#that was the inspiration i only just got over my four day headache adjusting to it LMAO

[ridhearts]

rest {vil x reader}

Vil comforts you after a rough day.

!! information !!

characters: vil

reader: gn

cw: none!

The Pomefiore lounge was only half-lit, a shadowed hallway leading to the far wall where Vil sat on one of the plush purple couches. The flickering candles cast him in a warm glow, bright enough to illuminate the papers on his lap so he wouldn’t have to strain his eyes to read. The scarce lighting, you knew, was meant to accommodate you; after so long of complaining about a persistent headache, even the densest of your companions (ahem, Grim) caught on.

Vil looked up from his papers and uncrossed his legs, though he made no move to stand. “Hello, sweet potato.”

“Hey,” you answered, barely stopping yourself from diving onto the couch. Still, you fell with little ceremony, laying across the cushions and resting your head on Vil’s lap. He scoffed, amused at your audacity, but didn’t say anything else about your manners.

“You’ve been making yourself scarce these days,” He commented, not unkindly. His voice lacked the usual firm and severe tone he used throughout the day, though anybody on campus could tell that he usually spoke softer around you. Still, this time he kept volume down to something soft and tender, wrapping around you, sound and snug.

“Headache.” You felt on of his hands gently rest on our head for a moment, carding through your hair and drawing soothing lines down your shoulder. “I was getting sick of being alone, though.”

“Forgive me for not offering a more thrilling activity.”

“This is perfect.” You didn’t think you could take any more than resting in a different spot, anyway. “I’m...sorry I haven’t been...much, lately.”

Vil stopped moving his hand, and you could practically hear the unimpressed expression he was giving you. Picturing that small, perfect scowl and the way he was arching an eyebrow, you almost laughed.

“You haven’t been much? Much of what?”

You shrugged. “Much of anything.”

Vil sighed before resuming the comforting pets he was giving you. “That’s simply not true. You’ve been recovering. And before that, you were going through a lot. Perhaps you still are. How are you feeling?”

After a pause, you shrugged and gave him a noncommittal hum. Those types of answers were never enough for him, though. “Better. Kind of. More manageable, at least. I’ll be back on my feet soon.”

Vil chuckled. “You don’t have to make promises to me. It’s important to take care of yourself. Take the time you need. I’m thankful that I got to spend some time with you at all today.”

You took a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds and trying to focus on anything but the pounding pain in your head: his fingers running through your hair, the warmth of his leg beneath your cheek, the raised seam of the cushion digging into your hip, all of it. Slowly exhaling, you hummed again.

“Yeah. I am, too.”

[idyllicbarb]

not impressed

SUMMARY: in your eyes, nothing is special about the lsu quarterback.

WARNINGS: cussing, drinking, smoking, fuckboy!joe, fratboy!joe, cocky!joe, euphoria inspired

- - - -

You're new to LSU, transferring from a small community college back in Georgia. It's only been a few months here in Louisiana for you but things have been good so far. Joining the majorette team and becoming popular around campus. Men want you but you don't want them, too caught up in enjoying your new college life.

You adjust your bra top, gaining looks from a few college boys that were standing around you. Rolling your eyes, you check your phone for any new messages. Somebody at LSU decided to throw a party for the football team, typical. Your majorette teammate, Naomi, had dragged you out the house so you could find yourself a man just for the evening.

But all the dudes at the party right now were either weird or sluts, huge whore bags. That's how a lot of men on campus are, especially the football team. You never understood how girls would just flock to them, only seeing dick and a potential to become a NFL wife. Shit like that never amused you, you have big dreams too, who wants to be cooped up in a house all day with three to four kids plus having to cook and clean? Yeah no.

Naomi walks back in the living room from using the bathroom, re-joining you on the couch, "You okay?" She asks. Before you can answer her, a loud group of men enter the house and you just know it's the football team.

You roll your eyes before sending a knowing look Naomi's way, she laughs silently before scooting closer to you. "I'm fine, this party is about to give me a headache though," You mutter and Naomi hums in response, "Well, we can always go back to the dorm."

"No, no, I never go out and I want to. It's college, we're supposed to be having a good time." You say in response. Justin and Ja'Marr walk in the living room, giving daps to people they know before heading over to you and Naomi.

You may have not cared for the football team but you've grown fond of Justin and Ja'Marr. They're like two bad ass twins. Ja'Marr shoves your forehead making you slap his wrist in response, "You asshole!"

"We ain't know y'all was coming. Especially you, Y/N, you an old lady, you probably got old people teeth in ya mouth right now." Justin teases gaining a laugh from out of Ja'Marr.

"Don't push it, I'll flick your little ass." You push Justin back slightly with your foot. He fakes a hiss before laughing again, "Stop playing before I get my boy, Joseph on yo ass."

"Ooh! See me personally, Y/N, I would never go for that." Ja'Marr shrugs his shoulders.

"You go for that and then some, Ja'Marr," Naomi rebuttals making you laugh. He sucks his teeth before tapping Justin on the shoulder, they both walk off weirdly.

"Losers," You mumble under your breath and Naomi giggles at your comment. A few seconds they return with the hottest topic on campus, Joe Burrow.

"Keep messing with us and our dawg Joey B gon Mickey Mouse two-piece y'all ass," Justin says and you look over at Naomi before the both of y'all bust out in laughter.

"Y'all weak, I can beat y'all up, easily, light weight." You reply standing up but only to get softly pushed back on the couch by Joe.

"You haven't even seen me fight."

"Well first off, I wasn't speaking to you, but since you opened your mouth, I don't need to see you fight. You look like you'd get beat up." You tell Joe, gaining attention from a few of his friends and teammates.

"Joe you gon' let her talk to you like that?" You hear somebody ask from the kitchen. You stand up getting in Joe's face, "He sure is, because "Joe" isn't going to do a got damn thing to me."

Joe turns his attention over at you as Justin and Ja'Marr slowly back away from the scene. "It'd be best if you watch your mouth."

"Is that suppose to be a threat?" You question while about to to take off your shoes. Naomi stands up and grabs your hand, leading you upstairs into a random empty bedroom.

"Girl! You can't be talking to Joe like that." Naomi blurts out and you turn your head at her. "Y'all scared of him or something? He doesn't faze me."

"Nobody disrespects him-

"How was I disrespecting him by telling him the truth? Do you seriously think he'd win a fight?" You tilt your head meeting Naomi's eyes, she looks away attempting not to answer.

"Exactly, just because he's known doesn't mean anything to me. You should know this by now."

Fixing your hair in your pocket mirror, you catch Naomi staring at you. "What?"

"You know he's going to be on your ass now, right?"

You look at Naomi, "No, no, I don't know, enlighten me."

"He's just like the big guy around here and everyone just respects him. You might be the only person who treated Joe like he's a regular human being," Naomi stated.

"He is a regular human being!"

- - - -

You're currently sitting on top of the kitchen counter drinking some jungle juice. After you and Naomi's conversation, you both decided to rejoin the party. You gained a few looks from people who are believed to be close friends of Joe. You don't care though, you weren't going to treat Joe as if he's superior because in your eyes, he's not.

Joe walks in the kitchen with a woman on his arm, she stumbles over her feet before putting her head down when a few people snicker. You shake your head, turning your attention back to your phone.

"You look lonely," The three words make you snap your head at a man who looks drunk out his mind.

"I look completely fine, do you?"

Joe moves past the two of you, mumbling, "Shouldn't you be anywhere but here?" under his breath. You laugh quietly before focusing your attention back on the dude in front of you.

Before the dude can even reply to your question, Joe taps him on the shoulder and the two of them walk off somewhere. You roll your eyes, waiting on Naomi to get done flirting with whatever man she can have for the night.

This party is lame, and you're two seconds away from beating thee infamous Joe Burrow up. Such a prick! Getting mad at you for not playing with him. Such a dweeb in your eyes.

Justin and Ja'Marr slide next to you, "Yo!"

You laugh before sitting up straight, "I haven't seen you two all night. Must've been getting pussy."

Ja'Marr shrugs playfully before looking away, letting you know that he indeed, got pussy during this party. "That ain't the topic, what needs to be talked about is you and our boy, Joe."

"What about him?"

Justin scoffs, "What about him? You can't be talking to him like that! He big dawg. We was tryin' put y'all on with each other, but you damn near punked him in front of his folks!"

"Justin's right. He coulda had you drooling for him at any moment." Ja'Marr adds in his two cents making you squint your eyes at the both of them.

"Ain't he a fuckboy? He's a blunt, passed around!" You loudly say making people snap their head in your direction.

"Nah! Nah! Don't be saying that." Justin puts a hand over your mouth when Joe appears back in the kitchen.

"Who a fuckboy?" He asks, the whole time he's staring directly at you. Joe knows you said it, he just wants to hear the words come from you. But you can't because Ja'Marr is currently trying to make up some kind of lie.

"See, you gon' get yourself caught up, Y/N. Real shit, Joe don't play them games." Justin tells you before mushing you back softly.

"Fuck yo' teammate who is also your friend, respectfully."

- - - - -

"Wanna take a swim?" A frat boy asks you, you nod your head slowly stripping off your clothes and placing them near Naomi's belongings.

You grab the dudes hand and walk towards the pool, people staring at the both of you murmuring words under their breath.

Joe and his teammates are smoking cigars when he sees you stepping into the pool, "Just what the fuck are you doing?"

You snap your eyes over at him, "You see I'm in the pool, cunt." People start oohing and Joe's face turns red. Never has a woman disrespected him constantly.

His teammate, Tyler, taps Joe on his shoulder, "You gon' have to handle that." Joe's friends murmur words in agreement. He peers his over at you again, watching you attract people with the way you're moving your body.

"Yeah, you right. I can't take the disrespect for too long."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you like the girl, Joseph." A child-hood friend of Joe's, Derrick, says. Joe hears a few people agree with his friend, sucking his teeth, Joe flicks Derrick off.

- - - - -

The party is slowly coming to an end and you're grabbing all of your belongings when suddenly Joe walks up to you. "You know, it's very disrespectful to call somebody a cunt.

"Hm, am I suppose to care?"

"No.. but I-

"Exactly, I knew you weren't slow! Have a good night.. Mr. Burrow." You give Joe a fake smile, walking off to your car with Naomi trailing behind you. Joe can't help to grin, his first time ever being told off by a woman. He's impressed but you're not.

"I think he's definitely into you," Naomi mumbles once you two reach your car. You hum, not really thinking too much into the thought. Maybe, maybe, Joe might have a crush on you. But who cares, certainly not you,  right?

[headheartbellarke]

DISTRACTED | Charlie Gillespie

Requested by anon: “5 times reader (girlfriend) is almost distracted by a shirtless Charlie and one time she actually is.” PAIRING(s): Charlie Gillespie x fem!reader WORDS: 1.6k WARNING(s): some charlie thirst, what’s new ;) SUMMARY: 4 times Y/N is almost distracted by her shirtless boyfriend and 1 time she actually is.

0.

You pride yourself over the fact that you never get distracted, no matter what. But sometimes, just sometimes, you can’t help it.

Especially when your boyfriend looks like that.

1.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. Your eyes feel as if they are burning, and the ever-persistent headache of yours seems to be particularly intense today.

Yet, pushing all that tiredness away, you keep typing, typing, typing. The deadline for your essay that carries twenty per cent of your grade of your final year of college is tomorrow, and you’ve still got three hundred words to write.

Three hundred words does not seem like a lot on any other day, but after three cups of coffee and seven hours of staring at your laptop screen, it feels like death. The fact that you seem to be in a rut right now doesn’t help, either.

You scrounge around your brain, trying to pull ideas from each fold, but it’s useless. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s because of your boyfriend, Charlie, who has currently resorted to painting your toenails after not getting any sort of attention from you for the past few hours.

Ever since lockdown started, you and your boyfriend have been living together in your shared apartment in Toronto. You two have been planning to move in together for a while, but his work and your college always seemed to be obstacles. But this lockdown gave you both the perfect opportunity – plus, it was time, too. You two have been dating for more than four years – although, you’ve had a crush on him for as long as you can remember, but the intensity of it was realized only in the moment when he kissed you after an amazing prom together – you guys went together because you were best friends and loved being around each other more than anything. But the fact that there could be something more, something hidden in years of friendship seemed unlikely to the both of you before that day.

“Done.” He says, proudly. Your eyes leave your screen to look at the beautiful emerald colour on your toenails. You smile at him, and say, “That’s gorgeous, Char. Where’d you find it?”

He shrugs, a lopsided smile on his face. “It was in the bottom of your bag.”

You nod. “Right. I bought it the day before my last offline exam ended. I forgot.”

He smiles. “Now, will you pay me some attention?”

You purse your lips and pretend to be thinking. “Hmm… tempting, but no. I still have to get this done.”

He groans, dramatically. “You have been ignoring me for past hundred hours!”

You chuckle, ruffling his hair. “You’re so dramatic. It’s only been half a day. Now, go away. I need to finish this.”

He groans, again, and you wonder if he’s finally given up.

Instead, he rolls off the bed, and stands taller, leaning against the doorframe. “Y/N?”

You hum in question, as he makes a show out of taking off his T-shirt.

You bite your lip and remember how long it has been since you’ve run your hands on his chest. But you know that he’s doing this on purpose, to get a fraction of your attention. He knows and is proud of the fact that he has a hold over you, and the fact that even after four years, he still gives you butterflies over the slightest of smiles.

So, instead of giving in, you crawl under your covers with your laptop and decide to work there, as you suddenly gain inspiration, and thank yourself for not being distracted by your boyfriend’s absolutely beautiful body.

“Oh, come on!”

2.

The second time hit happens, it’s a Tuesday morning, and you’re giving an exam. Your laptop is in front of you, the face of your teacher and classmates filling your screen, as the sound of your pen scratching against your answer sheet fills the room.  

You bite the end of your pen, pondering over a question when you suddenly hear your boyfriend’s voice. You look up, and notice him, shirtless, and talking on the phone to someone.

“Yeah, I mean, we could do that…” He says, and your eyes trail across his back, as he stares out the window on the wall opposite to you.

“No, Mom, we’re not gonna drive to Canada. I’m not that crazy!” He exclaims, and you arch your neck to get a better view of him, and the sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

“Sure, I can ask Y/N…” He says, and you quickly avert your eyes back to your paper, just in time to hear your teacher call out your name.

“Y/N? What are you looking at?” She asks, and you adjust your headphones, clearing your throat.

“I thought someone was at the door. Sorry, Ms. Harrington.” You’re painfully aware of the warmth spreading through your cheeks, and as she nods, you start writing again.

You hear Charlie whisper a ‘sorry’, and you smile at him – he thinks that the reason your teacher just called you out is because he was going to ask you something.

You don’t correct him – his ego doesn’t need to know the fact that you were almost distracted.

3.

Just one more question, you think. One more question, and you’re done with this semester.

But your mind is wandering, and the fact that you still have thirty minutes left doesn’t help. When this exam started, you thought that you wouldn’t be able to finish it in time and wrote as fast as you could, but now there’s plenty of time and just one, tiny answer left.

You rest your elbows on your desk and check on your classmates. Everyone is frantically scribbling, and you smile evilly at the fact that you’re not one of them right now.

“Honey? You have a minute?”

You hear Charlie from behind you. You nod, and say, “I’m listening.” You don’t turn back, since you have to keep an eye on your teacher. (She is knitting right now, for some reason.)

“You wanna go somewhere for the holidays?” He says, his raspy morning voice causing goosebumps to appear on your skin.

“I’m not sure… I mean we just came back from Maui last month – do you think it’s wise to go somewhere again?”

“Well, we’ll maintain social distancing, and use masks.”

“I’m not sure…”

“Come on, it’s our fifth anniversary!”

You finally look at him, and your breath catches in your throat. He’s shirtless, as usual. You mentally curse him as you think that you need to add ‘no being shirtless for no reason’ to your household rules. (Currently, you have three: one, no disturbing the other while working; two, following the chore chart; three, no spilling coffee or red wine on the white living room rug.) (The last one has occurred more times than one might expect.)

You focus on keeping your eyes trained on his, but you still struggle to form words. “I – not a wise idea…”

He grins, understanding the situation, as you avert your eyes back to your paper.

“Please, baby?”

You know he’s pouting.

“Fine.” You say, just to get him off your back.

“You’re the best!” He presses a kiss to your cheek and is instantly gone. As your mind still tries to hold on to the frayed strings of the warmth and the smell of his presence, you pray that your classmates didn’t notice the interaction.

4.

You smile at Charlie’s mother, who is talking animatedly on your phone.

“Then, I told Meg to get some sugar, but she bought salt instead, and to top that, she dumped the entire bowl into my batter! Now, it tastes like absolute shit!” She glares at Megan, Charlie’s sister, who smiles sheepishly from behind her.

You laugh. “Like brother, like sister.”

“You know it.” She says, her French accent thick.

“So, I was thinking… Maybe, after the holidays, we could fly back to Dieppe? It’s not like we’re gonna go to college any time soon, so –”

“Yes, please! I miss you guys so much. You know, last night –”

She starts to say something else, but your boyfriend is doing push ups in front of you, and it’s really, really, really hard to focus, especially when his body is glistening under the afternoon sun.

He seems to feel your gaze, and sharply turns towards you, while you quickly look back to his mother.

“–but the point is, I miss you two.” She finishes, while Megan nods. “Me too, sis. It’s so boring here without you two.”

You smile and can feel warmth in your stomach. “Of course. I miss you guys, too. Charlie’s so boring.”

“Hey!”

+1.

You exhale and close the lid of your laptop. “I’m done!” You yell, and Charlie instantly appears at the door, and runs towards the bed you’re currently seated on, and jumps atop.

“Finally! I missed you!” He says, wrapping an arm around your torso, pulling you closer.

“I missed you too, baby. But now I’m done with all my assignments, so I’m all yours for the next two weeks!” You sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He grins, and your eyes avert to his chest, but this time, you let yourself be distracted, because after weeks of sleep deprivation and pure torture, you deserve this.

You smile, connecting your lips, and run your hands on his chest. He smiles against the kiss, and you whisper, “I love you so much.”

“And I love you so much.”

as always feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[thelastspeecher]

Spirit Touched - Chapter 1: Little Prince

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6   AO3

Uhhhh so this is the first time I’ve written and posted something for ATLA, and of course it wound up being because of a fanart of a fanfic that I adore.  Basically, yesterday I saw this art drawn by my pal @agent-jaselin.  And that art appeared to apply one of my all-time favorite tropes (de-aging) to one of my all-time favorite fics (Salvage, by @muffinlance).  And dagnabit, I...got inspired.

So, without further ado, here is my interpretation of a theoretical Zuko being de-aged after Chapter 8 of Salvage.  Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              Praying to the spirits for guidance was a mistake.  Hakoda could see that now.  He pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to dispel the headache already forming.

              This is what I get for thinking the spirits might make things easier. Their actions are rarely convenient for us mortals.

              “Bring him to Kustaa,” Hakoda said after a moment.  Toklo nodded and hurried for the healer’s room, his friend in his arms, buried in a pile of furs.  Bato looked at Hakoda.  He raised an eyebrow silently.

              “That’s new,” he said.  The casual tone made Hakoda’s headache pound in full force.  Bato was treating this as just another matter of fact.  Like seeing the former Prince of the Fire Nation reduced to a toddler overnight was just as common as…

              Hakoda’s head hurt too much to even think of something that was common.

              “Yes,” Hakoda finally said.  “It is new.” He was struggling to align the grumpy teenager of yesterday with the toddler he’d just seen drooling in his sleep.

              “How could this have happened?” Bato asked quietly.

              “I asked the spirits for help last night.”  Hakoda scowled.  It was help he’d desperately needed, after Zuko had broken down in front of him and renounced his crown, maybe even renounced his own nation.  And it was help he was obviously not getting. “Apparently, they didn’t want to make things easier.”

              “The spirits work in mysterious ways,” Bato said.  “It’s best to trust in their judgement.  Eventually, you’ll understand why they’ve done…this.” Hakoda eyed his second-in-command.

              “Since when are you so spiritual?”

              “Since meeting the bridge between the spirit world and ours,” Bato said flatly.

              “Fair enough.”  Hakoda sighed.  “I should go speak with Kustaa.”

              “I might be best if you were there when the little prince woke up,” Bato agreed.  He thumped Hakoda on the back.  “At least you’re good with children!”

----- 

              Unlike every other day since he’d recovered from his illness, Zuko didn’t wake up with the sun.  If he didn’t remember how much his own children slept at this age, Hakoda would have been concerned.  He sat in the infirmary, having a hushed conversation with Kustaa while Zuko continued to snore.  The sight of a toddler swimming in furs was painfully cute and reminded Hakoda of when Sokka was young.

              “I’ll be able to get a better examination done once he’s awake,” Kustaa said in a low voice.  “But from what I can tell, he’s perfectly healthy.”

              “He’s a toddler,” Hakoda said.

              “A healthy one.”  Kustaa glanced at Zuko.  “By my estimation, about four years old.  So, almost out of the toddler years.”  Zuko rolled over in his sleep, mumbling something.  Kustaa and Hakoda held their breaths.  Zuko didn’t wake up.  “From what he’s told me, he didn’t get that scar until a few years ago, so I’m not completely sure why he still has it.”

          ��   “The spirits are testing me,” Hakoda moaned.  Kustaa chuckled.

              “No, Chief.  The spirits are testing all of us with this stunt.”  He sighed and leaned back.  “Now would be a good time to have a waterbending healer, to examine his spirit and chi.  But the odds of finding one of those…”

              “Aren’t good unless we stumble across a Northern Tribe ship,” Hakoda said, finishing the healer’s sentence.  Kustaa nodded.  There was movement from Zuko’s pile of furs.  Hakoda and Kustaa looked over.  A small hand fought its way out, followed by a head.  Zuko’s regular scowl was replaced by confusion as he stared at Hakoda and Kustaa, who most likely seemed larger to him than they had yesterday.

              “You’re up,” Kustaa said calmly.  Zuko shoved away the furs he was buried in.  His eyes widened at the sight of his body.  Hakoda grimaced.

              There was a split second of dumbfounded silence before the screaming started.

----- 

              Kustaa wasn’t sure whether he preferred Zuko like this or not.  On the one hand, it would be difficult to run the ship with a literal toddler on board.  But on the other hand, it was much easier to handle Zuko.  He could literally be picked up and carried somewhere else if needed.

              “This doesn’t fit right!” Zuko whined.  Kustaa glanced over at his young charge.  Zuko had insisted on dressing himself in the smallest shirt they could find on the ship.  That smallest shirt came down to past his feet.

              Then again, so will everything else.  Kustaa beckoned Zuko to come.  Zuko scowled but walked over.  Kustaa fought back an amused grin at the firebender’s toddling gait.  While not as severe as it would be for someone younger, it was still evident.

              “Nothing is going to fit right until either we adjust clothes to fit you or purchase ones already in your size,” Kustaa said.  He adjusted the shirt as best he could by pinning it up and wrapping rope around Zuko’s waist to act as a belt.  “Now that you’re dressed, we need to go see the chief.” Zuko’s eyes went wide in horror.

              “No!  I’m not going outside like this.”

              “Everyone knows what’s happened to you,” Kustaa said, getting to his feet. He took Zuko’s hand.  It was small and warm.  “Most of them saw you already, and the rest were informed by either the chief or Bato.”

              “…Fine,” Zuko grumbled.  Kustaa led him out onto the deck.  The moment eyes landed on him, Zuko dropped Kustaa’s hand to hide behind his legs.

              “Wow, you’re barely older than the babes we left at the South Pole,” Panuk remarked.  Zuko didn’t move or speak.

              “I think he’s adorable,” Toklo said firmly, marching over.  He crouched down to Zuko’s eye-height.  “I always wanted a baby brother.”

              “I’m not a baby,” Zuko snapped.  At his high-pitched, youthful voice, Toklo beamed.  “I’m sixteen.”

              “Four,” Kustaa corrected.  Zuko scowled.

              “Either way, that’s not a baby.”

              “Aw, no need to pout,” Toklo cooed.  Zuko’s scowl deepened.  “It’ll be fun having a little kid on board.”

              “Will it?” rumbled Aake.  “We only let men join the crew for a reason.”  Zuko let out a small squeak as Toklo lifted him up and held him out for Aake to see.

              “Try saying ‘no’ to this face,” Toklo said.  Aake’s deadpan expression didn’t change.

              “No.”

              “Were you saying ‘no’ to Zuko or ‘no’ to saying ‘no’ to him?” Toklo asked. Aake shrugged and continued to sharpen his spear.  Zuko squirmed in Toklo’s hold.

              “Let me go!” he snarled.  He broke loose, falling to the deck with a soft thump.  Kustaa waited for the tears that would come from a toddler being dropped. But Zuko didn’t cry.  His eyes were glistening in a way that suggested he was holding back tears, but he remained otherwise stoic.  Kustaa filed this observation away for now.  He walked over to Zuko and pulled him up.

              “The chief needs to talk to you, remember?” he said.  Zuko nodded silently, allowing Kustaa to lead him to Hakoda’s cabin.

----- 

              The moment they set foot inside the cabin, Kustaa could tell Hakoda was going to struggle with not seeing Sokka every time he looked at Zuko.  At least Bato was there to help mediate things.

              “Take a seat,” Hakoda said.  Zuko toddled over to the chair he normally sat in.  After a moment, he climbed onto the seat with obvious difficulty.  Bato stifled a laugh.  “Zuko, we’re not sure why the spirits have done this to you.”

              “Probably because they hate me,” Zuko muttered, crossing his arms.

              “Well, no matter why you’ve been turned into a toddler, the fact of the matter is that it has happened to you.  Generally, we don’t allow children your age to be on our ships.”  Zuko paled and opened his mouth to make his case. Hakoda held up a hand.  “Given your…extenuating circumstances, we won’t be dropping you off at the next port or something like that.  Who knows, maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow sixteen again. Until we have a better understanding of your condition, including how long it might last, you’ll be staying on the Akhlut.  Do you understand?”

              “Yes,” Zuko said with a nod, visibly relieved.

              “Good.  Now, just because you’ll still be on board, don’t expect things to stay the same for you. You won’t be required to do any chores on the ship.  If you want to help, you can, but the crew has been instructed to stop you from overexerting yourself or doing something that might hurt you at your current age.” Zuko’s eyes boggled.  “Additionally, you’ll be sleeping in the infirmary with Kustaa for the foreseeable future.  It will be more comfortable for you.”

              “Understood,” Zuko mumbled.

              “Another change is that you will be expected to do what a child your age must in order to remain healthy,” Hakoda said.  Zuko tilted his head curiously.  “In particular, you will have to take naps.”

              “What?!” Zuko shrieked.

              “We can’t have a cranky, overtired firebender on our wooden ship,” Bato said.  Zuko crossed his arms, scowling.

              “Those are the major changes.  We will adjust things as we see fit,” Hakoda said.

              “Okay.”  Zuko fidgeted in his seat, an abrupt reminder to the men in the room of how hyperactive toddlers were.  “Um, about my clothes…”

              “Go see Panuk and Toklo.  They offered to try to cobble together something for you until we can make port,” Hakoda said.  Zuko ducked his head.

              “Thank you.”  He slipped off his chair and left the cabin, his head held high in an attempt to maintain any dignity.  Once the door closed, Kustaa looked at Hakoda and Bato.

              “He’s not going to act like a toddler if he can avoid it,” Kustaa said. “He’s almost certainly going to resist the reduced workload and naps.”  Hakoda nodded.

              “I agree,” he said solemnly.

              “This won’t end well,” Bato said, shaking his head.  “There’s a reason we wouldn’t normally have someone his age on board.”  There was a loud ruckus from the deck; clattering, heavy footsteps, and Toklo’s voice.

              “Come on, Zuko, it’ll look so cute!”

              “That,” Bato said, “is the reason.”

-----

              Hakoda begrudgingly agreed with Toklo’s assessment.  Zuko was cuter than he had any right looking, walking around the ship with a blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape.  According to Toklo, Zuko had begun shivering while he and Panuk were working on finding something for the new toddler to wear. Toddlers tended to get cold easier, and Hakoda supposed that being a firebender might make Zuko more vulnerable to cold as is.

              “Are you hungry yet, little prince?” Panuk asked.  Zuko looked up from his fumbling attempts at making a net.

              “Don’t call me that,” he snarled.  Panuk patted Zuko’s bald head.

              “All right.  You hungry yet, Zuko?” he asked.  Zuko’s stomach rumbled loudly.  “I’ll take that as a yes.”  Panuk got up. “Come on.  Let’s fill you up with sea prunes.”  Zuko got to his feet and eagerly followed Panuk.  Hakoda watched Zuko toddle across the deck and to the kitchen.

              “You’re getting soft, Chief, I can tell,” Aake, standing nearby, said quietly. Hakoda looked at him.  Aake sighed.  “But I’m getting soft, too.  We left when Sitka was about that age.”  A weary and wistful expression settled on Aake’s face.  “I miss my son.”

              “I miss mine as well,” Hakoda said quietly.  Suddenly, Zuko burst onto the deck, his arms full of sea prunes, running from Panuk.

              “Hey!  You don’t get all of them!” Panuk protested, coming onto the deck as well.  Zuko merely sped up.  Hakoda and Aake’s eyes widened as they realized the former Fire Nation Prince was giggling as Panuk chased him.  Zuko’s lighthearted, childish peals of laughter filled the air. He rushed belowdeck, his blanket still wrapped around his shoulders.  Panuk followed.  A silence fell.  After a moment, Tuluk, who was swabbing the deck, spoke.

              “Well, that was adorable.”

----- 

              Hakoda expected Zuko to hide belowdeck, embarrassed by behaving like a toddler.  But Zuko returned to the deck after a while, seemingly unaware of how childish he had acted. He walked up to various crewmen in an attempt to do some of his old chores.  Each time, he was turned away.  His regular scowl settled on his face, chubby with baby fat.

              “Can’t do anything,” Zuko muttered as he stalked around the deck, his blanket trailing behind him.  He finally sat down next to the mast, pouting.

              “It’s good that you can’t do anything,” Hakoda said, walking over. Zuko looked up.  “Leaving a task in the middle of doing it doesn’t usually produce good results.”

              “Why would I not complete a task?” Zuko asked.  He crossed his arms.  “I’m not really a child, I can focus.”

              “You’d need to take a break for your nap,” Hakoda informed him.  Zuko’s eyes widened.  “I saw you yawning just now.  You’re tired.”

              “No, I’m not!” Zuko said, jumping to his feet.  He shed his blanket cape.  “I won’t nap.”

              “You agreed to take naps.”

              “Only if I needed them.  I don’t. I’m not tired.”  Zuko’s argument sounded eerily like those Sokka made as a child.

              “There’s nothing for you to do anyways,” Hakoda pointed out.  He reached for Zuko’s hand.  Zuko darted away before he could be grabbed.  Unfortunately for his millionth escape attempt, Aake was nearby. Aake picked Zuko up as he ran past.

              “Let me go!” Zuko said, twisting in Aake’s grip.  “Let me go!”  A breath of flame escaped from his mouth.  He suddenly stilled.  Aake handed him over to Hakoda.  Zuko didn’t make a peep as Hakoda carried him across the deck and into the infirmary. Kustaa looked up from the book he was reading.

              “Is it time for my nephew’s nap?” he asked.  Hakoda nodded and set Zuko down.

              “Sleep,” he said firmly to Zuko.  “That’s an order.”  Zuko nodded, visibly cowed.

              “Yes, chief,” he mumbled.  Hakoda turned to leave.  “Sir, I apologize for firebending earlier,” Zuko said suddenly.  Hakoda looked over his shoulder at the toddler.

              “You firebending on accident wouldn’t have anything to do with agreeing to nap, would it?” he asked.

              “Uncle says that sleep works in concert with meditation to control your inner fire.  Children who are too young to know how to meditate only avoid burning down their house by taking…naps.”  Zuko scowled slightly.  “That’s the excuse he gives for being so lazy.”  Kustaa chuckled softly.

              “Judging by what happened on deck, your uncle might be right,” Hakoda said, feigning a casual tone.  Zuko nodded. “Sleep well, Zuko.”

              Hakoda poked his head into the infirmary after he had checked on the rest of the crewmen.  Some of the crew felt Zuko’s current size was an improvement.  Hakoda could see where they were coming from.  Zuko was yet again buried in a pile of furs, his minute arms wrapped around Scuttles.

              “He went down almost right after you left, chief,” Kustaa said quietly.  “I didn’t even need to make him any tea.”

              “Hopefully he won’t argue against naps in the future.”  Hakoda continued to watch Zuko sleep.  The toddler let out a soft snore.  “It’s foolish to expect that he’ll ask for a nap, though.”  Kustaa nodded.

              “I would agree with that.”  Zuko rolled over in his sleep with another snore.

              “Let me know if anything happens,” Hakoda said.

              “Of course,” Kustaa said.  He picked up another book, opened it, and began to read.  Hakoda left the infirmary, closing the door behind him as softly as he could.

[woodrokiro]

Do It For the Band, Part Six (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: When Tatsuki said she wanted their sophomore album to be the next Rumours, this is NOT what she meant. Band AU. Read Part One, Two, Three, Four, and Five. 

Tatsuki never thought she’d live to see the day that she has to drag herself to jam with her friends.

Sure, she’s been pretty hung over on some of her work days; but she was always, always able to pull herself out of bed, pop a couple of Tylenol and be on her way to make a racket. It made no sense how she could still be giddy to beat some loud drums when she had a throbbing headache - but.

She loved it. She loved her band. 

She still does… But she hates Ichigo right now.

Ichigo, who’s being a real insensitive dick. Ichigo, who went on a date with Orihime, aka her-best-friend-aka-longtime-love-of-her-life-maybe-who-knows-she-never-got-a-chance-to-find-out-cuz-of-her-dickwad-friend. 

Ichigo, who is doing this as some stupid fucking vendetta against Rukia, or to forget her, or whatever the fact is being a dumbass and everyone is having to pay for it.

Needless to say: she’s worked herself up to a pretty furious state by the time she rages to practice.  

She stomps over to Chad’s garage, viciously lifting the the heavy door while simultaneously (unreasonably) half expecting to be faced with the sight of Ichigo and Orihime making out - 

When her eyes adjust to see into the garage, there’s none of that (thank God). They’re not even next to each other. Instead, she’s met with a very different sight.

Ichigo’s stewing in the corner, hands stuffed in his pocket and visibly grinding his teeth. Chad is sitting quietly next to him but definitely trying to blend himself into the shadows more than usual. Orihime is looking down at her hands across the room, silent and stiff.

And Rukia is plugging her phone into their speaker jack rather manically. 

“Ah, good afternoon Tatsuki!” Rukia greets the drummer with a too-large, sparkling smile that she recognizes as Rukia’s favorite mask to put on when she’s pissed. The vocalist has noticeable bags under her eyes from… Lack of sleep? Crying? Who knows. Her heart cracks for her.

The pity doesn’t last long when Rukia continues, sickly-sweet. “Since Ichigo was so kind to tell us we should start working on new stuff - “

“Woah woah woah, I didn’t tell you - ”

“My mistake!” Rukia sends Ichigo a somehow-withering smile that could kill. “You’re so right, we all agreed. In any case, I decided to start sooner rather than later. I recorded a quick version by myself last night at - oh, I don’t know, two A.M. - and sent it to Urahara by five.”

Ichigo’s foot starts tapping as he leans forward, arms crossed. “You sent something to Urahara without showing us first?”

“He said he liked it, but to get it passed through you guys. Of course I agreed, so… Here we are.” Rukia’s not looking at him any further, instead sending a hard glance to Tatsuki. 

The drummer knows it’s not really directed at her - more like a woman’s communication-without-words kind of thing - but she finds herself gulping anyway.

--

Here we are indeed. 

Oh you got stars in your eyes, baby

If you think this will work

I won’t follow your galaxies

Won’t fall for that fucking smirk. 

When will you realize the stars were never yours?

Never at any time, never at any time.

The song has turned to pure obliteration by the end. Rukia’s voice intentionally fades out at the finish, but not without absolute raw emotion, pure fury that leaves goosebumps on Tatsuki’s skin. 

Rukia stands in the middle of the garage, hands on her hips, looking proud and dangerous and fiery as she stares straight back at Ichigo’s stone-faced glare. 

Good for her, Tatsuki thinks before remembering: wait. She shouldn’t be rooting for this. 

This is the beginning of a war. 

As if on cue, Ichigo clears his throat, raising his chin to match Rukia’s arrogance.

“Great work, Kuchiki. Way better than anything you’ve done so far, I’d say.” 

Rukia’s nostrils flare. “Is that a comment on my previous work?”

“Not at all. Just… Inspires me to step up my game. In fact…” Ichigo stands up, dusting off his pants. “Is it cool with you all if I cut out early? Think I have some writing to do too, alone.”

“Absolutely not, Ichigo.” Tatsuki is shaken out of watching the trainwreck that’s her life. “Chad, Orihime and I did not come here for you to cut out without even practicing - “

“No, I think it’s fine, Tatsuki.” Rukia’s eyes glint with a challenge. “We can practice… Without Ichigo.” 

An excruciating silence follows. Tatsuki can practically hear Ichigo’s teeth crack beneath his grinding.

“... I can wait to write.” He roughly grabs his guitar, quickly getting to work on tuning it. “Teamwork is important. We’re nakama, after all.”

Something about the pointed word visibly causes the keyboardist to flush, but she starts to unplug her phone from the speaker jack anyway.

The next hour of practice may just be the most painful hour in Tatsuki’s life.

--

She thought she might have an idea of what happened between Ichigo and Rukia from Rukia’s song Celestial Lies - okay, so Ichigo broke a promise? - but seeing what kind of songs follow after that practice from both of them leaves it all… A little muddled.

The next day, Ichigo sends the group chat audio of a break up song.

Eyes softly gazed 

Heart breaking stare

Who knew you’d crush me 

Lying is your best jewelry you wear. 

Everyone hits a wary thumbs up reaction except Rukia, who hours later only replies: Did Urahara approve of this one?

Yes. Ichigo sends back at a neck-breaking speed… 

Followed by a :).

A few days later, Rukia sends another audio. 

It only took you ten days to realize 

I wasn’t good enough, but no one’s ever good enough

No one’s ever nice enough, 

No one’s ever fucked you enough

Called your bluff enough

Said your name like a God enough.

Now Ichigo’s response is a weird song about a siren with lavender eyes feasting on a golden-haired sailor’s skull, and Tatsuki didn’t know what to think happened but frankly? She doesn’t care. 

She calls Urahara immediately. 

“You know what this is gonna do to us, right?!” She shouts into the phone. “This isn’t doing anything but hurting the band, letting them go at it like this!” 

Urahara - to his credit - listens patiently from the other end as she explodes. He has the decency to voice his sympathies, that it must be really tough working in a group with… So many opinions.

“These aren’t opinions. These. Are. Fatalities.” She grits out. 

“I understand, Tatsuki-san, but…” She can nearly hear their manager shrug. “This is… How good music is made. I hate what it’s doing to your nerves, but you have to understand that this is how I get you guys out there.”

“At the expense of our friendship? What kind of manager are you -”

“A good one.” His voice drops low, suddenly serious in a way she’s never heard before. “What would you have me do, Tatsuki-san? Tell everyone to stop writing mean songs? Have them hug it out? You know that does nothing for any of us.” 

“That’s not what I’m... “

“Tatsuki.” His voice lifts, a bit gentler. “This is what you all wanted, what you’re working hard for. Whether or not they get through this… Nobody can say. But that’s not gonna change whether or not they stop writing these stellar pieces. You know how good they are. So… I hate to tell you, but you’re gonna have to suck it up. Enjoy it while it lasts. It might make your career.”

She hangs up immediately, knowing he won’t be offended.

He knows that she knows he’s right. 

--

Almost like a God-sent gift for Tatsuki’s suffering, Orihime breaks it off with Ichigo after only a few weeks. 

The relationship ends - quite spectacularly - in disaster after a couple of dates… Just as Tatsuki thought it would, but hey. She’s not going to gloat about it, only promises whatever deity is responsible a huge offering the next time she happens upon a shrine. 

She hears all about it from Orihime, of course - she’s way too pissed at Ichigo to speak to him about anything besides business - who tells her they got a couple of drinks, dinner a few times. 

“It’s a very nice time! But he’s not… It’s…” She sighs forlornly and it makes Tatsuki hurt for her. 

“He hasn’t made any moves, huh.”

The stage manager shakes her head, suddenly grabbing her water to keep the tears misting her eyes at bay. 

Tatsuki wants to kill him. 

“He said I looked nice. He opens the doors for me, pulls out my chair, pays for my bill. He and I have… Fun, I think. At least I do - and he’s very kind, such a gentleman -”

“It’s okay, Orihime. You can say it: he fucking sucks.”

Orihime laughs a watery laugh. “No, nothing like that. I just… This Rukia thing. It’s so… Intense, right? In practice? I should’ve known. I feel so stupid.”

“... Orihime.” The drummer puts her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Nobody could’ve known. Had I known? You’d find me on a cruise ship, drumming for some dumb cover band.” 

“You make jokes like that, Tatsuki, but you’re the band’s lifeline.” Orihime shakes her head, blinking back tears. “I just… Rukia is so… Goodness, she’s lovely. And talented. And so, so kind - “

“Orihime - “

“And I’m not one to be jealous, I know I’ve only known Ichigo for about a month now so I’m really not too upset about that. But I’d - I’d love to be someone’s first choice like that. I’d love to be the person that someone wants to write songs about, that inspires someone so much. Because that anger that’s coming through their songs… That’s them caring, you know? That’s them caring so much that good or bad, they want the whole world to know, and yeah I don’t love the bad so much but I do love love and want to be cared about like that one day but I’m not as smart or talented as Rukia-chan so - “

Tatsuki interrupts her by firmly pressing her lips to Orihime’s, her hands snaking into her gorgeous auburn hair and suddenly: everything is perfect, angels are singing and if she died at this very moment she would be too blissed out to fight it. 

She briefly breaks it off, nudging Orihime’s forehead with her own. “Rukia is also my friend, but don’t get it twisted. They’re both absolute shits.” 

Orihime laughs, smiling softly at the drummer before she goes back in and Tatsuki thinks band drama?

Who gives a fuck. 

--

Her new girlfriend calls her the next day to say she’s told Ichigo, and Tatsuki sighs. She was about to enjoy her morning by smoking a joint, but. Priorities, she guesses. 

She arrives at Ichigo’s apartment door within the hour, banging until he opens it.

“Y’know, how you get beyond the buzzer at the building entrance is beyond me - “

Tatsuki wastes no time. “Orihime told you, yeah?” 

Ichigo rolls his eyes, but a rare, small smile betrays him. “Yeah, she told me. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. You mad?” 

“What? No. Of course I’m not mad.” 

“Cool. ‘Cuz what the ever-loving fuck, Ichigo.” 

“... Not sure what you mean.” Ichigo’s eyes turn to flint as understanding dawns on him, and he’s about to close the door when she stomps on his foot. 

“Tatsuki, what the hell--”

“Don’t ever try to do that to me again. What is this all about?” 

“God, we didn’t have a - Orihime and I are friends! It’s all been worked out! What do you care, you got your girl - ” He shuts his mouth at the giveaway as Tatsuki narrows her eyes. 

“Is that what this is about? You didn’t get your girl so you tried to get mine?”

“No, Tatsuki. I had no idea you liked her, I would’ve never had - and what do you mean ‘my girl’?!”

She ignores the question and chooses instead to ask in reply: “Have you talked to Rukia?”

A beat.

“... We’re not discussing this, Tatsuki.” 

“Like, really talked to her? ‘Cuz I know you, and a whole lot of this bullshit could’ve been avoided had you just - “

“I’m not discussing this with you Tatsuki.” He looks down at his phone, lighting up the screen to look at the time. “Look, there’s a few more hours until practice and I wanted to get in some writing - “

“Of course you do.”

“... Just do me a favor. Please? Don’t - don’t ask me to talk about that stuff. You’re my friend and you scare the shit out of me - but I’m drawing the line there. Unless it has something to do with the band - “

She’s getting pissed all over again. “Ichigo, you know it effects the band - “

“We’re professional.” He snaps, and the quick show of temper stuns Tatsuki. He’s never had the nerve to talk to her like that, ever.

She’d be impressed if it wasn’t for the circumstances.

“... Congrats again on you and Orihime. I’ll see you two at practice tonight.” 

He slams the door.

“... And you can kick my ass for doing that, later!” His muffled shout sounds from the other side of the door. 

Tatsuki leaves in a hell of a less good mood than when she came.

[bastardtetsu]

{day 09} vanilla ice cream | tsukki x reader

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, secret pen pal, mutual pining a lil bit?

wc: 1.5k

warnings: sick reader (hangover/cold), mention of drinking, some swearing, tsukki showing human empathy

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

somehow it all reminds me of doctor jekyll and mister hyde for right before my eyes, a man that i despise has turned into a man i like

—vanilla ice cream; she loves me (music by jerry bock, lyrics by sheldon harnick)

the first thing you notice as you wake up is your pounding headache. it’s hard to be surprised at your state after the amount of alcohol you consumed last night - not without good reason, of course. as awful as you’re feeling now, it’s nothing compared to the hell that was last night.

it wasn’t supposed to go like that - it was supposed to be a magical, maybe even romantic evening. you had been looking forward to meeting your mystery friend ever since the two of you started messaging each other online, but you hadn’t expected to develop a full-blown crush on this person without even finding out what they look like.

but the more you got to know their personality, exchanging playlists and talking about your similar tastes in music, the more your messages to each other became fonder, even flirty at times. perhaps it was the level of anonymity that made you both so comfortable talking to each other, but you quickly became each other’s most trusted confidants.

when you started working at the record store, things became a little more stressful as you adjusted to your schedule becoming tighter, having to handle the occasional nasty customer, and dealing with one coworker in particular who must have being rude to you written into his DNA. talking with your anonymous friend is a much-needed escape, a distraction from the mundane, a hidden treasure that only you get to enjoy.

so as you sat waiting in the cafe last night, a rose laid out on the table as you had promised your dear friend, nothing could’ve killed your vibe faster than the aforementioned rude coworker - tsukishima kei - showing up and ruining everything.

you could tell he was only there because you’d insisted on leaving work early to make this date, and he wanted to see if you were lying. he only proved his intentions more when he had the audacity to sit down at your table and make jabs at you for meeting up with someone you met online.

“you’ve been waiting an awful long time haven’t you?” he taunted.

“tsukki, if you don’t leave this table—“

“and you’ve never even met them? this is how people get murdered, you know,” he sneered condescendingly. you almost got thrown out because of how loudly you screamed at him. thankfully you didn’t - although you did seem to strike some nerves with tsukishima, which you felt a bit bad about - but even though you waited at the cafe until closing, nobody showed up, leaving you alone with a single rose and a full bottle of wine.

needless to say, you have every reason to feel like shit this morning. not only are you hungover and heartbroken, having heard nothing but radio silence from your friend, you’re starting to feel lightheaded and stuffy-nosed too. you waste no time calling in sick, burying yourself in your blankets as you try your best to shut out the pounding in your head and the salty tears beginning to sting the backs of your eyelids.

suddenly, a knock at the door jolts you back to reality. “who is it?” you call out weakly.

another knock. you drag yourself out of bed with a quiet groan and go to answer the door, only to be met with a familiar lanky blond.

“what do you want, tsukishima,” you demand dryly, “did you have something you forgot to say last night? if you do say it fast, i don’t feel well today.”

“yeah i know, you called out of work,” he replies ambivalently, “that’s why i’m here.”

“oh, so you’re here to check up on me again, make sure i’m not slacking off?” you taunt him, your temper rising.

“that’s not—“

“you gonna go back to work and tell everyone i’m lying? that i just don’t care about my job?”

“no i’m n—“

“well joke’s on you, four-eyes, ‘cause guess what? i’m not giving you the chance.” you immediately start gathering your belongings, preparing to go to work.

“what?”

“i won’t be that late,” you mumble to yourself, throwing a coat over your arm as you hurriedly grab your keys, “fuck— where the hell is my other shoe??”

“oi,” tsukishima says firmly, “y/n. you need to lie down.”

“fuck off,” you bite back at him.

“no seriously, you look like you have a fever.”

“i don’t care,” you snarl, “help me look for my shoe, i know it’s here somewhere—HEY!!!”

there’s not much you can do but continue screaming at him as tsukishima scoops you up in his scrawny arms - which are evidently way stronger than they look - and carries you to your bed, dumping you unceremoniously on top of the blankets.

“THE FUCK WAS THAT?!?” you shout. he just shrugs.

“what was i supposed to do? you wouldn’t get back in bed.” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. arrogant prick. you slump down into your blankets, feeling too depleted to pick a fight anymore.

“i brought you something.”

your head shoots up as a plastic grocery bag lands next to it. opening it up, you find a tub of vanilla ice cream inside. “it’s the best thing to eat when you’re sick,” he states.

“a-ah,” you stutter hesitantly, “thanks.” is tsukishima being… nice to you?

“did that uh… friend of yours ever show up?” he asks cautiously.

“no,” you mutter bitterly, “i waited til closing. guess you were right, meeting some stranger from the internet really was a stupid idea.”

“hm,” he grunts awkwardly, looking away from you.

“i mean,” you continue, “the least they could’ve done was give me some sort of explanation. instead they just fucking ghosted—“

“they didn’t ghost,” tsukishima interjects suddenly, almost defensive. “i mean— it hasn’t even been a day, they’ll probably hit you up later.”

“and how do you know?”

“because—“ he stops short, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “i saw the guy last night. on the way out of the cafe.”

“wait—what??” you exclaim, “you saw them? how do you know??”

“they were supposed to be holding a rose, right? like the one you had?”

“yeah— wait, how do you know about that?”

“it wasn’t hard to figure out. people usually don’t sit at cafes with loose flowers on the table unless it’s something dumb like that.”

“shut up, you wouldn’t know romance if it bit you in the ass,” you snap back, “so he’s a guy? what did he look like? did you talk to him? what did he say?”

“yeah, uh— he asked if i knew you,” tsukishima recounts, “and he wanted me to tell you he’s sorry for bailing, but something else came up.”

“anything else??” the eager glow in your eyes is suffocating as you stare him down, hungry for more details.

“yeah. he— he was kinda ugly.”

“…seriously?” you respond, half unimpressed with his attempt at a joke and half nervous that he isn’t joking at all.

“what, does that matter?” tsukishima replies mockingly, “i thought you liked him for his personality.”

“i do,” you jab, “and you know what, i don’t care what he looks like. and i certainly don’t care about what your salty ass thinks of him. i’m gonna message him right now, actually”

“have fun,” he says dismissively, turning to make his way out before pausing to pull a record from the vinyl collection on your shelf. “you like this album?”

“yeah, duh. it’s been one of my favorites for years.”

“huh. me too,” he replies, “it’s crazy how it stays with me. sometimes i swear i can hear it in my head while i’m asleep.”

“that’s funny,” you say, “my friend does the same thing. he hears it in his sleep.”

“heh. that is funny,” he mutters quietly as he turns to leave.

“tsukki—“ you stop him before he exits, “thanks for today. you’re not as awful as i thought.” a tentative smile graces your lips.

“whatever,” he mutters, quickly turning his face away from yours, “see you at work tomorrow.” as he retreats out the door, he prays you didn’t notice his blushing cheeks.

once tsukishima is out the door, you waste no time crafting a new message to your friend - but you find yourself struggling to piece together sentences as you snack on the ice cream tsukki brought you, the cold sensation easing your aching throat. was that really the same guy who’s been an asshole to you since the day you started working with him?

it’s incredible that the two of you even spent 2 minutes together without being at each other’s throats like usual, and even more so that someone as harsh and bitter as tsukishima would do something as kind as show up at your door with ice cream when you’re sick. he even said something to make you feel better - and it worked.

realizing that you’ve zoned out, you quickly snap your attention back to your message. but as you continue typing, you find your thoughts continually drifting back to the tall, bespectacled blond and his uncharacteristic kindness.

by the time you manage to write what you have to say and hit send, tsukishima is safely out of earshot when the new message pings on his phone.

he smiles and hopes that you figure it out soon, too.

a/n: i hope the ending for this one is clear addsdsdf,,,, i watched the entire roundabout she loves me revival to get inspired for this (and by get inspired i mean remember the plot details of she loves me bc i had only seen it once before lmao) tbh the narrative of this fic actually covers like 3 different songs, bc old musicals are weird and thought it was necessary to make looking for a shoe an entire number. anyways, all I have to offer you today is laura benanti being utter perfection and all of my love <3

taglist: @izagraceee​ @musicgetsmeoutofbed​ @azo-musxas​ @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp

[onceinabluehanguangjun]

moon in my window

Summary: for the @mdzsnet Lan Wangji birthday celebration, have some chronically depressed Lan Zhan and how his family (main focus on his husband) helps support him

Word Count: ~4k

Tags: depression, post-canon

ao3

“Ah, Er-gege, you’re too kind.”

Lan Wangji sat on the edge of the bed, a cup of tea in his hand which he held out to Wei Wuxian. He smiled in thanks, but couldn’t hide the wince. Mo Xuanyu’s body was admittedly very good at putting up with Wei Wuxian’s spirit, but it was still much less accustomed to him than Wei Wuxian’s previous body and therefore was much more susceptible to silly things. Like runny noses and never-ending headaches. Apparently Mo Xuanyu didn’t overwork his brain in the same way Wei Wuxian did. Who would’ve guessed?

With the wave of Lan Wangji’s hand, the little bit of light that shined through the paper windows was gone and they were engulfed in darkness. It lessened the pressure on his temples just enough to be thankful even more.

“Is this medicinal?” Wei Wuxian asked softly. Lan Wangji hummed his confirmation. “Ah, we should talk to Wen Ning and see if he remembered the tea Wen Qing would make me whenever I wouldn’t let her stick me with needles. It always worked for whatever was messing with me.”

“I will,” Lan Wangji said softly, voice low and careful as to not make it worse.

Wei Wuxian drank the tea as fast as his body would allow before he put the cup back in Lan Wangji’s hands and tipped forward. His head rested against the soft, expensive fabric that all the Lans wore and it just made him want to pull him into bed and trap him there for hours. Well, most things about him made him want to do that.

“Can Er-gege stay in today? Sleep sounds so nice.”

“I cannot,” Lan Wangji said softly, his arm wrapping around him and his warm hand pressing to his lower back. Wei Wuxian whined quietly, as much as his headache would allow.

“You’re Chief Cultivator, no one can tell you what to do,” Wei Wuxian said. Lan Zhan hummed, holding him carefully and closely.

“Senior Wei is the one who has a class to teach,” he said. Wei Wuxian blinked a few times as his thoughts shifted back into focus. Sometimes it was too easy to forget how good things had become. He had a husband, he had a garden, he got to teach cute little Lans about using their heads instead of just reciting rules.

All of which he loved, but a whine still found its way out into the world as he thought about having to teach when even the shielded sun of the Cloud Recesses hurt him.

“Lan Zhan, who let me have responsibilities?”

Lan Wangji breathed in slowly, head bowing to rest against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. He sat there for a moment and, truthfully, for a moment he thought he might’ve convinced him to spend all day in bed.

“Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian breathed, sliding his hand beneath his hair to touch the nape of his neck. Lan Wangji seemed to rest a little more weight on Wei Wuxian which was admittedly out of character. He turned his head a bit to look at him, squinting in the darkness to get a better look at his face, headache be damned. He looked fine, if only just laying against Wei Wuxian. “Ah, Lan Zhan, I see. You do want to stay in bed.”

There was a long stretch of silence before a low grunt of agreement. Wei Wuxian smiled and scratched at where his hair met his neck.

“I can’t, you see,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Lan Wangji’s clothed shoulder, “This humble one has a class to teach.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said. He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position and Wei Wuxian felt warmed at how much he’d been able to wear him down even if they did have to get up.

Still, they sat long enough for Lan Wangji to pass him some spiritual energy to help him power through his headache and then he was pulled to his feet.

-

“Ready, Wei-qianbei?”

“As ever. Give it a try.”

Wei Wuxian leaned back on his palms as he watched Lan Jingyi focus very hard to activate the talisman he’d invented. Their assignment for the week was to create a new spell or talisman of some sort inspired by the word ‘alarm’. He shouldn’t have been surprised when a piercing noise wailed through the room in one short burst before the talisman disintegrated. Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but laugh at the hoard of Lans all covering their ears with wide, annoyed eyes turned to Jingyi who sat with red cheeks as if that wasn’t what he intended. They all knew it was.

“Perfect! That’ll startle anything,” Wei Wuxian praised, leaning forward to scribble notes for grading later. Jingyi smiled, any embarrassment gone away to make room for pride as he went to sit back beside Sizhui.

It’d taken awhile to get Lan Qiren to let him teach for real. Weeks of having him shadow every single thing Wei Wuxian did around the littlest juniors, constant grunts of disapproval, a whole separate sheet for grading Wei Wuxian that he would bring to his attention over tea every evening. But, honestly, he didn’t mind it too much. After everything, it felt somewhat normal. Besides, he was sure Lan Qiren liked him a bit more by the time he willingly handed over a few classes.

Convincing him of this class specifically, though, was a bit tougher and had to be discussed with all of the Lan Elders in a very formal meeting that required Wei Wuxian to break out his single set of white robes. They’d waited until Lan Wangji was off on a night hunt, getting rid of his unrelentingly protective gaze before bringing Wei Wuxian in to discuss giving the older disciples lessons on creating new things so they’d be better equipped to come up with something if they ever got stuck‒or at least that’s how he sold it. The minimum age they’d agreed on was the group that were done with all other sit-down classes and tended to be the main ones going on night hunts which was fair enough. It meant he got to spend more time with Lan Sizhui and he’d never complain about that.

“Alright, who’s next?”

Before anyone could even respond, the doors to the lanshi burst open. Lan Wangji stood in the doorway, tall and regal and intimidating and every bit Hanguang-Jun. Wei Wuxian felt his heart flutter childishly in his chest as if that wasn’t his husband. Husband. Ah, wasn’t that incredible?

The juniors’ eyes followed Lan Wangji as he basically glided down the walkway. Wei Wuxian smiled as he came near despite the rigid set to his features. He knew he had some important‒which typically translated to annoying‒business today. 

“Have you come to learn on your break, Hanguang-Jun?” Wei Wuxian teased. Somehow, though, the crease between his eyebrows deepened and worry pricked at Wei Wuxian. Was he angry with him for some reason?

Lan Wangji walked up to the teacher’s platform and to the side of his desk before kneeling on the ground. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened as Lan Wangji bowed his head into his lap before adjusting himself. And there he was, the great Hanguang-Jun, laying on the floor with his face buried in his husband’s stomach and his arms wrapped around his torso. Wei Wuxian wondered if Lan Wangji could feel how hard his heart was beating.

Considering this was rather unprecedented, Wei Wuxian dumbly looked up at the juniors to guard their reactions. All of them with one exception were looking anywhere in the room other than the scene on the platform. Wei Wuxian locked eyes with Lan Sizhui‒who, for once, didn’t seem too flustered by such a bold display‒and watched as he gave a curt little nod. He wasn’t sure what he was nodding about, but he assumed it was a subtle way of saying to just let it happen. As if he needed approval to do that.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said softly, resting his hand on his husband’s cheek. He used his thumb to smooth out his already perfect eyebrows and couldn’t help his smile as Lan Wangji visibly relaxed a little. His eyes stayed closed and he looked every bit like the jade everyone said he was. “Alright. Sleep well.”

Wei Wuxian looked back up, his hands sliding to cradle the back of Lan Wangji’s head against his stomach. 

“Anyone got a quieter one to try next?”

-

Lan Wangji stayed put for the entire length of his break before silently getting up and walking back out.

His class was nearly over at this point, but it was clear everyone had questions that he couldn’t answer. Their Hanguang-Jun had definitely changed and gotten more bold since Wei Wuxian came to live in the Cloud Recesses, but not like that. That was… Well, there was something wrong, to say the least. Even if it was sweet to just have him lay there for at least four incense sticks worth of time. He would have to ask him once they got back to the jingshi.

“You all did great today. For next week, how about something inspired by the word ‘heat’,” Wei Wuxian said. 

“Wei-qianbei, don’t we already have at least a few different existing talismans for that?” Lan Huizhong asked. He grinned as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Looks like you’ll have to think quite hard to come up with something, hm?” he said. Lan Huizhong smiled just a little bit‒no excessive smiling and all‒and bowed.

Wei Wuxian gathered his things and started to walk out of the lanshi. He was going to drop these off at the jingshi and then he planned to slip in on one of Lan Xichen’s sword forms classes. He did that relatively often and could feel the way that was slowly but surely helping to build Mo Xuanyu’s core. If he played it off like he was just there because he was bored, no one needed to call him out on it.

“Wei-qianbei, may this disciple speak with you for a moment?” Lan Sizhui called. Wei Wuxian grinned as he spun to see him, though stopped himself from teasing him about the formal way he called him when he saw the serious set of his features. It seemed everyone was very serious today.

“You don’t even need to ask,” he said. Lan Sizhui looked around to make sure they were alone and still took a step closer. He was breaking some rule, Wei Wuxian thought‒impropriety, personal space, secrecy, something. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s Hanguang-Jun,” he said softly. Wei Wuxian was very interested at this point and stepped even closer. “He is… melancholy.”

Wei Wuxian searched his face as he slowly repeated, “Melancholy?”

That didn’t sound right. Lan Wangji had made him tea this morning and shared his spiritual energy. Lan Wangji had smiled when Wei Wuxian had braided his hair the night before and had smiled before he bedded him. Lan Wangji had shared a bath with him, had washed his hair, had done many, many things for him as he did every day. That didn’t seem melancholy.

“Forgive this disciple’s forwardness,” Sizhui said, though he didn’t sound like he was sorry. He sounded, Wei Wuxian thought with untimely fondness, like the man who raised him. “This humble one does not mean to insinuate that Wei-qianbei does not know his husband well. Wei-qianbei is attentive and thoughtful, that is obvious. But… Xian-gege, for all that you may know him and see him and spend time with him, I know him better than anyone.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t even be hurt by that statement. It was the truth that Lan Sizhui had probably spent more time with Lan Wangji than anyone else in the world, perhaps even rivalling Zewu-Jun at this point. Lan Wangji had admitted in the dark of one night that he’d spent many years paranoid that people would find out his A-Yuan was a Wen and that they’d go after him, so he kept him out of the dormitories until he was nearly fourteen and even then made a point to watch over him as often as he could just in case. Of course he knew him well.

“He’s always been… sad, I suppose, but some days are worse than others. Sometimes he can seem happy and other days it’s…” Lan Sizhui trailed off, looking to the side and swallowing. Wei Wuxian’s stomach twisted in his gut. “He’s been very well since you got back, but today is one of those… other days. Zewu-Jun and I handled it in the past, but now it’s sort of your duty as his husband, isn’t it?”

“Yes, A-Yuan, I think it is,” Wei Wuxian agreed. Sizhui’s shoulders relaxed a bit and that familiar smile found his lips.

“If you need help, just ask. It isn’t something you can fix completely, it’s more of making sure he doesn’t feel worse and alone. I think he’d appreciate your company. He did come to you,” Lan Sizhui said. Wei Wuxian nodded and tried to smile through the guilt in his stomach. How blind he’d been to his husband’s feelings.

“He did. I’ll do my best, thank you,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Xian-gege,” Sizhui said before he could walk too far away, reaching out to grab his arm, “It really isn’t your fault, it’s no one’s fault. It just… is.”

“It is a bit my fault,” Wei Wuxian suggested, laughing softly to try to make the guilt sound less, well, guilty, “I didn’t see it before.”

“How could you see something you weren’t looking for, though?” Lan Sizhui said, “And, really, he has been much happier since you came back.”

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian said, trying his best to get rid of the guilt. There was no place for that when he needed to just take care of his husband in the way he took care of him. “We’ll have tea tomorrow, all three of us.”

Lan Sizhui smiled and nodded, “I’d like that.”

-

Wei Wuxian had to convince himself to not skip Zewu-Jun’s sword forms class. Lan Wangji still had meetings and Wei Wuxian would be helping no one by pacing around the jingshi for hours. Besides, he would still need his strength, wouldn’t he?

His mind, however, wasn’t all there as he thought about Lan Wangji and started dissecting every moment to see what he’d missed. This morning when it took him longer than usual to get out of bed, was that a sign and something he would need to look for? That distraction, however, led to a small, eight year old Lan accidentally nicking Wei Wuxian’s cheek with his sword. It wasn’t even enough to bleed, but Young Lans crying in guilt was not a part of the agenda and class ended early.

That left Wei Wuxian to go back to the jingshi and wait for Lan Wangji to be done for the day so he could do his best to make up for all the times he’d had Lan Wangji coddle him when he was the one who needed to be coddled. He prepared a bath, talismans on it to keep it warm, and stripped to nothing but his underrobe. After letting his hair down entirely, Wei Wuxian decided to meditate. He hated it, but it passed the time while also helping his core, so he settled in.

It was easy to slip out of it the moment Lan Wangji walked in, eyes visibly tired and shoulders rigid. Wei Wuxian rose to his feet and met him near the door, conjuring an easy grin.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he said softly, reaching up to hold his face in his hands. Wei Wuxian didn’t even need to pull him down, Lan Wangji’s body moved towards him as he wrapped him up into a hug. He had to stand on his toes, but he didn’t mind. “Your husband already drew you a bath. Come, let me bathe you, hm?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji hummed. Wei Wuxian smiled and left a kiss on his shoulder before beginning to tug him behind the privacy screen.

Wei Wuxian reached up to remove his forehead ribbon first and folded it neatly to get it out of the way. His hands worked to strip him of his layers and it was hard not to see how much he was putting in to seem like he wasn’t struggling. That crease between his brow, the way his entire body was full of tension, the way he looked exhausted. How hadn’t he noticed before?

“My Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathed, leaving a soft kiss to his chest as he rid him of his last layer, “My love.”

He got rid of his own last layer and got in the bath first before ushering him in. Lan Wangji got in without even one playful look and laid against Wei Wuxian’s chest without any convincing. He sunk into the water up to his chin, his knees poking above the surface in response. Wei Wuxian didn’t know what else to do other than wrap his arms around him and bathe him slowly.

He thought of Sizhui’s words, how there wasn’t anything to actually do. Just make sure he didn’t feel worse or alone. Though Wei Wuxian could remember‒albeit faintly‒times when he’d felt very lonely despite being surrounded by people. He wasn’t sure his presence alone would be helpful.

“Let me hold you tonight,” Wei Wuxian told him, rubbing his hands over his chest, “Is that something you would like?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji hummed. Not even a ‘whatever Wei Ying likes’. Wei Wuxian raked his fingers through his hair. 

Wei Wuxian worked at his body slowly. He didn’t have much spiritual energy to give him, but he tried his best to make up for it in rubbing at all the tense spots and paying extra attention to places Wei Wuxian knew he liked to be touched. The back of his neck, his arms, his hands, things that felt present.

They eventually decided to get out of the bath and move to bed. Lan Wangji seemed to be moving in slow motion as he got out of the bath. Wei Wuxian didn’t bother with drying him off with a cloth, instead making a talisman to dry them both.

“Did you eat anything, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asked as they both got dressed in night robes. Lan Wangji made a noise that translated to no. “Should I go get something from the kitchens?” Another ‘no’ noise. “Lan Wangji, you have to eat something.”

Then there were no noises.

Wei Wuxian looked over to his husband to see him staring at him, all that tension he’d tried to get out of his body filling him right back up like it’d never left. It seemed he’d done something wrong. Or, perhaps he’d always been doing something wrong if simply being an attentive husband set off alarm bells in Lan Wangji’s mind.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, what are you staring at?” Wei Wuxian asked, hoping to play it off as he sat in bed, “Am I not allowed to be responsible for once?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said and maybe Wei Wuxian was being a little bit more obvious than he thought.

With a sigh, Wei Wuxian patted the bed and Lan Wangji climbed in beside him. Wei Wuxian led his head to his chest and held him there for a moment while he thought of a way to say what he was thinking and not be insulting.

“Sizhui and I had a talk today,” Wei Wuxian told him, running his fingers through his hair slowly, “And he said that you were sad. He said that you were always sad. What kind of husband have I been if I haven’t noticed, ah?”

Lan Wangji had gone tense again, but he didn’t try to pull away. His fingers slipped over Wei Wuxian’s collarbone, careful as silk.

“Does it bother you?” Lan Wangji asked carefully. Wei Wuxian made a hurt noise, trying to keep the situation as light as he could.

“Aiya, Hanguang-Jun, how could you accuse me of such a thing? As if anything about you could bother me!” Wei Wuxian said, reaching out with his other arm to grab his thigh. He pulled Lan Wangji until he was all but cradled in his lap like a baby, regardless of how much bigger than Wei Wuxian he actually was.

“Wei Ying…”

“No,” Wei Wuxian said, sighing as he allowed himself to be a little serious. He rubbed his thumb in small circles against his husband’s thigh, still keeping him in his arms, “No, it doesn’t bother me. I… Obviously it isn’t the same, but I do understand the constant of it, I guess. Shijie was, for as long as I can remember, nearly always ill, some days worse than others. The way Sizhui explained it made it seem like that’s how it is for you, only… melancholy.”

“There is nothing left to mourn that is more powerful than Wei Ying breathing,” Lan Wangji said slowly, hesitantly, “And yet I still… It seems I forgot it was this way since the beginning.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, don’t let that make you worse, alright? I understand, I do! There is nothing worse than feeling bad when you have every reason to be happy, I understand,” Wei Ying said, trying his damnedest not to crawl out of his skin while saying that aloud. But Lan Zhan needed it. He was meant to make him feel less lonely, wasn’t he? “I do apologize for being so needy this morning. I didn’t realize.”

Lan Wangji shook his head. “No apologies.”

“Yes, but‒”

“Wei Ying will have whatever he desires.”

 “Ah, Lan Zhan, don’t say things like that, I might take advantage,” Wei Wuxian said warmly, nuzzling his nose into the top of his head, “But, truly, it’s alright. I’m here and I plan to annoy you for the rest of this life and probably a few more, so of course it doesn’t bother me. You may have to tell me sometimes if I don’t notice right away, but I will never mind it. I get to cuddle you during class and everything. Do you know what I would’ve done in my first life if you cuddled me in class? I would’ve fainted!”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji hummed. But his eyes had closed and he let his body relax a bit more in Wei Wuxian’s grip. 

Wei Wuxian smiled and traced his jaw with his thumb, pulling his legs a bit closer so he could cover him up with a blanket. If this is how bad days ended for the rest of their life, he wouldn’t mind.

“My cute little Hanguang-Jun, so small,” Wei Wuxian cooed, kissing the side of his face as he tucked the blanket around him. A smile pulled at Lan Wangji’s lips and although it didn’t stay, it still was worth everything. “Ah, you like that? Should I baby you more, my love? My A-Zhan, hm?”

It was easy to just hold him and cover him in kisses and cuddles without any expectation for him to say anything back or even smle if he didn’t want to. Wei Wuxian held him until he fell asleep and then held him a bit longer before he eventually had to slowly get up and find something to eat. There were some loquats in a bowl that were there for any late night snacking on Wei Wuxian’s part or just if he forgot to eat in the first place, so he sat and ate a few while staring where Lan Wangji laid the entire time. It wasn’t until he crawled back into bed that Wei Wuxian realized he no longer felt guilty.

It simply was and would be and Wei Wuxian was more than willing to take it in stride.

[lovehugsandcandy]

A Queen Protects Her King (Colt x MC, ROD, N*FW)

A/N: @brightpinkpeppercorn‘s inspiration and my lack of self control created…whatever the hell this is.

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: 6180 words (really long, sorry, I don’t know what happened here)

Rating: N*FW (Smut. But there’s plot for once!)

Summary: A mission goes awry and, as always, Colt is damn lucky Ellie’s there to save the day.

Logan opened his mouth then closed it with a sigh, running his hands through his hair with a sigh. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”  The base thundered from the club next to them, vibrations running up her spine. It was already giving her a headache.

Ellie already knew it was important. He and Toby both looked pale and worried, more scared than she had ever seen them. In turn, that scared her. “We’re supposed to be having girls’ night.”

“Well, now it’s work night.” Logan shrugged, pacing in the dim light of the alley way. “I don’t know what else to do. The earpieces aren’t working. Maybe he’s in the basement?”

“I just don’t understand.” Ellie turned to look at Mona, her face hidden in the shadows. They were supposed to be having a fun night, Mona agreeing to take her and Ximena to Hyrieus for a night of dancing and blowing off steam. Apparently, the boys had other plans. “Why not Mona? She is much better suited for this.”

“They know what we all look like, all of us. Except for you.” Toby was wringing his hands in front of him. 

“How do you know that?” 

“Kaneko said as much on the phone. Ellie, he was panicked, panicked. I’ve never heard him like that! You know how he is.” Logan rubbed his temple. “He’s still an hour away, he’s not gonna make it in time.”

“But…but…Logan, you hate him.”

“That doesn’t mean I want him dead!” He breathed out, words harsh between his teeth, eyes blazing.

Ellie froze, stomach dropping. “You think they’ll kill him?” .

“I know they’ll kill him if we don’t get him out of there.” Logan eyes were serious, deadly serious. Ellie could feel the color draining from her face as she looked at them all in turn. She was met with only frowns. The walls of the alleyway began to in on her as she tried to force air into her lungs; she blinked, a few times, willing her body to stay upright.

“I’ll be in your ear, ok?” Logan handed an earpiece to her. ”I’ll give Mona the other piece as well.”

Mona nodded and clasped her arm. “We got you.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“We don’t really have a choice, do we? I have the blue prints. Toby and Ximena, can you guys come up with a distraction? Something big in case we need to run.” Logan turned to her and put his hands on her shoulders, the comforting gesture insufficient to warm the chill in her bones. “The plan is simple. Get in, get Colt, get out. You got it?”

She took a deep breath and nodded, stuffing her hands in her pockets so he couldn’t see them shake. Get in, get Colt, don’t die, get out. She got it.

~~~~~

“What now?” The room was loud and chaotic, barely clothed partiers jumping and gyrating en masse on the huge dance floor in front of her, lasers shooting across the ceiling in a dizzying array. A few months ago, she wouldn’t have known places like this existed outside of movies, being so far removed from this scene. But now? Not only was she in this world, she had the life-or-death responsibility of getting Colt out of here in one piece. If the lights weren’t enough bring her close to vomitting, the circumstances and stakes of this night definitely were.

“Ok, do you see the kitchen? To the left of the bar, back wall?” It was hard to hear Logan over the drunken shrieking and Rihanna echoing around the room; she covered her ear with her fingers to dampen the revelry around her.

Her gaze trailed around the room, through the crowd and lights. “Yep, I see it.”

“Ok. We think they are in the basement and the only way down is through the kitchen. Go in and it looks like the door should be on your left, past a walk-in freezer.”

“You want me to just sneak into the kitchen?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Ellie watched a small girl balance an impossibly heavy tray of drinks on her shoulder. She moved around the crowd easily, sidestepping the drunks before arriving at a high-top table and handing out martinis. “You know, I think I do. Is there an employee break room on those blueprints?”

~~~~~

It was easy enough to get into the break room, following the directions that Mona fed into her ear, keeping her head down as she edged through the club. She was able to find the uniforms, skimpy as hell, but stashed in an open locker. She was even able to find one that fit and put it on. Fortunately, she fit right in with the clubbers and staff and pounding music and blinding strobe lights. Unfortunately, she looked like a stripper. She studied herself in the mirror, trembling fingers trying to pull the wisp of a shirt both down and up at the same time.

She shook her head. This would have to do. She headed out towards the dance floor, spinning past dancers and edging into kitchen. Her disguise seemed to be working, the other staff members barely paying her any mind as she walked though the din, eyes darting back-and-forth, shoulders tense. She had just made it to the freezer, mere steps from the basement door, when a harsh voice stopped her in her tracks.

“If you’re going down there, you better help me with these.” Ellie spun to see a waitress next to a full tray of drinks, stiletto heel tapping a harried beat against the floor.

“Umm….ok.” The girl barely gave her a glace as she lifted the tray onto her shoulder with the fluid movements of a pro. Ellie took a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves. “Just so you know, it’s my first day.”

“Urgh.” The girl groaned, eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Of course it is. I’m Ginger and here are the rules: Downstairs? Anything goes. Anything to keep them happy. I don’t care if they want you to strip naked and drizzle chocolate sauce all over your whooha, you do it.”

“Wait, what-”

Ginger continued, barely sparing Ellie a glance. “Also, you keep your mouth shut. Hear no evil, see no evil, all that shit. You wanna get paid? You need a quiet lip. I’ll carry the drinks, you take the lighter, don’t fuck it up.”

With a huff, she opened the door and descend into darkness; Ellie could only follow, praying that Logan was right and she was heading in the right direction, not a underworld portal guaranteeing either her doom or chocolate sauce in inappropriate locations.

Carefully, she shut the door behind her and crept down the stairs, eyes on her feet so she wouldn’t fall in the obscene heels she swiped. Ellie was slightly envious; the full tray of drinks, a mix of martinis, shots, and glasses full of dark liquid, barely swayed as Ginger floated down the stairs. It was definitely better for everyone that Ellie could focus on walking, one foot in front of the other. It was all she could do to keep the dread in the pit of her stomach at bay.

The air was stale as she descended, the music dimming, base barely filtering though the walls. It smelled of booze and smoke, old smoke, the kind that seeps into walls over decades of illicit activities. Ellie shivered despite herself. It was dark, foreboding; this room had seen its fair share of secrets and lies.

When her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she had to bite her lip to keep the gasp in. There were four people sitting around a low table, sleek couches and plush chairs pulled together to facilitate a subdued conversation, voices quiet, so low Ellie couldn’t make out a word. And, thank God, Colt was indeed there, sitting on the couch furthest from her, long limbs splayed out, showcasing the confidence that drove her crazy when they first met. He was in a suit, sharp lines perfectly fitting the definition of his chest, arm curled over the back of the couch as he spoke to someone next to him. She could feel her shoulders relax just seeing him alive and well, knowing he was mere steps away.

She took a deep breath and willed her feet to follow Ginger; all she wanted to do was sprint across the room, grab Colt’s hand, and pull him out of here as fast as she could. He hadn’t noticed her yet, intent on the conversation, eyes tracking the man next to him. Now that she looked around, everyone was in a suit and everyone seemed dangerous, hard eyes, tense posture. Crap, she did not want to be here.

Ginger wordlessly held out the tray, indicating with her head where the drinks were going. Martini here, shot there. Finally, a dark amber liquor, on the rocks, and Ginger inclined her head towards Colt.

He turned his head as she approached; she could pinpoint the exact moment he realized it was her. His eyes widened as they met hers, a quick awkward cough escaping his lips, followed by a sweep of his head where he took in the look on her face, her outfit, the drink in her hands. Quickly, so quickly she hoped everyone else missed it, he schooled his face back into an neutral expression, trying to hide the recognition that flashed over his features. However, his eyes were still trained on her as she slid the glass in front of him, watching his jaw work as he swallowed, eyes following her every move.

“Thank you.“ 

She only smiled back, a quick quirk of her eyebrows. How was she going to be able to talk to him here?

One of the men laughed, low and dangerous, to her right. “I’ve never known you to take an interest in our other offerings before, boy.”

Colt’s eyes narrowed, slightly; Ellie only saw it because they still hadn’t broken eye contact, were still staring at each other. Now that she was here, in front of him, the butterflies in her stomach were for a completely different reason. Her fear was fading into the back of her mind, supplanted by heat in Colt’s eyes, arcing through the room and settling in her spine.

“Maybe your offerings were never interesting until now.” His voice was rough, a tone she was familiar with after long nights of little sleep. His eyes traced down, looking again at the outfit, what it covered and what it didn’t, gaze a slow meander back up. All the air had left the room, left her lungs; she was drowning in his eyes, boring into hers, all hunger and danger and desire.

She slowly raised her hand to flick the lighter, trying to break his spell on her, to bring her focus to the mission at hand. “Anyone need a light?”

She went around the room, carefully sliding around couches and legs, flicking the lighter for the pair with cigarettes hanging out if their mouths. She meant to pay attention, to study their faces to remember for later, just in case. However, she couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Colt, watching him through her lashes, watching him watch her.

He reached toward the table. “I’ll take a light.”

She had to bite her tongue to stop the ‘you don’t even smoke’ from slipping out. His eyes never left hers as he slid the cigarette from the pack, placing it between his lips with an quick incline of this head. Her stomach dipped.

She was aware of the eyes on her, everyone in the room watching the sway of her hips and tilt of her head as she sauntered over to him, stopping so close that she fit in between his splayed legs, looking down, taking in the long lines, graceful form, gathering her courage.

Slowly, she dropped down, sliding into his lap as his eyes widened, darkened. Her skirt was hitching up, dangerously high, but she couldn’t bring herself to care as their hips met and Colt placed his palm on her bare thigh. She leaned forward, even further, feeling his soft exhale against her ear as their chests met and she slid her cheek next to his.

Once there was no space between them, body lighting up where they were touching, she spoke, barely a breath, as softly as she could. “We have to leave. Now.”

Then she pulled back, still in his lap, still connected hip-to-hip, cheek sliding back against his, a slow brush of skin-on-skin, to deliver the ghost of a kiss to the corner of his lip. He gave no indication that he heard or understood the message and just stared at her, eyes smoldering, hand still edging higher and higher up her thigh. She flicked the lighter, holding the flame to the end of the cigarette as he slowly inhaled.

Carefully, she stood, disappointed when she had to back away, nerves still tingling where they had touched. But, she couldn’t resist one last caress, one last curve of her hand down his jaw line, his chin, as she pulled away, keeping his eyes on hers as she turned.

Before she went up the stairs, she paused, turning her head to look, flashing a coy smile when their eyes met again.

Not that she needed to check. His eyes hadn’t left hers since he saw her.

~~~~~

“They want to see you again.“

"Hmmm…?” Ginger came up the stairs behind her. Ellie was scoping out the kitchen, trying to figure out the quickest way out. 

“Apparently, you caught the eye of a VIP.” Ginger rolled her eyes. “Private room. This way.”

Ginger led her out the kitchen’s back door, down another corridor, another set of stairs. The maze of this place was confusing; thank God Logan had the blueprints to this place. Ellie had doubts about her ability to get them out safely by herself.

Another corridor and turn of a door knob. Ginger held open the door for her, ushering her in, closing it with a click behind her before her eyes had a chance to adjust.

It was dim in here, smaller than the other room but the feel was the same, dark and dangerous. There was a single chandelier bouncing flickering light across the furniture and, standing across the room, facing away, was a dark silhouette.

She heart leapt to her throat. She would know that figure anywhere. “Oh my God, you-”

Colt whirled around and caught her eye, the small shake of the head making her pause. Before she could speak, he strode forward. “I’m Colt.”

“Colt, I’m-” The look in his eyes made her stop. She followed his gaze around the room before it clicked. “Uhhh...I’m new?”

His eyes sparkled and he took a step closer, predatory. “Is it your first day?”

“Yeah…” She bit her lip. “What were you doing in there?”

Colt’s grinn widened. “Business.” Another step closer so he could trail a hand down her arm. “But now could be the pleasure part of the evening?”

Before she could respond, he came even closer, ducking his head to speak in her ear. “Shhh….room’s bugged.”

“Pleasure part of the evening?” She whispered, unable to keep the smile from her voice. “Dear God, that was an awful line.” She could feel Colt smile against her lips and then they were kissing, the taste of smoke and booze sliding onto her tongue, his hands finding their way into her hair. 

She didn’t know if she could pull this off but kissing Colt? Convincingly act like all she wanted to do was fall into his arms and his bed, act like his touch caused sparks over her skin and lightning up her spine, act like her body craved to be twined with him in every way possible? That was no problem at all.

He pulled back to take her hand. “Come here.” He led her through the room, opening the door on the far side to pull her in. It was a bathroom, marble and white gleaming, a stark contrast to the dark rooms she had been in.

“Cigarettes are gross, you know?”

He turned to her with a wicked grin. “Not when you’re the one lighting them.”

Colt let go of her hand to shut the door and turn on the bathtub, as strong as it would go, water thundering out to echo around the tiles.

“Ok, now we can talk.” He turned, eyes flashing as he took her in. “What are you doing here?”

“Your cover’s blown. We need to leave. Now.” She fiddled with the plastic in her ear. “Logan? Mona? You guys there?” She could only hear static, maybe a snippet of someone talking; she couldn’t make it out.

“What do you mean?”

“Your dad called Logan, in a panic. They know who you all are, have photos, everything. They know everybody except for me.” She stepped closer, eyes boring into hers. “They’re gonna kill you if we don’t get out.”

He breathed out, a long exhale. “I can’t leave yet. I don’t have what I need.”

“Colt!” Still only static in her ear. “You’re never gonna get it, whatever it is, if you’re dead.” Her voice wavered at the end, not coming out as convincingly as she hoped. She forced a breath through her nose. “We have to leave. Now.”

“Ellie…”

“Logan tried to get you on your earpiece but he couldn’t get through. I’m only getting static.”

“Whoops.” He shrugged, completely unconcerned and unapologetic. “I tossed it when I got here.” 

“What?”

“I didn’t exactly want him droning in my ear all night. Besides, not all of us can hide it behind long hair.”

She groaned, shoulders falling. “Then what was your plan?”

“Same as it is now. I need five more minutes, that’s all, I swear.” He took her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Then what?”

“Meet me at the back door of the kitchen. Just five minutes. That’s all I need.”

“Colt…” She could only glare at him. “I swear to God…”

She trailed off at his tight smile as he pulled her close. He winked and ducked his head, lips finding where her neck and shoulder met, suction and teeth making her moan. She squeezed his hand, nails digging semicircle indents into his skin as she hovered right on the precipice between pleasure and pain. All too soon, he pulled back, examining the mark his mouth had left. She struggled to catch her breath.

“What are you doing?”

“We’ve been in here for a while.” He threaded his hands through her hair, mussing the strands and shaking them out as she looked at him. “We’ve got to sell it.”

She glanced in the mirror and saw the mess atop her head, familiar now after long nights spent in his bed, the mark on her neck distinctly reddening, where the memory of his mouth still lingered. She did look debauched.

He was impossibly smug, looking at his handiwork, and she surged forward, catching his lips in hers. Her hands flew to his hair, twirling the strands in her fingers haphazardly while her teeth found his lower lip. Next up were his clothes; she ached to pull them all off, make a mess of him the right way, so that there would be no doubt what they spent their time doing in the privacy of this bathroom, where the steam rising to match the heat in her stomach. However, this would have to do. She grabbed the fabric in her hands, pulling and twisting, unbuttoning the suit jacket, loosening the tie, sliding half of his button down shirt out of his pants and popping a few buttons. All the while, her lips never left his.

When he moaned, deep in his throat as her teeth caught his upper lip, she pulled back to survey her own work. Cheeks red, lips chapped and swollen, clothes wrinkled so badly that it was immediately noticeable? “There. Now you’re selling it.”

He only stared, eyes dazed as she turned to leave. Right when she reached the door, she felt a hand on her hip. Without warning, he spun her, pushing her up against the door, soft thud as her back hit the wood. He leaned into her so their lips and hips met, again. But this? This wasn’t to sell anything. This was just for them, for her to feel his hands curling around her waist as his lips battled with hers, for him to grind his hips into hers as the friction made them both moan.

She had to gasp when he pulled away with a whispered, “Five minutes.” It hung in the air between them as he backed away to turn the knob on the bathtub. Even the silence was loud in the bathroom as she caught his eye and took a deep breath. 

Here, they had the illusion of safety, a space where it was just the two of them. Once they opened the door, it was back into the wolf’s den, with no guarantee they would ever emerge.

One more calming breath, a nod, and then she opened the door.

~~~~~

It was easy to duck away from Ginger, claiming that she needed a few minutes; Ginger’s sly smile confirming that the subterfuge was successful. She crept into the hall behind the kitchen, fingers fiddling with the ear piece. “Mona? Logan? You there?”

“Ellie, what’s happening?” Logan’s voice was fading in and out, static overtaking some of his syllables, but he was there.

“Thank God.”

“We couldn’t hear you. I was scared we lost you.”

“I know, I was in the basement.” She looked up and down the hall, goosebumps forming up and down her arms. Were they due to the chill? Her nerves? Who knew? “Listen, I found Colt. We are gonna get out of here in five minutes.” She spoke quickly, not certain how long she could count on being alone.

“What about right now?”

“He said he needed to get something, something important. He is going to meet me behind the kitchen and we’re gonna make a run for it.” She gnawed on her thumbnail, her nervous tic blooming to life while all alone, hallway becoming more menacing by the second. “How is that distraction looking?”

“I’ll check. Five minutes you said?”

“Yeah, prolly less now.” She rubbed her hands on her arms. It was freezing back here, in this dingy hallway, where dangers hid in every shadow. Where was Colt?

“Ok, I’ll check on Ximena and Toby, Let me know when he gets there.”

“Ok.” 

She leaned against the wall. The base was still audible but quieter here; unfortunately, that meant she could hear her own thoughts, her own terror. She straightened up and started pacing, back and forth, trying to keep her feet and her head busy. On her 13th lap, up and down, past the door, side-eyeing it every time as if she could will it to open, finally, finally, the door cracked open and Colt emerged, carefully closing it behind him.

“Thank God.” She couldn’t stop her hand from reaching out to brush his arm. He was here, real, alive. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face when Colt clasped her hand with a gentle squeeze.

“I got it. We’re good to go.”

“Logan? Mona? We’re all set, we gotta go.”

Mona’s voice was short on the line. “We might have a problem with the distraction.”

“What?”

“Well, Toby wanted to hook up a NOS system to this abandoned car but then he started taking the spark plugs out and now we don’t really have much of a car. Or a distraction.”

Colt hovered by her side. “What’s going on?”

“Delay on the distraction.”

He rolled his eyes. “Tell them to screw it and meet us back at the garage.”

She relayed the message and turned towards him. “Now what? We can’t just make a run for it.”

She followed his gaze down the hall, alighting on a small red box on the wall. He turned to her with a smirk. “I think this counts as an emergency, don’t you?”

“I think I do.” She beamed at him as they hurried to the fire alarm. “What’s the plan? Pull this and then what?”

He bit his lip, looking at her. “Too risky to head back to the kitchen. There should be an emergency exit at the end of this hall.”

“Ok. Got it.”

“Would you like to do the honors?”

“Gladly.” She grabbed the mallet and swung; the glass sprinkled to the ground and her careful fingers avoided the sharp edges to pull the lever. Immediately, the fire alarm kicked in, its blare echoing down the hallway. Shouting began in the kitchen, raised voices confused and panicking as emergency lights started flashing around them.

“Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and together they took off.

~~~~~

They burst out the door, back entrance to the club leading to an alleyway, trash and probably worse piled high in rusting dumpsters. Ellie wrinkled her nose as they strode out into the street, fire alarm still loud behind them. She could hear shouts, yelling, and squeezed Colt’s hand.

“This way.” He led her down a block, ducking into another alley that led into a dead end, imposing chain link fence separating them from.

“Colt?”

He pulled her along to the fence. “Come on, bike’s just over here.”

She sighed, watching him place his hands on the fence, pulling himself up easily. She groaned. These heels were not meant for hopping fences. With a roll of her eyes, she kicked off the shoes and positioned her toes on the fence. With one last scan above her, she climbed, one step after another, before joining him at the top of the fence.

He looked surprised to see her perched next to him. “I was going to give you a hand.”

“Did you think I was a damsel in distress?” She scoffed at him.

He smiled, soft, before squeezing her shoulder. “I know you too well for that.”

“I could use a hand getting down?”

“Fine, fine.” He swung his leg over and leapt, landing hard, wiping his hands on his pants before reaching up to her. 

She screwed her eyes shut and jumped, crashing into him, his hands curving around her waist to steady her. She looked up at him, close enough to see the lashes lining his eyes, his lips curving into a smirk. “My hero.”

He only grinned and held her close, dropping a kiss on her forehead before turning to go.

“Hey, Colt?” She didn’t move, just stood there, looking up at him. “What did you need to get so badly?”

He sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small fob.

“What is it?”

He twirled it between careful fingers. “Car key.”

“For what?” She plucked it from him, studying it in the dim light.

His eyes darkened and he looked away, jaw tense. “Yet another payment to The Brotherhood.”

“Colt….” She handed it back to him, her fingers brushing his, before she put her hand on his cheek to turn his face, to look into his eyes. “We’re gonna figure it out. I swear.”

He looked at her and grinned, a small twitch of the lips that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. I know.” He sighed again. “I know. But for now, we got what we need. We should get out of here.” She nodded and laced their fingers together again. Time to move.

They were almost to the end of the alley, so close to the main road, when Colt grabbed her hand, hard, He pulled her back, into the shadows, pushing her into a small alcove underneath a fire escape. Her breath left her lungs at the speed, the suddenness of it, then she heard what he heard. Footsteps. On the street. Coming this way.

She craned her neck but couldn’t see anything yet. Colt had her bracketed between him and the brick, profile sharp in front of her as wary eyes looked behind his shoulder, hands protectively falling to her waist.

She tried to slow her breathing, muffle any noise as the footsteps moved closer and she and Colt huddled in the dark.

The footsteps slowed, then stopped, right outside the alleyway, six feet from them. Ellie could hear her heart, Colt’s heart, both hearts pounding wildly, just waiting. She held her breath.

It could have been seconds, it could have been hours, she couldn’t tell, but finally, finally the person moved, footsteps trailing away from them, moving down the street, their hiding spot safe.

Ellie sagged against the bricks, still clutching the lapels of his jacket. “That was close.” The adrenaline was leaving her, the familiar shake coming back to her fingers.

Colt turned back to her, letting out a slow breath. It was so dark in the alcove, streetlights not reaching their hideaway; she could see his outline, the whites of his eyes, his teeth. Everything else was faded shades of grey, even as close as he was. He gave her a soft smile as his eyes trailed down her face, to her neck, to the juncture between her neck and shoulder. The smile faded, replaced with something that made Ellie’s stomach twist, her cheeks warm.

He trailed his thumb down her neck, focused intently on the skin before him. She didn’t realize what he was doing until he pressed firmly. The hiss that escaped her teeth shocked her, the pleasure-pain when he touched the mark he left, the sensitive skin a reminder of his lips on her neck.

“Colt?” It was a whimper, barely speech. She didn’t know who moved first but someone did, maybe they both did, and their lips collided, inelegant and hungry. She pulled on his suit jacket, hands clutching the fabric so hard she worried it would rip; even after their hips collided, no space between them, she knew would never get him as close as she wanted.

The kiss was rough, possessive, the kisses of people who outsmarted death and escaped terror and needed to feel something, something vibrant and wild and free, in order to embrace life again. She couldn’t stop the moans from deep in her throat. All she wanted to forget the fear of this night; maybe they could replace it with a better memory, a memory of what they had, not what they almost lost.

“Fuck, Ellie.” Colt bent to attack her neck, the hickie, every inch of her that he could reach with his mouth and his teeth as her head dropped against the wall.

“Please.” She slid her hands underneath his shirt so she could feel his skin under her fingertips, warm and solid and alive, feeling every inch of him in front of her. She started moving her hips, unconsciously, the alley and the danger fading away. “Colt, please.”

“Fuck.” His voice was low, mouth moving against her chest. “We can’t, Ellie, we-” He trailed off with a moan as Ellie’s fingers made their way to his pants. They were clumsy, shaking, but she managed to pull the zipper down and reach inside.

She started stroking, rhythmically, pulling him out into the night air as he moaned, voice catching as she worked him over.

“Ellie, fucking Christ.” His hand slid up her leg, callused thumb drawing a line on her inner thigh that made her moan, and continued under the skirt to shift her underwear to the side. “And they say I’m the bad influence.” She moaned, again, as his finger teased her slit before ducking inside. She was so wet that it slid in easy, another finger quickly joining the first as his thumb circled her clit.

“Please.” It sounded like she was crying, begging, voice wet, back arched away from the wall, desperate for more than his hands inside her.

“Fuck.” He pushed the skirt up, hands rough as he pushed her underwear down to the ground. “Fuck, anything you want, baby.” He grabbed the back of her thighs and, all of a sudden, she was in the air, being lifted against the bricks, trapped between the cool wall and Colt’s warmth. 

She reached down to help, position and angle awkward and new, but then he slid his hands lower down her thighs and swiveled his hips and then, oh my God, he was inside her, one smooth motion making her head slam back against the wall. He was deep, angle driving him so deep she could feel him in her throat, and she had to breathe for a second, eyes closed, tears leaking.

“Colt, move, please.” His grip was tight behind her legs, fingers digging into her flesh and holding her up as he slid into her, falling into a practiced rhythm as Ellie tried to get oxygen into her lungs. She knew what a risky situation they were in but she couldn’t stop the noises from coming out of her mouth, gasps and moans that only increased in volume with every thrust of his hips.

“Ellie.” Colt sounded wrecked, voice pulled from his throat as he kissed a trail down her neck, moving the strap of her tank top with his teeth so he could mouth the skin there. “Ellie, touch yourself. I can’t- Fuck, I don’t want to drop you.”

She reached down, pushing the skirt out of the way so her fingers could circle her clit, pace frantic to match the movement of Colt’s hips, the heat building in her spine, the scrape of the brick on her back, the smell of the smoke in his hair, the overwhelming sensations short-circuiting her brain as waves of pleasure started in her core. She bit her lip so she wouldn’t scream, burying her head in Colt’s neck as he thrust once more and everything exploded.

When she opened her eyes again, Colt’s head was resting at her neck, her arms in a death grip around his shoulders. Slowly, he eased her down; she moaned, a bereft sigh, as he slipped out of her and she put her feet on the ground.

He pulled back to watch her, amused. “Fuck, Ellie. And they think I’m the risk taker.”

She could only smile back, helplessly, running her hand through his hair. “You make me brave.” The words were weighty, serious.

“You already are brave.” His eyes gleamed in the night, fond smile playing on his lips. “You’re everything.”

She couldn’t stop the chuckle. “Really.”

“You are. You and me? We could run LA together, just you wait.” He ran his fingers down her face, thumb trailing over her lower lip.

“With you getting stuck in the basement of a nightclub?

“Well, you’d be there to bail me out.”

She could only gaze at him. "You’re lucky." 

“I know I am.” He pulled her to him. “Ellie, you’re my queen.”

“Promise?”

He didn’t answer, letting the adoration on his face speak for him as he kissed her again and again and again.

~~~~~

It was late when they got to the garage. She was a mess, they both were. She was wearing Colt’s suit jacket, which barely covered her skirt. Her underwear was long gone, used to clean herself up and then tossed in a dumpster. His shirt was missing most of the buttons and their hair was pointing in all directions.

She slowly crept through the shop floor, clutching Colt’s hand. Logan’s car was here, as was Mona’s. Apparently everyone had made it back safely, thank God. What a night.

“Hi, Ellie, Colt.”

“Ahh.” Ellie screamed as both she and Colt jumped.

Colt recovered first, “Hi, Mona. What are you doing up?”

“Just wanted to make sure you both got back ok.” She stood, rising from the folding chair she was perched on, sauntering towards them, dangerous smile wide on her face. Apparently, she had been waiting up for them.

Ellie took a deep breath. Weird. “Ok, I’m just going to go up-”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go up there.” Mona walked towards Ellie, eyes dark, sway of her hips hypnotizing. 

Ellie shared a nervous look with Colt. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s a little….” Mona stopped, right in front of her, and pushed a lock of Ellie’s hair behind her ear. “…Scandalized.” With a flick of her wrist, Mona pulled the ear piece from Ellie’s ear, holding it up between two fingers, grinning wickedly.

Ellie gasped, face paling. “Did you hear…?”

“Oh, Ellie.” Mona tilted her head to look at Colt, standing stock still, eyes incredulous. “He’s weak, he had to stop listening after two minutes.” She took a step back, biting her lip. “But I heard everything.”

Ellie could only gape at her.

“So yeah, you might wanna find somewhere else to sleep tonight.” Mona winked at her. “I’m gonna go charge this. You never know what you might hear, am I right?”

Ellie couldn’t say a word, could feel her mortification staining her cheeks.

Mona smiled again, dark and wicked and absolutely delighted, before patting Ellie on the head. “Good night, your highness.”

Tags:  @deimosensblog @alegria1580  @choicesarehard @thefarrari @client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @hazah@flowerpowell@poeticscolt@brightpinkpeppercorn @zaira-oh-zaira@desiree-0816 @leelee10898 @maxwellsquidsuit @liamzigmichael4ever 

[freckled-words]

Count The Teeth - Part Seven

I am SO SO SO SO CLOSE TO FINISHING THIS!!! If I’m correct, I have only two or three more chapters to write. I’ve been sitting on this for a YEAR, and the original concept was so simple!!!!! *wails in agony over my own procastination/lack of inspiration*

In other news, in this chapter, I thought I’d play around with NateMare and give him a...different...side. I was seriously excited about this, so I hope you all get a bit of thrill from it too ~

WARNING: Some of the descriptions are in the gore category.

Edited by @the-wild-ego​

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE / PART SIX 

There was a tiny ‘POP’ and the rest of the world came back into focus.

The little bat clung to the front of your shirt, it’s claws lightly scraping against your skin. It’s ears twitched and swiveled, catching the noises all around it, even as its tiny black eyes peered up at you.

Disoriented, you reflexively rested a hand on its back and used your thumb to brush over its head. It gave a squeak, and raised its head to rub against your thumb, encouraging you to continue.

This lessened your unease as you looked around and took in your surroundings.

You had somehow managed to walk out of the garden, and right into a graveyard. 

The hedge wall, and the opening you’d come through were just behind you. In front of you, were a collection of headstones and grave markers. None of them looked recent, and were well marked by age from the grass growing around their edges and the cracks that had formed. You guessed there to be at least 20 graves. 

“Why, oh why, little friend, did you bring me here?” you couldn’t get yourself to speak louder than a whisper. With vampires and Phantom Sirens being a thing, you didn’t want to learn if zombies could be a reality too.

The bat squeaked, but gave nothing else in lieu of an answer.

Looking towards the opening you’d come through, you muttered, “I should probably head back and find NateMare, he’s going to be livid.” The thought of NateMare’s temper, and the heat that came with it, made you shudder.

If he was going to be mad, then why rush off to get punished? 

“I’ll just, take a stroll and see if there’s any clues here first.” 

That settled, you tiptoed towards the first row of graves.

-/-/-/-

He was enjoying himself. 

In the past few centuries, he’d made minimal contact with other beings like himself. He’d found they were too troublesome, or worse, sentimental. Their prolonged exposure to humanity, or just the base of their creation, had made the newer generation softer. 

There were four strong ones that held potential, but Mercer would leave them be. 

One had a penchant for stabbing anything that moved. 

One would want to dissect him at the first given opportunity. 

One would enjoy nothing better than to fight him for the sake of the fight. 

And the last one, well, he had a few too many tricks up his sleeve that Mercer didn’t feel enticed to learn about. Particularly not when he could send an entire army of deranged brethren to swarm him. 

He couldn’t even bother with the two others of his generation. They’d forgone their base nature, deciding to befriend humans instead of feeding off them as the food source they were. The three had agreed to not interfere with each other’s business, so long as their boundaries were respected. Mercer had made it a point to know exactly where those boundary lines were, lest he have to deal with the headache that was a lecture and possibly a slap on the wrist.

He had almost thought his little brother, NateMare, to be one of a sentimental nature as well. Having interrupted his feeding, and nearly blowing them both up in that garage.

He’d been delighted when NateMare had proven him wrong.

Mercer had been keeping tabs on NateMare this past month. He’d watched as he kicked around the human he’d saved. Going even as far as putting a collar on them and forcing them to do his work for him. 

Mercer had gotten a good laugh out of their discovery of his origins. He’d nearly forgotten that love letter he’d left on his host’s home. Oh the terror on their faces had been delicious.

Licking his lips, he allowed himself the quietest of chuckles. 

NateMare didn’t hear the rustle from the tree behind him. He was too intent on scorching some sense into the oblivious human.

He could only blame himself for his carelessness.

He grunted from the force of the impact as he was smashed into a tree. The tree’s trunk splintered and broke, falling to the ground.

NateMare turned to smoke in order to break from Mercer’s grasp, before he rushed around to try and get behind Mercer. Unfortunately, his smoke form was dark enough that Mercer could track his movements.

Showing his elongated canines in a grin, Mercer laughed, “I was wondering if you were going to come sniffing around at some point. But I didn’t think it would take you this long.”

“It wasn’t like you left us a bunch of bright, neon arrows to point out which way to go.” NateMare quipped back as he reformed and made a swing for Mercer’s face.

Mercer danced out of the way, “That would have taken all the fun out of the hunt. I do appreciate that you brought a little snack for me, that was very considerate of you.”

Mercer dodged a few more punches, then took up the offensive. When NateMare didn’t turn to smoke, he managed to pepper in blows to his body. He didn’t hold back, making sure each connection was felt. With a particularly strong uppercut, Mercer sent NateMare sailing back again.

When he landed, Mercer listened to the air rush out of his lungs.

Barely touching on his speed, Mercer was beside him, his hand wrapped around NateMare's throat and squeezed to cut off his oxygen, “Really, little brother? Is this all you can manage to do? I was hoping for a good and proper sibling brawl.” Just to ignite NateMare’s ire, Mercer pouted down at him.

NateMare was certain he had at least two ribs broken that were trying to heal. He didn’t remember taking a hit to his face, but his nose was definitely broken. At least three of his teeth had cracked from that uppercut. He barely registered the taste of his blood as it trickled over his tongue and down his throat.

The term ‘little brother’ was a grater against his temper. Yes, this asshole was technically his elder in the chain of their creations, and yes, Mercer was winning so far, but he would be damned to give up and let this leech think he was the superior.

He didn’t touch on his source often, hating the recovery afterwards. It would be a lot of bed rest and aching muscles for days. Regardless, there was no better time than now to let loose.

Mercer’s brow furrowed, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down the nape of his neck. Had it gotten warmer?

NateMare clamped his hands around Mercer’s wrist. The sound of sizzling and the stench of sour meat mixed with smoke filtered into the air. 

Mercer had a high pain tolerance, and flames had never been an issue. Yet he could feel the sting of his skin blistering in NateMare’s grip. His lips drew back in a pained, irritated snarl.

NateMare finally forced Mercer’s hand loose. Drawing in air he grinned, “What’s wrong? Not bothered by a little Hell fire are you?”

Mercer cursed and ripped his hand free. Leaping back to keep some distance Mercer inspected his wrist. The skin was blackened, and blistered. Already his powers pulsed to the injury to repair it. Letting it fall to his side, Mercer tsked, “I’ll admit, I didn’t think your nature ran so deep. Here I was thinking you were all hot air and smoke, now I see. You’re a pretty little onion, with a shiny smooth skin concealing the rotten layers of darkness underneath. You call yourself a Phantom Siren, when in reality, you’re a Hell Banshee off it’s leash.”

NateMare grunted as his ribs snapped back into place. The cartilage in his nose returned to its original form, and his teeth filled themselves in. Rapid healing was always a bitch. 

While his given injuries fixed themselves, the rest of his body began to burn away.

Fat from his right cheek bubbled, forcing the skin to rupture and allow it to melt freely to the ground. The muscles along his jaw cooked, dried, and flaked away from his skull. His eye made a sickening pop as it burst and emptied the socket. 

Slowly NateMare got to his feet, leaving puddles of his liquified fat on the barren earth. Staggering a bit as his body adjusted to redistribution of his weight, he flexed his right hand and gave it a shake. This caused more skin, fat, and muscle to fall from his bones. Bones that were black, and reflected light from the moon. 

His remaining eye burst into blue black flames, his empty socket smoked from within. Those same flames sparked and caught his hair. In an instant it was impossible to tell if his hair was on fire, or if the fire had become his hair. 

NateMare rolled his shoulders, and breathed out a plume of smoke. His lips stretched into a grimacing smile, his voice was raspy and hollow as he spoke,“ I really shouldn’t be surprised that you know that name. I will admit to being a bit disappointed that you didn’t react more. Now how about a rematch, Big Brother.”

[bensboynton]

Good Enough b.h; Part 1

Requested: no

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: swearing, unedited. 

“Will I ever be good enough for anyone?”

“You’ve been good enough for me since the beginning.”

In which a singer tries her hand at acting, and ends up with a lot more than she bargained for. 

A/N: this is my first attempt at a longer fic, forgive me if anything is inaccurate/grammar mistakes/mistakes in general it’s 1 am and i haven’t slept in the past 28 hours and i just wanted to get this up.  – “You got the part.”

“What? Wait, is this a joke? Are you serious right now?” your lungs didn’t seem nearly big enough, as you desperately gasped for air. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I’m completely serious! You landed the role. You’re Mary Austin. How does it feel to be able to say that? You’re Mary fucking Austin.”

Your heart was pounding in the chest as you were on the phone with your manager, Anthony. This was it. This was your big break in the industry. You just landed the role of the woman who stole Freddie Mercury’s heart.

You had been wildly successful in the music industry for almost five years, as you were about twenty-two shows away from finishing your second world tour for your sophomore album. And while writing music, performing said music, wrapping your tongue around unfamiliar languages and your mind around foreign cultures satisfied you, you always yearned for more. And that’s what led you to acting.

At first, it was an idea you had late at night. “What if I started to act?” But you shot the idea down yourself. You convinced yourself it’d be a distraction. Your manager would never say yes, it’d be too much work for you to handle, you wouldn’t be good at it. Not to mention the extra stress that would’ve been added to your already quite strained schedule. And on top of that, most singers never made it in the acting industry. But once the seed of this idea was planted in your brain, it began to grow. It soon became all you could think about. So, after a few extremely long phone calls with your manager and a few meetings in the city, you managed to set up your first audition. And the rest is history.

At first, you did a few commercials for some popular brands. Some advertising videos, skits for Facebook and Instagram, a few small parts in tv shows and smaller movies here and there, but nothing too major. However, when you heard a murmur through the grapevine about the part of Mary Austin in a biopic about Queen? For a lack of a better way to describe your emotions, you just about shit your pants.

Queen has been one of your favorite bands your entire life(thanks to your father), and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Freddie Mercury and Queen were your heroes. Freddie was the main reason you decided to start writing music, and that beautiful man made you fall in love with the art of performance. You took inspiration from him in almost every single aspect of your life. You couldn’t just let an opportunity like this pass you by.

You had submitted an audition tape to the producers one day after a particularly tiring show in Belgium, following a two-week crash course with a dialect coach practicing your British accent. You quickly ran through a few lines of the emotionally extensive script, submitting your video a few moments later. And about four days following the submission of your video, you got a phone call from your manager telling you that you did, indeed, land the part. And you were ecstatic. You were even more elated when you received a similar phone call informing you who got the part of Freddie Mercury; one of your good friends, Rami Malek. You screeched so loud one of the people in the hotel room next to yours came over to ask if you were all right. But you were far better than just “all right.”

You had met Rami backstage before an interview you did with him on Jimmy Fallon’s show, and you two exchanged phone numbers and the rest was history. The both of you were best friends for a while; practically inseparable. The both of you were hanging out at least every other day before distance slowly caused you to drift apart. But a gap between you wouldn’t really be any interference since you’d be working on this movie together. Problem solved.

And so, after a few headaches and way, way too many phone calls(all of which were extremely unnecessary to you), you rearranged the final three shows of your tour to leave you right smack dab in the middle of London, right where you needed to be to begin filming this movie. Everything was beginning to fall into place. – You slowly stretched your arms up over your head, arching your back and cracking your neck. Today. Today was the day you finally got to begin shooting Bohemian Rhapsody.

You had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity. When you heard the news of your success at landing the role as Mary, time started to pass by as if it was in slow motion, and days started to drag on as you waited for shooting to begin. You could only reread the script so many times before it became so mind-numbing it made you sick to even look at it.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck, you looked at yourself in the hotel mirror. The bags under your eyes were slightly apparent, and you made a note in your head to try and cover them up before leaving your room and checking out.

You grabbed your cellphone and unplugged it from its charger, typing in your passcode and pressing your boyfriend’s contact. The phone rang for a while, but no answer. Your heart sunk slightly at the sound of his voicemail.

“Hey, Y/BF/N. Just wanted to call and say hey before I head to set. I hope your tour is going well, I love you and can’t wait to see you. Talk to you later.”

You sighed gently as you hit the circular “end call” button and set your phone down. No more time for being sad over the strange lack of contact with your significant other. You had a movie to film.  

You checked over your room quickly, just to be sure you had packed everything. After all, having all of your clothes would be imperative for the lengthy stay in your new trailer.

Hearing the news that you got to live in your very own trailer while on set was weirdly exciting for you. It felt like a rite of passage, almost like it validated your acting career in an odd way.

Wheeling your two extremely full suitcases behind you, and your backpack sitting gracefully on your shoulders, you slowly but surely made your way to the lobby of the hotel you were staying in. You swiftly checked yourself out and made your way to the notably empty parking lot. Made sense that it would be empty. After all, it was almost 5 am in London.

A black SUV was awaiting you near the doors, ready to take you to your new home for the next few months. Saying you were excited was an understatement.

Making small talk with your chauffeur for the morning, Todd, you admired his thick British accent. You appreciated his unique pronunciation of the words you knew and the few pieces of British slang that were unfamiliar to your remarkably American brain. Hopefully you’d start picking up on those sooner or later. You pretended to be mildly interested in Todd’s ranting about his three children as you lazily twisted your hair around your index finger, head rested against the tinted window. But to be honest, your mind was elsewhere.

You began nervously biting at your already extremely bitten nails as you neared closer and closer to the filming location, thoughts beginning to race through your mind. What if the cast didn’t like you? What if you embarrassed yourself? What if you suddenly forgot all your lines? What if you were so bad at acting they fired you on the spot?

Your worrying was cut short as the short and stout driver with grey stubble pulls onto a gravel road, pulling up to a security gate. He rolls down the window and tells the woman standing in the tiny concrete building to the left of the car something about dropping you off, but you aren’t paying much attention. You’re too busy watching the busy hustle and bustle up ahead, of tons of people with jobs and places to be and things to do. It seems as if everyone is running out of time, due to the quick pace that they’re all walking. The driver pulls up to an average sized building with two very heavy duty black doors.

“I’ll drop you off here, and then I’ll run your bags to your trailer if that’s all right with you Miss Y/L/N.” Todd’s voice snaps you back to reality. “Yes, that sounds great. Thank you, Todd.” he nods as you slowly clamber out of the car, adjusting your purse on your shoulder and walking into the building. You can feel your heart beginning to speed up its rhythm in your chest.

You walk up to the shiny black desk in front of you, about to ask the friendly looking receptionist where you’re needed before an enthusiastic voice echoes through the lobby.

“Y/N!” you turn around to see none other than Rami Malek standing before you. You grin as you run straight into him, your chin resting on his shoulder and your arms wrapped around his neck. You pull away as he gives you a quick peck on the cheek. “Long time no see, ay?” you hum, looking at the familiar man as he grins and looks down at his shoes. You admire the small crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Oh, how you missed him.

“You know, I almost cried when I heard you got the part.” He spoke with an eloquence unmatched by anyone you had ever met before. His voice sent shivers down your spine. “And why was that?” you inquired, as he slowly brought his eyes back up to meet yours.

“Because I knew I couldn’t do it with anybody else. It needed to be you. I just had this feeling, you know? And with our friendship, I knew our chemistry would be good. I was just really excited.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, as you tucked a piece of your soft hair behind your ear. It was strange, with Rami. You hadn’t heard from him in months, yet the conversation flowed with ease, almost as if you last talked two days ago.

“You should’ve heard me when I found out you were Freddie.” Rami cocked an eyebrow at your statement as he offers his left arm. You accept his invitation, interlocking your right arm with his as you start walking alongside him, “I was screaming bloody murder. The hotel sent someone from the front desk up to check on me,” Rami let out a loud chuckle, shaking his head as he glanced at you, a twinkle in his bulbous orbs.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel something for Rami when you first met him. I mean, who could blame you? A fashion-conscious, well spoken, educated man? In this economy? A rare occurrence, at best.  You started to fall for him when your friendship was at its peak, but it just doesn’t feel the same now. Besides, you now have a loving boyfriend, and Rami has an absolutely beautiful girlfriend. No need to “mingle” with any of your castmates.

You continued your walk down a particularly long hallway with locked arms in silence. But, it was a comfortable silence. That was your favorite thing about Rami. No matter what, he always made you feel at ease. You finally reached a certain door that Rami stopped at, taking a deep breath and looking at you.

“Ready to meet the rest of the band?” you nodded quickly, trying to gather yourself to make the best first impression you could. It was almost as if Rami could sense your nerves.

He gave your arm a comforting squeeze, a slight grin causing the left corner of his mouth to curve upwards into a smile. As you said, he was always able to calm you down. He pushed the door open, and it was almost as if the sound erupting from the tiny room slapped you across the face. Rami grinned at you sheepishly, an apology already bubbling at his lips before you walked swiftly into the room.

“Guys, can you all shut your traps for two goddamn seconds and meet Y/N?” Rami’s voice carried, and suddenly the volume level in the room decreased dramatically. Three unfamiliar eyes were suddenly trained on you, and you sent them a nervous smile, tucking your long hair behind your ear, twisting it around your index finger. This was something you tended to do when you were nervous.

 A particularly tall man started walking toward you, a big smile on his elongated face. You imagined him with a mop of curly hair, and immediately knew that this must be the man playing none other than Brian May. 

“You must be Gwilym, right?” you smiled, reaching out to shake his abnormally large hand, “I’m Y/N.”

“Amazing to finally meet you, Y/N. Rami has told us loads about you.” you smiled up at him, as you were about 6 inches shorter than his towering figure. He made small talk with you, asking about your flight to London and if you had any trouble arriving on set. 

“Oh. My. God. It’s you. It’s really you. I’m in a room with THE Y/N. Wow. I might pass out. Am I dreaming?” a man with curly hair joked, his thick sarcasm lacing his words as he turned to the man next to him. “Pinch me. Wake me up from this dream. It’s too good to be true.” you laughed, shaking your head as you looked up to meet his eyes as he started walking towards you. You curled your finger around a strand of hair as the stranger walked towards you. 

“And you must be Joe!” you held out your hand, only to be engulfed in the slightly taller man’s arms. “You’re my new best friend, and best friends don’t shake hands. We hug.”

And although Joe was joking, you clung to his words for a few seconds. It warmed your heart to think that he was already so accepting of you. “This is my other best friend, Allen. Sorry new bestie, you’re going to have to share me. I have a lot of best friends. But there’s plenty of this,” he points at himself, “to go around. I promise.” you giggled, lightly hitting his forearm with the back of your hand. It’s actually quite insane how comfortable you felt around him already, despite you knowing him personally for approximately a minute and a half. You looked up, swiftly scanning the room to look for the final member of the main cast you haven’t had a chance to meet yet. Gwil must’ve seen you look around because he did the same thing. “Has Anyone seen Ben recently? Or did he sneak off for a smoke again?”

“He left about ten minutes ago. Either taking a really, really, nice shit or went to smoke. I’ll let your beautiful minds decide what you want to believe,” Joe’s comment left the entire room laughing lightly under their breath as they returned back to whatever they were doing before you had walked in. 

You had been sitting on the couch for about twenty minutes, talking to Joe and answering his many questions about your childhood, career, upcoming music, college and, strangely, what movie you would choose if you could only watch one for the rest of your life. You saw how he could potentially come off as nosy to a high-strung individual, but to you, he was just curious and always had a desire to learn more. You admired that about him, as you were very similar.

The door of the tiny room opened, and a man with fluffy, slightly untidy blonde hair briskly strolls into the room, slipping off the brown leather jacket snugly hugging his muscular shoulders. Your eyes followed him for a split second and it took everything in you to tear your eyes away from the Greek God that just waltzed into the room.

“There he is! My boyfriend. I missed you SO much.” Joe grasped his chest, motioning at the man to walk over. The mysterious man shook his head and let out a soft laugh, his head down as he typed furiously into his phone. You stood up quickly, smoothing out the front of your shirt. Joe gestured to you, and his eyes swept over you quickly, causing a small bout of butterflies to swarm through your empty stomach. You swore your heart was beating so loud, everyone in the room could hear it echoing in your chest. 

“You must be Ben. It’s really nice to meet you, I’m-” you began to introduce yourself to the unreasonably attractive man, holding your hand out before he interrupts you. “Y/N.”

“Y-Yeah that’s me.”

The way your name rolled off his tongue sent shivers down your spine. It caught you off guard. His green orbs that glimmered with a tinge of blue slowly met yours, and he smiled sheepishly, before breaking the eye contact and dropping your hand. There was an awkward silence that fell between the two of you, even amidst the chatter of the room. Ben opened his mouth like he was about say something, before a familiar voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Hey hey hey, let’s not get too comfortable over there. That’s my boyfriend. Back off Y/N!” Joe spoke from across the room, sarcastic anger dripping from his mocking words. Ben rolled his eyes, mouthing a “sorry” to you before walking away from you, aimlessly making his way to the other side of the room.

You were left alone, and you rubbed the back of your neck with your right hand. It wasn’t normally like you to act so awkward and secluded around someone, especially someone you didn’t know. 

But, nevertheless, you could finally check one thing off your list of worries. The cast was absolutely amazing. Now all you needed to stress about was actually filming the movie.

But little did you know, that would soon become the very least of your worries.

[icanhearyouglaring]

anything you can do, pt. 2

summary: There’s nothing wrong with a little healthy competition between frenemies (a meet in the JL-AU) wally/artemis. b99-inspired. a/n: second part of a gift i’ve been preparing for @rachelisanerd​.  here is a link to pt. 1 also available on ao3

As luck would have it, Tigress doesn’t have to wait long to rub her lead in Flash’s face. The very next day, she gets to let her smug grin do the gloating as Aqualad goes over the mission plan to rescue some scientist from the Cult of Kobra. Flash pretends like he doesn’t notice her watching him, but the way his pen digs into the paper on the table in front of him tells her she is right where she wants to be: under his skin.

“Tigress.”

Tigress quits gloating (for now) and snaps her attention to Aqualad.

“Yes, Boss?”

“Stop calling me boss. You’ll keep watch at the south end of the base,” Aqualad says, pointing to a shack on the side of the mountain on screen. “You’ll be out of range for the mind link, but you’ll have eyes on the entire field from that position and we can’t have any surprises. As we will be under radio silence until we clear the mountain, you will not be able to contact us if there is trouble outside.”

“Got it, Boss,” Tigress says, nodding.

Aqualad internalizes his sigh and moves on.

“Finally, Flash, you will stay at the vantage point with Tigress. If something troubling arises, you run close enough to reestablish the mind link and let us know what’s happening outside. For the most part, we are not expecting any interference from beyond the confines of Kobra’s base, but we do not know when the Shadows are expected to make the trade for the doctor.”

“Quick question,” Nightwing says, raising his hand unnecessarily high. “Does Tigress get the point for spotting the Shadow or does Flash get the point for telling us about them, or do they both get points? No points?”

“Is this something that needs to be discussed right now?” Aqualad asks, not surprised in the slightest that it came up.

“There were a few complaints after the last mission so I thought it might be better to clear these things up before we go. I’m saving you a headache later,” Nightwing explains.

On Tigress’s left, Rocket snorts and whispers, “Someone’s a sore loser.”

Aqualad addresses everyone at the table. “We should hope that neither wins a point and the mission goes uninterrupted.”

“Like that’ll happen,” Superboy scoffs, leaning forward in his seat across from Aqualad. “I say Tigress should get the point.”

“No way,” Nightwing says, shaking his head. “Flash is the one doing the leg work, literally. He should get the point.”

Superboy snorts. “Spotting a Shadow takes more skill than being the human equivalent of a walkie talkie.”

Tigress doesn’t miss the way Miss Martian’s glowing eyes narrow at Superboy. She also doesn’t miss the way Superboy balks and sits back in his seat. Tigress briefly contemplates asking for a point for not missing a damn thing at this meeting.

“Hey! I thought we were friends,” Flash says, crossing his arms.

“Enough,” Aqualad says sternly. “Let us agree to play the point situation by ear and focus on the mission. If I see this bet getting in the way of the team’s performance, I will shut it down.”

That quiets the room, but it doesn’t mean the arguments stop. As Aqualad moves on to detail the logistics of the mission and the importance of maintaining a good relationship within the team, Miss Martian, using her alien-equivalent-of-a-walkie-talkie powers, lets everyone know their dutiful leader is less neutral than he appears.

Aqualad bet me a monitor duty shift they’d tie, Miss Martian says.

Wow, shut that gambling ring down, Zatanna says, hurt. All sub-bets are supposed to be placed with me.

We are not tying, Tigress says.

Flash agrees. Yeah, no ties. We’d have to do a sudden death round or something.

All in favor of sudden death being stealing the Batmobile? Nightwing suggests.

Abso-fucking-lutely not, Tigress says, before anyone can raise their mental hands in favor of sending her to hell.

Ditto, Flash says. Been there, done that, never want to do it again. The nightmares aren’t worth it.

“If anyone has any questions related to the mission, you can ask them on the Bioship,” Aqualad says, standing up (and snapping everyone’s attention back to him). “It’s time to go.”

-o-

“Oh, nice,” Flash says, leaning over to watch Tigress unpack her gear, “you brought the big bow.”

“Did anyone teach you how to be a lookout?” Tigress asks, organizing her equipment against the wall of the shack. “Were you absent the day they taught that you’re supposed to be quiet and actually look for things?”

Flash sighs melodramatically as he leans against the wall. “I have been looking, and according to the infrared scanner on my goggles, the only things around here are cute little woodland creatures and us.”

“Still failing at the whole quiet part,” Tigress notes, picking up a pair of binoculars and trying to do her job.

“Oh, come on, T. Humor me,” Flash says, zipping to and fro in the shack before plucking an arrow from her quiver and holding it towards her. “You and I are always getting stuck with the fringe jobs. You have to admit it gets boring after awhile.”

It does, but contrary to what he says, she doesn’t have to admit it.

“Did Nightwing smuggle you caffeine just to spite me?” Tigress asks, taking her eyes away from the trees to give Flash a look. “How can you be bored already? We’ve been here less than five minutes.”

“Well, you’ve been ignoring me the whole time,” Flash notes, tossing the arrow between his hands at too-high a speed.

Tigress rolls her eyes. “You know that arrow could fill this shack with smoke if you keep that up.”

“Noted.” Flash quickly places the arrow back where it belongs.

Tigress returns to scanning the treeline and sighs, “God, you’re like a puppy.”

“I am pretty cute, aren’t I?”

He is, but that is so not where she was going with that.

“You’re needy,” Tigress explains, checking another route for any movement. “You need constant attention. You have a ridiculous amount of energy. You eat so much.”

“Hey, I can’t help that last one,” Flash says, and Tigress has to imagine the pout on his face as her eyes catch some movement in a far clearing. Just a deer.

“Yeah, yeah, your metabolism, whatever. You’re still distracting.”

“Distractingly hands-shit–”   

Tigress takes the time to put her binoculars down, turn, and investigate his curse. Her eyes widen as she catches him cowl-less and smiling at her.

Tigress’s breath catches in her throat for a half-second before she yells, “Don’t do that! We’re exposed out here!”

“Calm down. I was hearing feedback,” Flash pulls his cowl back over his face and adjusts his ear piece covers. “So much for being quiet...”

The tense silence between them is broken by the sound of an owl hooting in the distance, and it is only then that Tigress snaps back into the moment.

“We’re on a freakin mission. How could you take off your cowl just like that?” Tigress asks, scowling behind her mask as her foot bounces against the floor.

“It’s fine,” Flash shrugs and shakes his head. “It’s just us. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Tigress counters, roughly turning back to her lookout duties. The binoculars refuse to remain still in her shaking hands. “There are a million reasons why it’s a big deal. It defeats the purpose of having secret identities. If someone sees your real face... First, they find your face, then they find your name, and then they find you. Or worse– they find the people you care about.”

Flash steps closer. “I know the reasons, T.”

“Then for such a smart guy, you are incredibly stupid. You won’t catch me flashing my face around anytime soon.”

Flash snorts. “Come on, Tigress, we both know that’s not your real face behind that mask.”

Tigress stills before she lowers her binoculars and turns to face him again. The smug look she’d expected to find isn’t there. Instead, she’s struck by the small, knowing smile he sends her.

“You knew?” Tigress slowly asks, her eyes locking with his.

Flash nods. “I had a feeling– and I recognized the glamour charm. Zatanna made one for Aqualad so he could come to Guardian’s bachelor party sans gills.”

Tigress fights the pressure building in her chest. Flash has managed to evolve from distraction to major life disruption. It was only a matter of time.

“If you tell anyone, I will use you for target practice,” Tigress says sharply, turning back to look through the binoculars and away from Flash.

“I won’t say a word. You can trust me. Scouts honor.”

Flash leans against the window frame and watches her. This goes on for a full minute, and with every passing second, Tigress finds herself wishing for the silence to end. Why couldn’t they just go back to picking at each other?

Tigress snaps, “Stop looking at me. Do your job.”

Flash sighs and walks over to the only other window in the shack. He lowers his goggles and does as she says, but the silence eats at them both.  

Tigress puts her binoculars down and catches him looking at her again. “Seriously, it’s like I can hear you thinking about it. What do you want? A medal? World’s Greatest Detective?”

“No, I just have questions.”

“Will you drop it if I answer one?” Tigress offers.

Flash launches into a string of questions. “Are you actually that tall? Can these charms change height? Who chose this disguise: you or Zatanna? Do you ever take that thing off? And is your hair really that color? Or have all of those ginger jokes you’ve been hurling at me since we met come from personal experience?”

“I said one,” Tigress groans, even though she asked for it. She goes back to looking out the window before four quiet words slip past her lips. “I might be blonde.”

“Hmm,” Flash says, practically appearing at her side and appraising her mask-covered profile, “I can’t see it.”

“That’s the point,” Tigress says, narrowing her eyes at the blurs coming into focus in the distance. “Q&A over. We have trouble.”

Flash straightens his stance. “Where?”

“Northeast quadrant. There’s movement in the trees, heading towards the east entrance. I can’t tell from here, but it looks like two people. You need to– no, wait, it’s too late for that. If Aqualad’s on schedule, they could be coming out of there any minute now.”

Tigress tucks her binoculars back into their pouch before she grabs her bow and plucks an arrow from her quiver.

She sends a quick look to Flash before she turns back to the trees and aims. “We have to stall the Shadows before they get to the mountain.”

Tigress lets the arrow fly and watches it arc through the air until it lands just to the right of where she last saw the Shadows. There is a three second period of silence before the arrow explodes. The sound echoes through the valley.

Now they all know they are not alone.

Tigress shoulders her quiver and latches her bow to her back before she turns back to Flash and says, “The Shadows should change course to investigate. We need to stall them.”

“On it,” Flash says, and before Tigress can blink, she’s in his arms and they’re zooming through the woods.

-o-

“Nice one, genius,” Tigress says, a bit breathlessly, as Flash puts her down at the edge of a clearing. “Half of my gear is back there.”

“You won’t need it,” is all the warning they get before they catch sight of the blades flying in their direction.

Too close.

Tigress starts to turn around to let her quiver take the hit, but Flash shoves her out of the way and most of the blades end up in the trees behind them.

“Ouch,” Flash says, pulling a shuriken out of his arm, “that stings.”

“You okay?” Tigress regains her footing and pulls her bow out in an instant.

Flash nods. “Just a scratch. I’ll be fine.”

“Where are they?” Tigress asks, scanning the treeline.

“One o’clock. Just one,” Flash answers, his goggles glowing. “The other one is still heading for the gate.”

Tigress launches her arrow at the center of the field and a cloud of white smoke fills the clearing.

“I’ll keep this one busy. You go after the other one,” Tigress orders. “You can’t let them reach the doctor!”

“I’ll be right back,” Flash calls out, jogging backwards into the forest. “Keep your comm on.”

“Got it.”

Tigress fires another arrow into the cloud of smoke, and this time, it sends the smoke into the air, leaving her target exposed. The figure at the edge of the clearing gets clearer as it runs right towards her. Tigress launches an arrow at the feet of the figure, but they jump in time to avoid the netting that releases from the tip. As they descend, they fire another barrage of shuriken at Tigress. Tigress rolls out of the way and pops up with her bow at the ready. She shoots at the ground between them and a sonic wave knocks her opponent off of her feet. Tigress moves in on her prey, slowly walking towards the fallen assassin. Hmm. The grinning cat mask in front of her confirms her hunch about her opponent, as if the sais and shuriken weren’t telling enough on their own.

“Don’t move, Cheshire,” Tigress says strongly as she aims her arrow at Cheshire’s mask. “It won’t end well for you if you do.”

Cheshire stands up as she appraises Tigress, and everything about her, from her fixed posture to the stagnant smile on her mask, sends a chill up Tigress’s spine. Her reputation may proceed her, but no one could have warned Tigress about the unnerving feeling of facing Cheshire in the flesh.

“Cute,” Cheshire says, easily twirling her sai in her hands. “Wish I had time to play, kitten, but I have bigger fish to fry.”

Tigress steels herself and narrows her gaze at her target. “Don’t move. Last warning.”

Cheshire keeps twirling her sai. “My partner says Aqualad’s out there. It’s been awhile since I’ve had some fun with him. I think it’s time for a rematch, don’t you?”

“I told you to stop moving,” Tigress says, releasing her arrow without hesitation.

There is strong satisfaction in watching someone try and dodge an arrow that releases a boxing glove before impact. Tigress has to work to tame her grin as the glove gets a good half of Cheshire’s mask and sends it flying into the dirt.

Cheshire’s face pinches as she bares her teeth at Tigress and charges, a mess of wild black hair and loose green fabric. Instead of the sai, or the sword, or the sudden screeching emanating from the valley, it’s the dark, determined eyes shining in the moonlight that have Tigress’s full attention.

It registers in slow motion, a feeling akin to an off-centered gear clicking back into place somewhere deep inside, and Tigress can’t do anything but lower her shot and let Cheshire tackle her to the ground as she realizes exactly who she’s fighting.

“Jade?” Tigress gasps, her mind snapping back into action as she instinctively blocks Cheshire’s incoming punch.

“What?” Cheshire–Jade– snarls, going in for another hit.

Tigress manages to free her legs out from underneath Cheshire and kick her back into the dirt.

“Jade,” Tigress repeats tightly before she sits up and asks, “is that you?”

“Who are you?” Jade says from the ground, breathing hard from the strength of the kick.

Tigress quickly takes off her mask and tosses it to the side. The million reasons to keep it on are outweighed by the million and one reasons to take it off for the woman in front of her.

“Jade, it’s me,” Artemis says, ripping the glamour charm from her neck and letting it fall to the ground beside her mask.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the clearing come from the wind rushing through the trees.

“Artemis.” Jade looks at her like she’s a ghost, and Artemis knows her own face must mirror her sister’s because for the longest time–

“I thought you were dead,” they say, breaking their stunned silence in unison.

Jade holds eye contact with Artemis as she stands and holds her side.

“Dad said–” Artemis’s voice fails her, as do her legs as they refuse to move. “Dad said you were dead.”

“He’d like that, wouldn’t he?” Jade says, stopping just a foot away from Artemis. “I can’t believe you’re here right now. I’ve been to your grave.”

Jade holds out a hand and Artemis takes it and it feels so wrong. Artemis stands and faces her sister, hoping with all her might that this is not some trick.

“I had to disappear,” Artemis chokes out, never having thought she’d have to explain herself to Jade. “He wanted me to replace you. I didn’t– I wouldn’t–”

“You couldn’t,” Jade says darkly.

“You– How–” Artemis’s question is cut off by the voice in her ear.

Miss M neutralized the Shadow before I got there. On my way back to Tigress.

“I have to go,” Jade says, looking back and forth between the mountain and Artemis.

Jade presses her hand against her ear as she starts walking backwards, towards the edge of the clearing. “On my way.”

Artemis takes a step forward. “Jade– you–”

Jade shakes her head, picks up her mask, and continues sinking back into the treeline.

“Don’t worry about Dad,” Jade says, quickly donning her mask. “I’ll take care of him.”

“Jade, wait!” Artemis calls out, echoing the last words she’d spoken to her sister so long ago. “Don’t go...”

Her heart sinks as Jade disappears into the trees and it takes every bit of strength she has to not collapse to the ground right then and there.

Jade is not dead. She didn’t know her actual life could feel like a bigger lie than the one she constructed for herself. She’s so consumed by the thought that she doesn’t even hear Flash stumble through the trees.

“T? What happened?” Flash asks, slowing to a stop beside her. “Did you get yours?”

Artemis doesn’t dare look him in the eye. Instead, she focuses on what she can see: the tear in his suit and the blood on his arm.

“Give me your arm,” Artemis instructs, mechanically pulling a wound dressing from her belt.

“It’s no big deal. I’m already healing.” Flash cranes his neck away from her as he extends his arm towards her. Artemis doesn’t need to look at his face to know his eyes are closed. “Where’s your Shadow?”

“Gone.” Artemis presses the dressing against his cut and applies pressure. “Cheshire uses poisoned blades. You might burn through it, Mr. Metabolism, but it’s going to take awhile for the wound to close.”

“Cheshire? Was that– uh, you know your glamour charm is off, right?” Flash trails off uncomfortably.

“You can look at me,” Artemis says, checking that the dressing will hold. “It’s fine. I don’t need it anymore.”

He keeps his eyes shut. “The reasons–”

Artemis cuts him off and looks up. “My reasons aren’t reasons anymore.”

Flash opens his eyes, takes a good long look at her, and frowns. “You’re shaking. What happened?”

“Oh,” Artemis says, looking at her hands, “I am. Yeah, that’s– uh, that’s probably the shock.”

“What happened? What do you need?”

Tigress, Flash. We have the doctor in the Bioship. Heading to the pick up location. Confirm your status, Aqualad’s voice buzzes in their comm lines.

“Zatanna,” Artemis whispers, crossing her arms as she tries to quell the shaking. She shuts her eyes tightly and tells herself to get it together, but she can’t. “No one else. I need Zatanna.”

Flash responds to Aqualad. “Not ready for pick up. Had a run in with Cheshire near the south entrance, but she got away. Heading back to the shack to collect our gear.”

Cheshire? Are you two okay?

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just a little cut up, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. You guys should get the doctor out of here in case she called for backup.”

Cut up? Cheshire uses blades laced with jellyfish poison. Did either of you get hit?

“Maybe once, maybe three times,” Flash says, drawing out his answer. “I’m starting to feel it. I would be grateful if Zatanna could pop in at the shack with one of her antidotes.”

Sure thing, Zatanna chimes in. I’ll wait for you there.

“Great, thanks,” Flash says. “The rest of you can get out of dodge. We’ll use the nearest Zeta-Beam to meet you at the Watchtower.”

Alright, Aqualad relents. Be careful. Kobra’s men are fanning out into the forest to secure their perimeter.

“Got it. Flash out.”

“Thanks,” Artemis says, opening her eyes. “Did you really just call off our ride?”

“You didn’t want the whole team around right now,” he explains, before he nods in the direction of the shack. “We should start walking.”

“Right,” Artemis says, nodding. After a second, she adds, “Are you okay? I only saw one cut.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It was just the one. Had to play it up for the boss.”

Artemis snorts lowly. “He doesn’t like it when we call him boss.”

“Then it’s a good thing he can’t hear us,” Flash says, tapping on his comm.  

The forest is rocky, but not enough to slow them down. They follow a trail up the mountain, and though Flash tries to play off every little slip or sway, Artemis makes sure to stay within arms length of him, in case that poison is affecting him more than he cares to admit. Her slight worry subsides the minute he starts talking again.

“So,” Flash starts slowly, “now that I can see the blonde, I have to admit it. It works for you.”

“Thanks,” Artemis says shortly, walking past him to lead the way.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Nope,” she answers quickly, but the word leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

“O-kay,” Flash says, not pushing it further.

They walk in silence for awhile longer, giving Artemis ample time to regret her decision. Jade said she’d take care of their father and something tells her Jade’s definition of taking care of things hasn’t gotten any more tame with age. If anything, she wouldn’t be surprised if she found out tomorrow that Sportsmaster had been broken out of Iron Heights only to have his ass kicked right outside the prison gates. She’s not sure Jade’s reached the point of patricide, but what does she know, right?

When the shack comes into view, Artemis abruptly stops walking and turns around. Flash nearly walks straight into her, but stops about an inch away before he takes a step back. Artemis knows that the second she sees Zatanna, she will break down, so this has to happen now.

“Actually, yes, I want to talk about it.” Artemis says, exhaling loudly. “I need to– I should practice saying this.”

“Okay then, think of me as your practice dummy,” Flash says, jerking his thumb at the lightning bolt on his chest.  

There’s a joke there, an easy one, but Artemis lets it go unsaid and gets straight to the point.

“Right, well,” Artemis stumbles over her words before she shrugs her shoulders back and says, “first off, my name is Artemis.”

Flash extends his hand towards her for a handshake and says, “Nice to meet you. I’m Wally.”

“Wally.” Artemis pauses. “Really?”

“Hey.”

“Okay, okay... uh, next thing. When I was seventeen, I– uh, faked my own death,” Artemis says, speeding up towards the end.

Flash stops shaking her hand as his grip tightens.

“You what?” he asks, eyes wide.

Artemis pulls her hand away as she hurriedly shrugs and explains, “Well, it was either that or kill someone.”

“What?” Flash repeats, waving his hands at her.

“This is why I need practice,” Artemis says, wincing as she throws her hands in the air. “Forget it. Let me start from the beginning. My name is Artemis. My dad is a bad guy. Literally. He’s Sportsmaster. My mom is an ex-con. She was Huntress. I had a sister. I have a sister. That’s Cheshire.”

“Okay,” Flash says, holding a hand to his head as he paces back and forth. “Okay, okay, okay.”

“Stop that.” Artemis swats at him. “It’s really complicated, okay?”

“Okay!” Flash yelps, unintentionally throwing water on the grease fire that is this conversation.

“Stop saying okay!”

“I don’t know what else to say!”

“Stop yelling!”

“You stop yelling!”

“Both of you: piz ti!” Zatanna whisper-shouts at them from the door of the shack. “You’re going to get us caught. Now get in here.”

Zatanna waits to unzip their lips until she’s done applying antidote to Flash’s wound and Artemis is finished packing her gear, much to their silent and much-mimed protest. After Artemis’s first three weak words (Cheshire is Jade), Zatanna looks at them both and promptly throws their plan into the wind. Instead of taking them to the nearest Zeta Point, she opens a portal, pushes them through, and they end up sitting in a line on the couch in the living room of Artemis’s apartment.

Artemis places her pack on the coffee table before she stands up and turns to face her supposed best friend.

“What the hell, Zee?” Artemis says, waving at her sparsely furnished living room. “Why’d you bring us here?”

Flash’s “Is this your place?” goes largely ignored as Zatanna stands up and grabs Artemis by the shoulders.

“Jade is Cheshire?” Zatanna asks, her bright eyes boring into Artemis’s.

“Yeah,” Artemis exhales.

The jitters she’d been feeling since seeing Jade fade, giving way to an aching emptiness in the pit of her heart.

“Cheshire is Jade,” Artemis repeats, her voice wobbling.

Zatanna’s eyes steel as Artemis’s eyes fill with tears. As she engulfs Artemis in a hug, Zatanna slowly leads them toward her bedroom door.

“Stay here,” Zatanna says, as Artemis buries her face in Zatanna’s shoulder. Zatanna is the only reason she’s still upright.

Artemis kicks the bedroom door shut behind, hoping it will muffle the pained sob that claws its way past her lips. That one and the next one and the next one.

-o-

Artemis’s swollen eyes open painfully slow, giving her time to use her other senses to gather her surroundings. The faint smell of coffee in the air coaxes her into full consciousness, partly because she craves it and partly because Zatanna is still snoring next to her and she doesn’t remember setting the timer on the coffeemaker before falling asleep. She slips out of bed, careful to not wake Zatanna, who’d so gracefully taken on the role of human tissue dispenser for the night.

Artemis tiptoes her way to the door, opens and closes it without so much as a click, and heads towards the light emanating from the kitchen. She stands in the doorway for a moment, taking in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sight of Wally pouring himself a cup.

“You’re still here?” Artemis asks, stepping into the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah,” Wally says, twisting around to face her. “No one told me to leave and I fell asleep. That is a really comfortable couch. You want a cup?”

“Yeah, thanks. I didn’t think we’d be so long. Oh shit,” Artemis groans, rubbing her palm against her temple. “Aqualad–”

“Taken care of,” Wally interjects as he pulls another mug from her cabinet. “I told him we’d debrief later. Took a little creative license with the reason why.”

Artemis takes a seat on the barstool by the kitchen counter. “What’d you tell him?”

Wally laughs to himself as he fills her mug and holds it out to her. “You had bad clams for lunch.”

“Thanks,” Artemis says, rolling her eyes and taking the mug in her hands, “if only. Is it weird I wish that were the reason?”

“Nah,” Wally says, shrugging as he leans against the countertop across from Artemis.

“What a night,” she mutters into her mug before taking a sip.

“It wasn’t all bad.”

Artemis snorts. “Easy for you to say.”

Wally places his mug on the countertop and “Look at it this way: we rescued the doctor. No major injuries. Mission accomplished.”

Artemis leans forward, rests her head on her hand, and flatly asks, “What else you got, Mr. Brightside?”

“You have a sister again, and well, I don’t know about you, but I made a new friend,” Wally says, smiling as he takes a sip of coffee.

Can’t argue with that, Artemis thinks, pursing her lips as she watches him. He’s made himself comfortable here, rifling through her cabinets with his cowl down and taking a nap on her truly exquisite couch. She likes that he likes the couch, for some reason. The thought makes her sit up straight and take a long swig of her coffee. The coffee is watery, not at all as strong as she’d like it, but it’s still nice. She cradles the mug in between her hands as she speaks again.

“So, Zatanna shut us up before I could finish practicing,” she starts, looking up from her mug resolutely. “Do you think we could try again?”

Wally nods and puts down his mug. “I’m all ears.”

Artemis exhales softly before she starts over. “The abridged version is that my mom, Huntress, got sent to Lockhaven and my sister, Jade, started to tag along with my dad on his jobs. Jade was a natural at it. That kind of life suited her, obviously.”

“One night, my dad came home without her. He said Jade had made a mistake and gotten herself killed for it.” Artemis snorts, restlessly tapping her fingers against her mug. “I should’ve known that was a lie. Jade never made mistakes. I should’ve known.”

“Dad started training me after that. I had to be better than Jade, but I couldn’t– that wasn’t me,” Artemis says, her mind flipping through the harsh memories of early training days and late night crime sprees.

“I ran into Zatanna during a stakeout, and when she asked me what I was doing on top of the museum, I literally couldn’t stop myself from telling her the truth. She cast a spell on me,” Artemis says quickly before she stops tapping her fingers, looks to the bedroom door, and softens her expression. “We’ve been friends ever since.”

“Uh-huh,” Wally says, entirely for Artemis’s benefit, as his level of actual understanding could be qualified as so-so, tops.

“When I was seventeen, my dad started to suspect I was throwing fights and trying to get him caught. And, well, I was, but I didn’t want him to know that. It wasn’t pretty when he confronted me about it. After that, he said I had to get my act together or I’d end up just like Jade.”

Artemis watches Wally’s eyebrows pinch, a subtle movement made plain by the pure amount of effort he’s putting into keeping a straight face.

“When I told Zatanna about what he’d said, we came up with a plan, she made me the glamour charm, and everything kind of spiraled out of control from there. I set up a fake job to ruin. With a little acting and a lot of magic, we convinced him I was dead and that was the end of it. If Artemis was dead, he wouldn’t come after me. I wouldn’t have to claim him. I wouldn’t have to worry about people doubting me as a hero.”

“When I look back at it, I see there were several, less-severe solutions to my problem, but Zee and I were scared and under no adult supervision so we went straight for the nuclear option,” Artemis laughs humorlessly. “After we did it, I visited my mom and told her the truth. She still had a year left in Lockhaven, but she– she supported my decision. I think she only did it because Jade was dead. I lived with Zatanna until she joined the League, and then I got my own offer. Dream come true, really. I had to tell Batman the truth, and Black Canary knows, and Green Arrow knows, but besides them and my mom, no one else knew before today.”

Artemis crosses her arms and nods, mostly to herself, as she says, “That’s it.”

“Of all the reasons you’d have a glamour charm, I never would have guessed it being what you just said,” Wally says, exhaling softly. “I really thought you were just Nightwinging to the extreme.”

Artemis can’t help but snort. “Does Nightwing know you’ve adjectivized his name?”

Wally smiles. “Not yet. Should I tell him soon?”

“I don’t know. He might think you’re treading into his territory,” Artemis warns, unfolding her arms to grab her mug once more.

Wally rolls his eyes. “Pfft, he doesn’t have a monopoly on wordsmithing.”

They share a light look as they take sips from their mugs and ease back into the heavier half of the conversation before them.

“Hey, uh, Artemis?” Wally asks, placing his coffee mug down on the countertop.

Artemis looks up from her mug. “Yeah?”

Wally leans against the countertop and looks her in the eyes. Even in the low lighting, she can make out the faint freckles spanning the edges of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“You don’t have to worry about people doubting you. You’re, uh, one of us. Have been for awhile. You’re– I mean, the numbers don’t lie. You’re a great hero and–” Wally takes a breath. “Look, what I’m trying to say is this: if you decide to tell the League, the only thing that’ll change for us is your name, and your face, and your hair. But who you are will be the same. That’s all that matters.”

“Thanks,” slips out before Artemis can put more words together to express how much she really means it.

Wally smiles. “And, if your dad does find out, he’s going to have to fight a whole lot of people before he gets to you.”

Artemis smiles as she leans in to take another sip of her coffee. “Well, what do you know? Flash and substance.”

Wally laughs into his mug.

Artemis’s nose wrinkles as she nears the end of her drink. “And sub-par coffee making skills. I’ll make the next pot so you can see what real coffee tastes like.”

“Everything’s a competition with you, isn’t it?”

-o-

No one asks any questions when Flash and Zatanna return to the Watchtower that morning with a blonder, darker Tigress. They don’t have time to ask, really, because Tigress takes off her mask and explains it all the same way she did to Flash (albeit a bit more coherently). When Nightwing tries to break the tension by asking who won the point for the mission, Flash makes a show of lamenting the result and calling it a tie.  

-o- 

TBC...

[maj0rmayhem]

Blasphemy

Warnings: None that I can think of? Jail mention I guess.

Ships: Platonic LAMP/CALM, focus on platonic Logince and Logicality

Dedicated to: @candymadness for helping create the game screenshot that inspired this

Summary:  “Roman is in jail. Again. Typical.” Logan explained simply, resting his arms on his knees and hunching forward, “And I’m assuming it is my turn to retrieve him.”

Also read it on AO3 here!

(Fic under the cut)

Logan sighed and hung up the call, pocketing his phone before pulling off his glasses and rubbing at the bridge of his nose in the hopes of staving off the already imminent headache. He could feel Patton’s eyes looking at him from the other side of the couch, practically radiating concern. After another moment of silence, Logan replaced his glasses and finally met the other’s gaze. He felt as though he had aged several years, an exhaustion pulling at his limbs and the corners of his mind that hadn’t been there before the phone had rung.

“Roman is in jail. Again. Typical.” He explained simply, resting his arms on his knees and hunching forward, “And I’m assuming it is my turn to retrieve him.”

Patton’s gaze turned sympathetic and he placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder, “You know I can always get him if you need. I know that you’ve been dealing with a lot of problems at the University.”

Logan simply shook his head, “No. It’s quite alright. Perhaps even a welcome mental distraction.” He assured, turning to wedge a well-worn bookmark into an overfilled binder. Patton’s hand slid off his shoulder as Logan stood, running a hand through his hair. Grumbling under his breath, he searched around the apartment for the keys. He let out a small hum of triumph as he pulled them out of their precarious position under a jacket, “Let Virgil know where I’m going. It might be a while, we’re not a high priority.” A pause, “You know he wouldn’t get himself into these situations if he simply accepted his mistakes. I cannot even begin to fathom why he feels the need to be so… obstinate every time.” As he spoke, he crossed to the door, looking down and shaking his head. “It’s… ridiculous.”

Patton chuckled lightly, a sort of exasperated amusement audible in the action, “Maybe, but Roman is a little bit ridiculous, isn’t he?”

“That he is. I should be home by dinner. I’ll see you, Patton.”

In the apartment lobby, the lights buzzed and Logan heard snatches of conversations as he passed through, twirling the keys between his fingers. Between the four of them, they owned one apartment and two cars. With such vastly diverse careers and lifestyles this could cause problems. That being said, many of these problems arose from Roman and his automobile habits. The car he currently had access to was the old junker that Patton and Virgil had too many memories associated with to get rid of. He had advocated putting the old car out of its misery for several years, but had never gotten further than an empty promise of “soon”.

Outside, the wind was blistering, thin wispy clouds passing across the sun at random intervals. Logan felt, ironically, that this weather reflected his mood. He wished he could say that this was the first time in recent history he had slipped into the old car on the way to pick up Roman from another one of his unnecessary escapades. It took a few tries to get the engine running, but eventually the behemoth roared to life and began to putter down the street. In an act of desperation and skewed priorities the year before, the group had recruited Logan to help fix the car up so that while air conditioning no longer worked, the radio was still in what could be considered working order. Most times, this was a decision he grew to regret. Thankfully, the weather was mild enough that day that as long as he could crack the windows, he could keep himself fairly cool. So he turned on the radio to a random channel and began mindlessly tapping one hand to the beat. He found that was a much less hindering distraction than the barely veiled annoyance biting at his thoughts.

Arriving at the police station, he offered a small nod to the tired-looking woman manning the front desk.

To his dismay, when he went to explain his presence she cut him off by holding up a hand, “Let me guess. You look annoyed, rather than really angry or worried,” The woman’s gaze travelled across him as if she was searching for something. Logan felt distinctly uncomfortable under her scrutiny, but only showed this discomfort by adjusting his glasses where they already sat straight on his nose. Her gaze caught on the dark blue charm hanging off a simple chain on his wrist. It was shaped like a heart, and something he’d adamantly protested - but no one could stay strong against Patton and his pleading for long. So all four had one that matched in their respective colors. The woman nodded with a slight smile, “and you’ve got the charm. You’re here for Roman, aren’t you?”

Logan sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back at the woman, “I cannot believe that he’s known by name. I apologize for whatever he’s done this time.”

The woman waved him off, “Well he certainly brings some life into the place. He’s further in the back, go right on ahead and talk to him.”

“Thank you so much.”

Shaking his head, Logan slipped quietly into the narrower hallways at the back of the building. The headache that had been slowly creeping up on him over the course of the last few hours blossomed the moment he heard Roman’s declarations, and long before he could see him.

“It’s amazing. I don’t even need to see you and you still give me a headache.” Logan called, and the long-winded and indignant rants were brought to a halt with a short squeak.

“Oh! Logan! My knight in shining armor has come to save me from the tower I’ve been locked away in!”

Logan came to a stop, arms crossed in front of the holding cell as he gazed at Roman, “The tower the Prince got himself trapped in.”

Roman clutched one hand over his heart, bunching the material of his white jacket in between his fingers, “I know you intend to wound me, Logan, but I am just so happy to see you.”

Logan rubbed at his temples and looked up at Roman, “You could just pay the parking ticket.”

“This is a slight on my honor! I must defend it!”

“You’re getting yourself into more trouble.”

“It is worth it to defend who I am.”

“You know you don’t have to defend yourself to us at the very least. We have seen you at your worst.”

“That hurt a little.”

“Roman this is the sixth time. It’s getting out of hand.”

“I am who I am. You cannot ask a fish to climb a tree.”

“Don’t quote political cartoons at me. You won’t be able to keep up.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Before the conversation could escalate, a police officer stepped next to Logan and tilted his head towards the cell, “You do know you’re free to go, Mr. Prince.” He said, unlocking the holding cell.

Roman stepped out and offered a cool nod towards the officer, and even the simple action caused Logan to raise an eyebrow.

“Stop glaring at the police officer.” He chided.

Roman turned to the logical man and frowned, “I was not!” He protested.

Logan just gave him an incredulous look and Roman hunched his shoulders.

“Come on, Prince Alarming. Let’s go home. Patton is making dinner.” Logan smiled slightly and Roman returned the expression before slinging an arm around Logan’s shoulders.

“So… what if I just challenged o-”

“No, you’re not challenging any of the police officers to a duel. You’ll lose and I’ll have it on video.”

“You take the fun out of everything!”

[iwillbeinmynest]

“James” - Bucky x Reader(f)

Authors Notes: Oh my glob. This fic… lots goes down in this and I’m pretty sure its the longest thing I’ve ever written that isn’t a series but hey, what can I say? I loved this concept and I just got carried away.

Inspired By: This post @lalawoo (Thank you for sharing this pic and I hope you don’t mind me tagging you but seeing as how it’s your art I felt like I should) and the concept that Bucky can trigger himself.

Word Count: …3.8K + (Why am I like this??)

Notes/Warnings: Violence, angst, tears, injuries, burns, mention of guns, Nat being a bit of a buthead(sorry, I needed a grumpy gills to move this story along), fluff at the end.

You were his weakness. You had been for months; not that you knew about it. Steve did though, and Bucky hated it.

“Just ask her out.” Steve would nudge in private.

Steve frequently caught Bucky stealing glances your way and he always encouraged Bucky to make a move. Bucky, however felt differently.

He wasn’t ready, he was sure of it. And he knew he didn’t deserve you or even the luxury of thinking about what it would be like to be with you. You were everything he ever thought a woman should be; strong, beautiful, confident, and so smart. You should be with someone less damaged than him, someone who could match you in intellect and who wouldn’t drag you down with a shattered past.

Today, he felt no different. You, Bucky and Steve were paired up on a Hydra operation and Bucky was doing his best to let you handle yourself. You didn’t need his help but all he wanted to do was protect you, to walk in front of you to make sure you never took a hit, but that would mean admitting that he saw you as more than just a team-mate.

Things had been pretty smooth so far, you took the lead with Bucky and Steve at your six. Every corner you turned revealed the same thing; an empty hallway or an empty room. The anticipation of running into someone decreased with every turn, and the nerves became stronger.

“I don’t like this,” You whispered. “This place is supposed to be crawling with Hydra agents.”

“She’s right, Steve, something’s off.” Bucky adjusted his grip on his rifle and checked over his shoulder for the hundredth time. “This doesn’t feel right.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Agreed. Pull back, this isn’t-”

Before Steve could finish his order an explosion ripped through the building. Fire rushed up the hallway and the pressure from the blast threw all three of you back.

Ears rang, worlds went white, and pain was masked by adrenaline and fear.

Steve and Bucky were on their feet quickly but shakily. They squinted their eyes or shielded them with an arm, there was so much debris, smoke and fire that they could hardly see each other.

“Where’s (Y/L/N)?!” Steve shouted.

Bucky had already been looking before Steve had started yelling. There was too much smoke and even with his super soldier lungs, he’d started coughing.

“(Y/N)!” Bucky called for you and prayed you would respond. “I need eyes, Steve! I can’t see anything in here!”

As if on cue, lights from Tony’s suits flooded the hallway as Iron Man hovered over the debris.

“I’ve got a heat signature coming from a pile of rubble to your right.” Tony announced over the suit’s intercom.

Bucky’s head snapped right and he caught a glimmer from a ring you always wear. Bucky moved like a demon, ripping and throwing pieces of brick, sheet rock and metal from on top of your body. He didn’t notice Steve helping or Tony keeping watch. He didn’t see Nat come up from the left and ask Steve what had happened.

Then it happened, a pain in his head, a rage in his gut, a little voice telling him what he would do if you’d died. He shook it off and tried to take a deep breath. Your face and upper body were finally freed. Bucky reached under your arms and was about to pull when Nat shouted at him.

“No!” Nat’s eye were wide when Bucky looked up at her. “If you move her without knowing what injuries she has, you could make it worse. Let Tony run a scan.”

“We don’t have time for that right now. I’ve got 12 bogies headed this way from the back of what’s left of this building. Clint’s already on his way with the jet and we will get her on a stretcher.” Tony’s voice was his familiar stressful calm.

You took a shallow breath and your head drifted from one side to the other. You groaned something but a piece of burning wall that fell masked your voice to the others.

But Bucky heard you.

His body tensed and his head hurt again, harder than the last time. Something was wrong. He’s a super soldier, he’s not supposed to get headaches. But what bothered him the most was how angry he was, how red his world was turning.

Steve could see it, too. “Buck…” He said cautiously.

Bucky jerked and scooped his rifle up from the ground without a word. He grabbed your rifle, too, and slung it over his shoulder, storming off into the heat of the explosion.

“Bucky!” Steve called after him. He grabbed his shield and followed as quick as he could. As Steve got closer he hear the familiar sound of foreign words.

“Longing…” Bucky mumbled to himself in Russian and he winced.

“Bucky, what are you doing?” Steve reached out and touched Bucky’s shoulder but tripped over some debris and lost his grip.

“Rusted…” Bucky’s jaw clinched and the muscles in his shoulders tightened.

Bucky turned a corner and Steve lost sight of him.

“Steve,” Tony spoke in Steve’s ear. “She’s in and out, her heartbeat is fading. We need to get her out of here. Regroup back at the jet and then-”

“Not until I get Barnes back.” Steve interrupted.

“Back? What happened to him?”

Steve didn’t answer. How could he? He knew what Bucky was doing, he even knew why he was doing it but that didn’t make it any better. Steve rushed around the corner and caught a glimpse of Bucky through the smoke, his shoulders shook with tension and he hunched over with each step he took away from Steve.

“Buck!” He shouted. He continued running after his best friend and upon approach, he heard the final words.

“One…” A heavy flinch from Bucky at his own words. He lost his balance and had to catch himself on a fractured wall, dropping both his weapon and yours.

“Bucky, No!” Steve lunged and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s chest, his head pressed into Bucky’s back. “Stop!”

Bucky grunted and tried to shake off his friend. “Freight c-”

Steve slammed Bucky head first against a wall. Bucky groaned and blacked out for a minute. His eyes screwed shut and he came to with a moan.

“You forget who the bad guys are, punk?” Bucky’s voice was more even than before and Steve sighed in relief.

“No, I didn’t. She’s alive Buck, Nat and Sam are taking her back to the jet. She’s going to be just fine.” Steve struggled to keep his breathing even

Bucky looked up at Steve. “She is?”

“…Yeah, pal, she’s fine.” Steve’s face contorted when Bucky’s gaze drifted to the floor to try and ease his headache. “Forget about Hydra, we can take care of them later. You need to check on your girl.”

Bucky slumped forward. “She’s not my-”

“She should be. If you’d just get the nerve to ask her.” Steve said with a cough from the smoke.

Bucky’s head nodded slightly but then snapped up when he heard footsteps approaching.

Steve looked in the direction of the noise. “Come on, Buck, let’s get back to the jet. We can always come back for these guys later.”

Bucky exhaled hard and grunted. “Fine.” Steve hauled Bucky to his feet and they both rushed back towards the rest of the team.

When the jet was in sight, they could see Tony standing at the end of the loading ramp, palms out, ready to take on anyone stupid enough to try and attack them.

“Took you long enough.” Stark grumbled. Steve shot him a look but kept walking.

“Barnes, you’ve got a nasty cut on your forehead.” Clint pointed out. “What happened?” Clint grabbed a rag and threw it to Bucky who wiped some of the blood away.

“I…” He paused. “Ran into a wall.”

“What?” Clint looked confused and Steve gave a slight shake of his head, telling Clint to let it go.

Bucky walked up behind Natasha, who was wrapping some gauze around a burn on your left arm. Bucky watched you closely. You were in bad shape. Burns everywhere, cuts, bruises, dried blood at your ears. It was clear that you’d taken the brunt of the blast.

Nat jerked with the ripping of the bandage and you groaned at the pain moving caused you. Your eyes fluttered open for a moment, locking with Bucky’s, and then fell shut again. Your fingers twitched his direction and he carefully placed his hand over yours.

Bucky turned on Steve. “You lied to me. You said she was going to be fine.”

Steve stood from his seat and looked his friend in the eyes. “She will be.”

Bucky snapped. “Look at her, Steve!”

“Don’t pretend like what you were trying to do was the only solution.” Steve raised his voice and his chest puffed out slightly.

“Trying to do what?” Tony cut in, asking the question that was on the rest of the team’s minds.

“Buck, if you’d chosen willingly to be the soldier again…” Steve shook his head in disbelief. How could Bucky even want to be that? “I don’t know if we’d ever get you back. You do all this talkin’ about (Y/N) being your girl one day but you can’t have her and be him. She doesn’t deserve that and neither do you. So, yeah, I lied but I did it to buy some time, hoping you’d snap out of it and realize what a colossal mistake that would have been.”

“He can do that?” Tony interjected again. “You can trigger yourself?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened and he turned his back on everyone. He pulled a chair up beside the table you were on hand he sat beside you.

Steve scoffed and returned to his seat. It was clear to everyone how infuriated Steve was that Bucky had ignored him and the rest of the flight home was silent.

Four days.

You had been in the hospital for four days, unconscious. Bucky never left your side. He slept in the chair by your bed and the only time he left was when the nurses or doctors asked him to so that they could change your bandages.

He was tired and he was scared. He hadn’t spoken a word to anyone since the mission. He didn’t know what to say. He knew becoming the soldier again would have been bad; he knew it would have cost him you.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve said quietly from the door. “Why don’t you go get some real sleep. I can stay and watch her for a few hours.”

Bucky looked up at his best friend and his throat tightened. He bit back tears and shifted in his seat.

“Nah,” Bucky’s voice came out rough and scratchy. “I’m good.”

Steve nodded, not really believing him but not wanting to argue any more. “Any change?”

“Doc says her heart is beating faster, which is good. Says she’s getting stronger and should wake up soon.”

“That’s good.” Steve moved to the foot of the bed. “Listen, Buck, about what I said-”

“Don’t.” Bucky cut him off. “You were right. It was a bad call. Thanks for stopping me.”

Steve nodded again and the room fell silent save for the beeping and humms of different machines. Steve looked at your face and frowned. You still looked pretty bad. Your left arm was burned bad and the scarring would reach your neck, he couldn’t tell how far down your arm the damage was.

A thought occurred to Steve. “What did she say?”

Bucky looked up confused. “Huh?”

“Before you took off, after the explosion, she said something and I know you were the one closest to her and heard it. What did she say?”

Bucky swallowed and inhaled. “She said my name. She called me ‘James’.”

“She never calls you that.” Steve wondered out loud.

“She called me that once before.” He remembered. “I was having a bad day and she found me…at my worst. She listened and after hearing all of my nightmares and horror stories, she looked at me and she called me James. I could have kissed her then- I should have. I should have told her how I felt, but I was too much of a coward.” Bucky sighed. “And when she said my name again, it reminded me of how much I needed her. And I- I was so mad Steve, mad that they had taken her from me. It’s not like before, it’s like I couldn’t control it, like the soldier was dragging me back, begging to come out…and I wanted to be him again. Because the soldier gets the job done. He doesn’t feel and I thought I wanted that.”

Your fingers twitched in Bucky’s hand and you took a deep breath.

Both Steve and Bucky’s heads snapped up. Bucky leaned in closer to you and wrapped both of his hands around yours.

“(Y/N)?” His voice hopeful.

“Your hands are cold.” You mumbled and Bucky smiled.

“I’ll go get the Doc.” Steve nodded to Bucky and let you two have a moment alone.

“How ya feeling?” Bucky rubbed his hand up your forearm.

“Like I got hit by a bus.” You cleared your throat and you began to shift so you could try to sit up in the bed.

“Whoa, no. You need to take it easy. Just lay back down.” Bucky did his best to be careful as he helped you lay down but his hand brushed over some of the bandages on your left arm and you winced. “I’m so sorry!” He pulled his hands away completely and frowned at himself.

You turned to look at your arm and froze. “James… What happened?”

Bucky’s voice caught in his throat at the sound of his name on your lips. “You- You, uh, took a pretty big hit.”

Ever so carefully, you ran your fingers up the length of your other arm and followed the bandages all the way up to your neck.

“We walked right into a trap.” Bucky went on. “The place was rigged to blow and no one caught it.”

“My arm…”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, (Y/N), your arm is pretty burnt. Doc says you might loose some feeling in it but that you shouldn’t loose mobility.” Bucky’s shoulders slumped a bit.

“My neck is burned, too?”

“Dr. Cho rigged up some localized meds so that you shouldn’t feel the pain so bad but, yeah, your neck is burned, too. Stops right under your ear.”

You dropped your hand from your neck and sighed. “Please tell me my hair didn’t burn off. Last thing I need is to loose that too.”

Bucky’s lips twitched up into a smile. The fact that you cracked a joke was a good sign. “Your hair is fine.”

“Thank goodness.” You grinned for a moment and then it faded away. “Well, this is never gonna work, now.” You mumbled.

“What’s not going to work?” Bucky asked.

Before you could answer him, Dr. Cho and her team walked in, followed by Steve and Nat. She got to work asking you question after question about how you were feeling while her nurses checked your vitals and began to change your bandages.

When the bandages at your shoulder were removed, you made yourself look at the damage. Your eyes widened and you snapped your head away, searching for Bucky in the room. He appeared between nurses and wove his fingers into yours.

The room became blurry with tears so you closed your eyes to try and hide it; only for a stream to cascade down both of your cheeks. You felt a metal thumb wipe them away.

“(Y/N),” you heard Dr. Cho speak. “I’m very hopeful that you will regain full use of your arm again. With physical therapy and rest, I imagine you will be right back out in the field with your team in no time.” She intentionally lifted her tone to sound happy but you could hear bull crap from a mile away.

“Thanks, Doctor.” Your voice came out as weak as your confidence in her reassurances.

After a few more minutes you heard the shuffling of feet and then the silence that followed. You opened your eyes and found Steve and Nat standing at the foot of your bed; Bucky’s fingers were still intertwined with yours.

“Hey,” Steve smiled. “Glad to see you’re awake. Its been a boring four days without you.”

“It’s been four days?” You gaped. Bucky rubbed his thumb over the top of your hand.

“Yeah, taking on a bomb head on will do that to ya.” Nat smirked. “Glad you’re awake, (Y/L/N).”

“I should have been in front of you.” Bucky shook his head, disappointed with himself.

“That wasn’t your job.” You countered.

“Not that you didn’t try and fix it.” Nat scoffed.

“Fix it?” You looked to Bucky. “What does she mean?”

“It’s nothing.” He said sharply.

“He tried to trigger himself so the Soldier would kill all of Hydra for you.” Nat said spitefully.

“Nat.” Steve turned on her.

“You did what?” You asked Bucky.

“It was stupid.” Nat added.

“I’m not sorry for it.” Bucky glared at her.

“Oh? And then what Barnes?” She stared right back at him. “We could have lost you both that day!”

“Enough!” Steve grabbed Nat’s arm and shoved her towards the door. “Get out. This isn’t the time or place and you know that.”

Nat rolled her eyes and shoved the door open, taking a dramatic exit.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” Steve sighed. “Rest up and I’ll check on you later.” He smiled regretfully to you and tossed Bucky a look before he left and shut the door behind him.

“James-”

“Don’t , (Y/N).” Bucky shook his head and couldn’t meet your eyes.

“Why would you-”

“Because!” He jerked and looked at you. “I thought they took you from me and I’m not sorry for what I almost did. In fact, I’m glad that I know I can do it because the Soldier gets the job done and if I ever did loose you, I’d be too much of a mess to handle it. At least I know that I have him to take care of things.”

“But you can’t come out of that!” You argued.

“Steve knows how to get me back.” He grumbled.

“James, you swear to me, right now, that you will never do that again!” Your eyes had watered up again and you were angry at how weak you probably looked. “I’m not worth you doing that to yourself.”

Bucky froze, a hard expression plastered on his face. He had so much to say to that but all that came out was, “What’s not going to work?”

“Huh?”

“Before the doctor came in, you said ‘this wasn’t going to work’. What did you mean?”

You took a second to recall what had been said earlier and inhaled when you remembered. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

Bucky stared at you with that same hard expression and waited for you to actually answer him.

You let out a heavy breath and rolled your eyes. “I’m just tired that’s all.”

“Bull.” He called. “Answer the question, (Y/N).”

“No.” You glared, embarrassment seeping across your cheeks.

“Answer me!”

His tone startled you and you confessed. “You and me! That’s what’s not going to work. Not when I look like this! Scarred and ugly, week and incapable. You’d never want someone like this, now!” You slapped your hand over your mouth.

Bucky’s expression melted into confusion. “What?”

“James, please…” You sighed as fresh tears fell. “Just leave me alone.”

“No.” He grabbed your hand and held it tight in his flesh one. “(Y/N), I…” He took a deep breath and softened his tone. “(Y/N), will you be my girl?”

You sobbed once, “Don’t tease me. Not now, please.”

“I’d never do that to you, doll.” There was a sincerity in his voice that almost hurt to hear. “I thought I’d lost you and I was even more upset that I never told you how much I cared about you… How much I love you.”

You stared at Bucky, unable to speak.

“I promise that I won’t trigger the Soldier if you promise to never think that I could see you as anything other than beautiful.”

“But-”

“I’m missing my arm and it’s been replaced by something…hideous and dangerous.”

“No, James, don’t say that.” You winced at his remark.

“Sucks doesn’t it?” He smirked. “To hear someone you care about degrade themselves, especially over something they had no control of.”

“Point taken but, James-”

You were cut off by his lips crashing against yours. Bucky’s flesh hand slid under your jaw, cupping your head. His metal fingers carefully brushed the hair on the other side of your face away from your bandages. Bucky kissed you soft and with an honesty that was new to you.

He pulled back and wiped the tears from your face. “I think I’m gonna kiss you every time you call me that.” He smirked.

“…James,” You tested. Bucky leaned back in and you were happy with the results. He kissed you again but with a slight touch of urgency this time. You could feel his flesh fingers curling to grip your hair.

He pulled away again. “So, do I get to call you my girl?” He said against your lips, his nose nuzzling yours.

“I think I could get used to that.” You smiled and he kissed you again.

“I’m going to be with you through all of this, (Y/N). I swear.” He sat back in his chair.

“I’m not going to ask you to do that.” Your heart ached at the thought of your healing process.

“You don’t have to.” He reassured.

“Bucky, I’m serious. This…” You looked at your arm and felt your throat tighten with tears. “I already feel-”

“Like the most beautiful girl in the world, that’s how you should finish that sentence.” He gave a small smile.

Tears broke over your lids. That’s not how you felt and he knew it.

“Doll, I know this isn’t easy, believe me I know, but please, please, please, try and remember to not let your scars define you.” His brows pulled together in sympathy and his hand rested on your cheek. “I’m going to be here for you. You were there for me on my bad days and it’s the very minimum I can do for you.”

“I love you, James.” You said with a quivering smile.

Bucky stood from his chair and kissed you again. “I love you, too, (Y/N).” He then gave you seven quick pecks on the lips before he sat back in his chair.

“What were those for?” You almost giggled as you wiped away your tears.

“For the first seven times you called me James.” He gave you a cocky grin and squeezed your hand in his.

Forever tags:

@heismyhunter @sgtbxckybxrnes @pickledmoon @whimsicalrebirth @marvel-lucy @thisisthelilith @james-bionic-barnes @thedreamingowl @poemwriter98@kimistry27 @annie-lujan @buckyandsebsinbin @lilasiannerd @gypsy-storm-15 @cassiopeiassky @earinafae @the-stuttering-kiwi @obsessedwithatwell @shortiiqt16 @shifutheshihtzu @elaacreditava @nikkitia7 @theonewithallthemilkshakes @gallifreyansass @storytellingwanderer @palaiasaurus64 @iamwarrenspeace @engineeringgirlcve @magnolia-wanders @carameldaemoncakes @canumoveyourseatup-no @melconnor2007 @movingonto-betterthings @spideytrxsh @fantasticmiraclehologram @kapolisradomthoughts @iamwarrenspeace @melconnor2007 @yesiamdeliciouslycaffeinated @mcu-avengerrs @archy3001@mmauricee @barnesvogue @feelmyroarrrr @beyondbarnes @marvelous-avengers @veronicalei @cornflax01 @kudosia @witchymarvelspacecase

Fic Tags:

@janetgenea @taylorjacksonandtheolympians @buckthegrump @eloquenceassassinated (thank y’all for being so supportive of this wild thing!)

[junker-town]

The top 5 NFL Offensive Rookie of the Year candidates, ranked

Raiders running back Josh Jacobs is the 2019 NFL Rookie of the Year frontrunner.

This isn’t a stacked group compared to recent years, but one player has stood above the others.

It hasn’t been a banner year for game-breaking rookies. The 2019 crop of offensive players hasn’t produced a star like Baker Mayfield or Saquon Barkley the year before. No one is hurtling toward a spot on All-Pro teams like Alvin Kamara, Ezekiel Elliott, or Todd Gurley in the recent past.

One player has risen above the fray to stand as the top choice for NFL Offensive Rookie of the Year honors, however. Raiders tailback Josh Jacobs has been vital to his franchise’s rebuild, giving Derek Carr a 1,000-yard rusher to take pressure off his passing game. While he’s a safe bet to take home the award — DraftKings currently lists him as a -400 favorite — there’s still a chance his spot gets usurped in the final two weeks of the season.

Who could make a final, furious push to challenge Jacobs’ status as rookie of the year favorite? There are a few contenders to the Raider’s presumed throne. Let’s talk about them.

(If you’re wondering who’s up for Defensive Rookie of the Year, we’ve got the rankings right here.)

5. Terry McLaurin, Washington

This spot could belong to DK Metcalf, Miles Sanders, or Devin Singletary in a pinch, but let’s give McLaurin his due for shining in the midst of a bad situation. Washington’s continued streak of dysfunction remained unchallenged in 2019, leaving the former Ohio State wideout to catch passes from three different quarterbacks: Case Keenum, Colt McCoy, and rookie Dwayne Haskins.

McLaurin leads all rookie wideouts and tight ends in receiving yards per game and has been targeted more than any other first-year player but Metcalf. A big part of that is thanks to Washington’s awful roster — because come on, who else is there to throw to? — but it also highlights the rookie’s strength. Opponents have adjusted to McLaurin’s rise as the team’s top receiving option, and he’s still found a way to gash defenses.

TERRY MCLAURIN! Unreal one-handed touchdown grab. #HTTR : #WASvsGB on FOX : NFL app // Yahoo Sports app Watch free on mobile: https://t.co/D5AfU98qAh pic.twitter.com/OaLLDL51Ad

— NFL (@NFL) December 8, 2019

In Week 15, he caught all five of the passes thrown his way for 130 yards and a touchdown against Philadelphia’s foundering secondary. He also became the only rookie receiver in franchise history with three 100+ yard games where he also found the end zone. He finished his season with 919 receiving yards in 14 games — second-most among all rookies this fall.

Key stat: Washington’s quarterbacks have a combined 83.0 passer rating this fall. When they’re targeting McLaurin, that number spikes to 115.8. No wonder he’s getting so many looks.

t-3. Gardner Minshew, Jaguars

Oh cool, another bad situation! Minshew upped his rookie QB credentials by snapping Jacksonville’s five-game losing streak and ruining Oakland’s farewell to the Raiders in one fell swoop. He seemed to enjoy crushing the Bay Area’s collective heart as well.

"Saw more middle fingers today than I have in my whole life. They have a good time man, it was fun to ruin that for them" Gardner Minshew with some HEAT after the game#Jaguars pic.twitter.com/QyhwKpRR6x

— Ben Murphy (@BenMurphyTV) December 16, 2019

The 2019 sixth-round pick outplayed Nick Foles to regain his starting job and has been the man behind center for all six of the Jags’ wins this season. And though he hasn’t maintained the early-season breakout that once put him atop our offensive rookie rankings, he’s been good enough to inspire at least *some* confidence in Jacksonville’s eternally cursed quarterback situation going forward.

More importantly, he’s calmed the turnover woes that haunted him early in the season. He turned the ball over 11 times in his first nine games, but cut drastically into that rate since regaining his starting role (two interceptions, zero fumbles lost in his final five games). Even if Minshew Mania may have died down as the season wore on, the mustachioed signal caller has proven he can be an above-average option.

Key stat: Minshew’s 91.2 passer rating is tops among rookie QBs, as are his 7.3 adjusted yards per pass.

t-3. Kyler Murray, Cardinals

The reigning No. 1 overall pick has had his share of struggles behind an overwhelmed offensive line that’s allowed him to be sacked on nearly nine percent of his dropbacks. Still, Murray has improved significantly as the season progressed.

Though he’s been roughly league average as a passer, he hasn’t been tasked with doing much downfield in Kliff Kingsbury’s spread offense. Murray has averaged just 6.8 yards per target through the air, a mark that ranks between Minshew and Case Keenum toward the bottom of this year’s list of starting QBs. That’s a departure from his more freewheeling Oklahoma days, but it’s also an indictment against his receiving corps — after Christian Kirk and a 36-year-old Larry Fitzgerald, there aren’t any other reliable downfield threats in the lineup.

That should improve as his wideouts level up. The more intriguing piece of his game, however, may be his running presence. Murray carved up the Browns for 58 yards in a 38-24 upset win in Week 15 and gave the 49ers headaches in both of their meetings.

Seeing stars @K1 puts us back in the lead! pic.twitter.com/ifYHifGs9z

— Arizona Cardinals ⋈ (@AZCardinals) November 17, 2019

He also ran for 40 yards (and threw for only 118) in an upset win over the Seahawks in Week 16. While he’s not infallible on the ground — he had four games with fewer than 20 yard rushing — he’s shown off the chops to devastate defenses outside the pocket. His performances over the last half of the season would put him on pace for a 550-yard, four-touchdown season.

Those aren’t Lamar Jackson numbers (nothing is), but it’s a good start from a player who has made a hopeless situation in Arizona a little more palatable.

Key stat: 19:8. That’s the ratio of total touchdowns to turnovers Murray’s had since Week 5. That’s not stellar, but it’s an encouraging sign for an Arizona team that got just 11 touchdowns and 19 interceptions and lost fumbles from Josh Rosen in 2018.

2. A.J. Brown, Titans

Brown may be the league’s most exciting young deep threat; the Tennessee rookie has had four different games in which he’s averaged more than 30 yards per catch.

The 226-pound wideout is equal parts fast and tough to bring down. Brown was useful to start the season, but his pro career didn’t really take off until he was paired with a resurgent Ryan Tannehill.

Here’s how his game changed when head coach Mike Vrabel made the decision to bench Marcus Mariota and roll with Tannehill instead.

Brown with Mariota at quarterback (six games): 3.8 targets, 2.3 catches, and 45.5 yards per game, 11.9 yards per target, 2 TDs

Brown with Tannehill at quarterback (10 regular season games): 6.1 targets, 3.8 catches, and 77.8 yards per game, 12.8 yards per target, 6 TDs

With Tannehill, Brown’s been the full season equivalent of a 1,200-yard, 10-touchdown receiver. The veteran quarterback has a 126.6 rating when targeting his rookie safety net. Those are WR1 numbers for a franchise that’s been looking for a true top wideout since the days of Derrick Mason.

Key stat: No player in the league is averaging more yards-after-catch than the former Ole Miss star. He has tacked only nearly nine full yards, per SIS, after hauling in the ball. Unsurprisingly, nearly 75 percent of his completions have resulted in first downs.

1. Josh Jacobs, Raiders

Jacobs missed three games this season due to injury and still finished with 1,150 rushing yards. The next-closest rookie was Bears running back David Montgomery at 889 (in 16 games). That’s a pretty big gap!

The former Alabama star has vaulted past DeAndre Washington and Jalen Richard to the top of Oakland’s rotation, taking up nearly two-thirds of the team’s carries in the process. He’s averaged 7.5 yards per carry on runs outside the tackle box and has broken more tackles than all but two other running backs (Chris Carson and Derrick Henry).

There are still drawbacks to his game. He’s failed to add much value as a receiver. Jacobs has averaged fewer than two catches per game, almost all of which have come in screen situations — his average target depth is a full yard behind the line of scrimmage. He’s never had more than 30 receiving yards in a game and his 6.1 yards per target is more than two yards less than Eagles rookie running back Miles Sanders.

He hasn’t needed to be a linebacker-killing wheel route machine, because the Raiders have two other backs who can catch passes. What Oakland needed him to be is a high-usage grinder, and Jacobs has filled that role with aplomb. Unless something absurd happens over the final two weeks of the season, he’s your offensive rookie of the year.

Key stat: 3.0. Jacobs has been a beast in traffic — his 3.0 yards after contact are more than Dalvin Cook or Alvin Kamara in 2019. The first man on the scene rarely brings him down.

[illness-to-wellness]

The questions and inspiration for this post originally came from Invisible Illness Week 2015. I’ve written a little bit about POTS before, but nothing this in-depth. This was initially published as a guest post on Kate the Almost Great with this intention: “I decided to add to the health part of [this] blog by sharing about an under-diagnosed chronic health condition, postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS). Though it’s somewhat rarely diagnosed, somewhere between 1-3 million people in the United States live with it!”

1. The illness I live with is? Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS), which is a form of dysautonomia. Dysautonomia is an umbrella term for syndromes that involve misfirings of the autonomic nervous system. You can learn about POTS’ mechanisms and vast array of symptoms in this short video.

Source: Dysautonomia International.

2. I was diagnosed with it in the year: 2016.

3. But I’ve had symptoms: My entire life, but they got far worse once I turned 20 about 4 years ago.

4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: I spent almost half of my summer in 2016 at Mayo Clinic or en route to Mayo Clinic! I went for a week to get diagnosed and seen by a bunch of different doctors, and then I returned for a 20-day intensive pain and symptom management program afterward that gave me my life back. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. In terms of my daily life adjustments, in order to manage the symptoms I get the most – higher-than-normal heart rate upon standing or sitting, fatigue, brain fog, dizziness, sweating, weakness, headaches, and nausea – I’ve had to adjust my life significantly. Because of all of these adjustments, though, I’ve started to feel so much better. I had to start exercising 4-5 times a week, weight training 3-4 times a week, eating 6 small meals a day, ingesting 4-8x the amount of salt as a person without POTS to help my blood flow to all parts of my body better, wearing compression stockings or compression shorts, taking 3 different kinds of meds for the symptoms, drinking about a gallon of water a day, and trusting my body to do what it needs to do, even though I know it has problems. These take a lot of time, effort, endurance, and patience, and I’m not perfectly adherent in keeping them, but I do my best. I’ve written an entire piece on managing it, and chronic illnesses in general, if you want some Mayo Clinic-approved and personal success story-proven tips.

5. Most people assume: That the main symptoms of orthostatic intolerance (having the heart rate shoot up and not go back down, like it’s supposed to, upon standing up) and exercise intolerance (though you can train up to it!) are due to laziness and being out of shape. Some doctors don’t think that POTS is a real problem, and one even told me that it’s the “medicalization of inactivity.” That’s just wrong.

6. The hardest part about mornings are: Knowing that getting out of bed is going to make me feel dizzy, nauseous, and fatigued. Once I drink a few cups of water, take my meds, and eat my first small meal of the day, I start to feel human.

7. My favorite medical TV show is: Grey’s Anatomy.

8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: My Fitbit. I have a bunch of other favorite products that help me manage my life in general, though, which I’ve put into lists based on the kind of help they give me: vocational and physical. (At some point I’ll have one for mental health!)

9. The hardest part about nights are: Sometimes being absolutely exhausted and feeling like I have nothing left in me to the point where I don’t want to talk or do anything. However, when I manage my symptoms well, and make sure to moderate and pace myself throughout the day by taking rests, I can make it to the end of the day these days. It’s often my fibromyalgia (a chronic pain syndrome that can be linked with POTS) that gives me the most trouble by the end of the day, but that’s a different story.

10. Each day I take 12-14 pills & vitamins.

11. Regarding alternative treatments I: Believe in ones with evidence and don’t buy into the ones that don’t. There are a lot of non-medical things that I do to manage my POTS symptoms (see articles on how I manage and what products I use for my vocational and physical health, but I’d be toast without my medications for it to help bolster what I already do.

12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: This is a can of worms. Living with an invisible illness (or, in my case, four different ones) means living in a liminal space where you’re never quite healthy enough, yet never quite sick enough. The truth is that many chronic illnesses are only invisible if those around you choose to avert their eyes. However, when I was at Mayo Clinic’s Pain Rehabilitation Center, I learned how to do what we termed “stealth moves” to take care of myself without others noticing so as to not worry others around me, as well as not have my life revolve around pain and symptoms by others’ constant questions. (I couldn’t recommend the PRC enough because it gave me back my life. And, amazingly, in my young adult cohort, more than 80% of us had POTS! There was an unspoken and life-changing understanding among us). At this point, I’m grateful they’re invisible because it allows me to more easily live life without others worrying or trying to accommodate me because I can usually take care of myself. However, I’m glad that I have many trustworthy family members and friends who remind me that I don’t have to go it alone.

  With the idea and urging of a friend, I created this game called “Spoonopoly” (based on the Spoon Theory of chronic illness) that shows just how much little things that most people don’t even think away can, and just might, zap away your energy if you live with something like POTS.

  13. Regarding working and career: I have to take care of myself very carefully and closely in order to assure that I will be able to keep going strong. There have been various points in my chronic illness journey when I didn’t think I’d be able to work even a part-time job, so it’s a miracle that I interned this summer as a hospital chaplain with more than full-time hours! (I’m worked 75 hours one week because, you know, 24-hour on-call shifts. What). I get to do work I love, so I try to keep well enough to do it.

14. People would be surprised to know: Just how fatigued I feel so much (read: all) of the time, yet I come across as having a lot of energy because I’m a positive and gregarious person. Looks can be deceiving, but I’d rather live life to the fullest I can rather than having it pass me by.

15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: Slowing myself down on my best ways, or pushing myself on my worst days. It looks different every day, and it’s hard not to be able to be as consistent as I’d like to be.

16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was: Hike up steep mountains again! I may be the sweatiest person alive when I get to the top, but y’all, what a gift it is to be able to see the world on foot, despite what my heart rate can be. This is a picture of me on my way up Masada in Palestine, which is pretty much a straight-up cliff that goes more than 1,300 feet up.

17. The commercials about my illness: Are non-existent. Most doctors have no idea that it’s a thing, so why would there be lucrative pharmaceutical enterprises for it?

18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is: Actually, getting my diagnosis helped me get things that I had lost back.

19. It was really hard to have to give up: Getting to be totally carefree about my health. It’s a job, y’all. But you have to laugh anyway – otherwise you won’t make it.

20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is: Taking walks around the neighborhood on days that I want to get exercise, but don’t feel like going on the elliptical.

21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: You know, at this point, I live a pretty normal life by my own standards. I wish I could be a bit more consistent and carefree, but that’s a human struggle that we all go through at points in our lives, no?

22. My illness has taught me: How weird the human body can be! I can’t even describe the strangeness of some of the tests that you have to undergo to get diagnosed conclusively with a dysautonomic condition. Here are two pictures from my diagnostic period at Mayo Clinic: one of me wearing all sorts of medical devices to monitor my heart rate and blood pressure, and after I underwent a sweat test to make sure I had autonomic nervous system dysfunction rather than brain damage They put sand on you that turns purple on contact with sweat. Let’s just say I was amused, but also a bit disturbed.

23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say that gets under my skin is: “You’re so lucky to have a handicap permit for your car!” (I use one on my worst health days.) I would do anything to not need one, so this one small societal perk isn’t even sort of worth the sometimes-disabling health conditions that allowed me to get one. “God has a good plan for your health problems.” This is plain old unhelpful and even aggravating. I believe that God does beautiful things with the situations surrounding them, and I am grateful for what I have learned, but I would erase the health problems from my life in an instant if I could.

24. But I love it when people: Are willing to sit with me when I need to take a break; flexible in making plans with me, including adventurous ones; and compassionate about what I go through, not seeing me as a victim, instead hear and help bear my pain.

25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is: I have a LOT, but one that fits my journey particularly well is this: “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” – Oscar Wilde

26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: That this isn’t the end of the world, even though it sometimes feels like it. How much they can work to improve their situation. How they’ll be able to have a good life, despite their symptoms. I’m living proof that things can change if you’re dedicated, and I am no stronger than you – just perhaps a bit farther in the journey! (And that means I now know some advice that’s actually helpful.)

27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: The compassion, wisdom, and patience that accompany it. I’ve become a much better listener and friend now that I know more about what’s like to undergo the unexpected and undesired.

28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: Take out the trash that had been accumulating for weeks, make me dinner (a dish that fit my dietary restrictions), and do the dishes for me. I sobbed. And that’s just one example – I could name so many more. I love my friends so much.

29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: 96% of disabilities are invisible, yet everyone assumes that disability is a binary where you’re either visibly disabled or entirely healthy. No such thing, y’all. I’m also involved in invisible illness awareness campaigns because being disabled does not mean that I’m a total inspiration or a horrific tragedy. That’s another false binary around disability, so I’m smashing the expectations by sharing my lived experiences – the gray area, a liminal space rather than one that is black and white.

Carol Rossetti has amazing cartoon depictions of unexpected victories in body positivity and feminism like this.

30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: Glad because this is an under-diagnosed syndrome that needs more attention! Thank you.

30 Things About Living with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS) The questions and inspiration for this post originally came from Invisible Illness Week 2015. I've written a…