves the tennis ball from under the couch, her voice muffled as she asks, “Got anything, Boze?” A few seconds later, she groans, but Mac can’t tell whether it’s because of Bozer’s answer or the amount of hair now stuck to the visibly soggy tennis ball in her hands. He makes a mental note to vacuum again. “Thanks for trying,” she says before hanging up. 

Treading carefully, Mac asks, “Well?” He doesn’t need to be a genius to know that she’s still rattled, no matter how much she tries to downplay it. 

“His name is Peter Morrison, and he has three speeding tickets. That’s it.” Still holding the tennis ball, Riley’s shoulders slump as she sits on the arm of the couch. Confused why she stopped playing, Harley stands between Riley’s legs and whines, nosing Riley’s hand in an attempt to get her to throw the ball again. 

When Riley doesn’t oblige her, Mac asks, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Riley says, but her voice is tight and she bristles when he moves closer. He knows she’s lying—they’ve both been lying a lot recently—but what Mac doesn’t understand is why. He knows why he’s lying, but why does Riley still feel the need to hide how she’s feeling from him? 

It’s like the intimacy of last night never happened. 

Mac takes the wet, hairy tennis ball from her hands and throws it for Harley. “Do you want a hug or help kicking someone’s ass?” The question earns him a small smile, one that makes Mac’s heart flutter in his chest. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of punching someone in the face, but I suppose we can kick them too,” she quips. Mac laughs, and the corners of Riley’s eyes crinkle as her smile widens. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Harley brings the ball back and drops it at Mac’s feet. “Last throw,” he tells her, knowing full well it won’t be. Turning his attention back to Riley, he asks, “How’s your shoulder?”

Absent-mindedly, Riley’s fingers trace the outline of a bruise peeking out from beneath her tank top. “It hurts. You grabbed it in your sleep last night, and I almost screamed.” 

Mac grimaces. “Sorry.” He wants to ask about last night and make sure they’re okay, but the words refuse to form. “I’m going to call Conrad and make him explain, okay?” 

“Okay.” Riley nods. For a second, it seems like she wants to say something more, but she ultimately doesn’t. Honoring her implicit request for space, Mac briefly squeezes her arm as he walks away. The gesture is a promise: I’m here.

*****

“This is unacceptable,” Mac growls at Ethan, later that day. After giving Conrad an earful over the phone, apparently Mac made a big enough fuss to warrant a visit from the leader of the Patriots himself. They meet in public—neutral ground—at a park not unlike the one across the street from Mac and Riley’s apartment. It feels wrong to use the term safe house, since it’s not as safe as they thought. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way, James,” Ethan placates. “It’s simply standard business procedure. I’m sure you researched us before formally offering your services.” 

Mac barely stops himself from making a face. Oh they researched the Patriots, all right. “Of course we did.” He really should do a better job of holding his snark at bay, but Mac lets it tint his words anyway. “But we didn’t invade individual members’ privacy or threaten anyone’s personal safety.” 

“My employee did not and would not have hurt your wife. She was never in danger, I can assure you.” 

“And how was she supposed to know that?” He’s borderline yelling, but Mac is too pissed to care. The more Ethan tries to convince him the situation is okay, the more Mac wishes they were closer to the playground so he could strangle Ethan with the chain from the swings. He snarls, “Explain that to me.” 

Ethan, it seems, is at a rare loss for words. Mac waits, forcing the other man to fill the silence. “I suppose she wouldn’t have,” Ethan finally admits, although he shows no sign of backing down. 

Mac stands. “Don’t let this happen again.” He starts to walk away, content with having the last word, but Mac stops dead in his tracks when Ethan calls after him. 

“If you won’t comply with the way we do things, then I guess we’ll just have to find someone else.” 

Mac spins on his heel. “That’s bullshit,” he spits. “You need us. You won’t find anyone better, at least not that you can afford, and we both know it. Your organization is small potatoes right now, but with our support, the Patriots could join the big leagues. So it’s up to you to decide whether you’re content with throwing your money at a pipe dream or if you want to actually accomplish something.” Ethan is taller than him, but Mac manages to look down at him anyway—something he learned from Matty. “The choice is yours. Let me know when you’ve made it.” 

Without waiting for a response, Mac shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away, praying he didn’t just ruin the whole op.

.

~ Tag List ~  Want to be added? Send me an ask.

@angelinanao

@annmariestuff

@dreambelievergeek

@emilyscotson​

@erika-amber

@fandomsilovewithoutshame

@fangirlfreak08

@g3svv

@hellishrose

@holbytlanna

@i-cant-think-of-a-name-15

@ijamaica5535​

@justaghostmonument

@losingitovermacriley

@macrileyedits

@macs-paperclips

@multi-fandomshipper101

@mylifequotesshowallofthem

@nikki-1607

@orange-cat-vet

@penny114

@redjedistarfighter

@sxrein

@tall-tanned-tattoo

@thecarrieonokay

@tom-hunter-summah

@whatsabex

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 8/10/21

got a bunch of followers (many of you are Cool Teens, so also a reminder im 26 and an adult and you’re responsible for curating your own internet experience) anyway there’s a bunch of new folks since the last time this was a regular series, so i am going to pre-answer some things that popped up in my inbox last week.

a quick reminder that this is empathetically NOT a recommendations or review blog series. this is a quick snapshot of what i’m thinking about with regards to mass media this week, and sometimes i’m funny about it and sometimes i also do interesting diy shit

a work can be culturally or historically relevant and important in the history of a genre AND be extremely difficult to recommend unless i know you very well due to. hm. let us say many pitfalls due to the inherent nature of the genre or the time it was made in it any number of other factors that make it unpalatable to modern audiences but still worth knowing about. doesthedogdie dot com will be your friend here for anything i talk about ever

being critical of a work doesn’t just mean pointing out its flaws- was it successful in telling the story it wanted to tell? were the techniques it used effective? were the emotions it elicited in me probably the ones the creators set out to elicit? these are key components of a good review and often help me break down what i want to say about a particular piece of media in any given week, but this isn’t a review series of blog posts either.

i am literally just some guy and you should question everything i say

listening i’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair (from the musical South Pacific) brought to you by a random mix of classic movie musicals bc apparently im that kinda gay this week.

like a lot of other fifties media that aged like milk, i have fond memories of watching this with my grandmother. this isn’t even my favorite song from the musical (that would be bali hai’i) but i think it is one of the more technically interesting non-solo ones. specifically, the faint siren-y dissonance on “ahoy, ahoy!” has really been stuck in my head. the melancholy “ah fuck we’ve broken our hearts again” vibe on “rub him out of the roll call/and drum him out of your dreams” with all the girls singing is probably a result of a soprano-heavy cast, but it’s almost chimey in a way? the rhyme scheme of those lines has an excellent mouthfeel. ms gaynor singing “cancel hiiiiiim” has a very different vibe in 2021

two (really three? maybe four? the world is large and mysterious) things can be true at the same time: i don’t think i could watch this musical again as an adult because i don’t think there’s a good way to salvage or update it. the very qualities of this musical that make me go “fuckin yikes” as adult were the very qualities that made my grandmother love it so much. i can hold a bittersweet memory of a rare late movie night with a complicated lady and at the same time wish she were a better person. the dead never leave you with answers.

reading yet another fallow week. this field is turning back into forest

watching i often say “AAA video game (derogatory)” when talking offline about the bad batc/h, but this was a real bioshock ass lookin episode. i don’t think this show is succesful at making or having a point. mostly because it cannot contradict any existing lore in one of the most traversed time periods of this franchise, even with the expanded universe reboot. it falls into the uncomfortable realm of most starred wars media: this is a franchise for children but it also has to cater to legions of grownup fanatics with lots of money. but by god does it “feel” like starred wars. something not all the sequel trilogy movies or much of the clone wars series were successful at.

as a sidebar to that last sentence. the most memorable (imo) scene of the fucking sequel trilogy is the back-to-back battle couple thing in ep seven, which i have just rewatched, and it simply does not hold up. there are too many cuts to other sideplots, which kills any tension dead, and it’s mostly fighting on opposite sides of the room in frantic desperation instead of what i wanted, which was more than five seconds of synergy. it’s a bad rhyme of the final throne room fight in rotj and my memory of the thing is so much better, which is always disappointing.

back to the main point, i think a big part of something “feeling” like starred wars is big setpieces and fights that make you go “HAHA YES FUCKIN SICK WHY NOT!!!!” like, nobody ever Just gets shot in the head and temporarily incapacitated, they get half-vadered by the engines of a derelict ship trying to go to hyperspace while it’s grounded. this franchise has never met a location it couldn’t destroy in a beautiful and awful shower of light while the string sections of three combined orchestras play their hearts out.

this franchise is so fucking stupid and i am so invested in it

playing got my hands on the death trash early access, very hype to play it, have been too busy turning this apartment into a functional and comfortable space to live in for three separate people with their own separate toiletries and groceries and work from home/school schedules

making related to the above, the fucking kitchen table and chairs are done.

things wot i did friday night/saturday morning:

new rubber feeties on everybody

wrapped the legs that structurally couldn’t get new rubber feeties in jute to be kinder to my rental linoleum

bolted the legs back on the table and rebalanced it bc the jute wasn’t quite even

did a very halfassed job of fixing the drawer rails on the table

bolted the chair tubing back together

took all the old decorative tacks out of the backs of the chairs

scrubbed the seats and backs and the pieces the tacks were holding down with mild detergent (partially effective, it still has some patina but is sanitized)

re-covered the bottoms of the chairs in remnant black polyester to replace mildewed black canvas

put in new decorative tacks on the seat backs

bolted the vinyl parts to the chrome tubing parts (a long and frustrating process since there were two sizes of decidedly non-standard nuts and bolts)

wiped everything down again for idk good luck

sitting at my kitchen table in the sun eating a breakfast sandwich and some terrible iced tea on sunday morning was very nice. i lived in the south just long enough to get Opinions on iced tea and how the north can’t get it right. shouldn’t be gritty. shouldn’t be bitter. how is this even happening

some very very halfassed “during” pics

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Three

The first mission doesn’t exactly go as planned. Also, Logan has a thing for glasses, apparently.

@lumosinlove Thank you for letting me run away with your characters! <3

Again, @donttouchmycarrots is my hero and the best proofreader ever! This fic wouldn’t be what it is without her.

Clandestine Masterlist

.

The bank was quiet, save for the soft murmurings of tellers and customers. Sunlight filtered through the windows of the storefront, light and hazy. The office plant by the front door was growing way too big for its pot. There were a few people waiting in line, absently scrolling through their phones. Others were sitting in the waiting area, mindlessly taking in their surroundings. It was calm, peaceful.

Or it was, until a redhead came sprinting out of the men’s restroom, screaming “Fire!” at the top of his lungs.

The bank then descended into madness.

A man watched from the driver’s seat of his car as people frantically streamed out of the building and onto the sidewalk. He sighed, taking a second to rest his forehead against the steering wheel. “Damnit, O’Hara. This wasn’t part of the plan.”

29 Hours Earlier

“Good morning, cubs!”

“Fuck you, Black.” Logan muttered into his cup of coffee. “It’s too early to be that excited.”

Leo smiled a little and set a paper bag on the table. Logan stared at it. Where had it come from? He hadn’t seen Leo carrying it into the briefing room, but it was too big to stuff into his pockets. He didn’t have a bag or anything – the only thing he was carrying with him was a notebook and a pen. How did he manage to smuggle it in?

Logan was so confused, and it was still too early.

“I brought muffins.” Leo explained, opening the bag and handing one to Finn. “They’re cinnamon swirl.”

“Nut, did you make these?” Finn asked, removing the wrapper and taking a big bite. Leo shrugged.

“I like to cook.”

Black looked up at him in awe. “These are amazing.” He cradled the muffin in his hand like it was something precious.

“I can give you the recipe, if you want.”

Logan grabbed a muffin, looking up quickly at Remus’ snort. “He can’t cook.”

“Neither can you.” Sirius shot back, a little more hostile than his usual teasing manner. Logan glanced back and forth between the pair, tearing off a piece of muffin and popping it into his mouth. Fuck, that was good.

His partners had clearly picked up on the tension, too, but neither of them brought it up. Leo twirled his pen around in his hand, eyes moving from the pair to Finn. He smiled as the redhead enthusiastically grabbed another muffin. Logan snapped his gaze back to Sirius. “Can we get started, please?” He asked pointedly. “If you make me get up this early, we’d better be doing something productive.”

Finn laughed at him, nose scrunching. “Are you always this grumpy in the morning?”

Green eyes rimmed with dark, dark lashes glared back at him. Logan didn’t say a word but took a long sip of coffee instead, refusing to break eye contact. Finn let himself stare a little longer than he probably should have. He wasn’t lying when he told Logan he was a sucker for green eyes.

Sirius finally broke the tension-filled staring competition between himself and Loops and looked down at his files. Remus started the projector without a word, only speaking up when he was ready to begin his presentation. “We’re starting you three off with the easiest flash drives to retrieve – the two in the banks.”

He moved to a picture of the layout of one of the banks, pointing at a small room tucked away in a corner of the building. “So the safe is back here in this room. You can’t get back there without permission or an escort, which makes it a little trickier. The security system is also very high-grade, so I don’t think trying to break in after hours is our best bet here. There’s too many little things we might miss.

“The plan is to go undercover. Leo and Finn, you’ll be infiltrating this bank. Logan, you’ll be lookout. Leo, you’re going to pretend to be a safe specialist. Tell them the make and model of the safe Riddle uses is faulty and the company sent you to see if this one needs to be replaced. I don’t really care what you say, just make it believable.”

“What kind of safe is it?” Leo asked.

Sirius looked down at his notes. “It’s a… Tigerking Digital Security safe. Does that mean anything to you?”

Leo grinned. “Makes my job a hell of a lot easier. They’ve got a weak spot.”

“What am I doing during all of this?” Finn asked through a mouthful of muffin, crumbs stuck to his mouth. He swiped at them with his tongue before speaking again, “Distraction?”

“Yeah. It’ll have to be big – big enough to get Leo alone with that safe. How long do you think it’ll take to crack, Knut?”

He shrugged. “Ten minutes, tops. It’s got this small hole at the back where bolts are fed through. I can get a stiff wire through that hole and hit the reset button. Then I can reset the code of the safe and open it without leaving a trace.”

Finn smiled, mischief in his eyes. “I think I can manage a ten-minute distraction.”

That… that didn’t sound good.

Finn took one look at Logan’s fearful face and laughed. “Relax, it’s nothing too dramatic. I’ll probably just ask for whoever takes Leo back to look at the safe and then throw a fit when they say he’s not available. And then I’ll drag out our conversation to give our dear Nut enough time. Simple.”

“That… actually works.”

Finn scoffed, giving Remus a look. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because you’re Finn O’Hara.”

Finn thought about it for a second, then shrugged. “That’s fair.”

“Nut, when you open the safe you need to replace the real flash drive with this decoy.” Sirius said, holding up a blue flash drive. “This op might take weeks or months – if Riddle comes to check on this drive, he needs to see one instead of an empty safe. Now, if he actually checks the information on the flash drives… well, we’re screwed. Hopefully it won’t come to that. He doesn’t usually check the flash drives unless absolutely necessary – it’s too much of a hassle.”

“And I’ll loop the security camera footage when you get there, so there won’t be any evidence of you tampering with the safe.” Remus said. “Get in, get out. Not too hard, right? And we’ll both be with you every step of the way. You’ll have microphones and earpieces so that we can all communicate.”

Finn couldn’t tell if the bouncing of Leo’s leg was his normal restlessness or nerves. His face was a mask of calm that revealed nothing. For someone who didn’t have any previous experience in espionage or conning people, he sure was good at hiding how he was feeling.

Finn handed him another muffin anyways.

The dimpled smile he got in return was nothing but genuine.

***

Remus sat down on his couch with his dinner, sighing to himself as he stretched out his back. It had been a long day, but he finally felt ready for tomorrow. Their plan was solid, the cubs were as ready as they were ever going to be, he had his video loop for the security camera in the safe room, the rest of his tech had been checked over and deemed ready to go. There wasn’t much else he could do besides get a good night’s sleep if he could.

That would be easier said than done, though.

Sirius chose that moment to throw open the door and close it loudly behind him. Remus glared at him. “Is that really necessary?” He asked, but didn’t add anything else on as Sirius slammed down a stack of hand-written pages onto Remus’ coffee table. 

“You want me to open up? Fine. There’s all you need to know about me.”

Remus looked down at the pages and instantly felt guilty. How long had he been working on this? “You didn’t have to-”

“You said you couldn’t trust me.” Sirius interrupted coolly. “I can’t get my brother to safety if you guys don’t trust me.”

It appeared that his brother was his sole motivation. For all of this. Remus could understand that. He’d stop at nothing if the safety of his own brother was put into question.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to do this.” Remus looked up at him, at the stiff set to his shoulders, the detached look in his eyes. He went too far the last time they’d talked about this, hadn’t he? “Look, we got along for over a week when you first got here. I think we can do that again, right?”

At Sirius’ skeptical face, he sighed. “This is on me just as much as you. I… I don’t trust easily.” He had to laugh at that massive understatement. “Perks of being a spy. But I feel like we can manage learning to trust each other the old-fashioned way.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“Getting totally, outrageously drunk and sharing all our secrets.”

Sirius’ straight face only lasted for about a second before he busted out laughing. “You go from wanting my entire life story to wanting to get drunk together?”

“It’s a failproof way to gain someone’s trust.” Remus said solemnly, cracking a smile when Sirius laughed again, incredulous. “But not tonight. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“This Friday, then?”

He couldn’t help but notice the hopeful look on Sirius’ face. Had he ever done this with someone before? Did he have any friends besides his brother previously? He put up this excitable, outgoing façade, but Remus honestly had no idea what lay underneath. He nodded decisively. “This Friday.”

Sirius hesitated, then spoke again. “Do you think they’re ready?”

“I think so. And we’ll be there if something goes wrong.” Remus met his eyes, trying to instill confidence into the ex-Snake. “No matter what happens, we’re going to do our best to get your brother out safely.”

“And what if that’s not enough?” Sirius asked, eyes haunted.

That was exactly why Remus hadn’t made any strict promises. There was no way to guarantee that they would get Regulus back. If Remus was in Sirius’ shoes, if this this was Jules instead of Regulus, what would Remus most want to hear?

“We’re going to do everything we can, I promise.” He said, soft but firm. “I know that’s not enough, but it’s the best we can do as of right now.”

Sirius stared back, then nodded. “Thank you.” He looked down at Remus’ food. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

Remus laughed, shoving him away. “Get your own, you leech. This is mine.”

“Leech?” Sirius demanded, dramatizing his offence. “I can’t believe you called me a leech. You were the one who offered to house me, after all.”

That was true. Even if he hated to admit it, Remus was lonely. He lived in this apartment all by himself, worked mostly on his own, and his family lived miles and miles away. And being a spy didn’t exactly make it easy to find friends. He was distrusting and cautious by nature, especially after... well. After he left fieldwork and transitioned to a desk job.

He didn’t know why he’d offered to let Sirius stay, honestly. He just got this gut feeling that it was the right thing to do.

And Remus Lupin always trusted his gut.

“Worst decision I’ve ever made.” He quipped, laughing as Sirius threw a pillow at him. Sirius was a horrible roommate. He left dishes in the sink, beard trimmings on the bathroom counter, and his shoes haphazardly strewn about the living room.

But he always had hot water on the stovetop in the mornings when Remus woke up, always let him pick what they watched on tv at nights, and always replaced anything he had used up without being asked. And, if Remus was being completely honest with himself, soft gray eyes paired with an even softer smile weren’t exactly a terrible thing to wake up to.

So far, this whole roommate business wasn’t too bad.

***

Logan hated nothing more than being lookout.

He watched on as Finn and Leo geared up, testing their mics and earpieces and making adjustments accordingly. He was supposed to be watching the entrance to make sure no Snakes entered the building. They were doing the first bank heist while Logan was stuck here, in the car parked on the street, where he couldn’t see what was going on or if his partners were in trouble.

Their first mission, and he was stuck outside.

Ugh.

“You ready for this?” Finn asked Leo as he discreetly tucked a wire under his collar and out of sight. Leo had his eyes trained on the building across from them, wrapped in his coat and a thick scarf, fingers drumming out a staccato beat on his thigh. He didn’t seem to have heard Finn.

“Nut?”

Leo swiveled his head to look back at them. “Hmm?”

“You ok?” Logan asked, watching the blond’s face for signs of nervousness or stress. But his gaze was steady, determined. For someone on their first mission, he was remarkably calm. Either that or a much better actor than Logan had given him credit for. But then his expression flickered and a shadow of doubt crept in.

“I’m fine.” He said, and Logan couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince them or himself. He reached out and gave the blond’s shoulder a squeeze, letting his hand linger before trailing it down his arm and pulling away.

“You’re fine.” Logan reassured with a smile and watched the resolve build back up in Leo’s eyes, causing the knot in Logan’s chest to ease up a little.

That was better.

Finn looked at him for a second, then took his glasses off. “Here, put these on. I feel like your cover story requires glasses.” He gently eased them onto the other boy’s face. Leo blinked rapidly, then squinted and widened his eyes to adjust to the lenses.

“Jesus, what prescription is this?”

“It’s not that bad.” Finn said, ruffling Leo’s hair in retaliation. He took a step back to see the finished product and whistled lowly. “Damn, maybe we should take those off again. We’re supposed to be unmemorable when we’re undercover. No one will be able to take their eyes off you with those on.”

Logan had to agree there. Soft blue eyes blinked back at them from behind tortoiseshell frames, looking larger than they normally did. Leo buried his nose in his scarf in an attempt to hide the blush caused by Finn’s flirtatious words.

The sight did strange things to Logan’s stomach.

Remus’ voice reached them through their com link, startling all three of them. “You guys ready to go?”

Leo took a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s do this.” He looked back at Logan, eyes fierce – a stark contrast to the soft look of only a few seconds ago. Logan sucked in a breath of his own. This kid sure was something.

“See you in a bit.”

“See you in a bit.” Logan echoed, grabbing the car keys out of his pocket and letting his lips twitch up into a smile at Finn’s cheery salute. He leaned against the car door and watched the pair make their way around the corner and towards the bank without glancing back.

He got back into the car and moved it around the same corner before putting it in park. His eyes shifted between the street in front of him and his rearview mirror, a book in his lap to keep from raising suspicions, and settled in to worry and wait.

***

Leo shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting and made his way to the front desk. Ignoring his pounding heart as best he could, he locked eyes with the teller and smiled. “Hi there. Is your manager here?” He asked, dragging his accent out slow and sweet like molasses. “I’ve got a few questions about your safes.”

She smiled back. “Sure thing. I’ll go grab him.” Leo thanked her as she left, looking around while he waited and trying his hardest not to squint too much in Finn’s glasses. 

“Nut, between the accent and the glasses - plus your looks in general - I think that girl is half in love with you already.” Sirius’ voice teased, causing Leo to flinch slightly. He needed to get used to hearing the voices of people he couldn’t see during these missions.

“She is not.” He muttered back as he pretended to rub his nose, covering his mouth as he spoke so that no one else could see it. His hand absentmindedly played with the old, frayed bracelet on his wrist.

“You can do better, Nut.” Logan chimed in, voice a little gruff.

“How do you know?” Sirius asked. “You can’t even see her.”

“I’m using my imagination.”

Sirius barked out a laugh while Remus just sighed and requested that they all stay focused. Leo glanced around at the lobby again. Finn was standing in line behind him, looking at something on his phone. He forced himself not to look at his partner too long and kept scanning the rest of the lobby. It seemed to be a pretty quiet day - there weren’t too many people inside. A few people were seated in the waiting area and some were waiting in line behind Finn. Leo saw the teller and a short, balding man who must have been the bank manager making their way back towards him.

Leo stuck his hand out when they reached him, which the manager shook with a fake smile on his face.

“Hi, how are you doing?” Leo asked, withdrawing his hand. “I’m Fred Decker with Tigerking Digital Security. I have on record that you’re currently using one of our safes, is that correct?”

“Fred?” Sirius’ voice asked incredulously. “Of all the aliases you could use, you choose Fred? Nut, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Remus hissed at him to shut up. Leo ignored it.

“Yes, that’s right.” The manager said, a bit stiff. “What’s this about?”

“There’s a recall on a few of our safes. I was wondering if I could take a look at yours and see if it needs to be replaced. Free of charge, of course. This is an error on our part, and we want to do all we can to fix it.”

The manager hesitated, then nodded. “This way.”

Leo followed the man through a set of doors into a hallway, spotting Finn out of the corner of his eye as he approached the front desk and sent Leo a quick wink. That, more than anything, calmed Leo’s nerves. If Finn was acting like this was just run-of-the-mill and not a big deal, then they must’ve been doing something right. The door closed behind Leo, blocking his vision of the lobby. He took a fortifying breath and followed the manager into the safe room, secluded from the rest of the bank.

“Here we are,” The manager said, then pointed to a safe wedged into the corner of the room. “And there’s your safe.”

“The camera in the safe room is already on a loop, Leo. You’re all set.” Remus’ voice said, steady and calm. Leo looked the safe over, stalling as he waited for Finn’s distraction.

“Fuck,” he heard through his earpiece. “Leo, you’re going to have to hang in there for a few more seconds. The planned distraction didn’t work.”

Leo swallowed, looking back up at the manager. “So there’s these holes in the back, see?” He said, figuring a sure-fire way for him to stall was to talk about the safe. He could keep up a conversation like this for hours. “They’re used to bolt the safes into the wall. A few of our older models have larger holes.”

He grabbed the stiff coil of wire out of his pocket. “Some thieves have learned that you can get to the reset button in these older models if you use a tough wire like this and insert it through one of the holes. Basically all I want to do today is see if a thief could potentially do that with this safe. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes, of course! If there’s a problem, our client would want that fixed immediately.”

“I’m sure they would.” Leo said absentmindedly as he started fiddling with the wire for as long as he possibly could. He straightened it out from it’s coil, looked down it’s length, and then pretended to straighten some kinks out.

Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic-

Remus’ voice was a little more tense now. “Finn, where’s that distraction?”

Finn, who was in the men’s bathroom grabbing handful after handful of paper towels and shoving them into a trash can, grumbled, “I’m working on it, ok? Sirius was right - that teller definitely has a type, and it sure as hell isn’t me. I had to improvise.”

“What does that mean?” Logan asked warily. Finn could practically see him gripping the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip as he forced himself to stay put. “What are you doing?”

Finn grabbed the bottle of hand sanitizer on the bathroom sink and took the top off, dumping the contents into the trash can as well. He grabbed the lighter in his pocket (he liked to be prepared, thank you very much) and produced a small flame.

“Something stupid.”

He lowered the lighter to the trashcan and prepared to run.

Leo could hear the shouting from Finn’s distraction all the way back in the safe room. He looked up at the manager, pretending to be confused. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure.” The manager frowned, shifting from foot to foot nervously as he looked towards the commotion. “I’m going to check it out. I’ll be right back, ok?”

Leo waved him off with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right here.” He messed around with the safe until the door closed, then hissed, “Finn, what the hell is going on out there?” He moved Finn’s glasses to perch on top of his head and shoved the wire through one hole in the back of the safe. He grabbed his flashlight to look through the hole on the other side, searching for a small red button.

“I might’ve started a fire in the men’s restroom.”

“You what?” Leo demanded, finally finding the reset button and moving the wire steadily closer to it. “You do realize that does the exact opposite of give me more time, right?” Sure enough, the fire alarm sounded, loud and clear.

“Fuck me.” Leo muttered as he jabbed the reset button with the wire. Someone - Leo thought it might be Finn, but he wasn’t sure - muttered something too soft and muffled to be picked up by their mic. Leo didn’t have the time to question it. The safe door opened with a soft click. He quickly switched the flash drive with the replica and closed the door again. The wire got recoiled and shoved back into his pocket, Finn’s glasses returned to resting on his nose. He climbed to his feet and made his way towards the lobby at a quick pace. “I’ve got it.”

“Nice work, Nut.” He heard Logan say, and couldn’t repress the jittery feeling he always got after a successful job. He exited the bank, looking around for the manager. He seemed busy as he talked to his employees in an attempt to get the situation under control. He caught Leo’s eyes and stepped towards him. “Mr. Decker! I was looking for you.”

Leo only just remembered to over-exaggerate his accent. “I heard the alarm and high-tailed it out here. Was it a prank?”

“No,” He said after a beat of hesitation, “Someone actually started a fire in the men’s bathroom. The fire department is on its way. Hopefully it won’t take too long and you can get back to looking at that safe.”

“No need, I already finished. The holes were too small for the wire, so y’all should be fine. Anything thinner than the wire I used will be too flimsy to press that reset button.” Leo glanced down at his watch. “I do have six more banks to visit today, though, so I’m afraid this is where I leave you. Thank you for being so cooperative.” He held out his hand for the manager to shake again and gave one last smile before walking back down the street towards their designated rendezvous, trying to look casual and not like he was running away from the scene of a theft.

Sure enough, a non-descript gray car was waiting for him, right where it was supposed to be. Without a word, he climbed into the back and sprawled across all three seats, throwing an arm over his eyes as Logan put the car into drive.

The three of them were silent for a few seconds before Leo cracked a smile and laughed. “The one thing – the one thing that could get me kicked out of that safe room too fast, and that’s what you decided would make a perfect distraction?”

Finn looked back at the back seat with a grin, which softened when he laid eyes on the blond. His hair shone in the late-morning sunlight, highlighting a streak of gray at his temple. Those long legs of his took up most of the back row, and even then he still had to bend his knees to fit all the way. His eyes were blocked by his arm, but Finn could’ve seen those dimples via satellite image from space. 

“Hey, cut me some slack. I was making it up as I went.” This sent Leo into another fit of laughter, causing Finn’s smile to broaden.

“Besides,” Logan added, “You’re quick with your hands. You didn’t need all ten minutes, you barely needed three.”

Leo shrugged, which looked really strange in his current position on his back. “Got lucky. Found that reset button faster than I usually do.” He adjusted Finn’s glasses, which were still resting on his nose. “Maybe I need glasses, too.”

“Shut up. Those glasses are a statement piece, thank you very much.”

Logan snorted, watching Leo’s hand reach over the center console to return the glasses to their rightful owner. “Maybe that’s why you’re a terrible marksman, O’Hara. When’s the last time you got that prescription checked?”

Finn gasped in offense. Logan glanced over briefly and noticed the tips of his ears getting red. Cute.

“How dare you! I am not a terrible marksman!”

“That’s not what your file says.”

“What?”

“The evidence doesn’t lie.” Logan said, struggling to bite back his grin. Finn was just so fun to tease.

“Screw debriefing. When we get back to the office, we’re going to the shooting range.” Finn crossed his arms over his chest sulkily. “Terrible marksman. How dare they. Nutter Butter, back me up here.”

Leo blinked at the new nickname, but he couldn’t say he minded it too much. Especially when Finn said it like that, with such unfiltered affection. He watched the redhead turn around in his seat to look at him with big Bambi eyes, only then remembering that he was looking for an answer from Leo.

He put on a show of thinking about it, then shrugged. “I dunno, Finn. The evidence doesn’t lie.”

“Et tu, Brute?” Finn whined. “Betrayed by both of my partners. Unbelievable.”

Leo wished there was another word for partner. Maybe he should refer to them as just coworkers now. The term partner was giving him ideas. 

Ideas he couldn’t afford to be having for the first and quite possibly the biggest op of his life.

“Also, you’re one to talk!” Leo looked back up at Finn when he realized he was talking to him. “Have you ever shot a gun before, rookie?” He stopped suddenly, then grinned broadly. “Oh man, please tell me you’ve shot a gator when you were back in Louisiana. That’s so badass.”

Leo arched an eyebrow.

“Just because there’s horror stories about gators doesn’t mean they deserve to be shot.” Logan said, switching his turn signal on and waiting for the left turn light to change from red to green. “They’re a big part of the ecosystem.”

“And they kill people.”

“Oh come on, when’s the last time you heard of someone being killed by a gator?”

“Literally last week, down in Florida.”

“Well, that’s Florida. Crazy stuff like that happens in Florida all the time.”

“Did you hear about that guy from Florida who made a beer run while holding a gator?”

Logan chuckled, glancing over at his partner in disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me! Apparently he walked in, looked around and asked ‘Y’all ain’t out of beer, are you?’ But then the story gets weirder!”

Leo just sat in the backseat and laughed at Finn’s dramatic retelling of Florida news as building after building flashed by outside their windows, feeling lighter than air. His first mission was a success. He grabbed the small, innocuous flash drive out of his pocket, twirling it in his hand. One down, six more to go. If all missions were like this, taking down the Snakes wouldn’t be so bad.

He should’ve knocked on wood after having that thought.