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f1nalboys · 1 year

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Catch 22 - Bo Sinclair and Nick Jones

Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader x Nick Jones

haiiii so heres the first of (hopefully) a few poly fics!!! bex (@bisexual-horror-fan) is currently running a little something called multi-may where for the month of may, every fic she posts will be polyam focused!!! i HAD to participate and what better way to do it than w stinky bo and stinky nick?? i hope yall enjoy the surprise of nick and the nasty sick little thing i wrote here for you <3 PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS ON THIS ONE GUYS!

WORD COUNT: 2526

WARNINGS: nsfw, dub-con to be safe but reader is (sadly and not really happy about it) into it, poly!relationship, toxic relationships, reader and nick used to date before ambrose and now bo is in the mix, bo comes as his own warning and honestly in this one, so does nick! oral (amab receiving,) unprotected sex, spit-roasting, heavy degradation, light praise but it's really just to make the degradation hit harder, slight humiliation, blood, biting, sadism and slight masochism, toy usage, slight dumbification, training mention (aka bo trains nick to be as sadistic as him and they train you to be good for them.) reader is called pet/sugar/freak/a good little bitch/baby/a pretty dumb thing.

It was hard to think about how exactly you got here, squished between both men with an ache deep in your gut as their hands roamed your body. How long had it been since you and he had come to town? A few days? A few weeks? Months? You weren’t sure anymore. Time in the basement had all but stopped for you the moment you had gotten strapped to the chair and it was hard for you to even think about before, especially when what was happening now was so good.

“Like that, doncha?” Bo asks, grinding against your ass, his face nuzzled into your neck. You make a noise resembling an agreement and you can feel his laugh rumble in his chest. He’s still clothed and you wish he weren’t, you wish he were naked and doing this to you so that you could at least pretend it was more for his own pleasure than yours. “Yeah, I bet you do. Like having two sets of hands on you, don’t you, my greedy little pet?”

He’s right, you do, and you hate that you do. You hate how much you’re loving this, having four hands grabbing and groping and pulling at you however they please. “They do love it,” Nick’s voice is in front of you and his forehead is pressed against your own. You blink, getting rid of the haze that had begun to collect in the edges of your vision, and are met with his icy stare. He resembled Bo here, a sharp stare with eyes that seemed to sparkle in a way that made your gut swim in both anxiety and lust. “Tell him, baby. Admit that you like when we treat you like this.”

You swallow thickly, your mouth dry. You nod and both men tsk at the same time, something you wish you could laugh at. You wish that their accidental synchronicity could ease your worries a bit, and could result in the briefest moments of normalcy. But their being in sync meant they were the same and that they had the same idea floating through their heads. Nick smiles at you, the corner of his lip curling upwards into a snarl. You’re sure Bo has a matching one.

“He told you to say it, sugar,” Bo’s grip on your hip tightens, grime-covered nails digging into your bare flesh, right over the last remnants of finger-print shaped bruises. It hurts but it was meant to. His touch was always meant to. Bo wanted the pain and pleasure to be uneven, coming in waves, making you crave the pain knowing that the sweeping and overwhelming end of the pleasure would come for you eventually. And god, did you crave that ‘eventually.’ “So… fuckin’ say it. Unless you want me to cut that tongue outta your mouth? Might do some good; you talk so goddamn much.”

“Yeah, but then how are we gonna let ‘em suck our cocks, Bo?” Nick asks, ignoring your squirming. You felt claustrophobic in between these two. Everything they did was almost too much, too intense and too rough and too hurried, but the thought of them leaving you after all this, aching for their touch, was enough to kill you. His voice was light as if he were discussing the weather with the other man and not about whether or not your tongue should be cut from your fucking mouth. “Wouldn’t you miss it, man? How warm and tight their throat is? So perfect…”

Nick drags his hands down your neck as if he were imagining you on your knees for him then and there, taking his cock like you had done hundreds of times before, some before Bo but most after. Bo liked to watch, liked seeing how he brought this sick sadistic side of Nick out. You remember the first time they both used you, when Nick didn’t pay attention to your whimpers of pain as he pushed inside, how he seemed focused only on his own pleasure, looking at you only to call you a name that you had never seen pass his lips before, the same name Bo had called you before. Pet. Bo had been watching, directing, and had met your eye after the third round with a smile. “Seems he got the hang of it all, doncha think?”

Bo hums. They had been touching you everywhere except where you needed them and you were getting desperate and they knew you were too. It would be embarrassing if they hadn’t already trained you to enjoy it. “Guess you’re right. Maybe we can get one last good one in before we do it.” He sinks his teeth into your shoulder and you yelp in pain, feeling the skin break underneath his teeth. He keeps biting for a moment longer just to hear your cries, just to smell the fear seep out of the wound before he pulls away. You look up at him, tears spilling down your cheeks, and he grins. Blood covers his teeth.

You knew if given the chance - if given a reason - Bo would be more than happy to rip your throat out with his teeth, pull and tear the muscle from your body, feel the warm blood cover his mouth and the front of his shirt, savor the taste. When you look at Nick, his eyes are on the shallow wound of your shoulder and he swallows hard, eyes trained on the blood dripping from the mark. You wonder what would happen to him if you were gone. Nick and Bo didn’t seem to interact much unless you were involved. Would Bo kill him too? Would Nick even want to live?

The idea of the two of them moving on and finding someone new to replace you fills your gut with a slow-moving panic, one that you suppose is always there inside you, just under the surface. And then Nick is looking at you and you're taken back to before Ambrose, to the guy you had thought about marrying, to the late nights and soft kisses and praise that dripped from his tongue like honey. It’s all gone now. That Nick had died the moment Bo had met him and had seen himself inside, festering under Nick’s skin like an infection. Maybe that version of Nick never really existed at all.

The moment is gone and you’re back in the dusty house between the stranger and your lover and you don't know either one anymore.

“Please,” you say and both men stay silent, waiting for you to continue. Your voice sounds foreign to you now, thrown far behind you like a puppet on a string. “I wanna be good.” Nick smiles and again, for just a moment, it’s like you’re back home with him, but then the glint in his eye is back and you know you’re so very far from home even when you’re pressed against it. “I like when you both touch me.” Your face is hot at the admittance but you’re rewarded with a soft groan behind you as Bo finally loosens his grip. Your hip feels numb. “Please don’t stop.”

“See?” Bo coo’s in your ear, pulling away from you for a second to undo his belt. The sound is Pavlovian and you whimper, falling into Nick's arms, mouth filling with saliva, ass sticking out. Both men laugh at you but you can’t bother to care now. The dam holding back your panic from bubbling to the surface had broken and you were ready to cry, to beg, to do anything and everything they asked. “Was that so hard?”

His voice reminds you of what it was like to be scolded as a child and you feel a wave of humiliation wash over you as Nick cradles your head in his hands. He presses his fingers into your neck and you whimper, pain shooting down your spine. “Doing so good,” he says, kissing your forehead. Instead of comforting you, it does the opposite, sending goosebumps up your arms. You had been in this situation with the two of them countless times and you knew better than to let Nick's praise be just that. It was always a ploy, shielding the true reason behind his kind words and actions. “Gonna let us use you, aren’t you?”

“‘Course they are, the freak.” You feel Bo’s cock press against you and he groans, cursing under his breath as one hand lines himself up to your entrance, the other pressing down onto your lower back, forcing you to bend over a bit more. Nick lets go of you and you cling to his jeans, face pressed against his crotch as you feel a glob of spit land on you followed by Bo’s thick fingers smearing it across your hole before pushing inside. The force of his thrust and the pain ripping through you at the intrusion despite all of the teasing has you jolting forward with a cry and Nick takes advantage, grabbing the back of your head and pushing you into his crotch harder. “Gettin’ off on this, fuck, they’re so fuckin’-”

Bo cuts himself off with a groan, finally all the way in, and he wastes no time in setting a rhythm. It was for his pleasure and you knew better than to expect him to touch you, not while he’s busy chasing his own high, his pants around his ankles and his blood-stained shirt in his teeth. “So fuckin’ obedient, right?” Nick finishes, letting your head go and nodding at you. Your hands are shaky as you work on his jeans, your face still pressed against the denim. “Gonna be good and take our cocks just like they were made too, right? Just like we taught ‘em?”

“If they know what’s good for them they will,” Bo replies, sentence muffled by his shirt still in his mouth. When you finally fish Nick’s cock out of his jeans you don’t wait for permission, instead taking him into your mouth with a fervor. You felt complete like this, Bo inside you, fucking you with reckless abandon, Nick in your mouth, moving with slow and deep thrusts, reveling in the feeling of you choking around him.

Drool was spilling from your mouth onto the wooden floor underneath you, dripping down your chin and chest. Your hands were on Nick's thighs in a weak attempt to keep him from plunging his cock down your throat, but you and he both knew that if he really wanted to, you’d let him. Not that you had much choice in that matter, of course.

“Could stay like this all day,” Nick grunts, tilting his head down at you to watch as you take more of his cock with each sharp thrust Bo does. “A pretty dumb thing on my cock getting split open… yeah, could do this all night. How ‘bout you, Bo?” Bo grunts in agreement, too caught up in the feeling of you squeezing around him. Nick grins, sucking in a shakey breath before pulling you off of him and bending down to be face-to-face with you.

There are tears spilling from your eyes and your lips are swollen, spit covering the bottom half of your face, and you’re looking at him with such a needy look that he almost feels bad enough to help you out. Almost. “You’re gonna play with yourself and make yourself cum before Bo and I do or you don’t cum the rest of the night, okay, baby?” He asks, waiting for you to acknowledge what he said.

“O-okay,” you choke out, hand reaching in between your legs. Nick’s eyes light up and he stands, giving Bo a sick smile before tapping his cock onto your wet cheeks. Your hand moved quickly, not moving in any particular rhythm or pattern, mouth opening for Nick. Now that your own orgasm was on the line, all three of you were doing whatever you could to cum first and you knew you were in for a long night.

The pleasure that had been building in your gut all night with their teasing finally comes to a head and you cum quickly, hands sputtering in their movement. Your eyes are squeezed shut, a gargled moan leaving your body as Nick face fucks you, holding the back of your head to keep you still, Bo and he working in tangent to keep you full at all times. Bo is the first to cum, doing so with a choked moan. He wraps an arm around your waist to keep you fully sat on him as Nick finishes deep in your throat, pulling out enough to leave the tip in so you can swallow around him.

“Good little bitch, doin’ what they’re told,” Bo finally says after Nick pulls out of your mouth, running a hand down your back in an almost soothing gesture. You give Nick a weak and pleased smile, exhausted. “Ready to switch, man?” Your eyes widen as Nick nods, looking down at you with a faux-apologetic smile.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says, taking his calloused thumb and wiping spit from the side of your mouth. “You get to cum as much as you like tonight.” And then the men are moving positions, Nick using his slender fingers to push Bo’s cum, which had begun to leak out of your hole, back inside. Bo takes a moment to walk off, further into the bedroom where you can’t see him, and you close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of Nick behind you, touching you. If you try hard enough, you could maybe go back to before all of this, to before Ambrose and Bo and this strange relationship. Your stomach twists at the thought. When your eyes open again, Bo is there.

He stands in front of you and you look up, lip quivering at the sight of him. Bo’s sadistic smile doesn’t fade, just grows a little more knowing how afraid you were of him, of how rough he’d be. “Such a good pet,” Bo says in a mocking tone. “You can cum as much as you can.” And then you see the toy he’s holding in his hand and realize that you were about to cum until it hurt to do so. Bo hands it off to you and you take it with a shaky hand knowing that it would be your downfall tonight. “Ready?” You nod before realizing he was asking Nick and not you; you had forgotten that you were here for them, not the other way around.

“More than I’ve ever been,” Nick says and as the two men line themselves up, ready to use you the way that they had molded you to be used, you briefly wonder if you were ready. Bo shoves himself into your mouth first and you realize that no, you weren’t ready, and maybe you wouldn't ever be really ready for this, for them, but it was happening. And as Nick pushes himself inside you slowly, hands soothing the bruises Bo had left, you think that somewhere down the line, you would probably learn to get used to this.

#f1nalboys masterlist #f1nalboys writing #f1nalboys works #multi may #house of wax #bo sinclair #nick jones #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x reader #nick jones x reader #bo sinclair x reader x nick jones #nick jones x reader x bo sinclair #theres a niche here and i found it #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x you #slasher one shot #bo sinclair fic

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strangersatellites · 1 year

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i’ve been missing the universe from my first fic lately, so enjoy this snippet (my best comedic work yet) from tip of my tongue, he’s pulling my hair; i’d do what he wants anywhere

“Henderson, please do not get pizza sauce on my carpet!” Steve yells across his house at the man-child balancing boxes reaching higher than his head.

“Geez, Steve, relax, would you?” Dustin chides, “Why are you freaking out anyways? I have never once seen your house this clean.”

Steve spares a moment to feel a bit caught out. “He’s right,” he thinks.

He follows Dustin into the living room carrying a stack of plates. He is met with a sight he has grown all too familiar with over the years of the kids using his home as their designated hang out. Coffee table pulled out to the middle of the floor so there is optimal seating around its perimeter; Lucas, Mike, and Will already seated and bickering about Will’s campaign; Max and El on his couch trying to choose a movie to watch; and more D&D paraphernalia then he even understands or knows what to do with. The only thing currently missing are the rest of the adults of the group, all of whom are en route, hopefully with beer and other substances so that Steve can get through another night of fifteen year olds screaming until three in the morning.

“No seriously dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, what the hell are you being so weird for?” Mike asks about the time Steve realizes he’s moved the cups around the table three times.

Moving to stand at the head of the table Steve claps his hands together and places his hands on his hips in what the kids call his “mom pose”, deciding to make an announcement. They had originally planned on just introducing Eddie as a friend, and then getting a read from the kids before they told them anything more. But now that they have seemed to figure out that something is up, Steve is loath to keep the secret from them.

“Oh here we go,” Lucas whines.

Mike groans and Max and El perk up in their seats.

“Watch it Sinclair. Don't make me put you on trash duty.”

Lucas mimes zipping his lips shut.

“Thank you. Okay gang. I don’t usually ask you guys to be on your best behavior because my home is your home and all that shit. But today Robs is bringing over this guy that I have been talking to so I really need you guys to be cool.” Steve pleads with the group, feeling irrationally jittery even though he knows they can tell he’s nervous and would never do anything to actually jeopardize or invalidate his worries.

The girls on the couch both look like this is the best news they have ever heard. Meanwhile, Will, Lucas, and Mike all look shellshocked. Dustin is the only one who maintains some sense of a calm demeanor. Immediately diffusing the shock with an “Okay.. well we’re missing a D20, does anyone have a spare in a backpack or something?”

Steve just laughs as his panic is so quickly relieved with the normalcy of these kids, who all immediately take to looking under the table and under pillows for the missing dice. He takes a second to be grateful they all are so quick to support one another, himself included.

Steve, shaking off his shock, responds, “You know what? I think you guys actually left some here last time you came over to play, let me go grab them.”

“Sweet, thanks mom!” Lucas says to Steve’s retreating form, earning himself a middle finger over the shoulder.

On his way down the hall he hears the doorbell and the sounds of Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle joining the party and making themselves at home. Steve thinks the most home this house has ever felt is when it is full of these kids and these friends.

Walking into his spare room Steve rifles through the top dresser drawer that has turned into some kind of makeshift lost and found, letting out a victorious “aha!” when he lays his hands on Dustin’s missing D20 and the various other matching D-something’s.

He stops in front of the mirror one last time on his way out to give himself a pep talk before Eddie comes over. It's not that he’s nervous to see him, but the fact that Eddie is essentially meeting his family today, and everyone that's important to him. Logically, he knows there is literally no way they won't like him, but a little bit of fear permanently stays lodged in his chest these days and today it's chosen to take root in this situation.

Making his way back to the rowdy table he drops the dice in Dustin’s hand with a flourish and goes to check his phone to see if the rest of the group are almost here. He is broken out of his task to Dustin’s “What the fuck?”

Turning to see Dustin still standing stock still with the dice in his hand Steve makes to reprimand him for his language before getting cut off with “These are Eddie’s.”

Steve freezes. Approximately a million thoughts and questions start running through his head, the most prominent he asks aloud, “How do you guys know Eddie?”

By now the rest of the party has clued into the situation, Lucas chiming in, “Eddie’s our DM when we play at Hellfire. How do you know Eddie?”

Steve stutters, trying to connect the dots.

“Oh my god,” Dustin screeches, “Eddie said he lost his customs after he was playing with a hookup. Was it you?”

Steve has about three seconds to be offended that Eddie referred to him as a “hookup” and to think that he needs to text Eddie a warning before the doorbell rings.

This time, everyone freezes, Steve sees the moment that the kids all suddenly remember that Steve said Robin was bringing a guy over.

Steve, still in shock, is rooted to his spot while Mike runs to the door, flinging it open to reveal Robin and Eddie. If Steve had his wits about him, he would be most interested in the fact that Eddie looks really fucking good in his worn old Black Sabbath tee and ripped jeans with his hair up, but as it is he is too busy reeling.

Steve watches with bated breath as Eddie’s eyes flit to all of the people in the room and connect the same dots that Steve did only moments ago. Eddie’s eyes finally land on Dustin’s open palm with his apparently custom DM dice and he goes to say “Oh shit! You found-”

“Your dice.” Steve finishes for him.

Again, he sees the moment Eddie remembers what he told the kids happened to his dice.

“My dice... Yeah.” He brings a hand up the scratch at the back of his neck.

All of the kids shake out of their shock at once with shouts and jeers of, “STEVE was the hookup?” and “Oh my god I can’t believe this is happening,” and from the girls, hushed giggles, the remaining adults all putting two and two together themselves.

Robin breaks the panic with, “I feel like I’m missing something here.”

Rather than rehash the entire event in front of the kids, Steve finally launches back into action and grabs Eddie and Robin and drags them into the kitchen.

“Oh my fucking god!” Steve screeches, dragging his hands down his face.

He feels Eddie’s presence behind him and feels one arm snake around his waist and another come to rest where his thigh meets his hip, and warm lips dropping a kiss to his neck.

“Why are you freaking out, baby? This is honestly the best case scenario. I’ve been so nervous all day about meeting your kids, come to find out your kids are my kids,” Eddie speaks lowly into Steve’s ear and honestly? He does have a point. But-

“I think I’m mostly freaked out that they figured it out before I got to tell them. I was fully prepared to make an awkward introduction and wait for you guys to hit it off. I was not prepared for all of them staring at me asking if I was the hookup you left your dice with.” And now that he thinks about it, maybe the world hookup is the part that is bothering him the most.

Robin seems to have finally pieced together the puzzle, “Ohhh, shit. These are the kids that always come to your D&D nights. You know, I honestly should have put this together earlier. Especially after that time you came into work talking about your dice getting you into some super kinky sh-”

“Robs!” Steve cuts her off.

“Sorry!” She squeaks. “This is just all so funny to me. Like how did none of us put together that the obnoxious kids that play at your house are the same obnoxious kids that play at Hellfire?”

Eddie laughs over Steve’s shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t even have an argument for that one. This seems like a massive oversight.” He says rubbing circles into Steve’s hips. “Well, at least we know your kids love your new boyfriend already,” and Steve just rolls his eyes, able to hear the smirk in Eddie's voice, “Nice save, Master.”

Steve shakes off a slack-jawed Eddie and makes to go back to join the kids. “Well, we may as well rejoin the kids and suffer through the impending torment.”

Robin and Eddie cackle behind him as they make their way into the living room.

Upon seeing the kids already in the throes of their game Steve just stands and looks out over the room at all of the people he loves and is once again, so grateful for each and every one of them and their ability to make him feel so effortlessly comfortable even at his most nervous.

He should’ve known better than to think Eddie would ever let him win though. He’s struck from his reverie, when he hears Eddie, in what is undoubtedly his dramatic DM voice, say, “Hey anklebiters! Do you guys need a Dad? I’m trying to un-single your mom!”

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #gin writes #fin gin #fic tag:#tip of my tongue #shot of gin #this might be rough i honestly haven’t looked at it in months #but it deserves some attention again #bc they’re idiots who love each other #SO much #also this post is code for:#i’m working on my big bang and am not writing anything else new for the time being #so we’re recycling #author does not know shit about dnd #so if this is wrong i literally do not care

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besthimbomachine · 11 months

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my love when it counted. 11

summary: Things settle into a weird new normalcy between you and Kenny, one he isn't fully happy with, but is still too much of a coward to back out of. So he just lets it continue, and tries to enjoy what time he has with you. Though, one day, while watching one of your matches, he is forced into a heavy revelation. One that only grows heavier when you get hurt, and he goes to visit you at your home for the first time. pairing: kenny omega x reader word count: 8163 warning: blood and vague descriptions of violence, angst and smut (light choking, unprotected piv, creampie) if last chapter was francesca and take me to church, this one is movement and nfwmb. anyways, we are approaching the end here, start saying your goodbyes cause we getting to the final part after this. aside from that, this chapter is a lot. multiple things happen, and I even found space to sneak in a smut scene. but yeah, kenny is back to his bullshit and back to his suffering and maybe just maybe managing to learn something important along the way

11.

Hurried steps echoed through the backstage murmurs, only growing more rushed as Kenny clearly heard your music hit. Shit, he didn’t want to miss your entrance, but he had taken too much time getting himself back together after his own match. Quickly, he made his path through the halls and up the stairs. He was just getting to the one empty skybox he was going to be watching your fight from as the familiar crescendo of the beat hit his ears. The minute he opened the door, Kenny heard the booming cheers of the crowd. His large stride covered the space to the balcony in moments, eyes catching you on the screens above the ring before he even saw Nick already sitting there.

“Where’s Matt?” Kenny asked, not even looking to the side, blue eyes trailed on your image displayed in the middle of the stadium as you made your entrance.

“Had something to solve, so he is watching from downstairs,” Nick replied with a shrug, throwing a popcorn in his mouth as his foot tapped to the music, Kenny’s thumb doing the same as he rested on the railing. “Excited for whatever insane shit she does today?”

From the corner of his eye he saw Nick smile, and it seemed almost devious, that smile echoing in his voice. Kenny didn’t really answer, just nod as he silently mouthed the lyrics to your music as it died down. Looking down, he felt a tinge of fear slowly creep into his spine at the sight of metal contraption below. It was a cage match, and as excited as he was to watch you fight, there was still something in him that was afraid. He knew you - he knew you very well - and he knew that for you, a cage was just a big trampoline.

It had been a while since Kenny really felt scared of whatever move you tried on your fights. But this one was different, that creeping fear of just what insane bullshit you’d pull trying to invade his mind for a couple of weeks now, ever since the match was announced. At first, it would only pop up when he thought of the damn cage, but the thing was insistent and it’d pry into his head at the most inopportune moments. A week back, he felt it slithering into his brain just as he held your sleeping form in his arms, dragging his eyes to the scars on your back and making his fingers feel ice cold. It dared disturb what little moment of peace he had - though, he had to say, at least it was giving his brain something new to freak out about.

Something that just wasn’t about what your situation was.

A couple of months had passed since your fateful visit to his house, and in that time, Kenny had been a bit of a coward. He’d be the first to admit it. By a mix of interest and inaction, he got himself in a hole he felt he was only digging deeper into. After that first hook up, he let you take the lead, getting himself roped in a casual thing that wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but was the best he could have right now. At first, he was sure he could just do it, easy - or at least that’s what he told himself. But as time passed, things were getting less easy, a quiet discomfort settling into his bones. He couldn’t feel it every day, only here and there, but on lonely nights it usually appeared, poisoning his mind and reigniting the storm in his heart.

It wasn’t your fault, he knew it wasn’t. Kenny had entered the situation willingly, accepted the terms and went along with the game. Now he couldn’t complain. And he wouldn’t, not when he would have you in his arms almost every other week. It was a coin flip, really, but there was always about a fifty percent chance he wouldn’t have to sleep alone in his hotel room, at least for one night. Besides, sex was great, and the company was better, so he really had no right to complain. And he had learned to live with it, so long as he didn’t think about what was going on when the coin didn’t land on his side.

But aside from that, things remained the same - or about as much the same as they could. You were still friends, still spending time together when you had to travel for a show, still preparing together every now and again, still eating and traveling along with Matt and Nick and all of that. Although, while one brother had mercifully spared you from any judging stares, the other hadn’t been showing Kenny the same generosity. But Matt couldn’t do anything, so for now the routine continued. Travels, hotel breakfasts, dinner after the show, and of course, watching your matches. Even the ones where he felt ice creep under his skin at every big move.

The loud crowd cheered and Kenny heard Nick cheer behind him too. Not even fifteen minutes into the match and you had drawn blood from your opponent. You were ramping up the violence fast. There was something about the cage that lured out the animal in you. He could see it in how your eyes reflected on the screen. Feel it in the way you moved, a bloody hand slicking your tousled hair back, its bandaged twin wrapped in barbed wire. You looked to the side, face turning directly to the camera for a second, and Kenny felt like you were looking straight into his eyes. His breath caught in his throat and was only freed when you turned around and ran forward again.

The match continued and soon you too started to bleed. There was crimson smeared on your chest and spilling down your face, the thick liquid pooling on your lips like honey, slowly leaking down your chin. It dripped on your gear, staining the leather red, blood and sweat mixing on the corners where the thick fabric dug into your skin. You broke out of a pin at a two, opponent crashing back on the ring in exhaustion and disbelief as the camera zoomed on your face. The screen filled with your image as your lips curled, your smile a devilish baring of teeth as your tongue slipped out, licking the blood from your plump lips.

Never had your time together in New Japan felt further than now. You were nothing like this before. Sure, you had always been a thrill seeker, enamored with the rush of the fight, but not like this. The person moving on the screen before him was more beast than woman. Not that Kenny disliked it. No, he loved it. You were the picture of a wild thing, untamed and free in its brutality. An ancient god covered in blood, beautiful in its bestial horror. The years apart had changed you into someone different, and Kenny loved that person. To him, you were the most gorgeous thing, and even the sight of your bloodied smile had his pants suddenly feeling tight.

Kenny knew he should sit down, but he just couldn’t, torso leaning into the metal railing as his eyes never left the screen. The match went on and he could only imagine how well you were seeing with the blood spilling down your eyes, hair sticking to your beautiful face. Still you pushed on, gaining ground, getting bolder - just as Kenny got more anxious. If this match went beyond forty minutes, he’d probably implode.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, you made a run for the top rope, gaining momentum as you made it to the turnbuckle before throwing yourself high into the air. Your body twisting as it drew an arched path up and across the ring. Though, just as you were about to land, your opponent rolled to the side from her spot down on the ground, your body hurdling to the hard ring floor. Kenny winced as he heard Nick hiss, foot hitting the hard concrete below them.

“Shit, that was unnecessary,” he grunted, eyes still following your movements as you got up, taking a blow from behind just as you got to your feet.

“What? That was cool,” Nick cried in almost disbelief, leaning forward in his chair and throwing a popcorn in Kenny’s direction. “Unlucky, but cool,” he added when Kenny glanced to the side for a second before looking forward again, just in time to see you manage to recover.

“That was reckless,” Kenny retorted in a strained voice, watching you trading blows in the middle of the ring, fighting hard to regain your ground. “Come on, she is risking too much, especially with all that bleeding t-”

“You know she’d hate to hear you saying that,” Nick cuts Kenny off in the most somber voice he’d ever heard from the man. “You don’t think she is good enough?”

Nick’s words touched Kenny’s ears like a butcher’s knife to tender flesh. A clean, merciless cut. It froze him to the core. More than that, it also felt like a threat, quiet rage spilling through his friend’s voice, in a way eerily uncommon. When Kenny turned around, he found Nick’s gaze on him, somber aggression shadowing his eyes, and a judgment that felt worse than Matt’s ever did. The moment feels like it’s suspended in time, his knees almost buckling under the weight of that heavy stare. And then he remembers, Nick had always been close to you, if there was somebody out there who knew all the ways Kenny wronged you, that would be him. And he’d be primed to notice Kenny slipping up again.

It hurts. Kenny knows Nick is right, and it hurts. The truth burns him, wide eyes glued on his friend’s somber ones, yeah, he deserved the quiet rage. Then he remembers something else, he remembers you, saying those same words when he went to see you after a match, not too long before you left. ‘You don’t think I’m good enough?’ Kenny had gone to check on you, worried about your state, he was scared of you getting seriously injured, deeply terrified of something bad happening to you. He couldn’t understand why you were enraged when he talked, why you wouldn’t just comprehend that he cared and he wanted to help. Why you wouldn’t just take his advice, when all he wanted was to see you well. He was afraid, and he ended up letting that push you away.

He was acting on his fear back then, and he was doing the same thing now, too.

A loud cheer erupted from the crowd, breaking the bubble they had been trapped in. Two pairs of eyes turned back to the screen, both men catching the end of your finisher, just in time to see you take your opponent to a pin. The sight has Nick coming to his feet fast, both Kenny and him voicing a strangled yes under their breaths. The count starts, and it seems so long, but just as they were both about to commemorate, it stops, your opponent kicking out almost the third hit, Nick and Kenny once again matching in a chorus of frustrate grunts.

You don’t let up and the match continues, now turning into a struggle, a test of resilience for both sides. For a brief second you leave an opening and your opponent capitalizes, having just returned from the almost pin. She delivers a kick that sends you flying over the hopes, back hitting the cage wall before you fall to the hard floor. Nick winces and Kenny follows suit, but it’s not for long. You come back up with a renewed fire, rage burning bright and making you turn the next few minutes in an unbarred beat down, until you are standing before your exhausted opponent laid on a table. Kenny knows it can only mean one thing.

It all happens in a flash, you run to the corner, propelling yourself up from the top rope so you can jump to the cage wall and climb to the top. It’s like Kenny blinks and you are already standing at the edge of the metal structure, looking down at the ring below. You look small, standing over the large space, floodlights drowning your form. His stomach drops, anxiety creeping into his spine, but in a second it’s gone. You leap, and it’s like all goes quiet for a moment, both Nick and Kenny leaning forward in anticipation. Like the world stands still and there is only you, spinning in mid air for an eternity, defying gravity’s attempts to pull you to the ground below.

You are almost glowing, and Kenny remembers something else. He remembers the first time he saw you - the first time he noticed you, that heart stopping moment that burned your existence forever into his mind. You were taking a leap, much like this one, body floating in midair almost as if weightless. You were wild, free and unafraid, and something in that fearlessness captivated him. So when did he let his fear convince him that caging you would be for your own good?

These long few seconds finally end as the crowd erupts in a booming cheer, Kenny and Nick following along as your landing hits perfectly, bringing your opponent crashing through the table. In a moment you recover from the crash and make it to the pin again, and this time it goes down to the count of three. The bell rings and Kenny’s smile couldn’t be bigger if he wanted to, body frozen in awe and joy as he watches you standing bloodied but victorious. Nick throws an arm over him, bringing them close together, breaking the tension away from his body.

“See? I told you had nothing to worry about,” Nick says over the loud cheers.

“Yeah,” Kenny replies, finally relaxing against the metal railing, laughing softly as he looked back at Nick, “I was just being a scared idiot. And that was fucking beautiful.”

You make your exit and just as your music dies down, both men start making their way to the backstage again. Kenny wanted to be there for you when you returned, bloodied and glorious, his heart still racing in his chest after that match. In a perfect world he’d get to hold you in his arms, kiss your lips despite the blood, and then be the one to clean it from your face. But this was not a perfect world, all he could do was congratulate you like a friend. To tell you how great you were and how beautiful the match had been - and hope he could make up for at least a fraction of the times he didn’t tell you all that.

Before they could get to where your locker room was, they found Matt, who stopped both Kenny and Nick in their tracks by saying you had actually gone to see the doctor. There it was, the taste of fear again, rising to his mouth like bile in his throat. It was sickening. But before Kenny could react, Matt insisted that it was nothing too bad. You had dislocated your knee cap, painful but not dangerous, and something all three men knew you’d been through before. Otherwise, you had just scattered cuts that needed tending, but you were mostly unscathed. Kenny felt a sigh of relief escape his lips, it was terrible to see you in pain, but he knew this much wouldn’t take you down.

Together, the three made their way to you, moving through the corridors until they found the door they were looking for at the end of a hallway. It was open, Kenny could already hear voices from the inside, your warm laughter hitting his ears and calming his heart. But the soft moment was cut when he heard something else, a booming voice he knew all too well, followed by a laughter that almost felt mocking to him. He could try to ignore it, pretend it wasn’t there and move forward just to see you, but then he saw a figure passing by the open door. It was Adam. Finding a poor explanation, Kenny excused himself, letting the brothers go on by themselves, feeling Nick’s eyes burning on him as he left.

Kenny knew he had been a coward by just bailing out, he knew he shouldn’t have done that, and still he did. But the thing was, he really didn’t want to be around Adam right now, not when you were in the same room as well. He was still tender from all the thoughts and memories that he’d gone through near the end of your match and he didn’t think he was strong enough. So he left, turning back and regretting his weakness at the same instant. Minutes later, he sent a text to Matt, asking him to let Kenny know when you’d be leaving for your locker room. And now he stood at your door, an ice pack in his hand as a peace offering, a gesture done more to appease his mind than anything else.

You make your way to your locker room limping and exhausted, whole body screaming. The knee was more annoying than anything else, but your back was killing you, and the ice pack you were holding to it wasn’t helping that much. The old pain refused to leave you like some sort of clingy ghost. You had won but fuck, you really felt beaten, you could use a hot shower. The moment you turn the corner to your locker room, though, you are suddenly shaken out of your pity party. Standing by the side of the door, staring straight back at you, was Kenny, an ice pack of his own in hand and a sheepish smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says in an almost awkward tone and you have to bite back a chuckle, “came to check on you, see if I could be of help,” his eyes feel soft as he speaks, hand lifting the ice pack so you could see it.

“I got one already,” you lift your hand from your back, showing the pack in your hand to him. Your words come almost without thought, like a robot responding on auto pilot, something deep in you bringing back bad memories before you shook your head to scatter them away. “But thanks, I appreciate the thought,” you smile this time, trying to believe in the softness you see in his eyes, opening the door and gesturing for him to follow you inside.

“Well, one more won’t hurt,” he adds as you shut the door behind the both of you, blue eyes following your form as you crash on the bench in front of him. “Heard from Matt you got hurt, how you doing?”

You close your eyes with a heavy sigh, too tired to even properly think, but your brain still processing the pain rattling through your bones. Kenny’s quiet and gentle tone comes almost like a cress to your ears. There was a time where having him in your locker room after a match meant you’d only get more tired - but for a wholly different reason. And then, there was a time this same scenario would only end in rage and anguish for you. You shook your head, this was neither of these times, and the man standing before you spoke in such soft tones and he didn’t even seem like that same person.

“Some cuts and bruises here and there,” you respond, touching the large adhesive bandage covering the long gash in your forehead, fingers littered in small scrapes from the barbed wire. “A bruised ego from not getting a pin from my own finisher,” you laugh, and Kenny follows along, making you feel more at ease to look him in the eyes and truly count your losses. “And a dislocated knee cap, again. But it’s like I get one of these every other year, so it’s not too bad. Though, my back hurts like hell. Not that there's anything wrong with it just, some injuries never really leave you, you know how it is.”

Your words are quiet, a sad smile playing on your face as you shrug, eyes falling to the floor. You pull down your knee pad to reveal the swollen and hurting joint, placing the ice pack on it with a hiss. You knew you looked almost destroyed, and you knew Kenny could see it clearly. Not only in the swollen knee, but in the multiple scrapes on your body, and the few scattered bruises that were probably darkening already. Beyond that, there was still blood on your hair, red staining your gear and some spots on your body. You won, but you still looked like a mess, a glorious mess but a tired one nonetheless.

“If it’s any consolation,” he spoke softly, and at the same time you felt a cold touch bringing relief to your tired back, Kenny dropping to sit by your side on the bench, “you were great. Really, that match was just fantastic.”

Kenny smiled, blue eyes shining as one hand held the ice pack to your back, held against the point on your spine where the longest scar was. Exactly the spot that was hurting the most. His other hand came to brush away a strand of hair from your face, blood still smeared over it. For a moment you felt your breath hitch, heart stopping as the ocean in his gaze drowned you in. When his fingers left your face, you broke away from his eyes, your gaze falling to the side as you laughed softly, his words warming your tired body.

“Thanks, at least that means my knee’s sacrifice was worth it, then,” you smiled back at him, chuckling as you spoke, still not brave enough to return your eyes to his deep blue gaze.

“When did you dislocate it?”

He asks calmly, but you still feel a shiver run down your spine, body reacting on muscle memory, mind suddenly jumping on alert. You remember how it would go, you remember it far too well. He was always worried, always scared, always just wanting what was best for you. And you wondered if he considered what you wanted, what you needed. You wondered if he ever considered that maybe you knew what you were doing, that you were good at what you did. The sting of the memory hurts more than it should and you try to push it away. You are a different person, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t do that to you now.

“What,” you laugh, and it feels wrong even to your ears, a dark and raspy sound ringing through gritted teeth as your tense eyes lock with his own. And you almost feel like Kenny cowers back at the stare. “You gonna chastise me for it if I tell you?”

“No,” he responds, voice almost small as he shakes his head.

“If you do, I'm gonna break your teeth in,” you point a finger at him, the threat coming with a smile and a chuckle that are only half true.

“Fair,” he snickers, lifting his free hand to scratch at the back of his neck as he laughs, “but I’m not planning to.”

You stare at him for a second, but Kenny doesn’t budge, blue eyes trailed on your own, smile seeming soft and genuine. It’s strange, but he has been showing that he changed, so you give him the benefit of the doubt. With a heavy sigh, you rest your torso on your free hand, fingers digging into the edge of the bench as you remember that exact unlucky moment.

“Remember that failed pin after my finisher? Well, after that, she kicked me straight to the damn cage. The fall wasn’t high, but it was still garbage, the moment I hit the ground I knew my knee was out of place again,” the words leave your lips and your eyes look deep into his own, searching for that well known judgment, but you find it nowhere, only a pained softening as you describe what happened.

“Shit,” he shoots back and you almost laugh at the simple reaction, “but honestly, I wasn’t able to tell from just watching. And that last jump was gorgeous anyway, it actually sounds even more amazing now,” Kenny’s eyes shine as he laughs softly and you feel your fears melting away, his presence bringing a strange comfort.“You think you are gonna have to stay away long?”

“Nah,” you shrug, despite the movement flaring up the pain in your back, “I didn’t have anything booked for the next two weeks, they’ll probably give me another one and I should be back with a bunch of tape and a brace on that knee after that.”

“I’m happy to know that,” Kenny’s lips curl into a wide smile, his eyes shining softly and you feel a gentle warmth rising to your chest, blood rushing to your face.

“Well, Kenny, thank you for your worry, really,” you respond, pushing yourself up too quickly for your pained knee, but still hiding the wince as you stand proudly. “Now, it’s not that I want to kick you out, but I really need a shower. I got blood drying between my tits, it’s really not nice.”

He laughs at your words but still takes his leave, laying his hand on your shoulder before he goes, its warmth spreading through your skin as he praises you again. When the door closes behind him, you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, fighting to get a hold of yourself. That was getting too mushy for comfort. God, you really needed that shower now.

Kenny grunts as your soft lips crashed on his own in a sloppy flurry, tongues dancing together as he pulled your bodies close. You were sitting on top of him, hands bracing your weight on his naked chest as your legs straddled his hips. Kenny’s hands travel from below your top down to the exposed skin of your hips and thighs, savoring the feeling of your soft skin under his thick fingers. God, you felt so good, so right. When you rub your wet pussy against the large bulge in his pants, he breaks away from the kiss with a gasp, wondering for half a second if your wetness would stain his jeans. Somehow, the thought only got harder.

Shit, sometimes he really felt like an animal around you.

Kenny hadn’t even had the chance to take off his pants when you two crashed on the bed. He had come to visit you in your house nearly two weeks after you’d gotten hurt in that cage match. But almost as soon as he arrived, you both were already clashing together in a needy mix of mouths and hands and erotic touches. You dragged him to the bedroom and although this wasn’t the original purpose of his visit, he wasn’t about to say no. He had forgotten how you got horny when you were bored. And you could get really bored when you couldn’t fight.

With one hand, Kenny opened his pants, freeing his aching erection from the tight confine of his pants. The moment his cock was out, you rubbed your pussy against it, smearing his sensitive length in your wetness as he groaned. One of his hands smacked your ass for teasing him, but he loved every second of it. Bringing his lips back to your own, Kenny took hold of your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he aligned himself with your entrance before pulling you down in one fluid motion.

You both moan, lips still barely touching each other in a messy dance. You slide all the way down until he is buried balls deep within you, and Kenny holds you there for a second, completely lost in pleasure. When you start to move, he grunts into your lips, one hand going to the back of your neck to pull you further into the kiss. It feels sinful and holy how your body fits so perfectly on his, your arms over his shoulders keeping him close - oh, if only you knew how he never wanted to be away.

The bouncing of your body up and down his cock has his mind reeling. The way your pussy tightens against his hard shaft every time your ass slams against his legs brings him to the edge of madness. You move in sync, tongues and hands and hips in an erotic harmony. Bodies already used to the map of each other’s shape. Like an old road leading home, one he could traverse with closed eyes. And one he never wants to leave.

One of his hands travels up your body, pulling down the strap of your top, revealing the tender skin of your breast. He digs his fingers into your pliable flesh, in ecstasy at how soft it feels under his rough digits. Kenny teases your nipple and you moan, sound silenced by his hungry mouth. He bites into your lower lip, feeling you tighten around his cock, his whole body shaking with a shudder in response. When he is satisfied, he moves his hand from your chest to your neck, long fingers circling it from side to side. He can feel you shiver, mouth leaving yours to lay a kiss on your shoulder as his digits tighten against your pulse.

A gasp escapes your lips in response, movements stuttering, and the hand on your ass holds you in a firm grasp as Kenny starts moving you up and down his cock. You almost feel weightless, like a doll in his strong arms, he makes it seem easy to hold someone as heavy as yourself. You take it, breathlessly holding onto his shoulders for support as he aids your movements, his other hand constricting your neck only just enough. It’s like everything is becoming too much, his kisses on your shoulder, his cock slamming on your quivering pussy, the large hand digging into your pulse. You can feel the coil within you tightening more and more.

Just as you manage to pick up the movement of your hips on your own again, Kenny’s hand flies to your pussy, deft fingers finding your sensitive clit. Shit, you are sure he is gonna break you down like that, but you don’t really mind. He is throbbing within you, grunting and moaning as you clench around his length. You start to feel breathless, your hard grip around his shoulders loosening, and that’s when his fingers let go of your pulse. Air rushes into your lungs just as his mouth finds your neck, and that’s when he starts hammering his hips against you, one arm now resting on the bed for support.

“That’s it, come on, let go,” he murmurs against your neck in encouragement and it only brings you closer to the edge. “I got you.”

His voice sends a shiver down your spine, making your pussy tremble and throb. You want to scream, but the sound that comes out is no more than a whine as you bury your face in his shoulder, the movement of his fingers on your clit becoming too much. When Kenny digs his teeth into your neck, you shudder, stars covering your vision, body going limp against him. But he keeps to what he just said, holding you with a thick, powerful arm as his hips hammer into your own, riding your orgasm as you shake around him.

Kenny feels close, so fucking close he can taste it, cock throbbing wildly inside you. He is moving you up and down, slamming his hips into your own, chasing his high as you lay breathless on his chest. Your hands run lovingly over his arms and back, a gentle caress to his tense muscles. He feels you laying warm kisses on his left shoulder, the same one that has been giving him so much trouble that he needs it wrapped in tape almost every other match. But you still kiss it softly and adoringly, just the tenderness of the touch driving closer to his breaking point.

His movements grow faster and more erratic and you start moaning in a weak tone every time he bottoms you out. The sweet sound is too much for him, the coil in his gut snapping as he sees white. Kenny pulls you down, holding your hips firm against his own as his cock throbs, shooting thick ropes of cum deep inside your soft, warm pussy. He is breathless himself, arms trembling as he paints your insides white, a bliss so powerful he almost feels undeserving of it. Kenny pulls you by your hair gently, lips finding yours again as he rolls you both, laying your body down on the bed with a kiss as he pulls out.

For a minute, his lips still stay on yours, the kiss is soft and sweet as his large hands caress your face. When your mouths part, your eyes meet each other, both held in a deep, powerful gaze for a long moment as you both feel breathless. Kenny feels his heart stuttering and the air choking in his throat. That’s when he pulls away, laying down in exhaustion. You two stay like that for a second, laying on the bed as you recover your breath, your hand caressing his arm as you murmur something soft to him. All he can feel is the overwhelming weight of the emotions he fights to hide.

When you get up to go to the en suite bathroom, finding your lost pants on the floor of the bedroom, he just stays laying down for a moment. Looking around, he takes in the place, a gentle green painting the walls and the bright sunlight filtering through your warm windows. There were illustrations hanging from the walls, posters and other such things. Your bedroom was large and beautiful, and it smelled like sweet scented candles.

Looking to the other side he sees the closed door to the bathroom, and by it an open door leading to a closet. He can see some of your gear, the leather and chains recognizable from afar. And then something strikes him, a pain shooting into his gut like a knife when his eyes see something hanging in a corner on the far wall. A jacket, but not one of your own, although he can still recognize it, and it has his blood freezing in fear. That was Adam’s jacket.

You leave the bathroom fully dressed and Kenny snaps out of his own mind, eyes finding your soft smile, his heart almost forgetting why he was so terrified. Getting up, he picks up his shirt from the floor and goes to get cleaned and to give himself a moment to push that sudden terror and pain to the back of his mind. He was here now with you, that was all that mattered. When he leaves the bathroom, he finds you waiting for him by the bedroom door, a soft hand bringing his face down to your own when he approaches. The kiss washes over him like a blessing, sunlight shining into his mind and scattering his fears. And fuck, he had already fallen beyond the point of no return.

You leave the bedroom together, as you lead him by the hand, only letting go when you get to the living room, telling Kenny he could wait as you went to the kitchen to get the food. Walking around, he could finally get a good look at the place. When he arrived, you two were so fast to just jump on each other that he didn’t have much time before you both ended up in the bedroom. Not that he was complaining, but he was happy to be able to fully take in the place. He had never been at your home before, despite how he had been to Matt’s and even Nick’s homes multiple times, and how you lived relatively close to them both. It was weird thinking back now, noticing how far you were despite being so near.

Your home was beautiful, the warm sun shining through the large windows making it seem dreamy. The living room was decorated in earth colors, a few plants breaking the dominant hue with their green. The whole place smelled like coffee, sweet and deep and it reminded him of you. Through the wall he saw posters, paintings and photos, sharing the space with the occasional hanging plant, thick vines dropping to the floor, heavy with large leaves.

As his eyes traveled, Kenny spotted something else. In a corner on the wall, only gently touched by the sun, stood a tall bookshelf, all black metal and dark wood. Though, it wasn’t its design that caught his eye. The shelves were littered with various pictures and wrestling memorabilia, and even before his feet carried you there, he already knew they all related to you. Like scattered shards of a life he didn’t witness, they shone under the sun, the only remnants of a history he wasn’t there to share. It was almost like he was staring into something he shouldn’t see.

Most of the things on the bookshelf were photos, some large, others smaller, the majority of them having you in the frame. The ones that didn’t, he knew you were the one behind the camera. His eyes scanned the pictures, many had you with various people, some he recognized, others he didn’t, but he could tell almost all were from your WWE days. The larger ones always had you with a belt, either alone in the ring or surrounded by friends backstage. They were a commemoration of conquests you rarely even mentioned now.

Though, what surprised him the most was seeing an old photo in a wooden frame, standing almost humble in a corner. Compared to the newer ones around, it even seemed blurry. The picture had a much younger you, and on either side were Nick and Matt. He recognized that photo. He had been the one to take it, all the way back in Japan. Looking around, he saw a couple more pictures from that time, and although he knew he had no right to, he still felt his heart drop when he realized he wasn’t in any of them.

Shaking his head he moved on, aside from the pictures there were a couple assorted pieces of gear, beautifully worked, clearly something from special occasions. At one of the lower shelves he found a few figures, the WWE logo stamped on all of them. They had different clothes and even poses, but the one that got his attention was the one where you carried the belt. Kenny remembered seeing that exact one in a store one day and freezing, swallowing hard as he realized you had found success without him.

And then the feeling catches him again, but not quite the same way. You had found success without him, and it was a good thing. It was good that you had left. Looking through all of these things now, he finally took in the extent of the life you had lived. These objects all told a tale, not only of the path you had trailed, but of how important it all had been to you. He knew how hard you had fought to be free to do with your life what you wanted, to follow your dreams, even before you had gotten to New Japan. And even beyond that, you continued to fight and to conquer and to live your life to the fullest.

Suddenly, Kenny felt overwhelmed by the realization that he had almost robbed you of that. That his fear of being left alone had blinded him and almost chained you to the ground. That in his desperation to keep you safe, to keep you close, he had almost stopped you from having all of that. He had been selfish and childish and it was good that you were stubborn and relentless. He had always liked that in you.

“Oh, please, anything but that one,” your voice snaps Kenny out of his mind, only then realizing his fingers were almost touching the figure on the shelf. “The face mold makes me look awful,” you laugh and he has to try and calm his breathing, to force his heart to slow as he looks back at you.

“They never look quite right,” he laughs sheepishly, hoping you don’t notice his state as you approach.

“This one looks especially bad though, so sad that it’s the one with the belt,” you pout and Kenny almost melts, heart skipping a beat at the sight. “You must think I’m a hoarder, keeping all of this stuff.”

The words spill from your lips followed by a soft laughter, it’s sheepish and he can feel the hesitation in your smile. You feel ashamed, hands fidgeting by your side. No, he doesn’t think you are a hoarder, he wants to say. He knows the importance of the memories of all the things you’ve built. But the words get caught in his throat as he looks into your beautiful eyes. You both growing silent for a moment before he turns his gaze back to the bookshelf.

“No, I think it’s nice,” he hesitates, throat feeling like it’s closing, as if he was choking on his words. “I can see why you keep them.”

You stand by his side, shoulder resting on the wall, as you watch him speak. Kenny talks softly, he says the words with a smile, but you can tell there is turmoil behind the gentle curl of his lips. You can tell by the way he hesitates, the way he chews on his words, the way his voice feels just a bit heavier, a bit more controlled. You could only imagine what goes on in his mind, your eyes following his gaze to the most recent photo in the bunch. It had been taken only a month after your arrival at AEW, in it, you stood surrounded by new friends - and old ones - standing in front of the ring. Kenny is so tense he doesn’t even notice the silence growing again, but you can almost taste the anguish in it.

“Kenny,” you call his name gently, and he finally turns back to you, eyes almost gazing beyond your face, “what’s got you thinking so deep?”

He blinks a couple of times, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he laughs softly, but you don’t believe in that laughter for a second. “Nothing, really,” he starts, but you hum suspiciously his way, prompting him to squirm under your gaze a little, face turning back to the bookshelf for a moment and you can see him almost speak. His lips tremble and his jaw moves, but he hesitates, cutting himself off before any sounds come out. Then he turns back to you, taking a deep breath before finally talking.

“Just, these are all nice, honest. I can see what they represent to you,” he smiles kindly, but the gentle curl of his lips feels bittersweet to you. “You’ve done so many things, and I’m really happy for you, really proud. You deserve everything you’ve got. And you truly became someone awe inspiring,” his smile grows bigger and you can tell the compliments are genuine, words spoken from the heart, but there is still tension in his voice, like a frozen lake, and you can see the shadow of something swimming just below the surface. “Though, I guess that was always a given, I never knew anything that could stop you.”

That’s when the ice cracks, and you catch a glimpse below, things falling into place in your mind. Guess that responded to your fears from all these months ago. Yes, he was aware of what he had to apologize for, he knew the sins he had committed, and now he was made to face them. To catch a glimpse at the other side of that door, and take the brunt of that feeling. Some time ago you’d relinquished this moment. Cherished the regret in his eyes as he looked at the photos on the shelf. But time had made Kenny into another person. One you could care for. One you could hold close to your heart.

“Come on,” you laugh, resting a hand on his shoulder and leaning your head against it. “You talk like I did way more than I actually did. I mean, not that I’m unhappy with anything,” you shrug, laughing softly, feeling a bit happier when Kenny follows along. “And I’m happy you like who I am now, you know? We all change and sometimes, that’s terrifying. I guess, in the end, leaving New Japan, coming to WWE, it was for the best, I can’t deny,” you rest your head fully on his shoulder now, looking up to see those ocean eyes glancing at you from under heavy eyelashes.

You want to console him, to tell him it’s ok, that your stubborn nature saved too much harm from being done. That in the end, since you left and got to make your life your own, you still could find space for forgiveness in your heart. But you can’t do that, not when he won’t truly tell you what he thinks. So you settle to try and say the things you mean, without saying the words. To tell him that despite the harm done and all the bad things, you still managed to find beauty. You managed to be happy, and you’d want him to be too.

“I mean,” you start again, free hand coming to circle around his bicep as you speak, eyes falling back to your photos, Kenny’s gaze following suit. “It all helped in the growth of my career - and, shit, despite my problems with them, I can’t say WWE wasn’t important on that too. But also on my growth as a person, I needed to do all these things I did to become who I am now. And sure, some of them were pretty stupid and reckless, but I don’t regret anything,” you say with a smile, squeezing his arm and bringing his gaze back to yours, those piercing eyes feeling raw and open. “Even though, my body may be a bit more fucked up now than it should. But we can never win against age in the end.”

You finish your words with a warm laugh, laying more of your weight on his shoulder as your body shakes with the movement. You can only hope he has understood you, only hope you managed to get your point across. Kenny chuckles along with you, and you can feel his head shaking from above your own. A large hand covers the one you had on his arm, warmth spreading from his palm to you at the gentle touch. It made you feel happy, to hear him laugh, feel the warmth of his hand, made you believe that maybe you could get through.

“You are not old,” he retorts, squeezing your own hand, his smile reaching his eyes again.

“Ah, see how that feels now?” You pull away from him and playfully slap his shoulder, Kenny’s laughter filling the room. “But really, Kenny, I gotta face the music too. Time passes and my body just isn’t as strong as it used to be. That little cage match isn’t something I can do without weighing the costs now.”

“Come on,” Kenny rests his hand on your shoulder, smile never faltering from that beautiful face, his eyes filled with something tender and inviting that you can’t quite place. “You still got some years to go, and many matches like that last one to give during that time.”

His hold on your shoulder is tender, and once again his warmth spreads all through your skin. It’s like Kenny heats the room he is in just by being there, warmer than the sun and twice as gentle. He smiles at you with a kind certainty that makes you want to believe in his words, to believe that time would be good to you the same way he is. For a second you get caught in a bubble, removed from the rest of the world, this long moment where there is only you and him. Only this bright smile and beautiful eyes that make your heart skip a bit and make you suddenly forget how to breathe.

Shit, you really don’t wanna think about what this means right now.“Let’s go,” you snap yourself out of it, slapping his shoulder and turning around in the direction of the kitchen, “food is gonna get cold, again. Hurry up.”

sponsored by: @xladyxfatex @wanderbreadsworld @madds-97 @morgan-bucks @tahiri-veyla @slut4kennyomega @of-twilight-and-moonshadow @himbos-hotline @moondust-imagines @madqueenpartna @adriswrld

#kenny omega x reader #Kenny omega #kenny omega smut #kenny omega imagine #aew smut

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madsworld15 · 3 months

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Part 3 of Asexual Rep AU (QAF)

I have decided to upload another part because it's been written so, you are welcome @maryp50 and @winderlylandchime HEHE

Justin worked the rest of his shift with an energy he’d been lacking before. Normalcy had been restored, and Brian was once again that bitchy business queen in his mind. His one moment of kindness and concern had been overshadowed by his arrogance. It was the way things should be.

That night after work, Justin went to Woody’s for a couple of drinks where he ran into Emmett and Ted. The duo quickly welcomed him to join them as they scouted the room for potential partners for the evening. Around 2 am, they all packed it in and went home alone. However, Justin was sure Emmett was going to end up calling that cute Southern man he’d been flirting with for most of the night.

Justin walked the four blocks to his and Daphne’s place, his thoughts a million miles away. Once he arrived at their apartment and let himself in, he immediately went to bed. Daphne was a pre-med student, so she had early classes almost every single day. He knew they would chat in the morning over their cups of coffee and last-minute study sessions.

Sure enough, the next morning, Daphne woke him up half an hour early with a hot cup of coffee and the look of a best friend who wanted to talk.

“Mmm.” Justin took a sip from the proffered mug and smiled, “Thanks.”

“I feel like we keep missing each other. I haven’t seen you in days.” Daphne gave Justin her signature ‘you’re toast’ look.

“Between work and school, I barely have any time to myself.” Justin shrugged and leaned his back against his headboard. “Let alone time for freedom and fun.”

“I distinctly remember you telling me about a fun night at a gay club a few weeks ago.” Daphne crawled up the bed to position herself side-by-side with Justin.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t tell you the whole story.” Justin sighed and closed his eyes. This would be the first time he would be talking about the incident out loud.

“Oh?” Daphne sounded nonchalant and unconcerned, but Justin knew better. She was itching to know more.

“Emmett invited me to join him and Ted at this gay club Babylon after I got off work that Thursday night. So, having nothing better to do, I joined him.” Justin put his coffee mug down on the bedside dresser.

“Oh my god! How was it? I have always wanted to go to a gay club!” Daphne perked up, her excitement barely contained.

“You are a freak, you know that?” Justin laughed at his best friend before he continued. “Anyway, I enjoyed some time on the dance floor until this guy made a move to undo my pants. Without asking me.”

“Please tell me you punched him!” Daphne looked horrified at what could potentially happen to him.

“No, but Brian showed up and possessively pushed those guys away,” Justin responded. “And then he kept dancing with me until I wanted to go home. It was weird, like he wanted something from me but didn’t ask.”

“Brian. The Brian. The older guy who comes into the diner and constantly treats you like crap? That guy?” Daphne knew all about Brian because of how often Justin complained about him. But she didn’t know that Brian always gave Justin more of a tip than was necessary.

“Yep!”

“And?” Daphne turned to face him with an expectant look, but Justin didn’t have anything else to give her.

“And nothing. It’s been almost two weeks, and he hasn’t said a word to me about it. And before yesterday, our interactions at the diner and the few occasions I’ve seen him at Woody’s have all been the same. But, then yesterday, I was working the late shift, and his whole friend group came in, and instead of being rude and snarky to me, Brian was kind. Unnaturally kind, like invasion of the body snatchers.” Justin sat up completely and crossed his legs.

“He likes you!” Daphne squealed and put her hands on each of Justin’s biceps. She shook him excitedly as her grin grew more and more.

“What?! No! The guy is a conceited asshole.” Justin dismissed Daphne’s assertion. “Moments later, we were out back, and Brian told me he was everyone’s type.”

“Back up. Why were you both out back?” Daphne gave him a knowing look.

“I needed a breath of fresh air because it's all so confusing,” Justin exclaimed.

“And he followed you.” Daphne continued to give him a look. “Because he likes you.”

“No, Brian isn’t like that. He doesn’t do boyfriends or commitment of any kind. He is all about sex.”

“And that makes you upset because you like him, and you know the moment he learned you don’t like sex, he would stop being interested.” Daphne pulled her best friend into a deep hug.

“I shouldn’t like him, Daph. I know it won’t end well. But, he’s all I think about even when he’s not around.”

“Then you need to limit your time around him. At least until you are over him.” Daphne gave Justin one last squeeze before she got up to go shower and head to her first class.

“How? He comes into the diner every day. I can’t exactly quit my job. I need the money.”

“How about I start coming to the diner after my classes to help keep you focused?” Daphne stated. “That way, you can work and not get drawn any deeper under his spell.”

“Okay. We can try that.” Justin agreed as he, too, got up to get ready for classes.

The next day, Daphne was true to her word and deposited herself at the back corner booth to study while Justin did his Friday evening shift. Things were going well, and they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Brian, despite seeing Ted and Emmett early in his shift. He was certain Brian wouldn’t show up that night when the man came breezing through the door. Only, he wasn’t his usual self. This time, Brian was wearing a white tee under his signature black leather jacket. His hair was a mess and Justin was pretty sure the tee had some stains on them. Not only that, Brian was lugging a baby carrier on his right arm. Justin bit back a laugh at the image.

A loud squeal was all he heard before Debbie pushed him aside in favor of the baby.

“GUS!” Debbie cooed as she unbuckled the baby and held him in her arms. Justin wasn’t familiar enough with babies to guess his exact age, but he figured he looked to be a few months old.

“If you love him so much, you can take him.” Brian groused and slumped down onto the counter. “Lindsay thought I was responsible enough to take care of him for the weekend while she works and Mel is at her yenta mother’s.”

“Well, you are his father!” Debbie admonished him. “And don’t insult Mel or her mother.”

“It’s not as though Mel wouldn’t do the same with me.” Brian tried to argue. “Besides, I gave up my rights as his father the day he was born. That was our deal.”

“A piece of paper doesn’t erase DNA.” Debbie chided and handed the baby back to Brian.

Justin finally found his voice enough to snark out incredulously, “You’re a dad?”

“I donated my spunk to a couple of cwazy wesbians.” Brian parroted as he stared his son in the eyes and made a goofy face for his benefit, “That doesn’t make me a father.”

Justin didn’t say anything else. He didn’t know what to say. But it did end up making him think about his own father for the first time in ages, really think about him. Brian’s assertion that a sperm donation didn’t make him a father nor give him the responsibility of stepping up really got under Justin’s skin. His whole life he believed his father loved him unconditionally. Despite their lack of connection or understanding, the man still loved him. Then, he learned quickly that there was one thing that could turn his father’s love off. Coming out as gay.

He walked away and let Debbie deal with him. He went over to Daphne’s booth and sat down. She didn’t say anything, but she placed her hand on his just the same. If anyone understood his complicated relationship with his dad, Daphne did.

“Don’t judge him.” Debbie’s voice floated above him. Justin looked up into the soft, dark eyes of the woman, “Remember what I said about how most people here have their own story? Well, Brian’s dad is probably the worst of them all.”

Justin silently looked at Debbie as he processed her words. “Just think about it, sunshine.”

As Justin continued his shift, he occasionally let his gaze wander over to Brian. Eventually, the man pulled out what looked like work as Gus slept in his baby carrier. Without a word, Justin refilled his coffee cup. He looked at Brian’s papers from across the counter. It was a bunch of artwork for what looked to be an ad.

“Can I?” Justin motioned to the ad Brian was fussing over.

Brian looked at Justin and then at the ad. “Sure, I can’t quite figure out why I don’t like it.”

Justin looked it over. The people in the image looked happy enough, the words stood out. Then he saw it.

“You need to change the color of the font. Right now, the blue gives the image’s happiness a bitter tinge, making it sad. You want people to love the idea of this product. The text should be orange to invigorate them.” Justin gave a tight smile as he handed the ad back to Brian.

He started to move away and see to the people who had just sat down at Table 4 when Brian grabbed at his hand.

“How do you know?” The man looked genuinely interested to know how it was that Justin could see what he had missed.

“I’m an art major at PIFA with an interest in graphic art.” Justin shrugged and then went back to work, leaving Brian to contemplate what he’d just said.

By the time Justin was able to make it back over to Brian at the counter, another thirty minutes had passed, and he was now feeding the baby a bottle. Justin hung back to watch how gentle and unguarded Brian was around the little boy who shared his genetic material. Despite what Brian had said, Justin could see firsthand just how much Brian actually loved his son.

“You know, just because our dads before us have fucked everything up doesn’t mean you can’t do things differently,” Justin whispered, filled Brian’s cup again, and then walked away to clock out and gather up Daphne so they could go home.

He was just out the door when Brian’s hand landed on his bicep to stop him. Daphne gave him a look and motioned that she would be just up the block. Justin silently begged her to stay right there, but she shook her head and left.

Justin turned around and gave Brian a smile. The two stood there in awkward silence for a few minutes before Brian bit his lip. Justin noticed that his hands were doing that weird thing they did when he was uncomfortable or nervous, where he had his fingers battling each other for dominance.

“Look, I just wanted to say thank you.” Brian took a deep breath. His face looked pained, as though it took so much out of him to admit that simple phrase.

“Oh. It was no big deal.” Justin waved him off and moved to reunite with Daphne.

But Brian stopped him once more by grabbing his arm. Only this time, the force spun Justin around until he was in Brian’s chest, and the older man’s arms were wrapped around his torso. Justin knew he should leave right then. No good would come out of whatever was bound to happen next.

“I don’t understand you.” Brian whispered, “The minute a guy doesn’t show interest in me, I forget him. But with you, I can’t stop.”

“Uhh.” Justin’s mouth was suddenly dry. “I, um, I’m sorry?” Justin tried, not really sure what Brian wanted from him.

“I don’t believe in love. I believe in fucking. It’s honest. It’s efficient. You get in and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit. And yet, for some reason, I can’t quite get you out of my head.”

Justin couldn’t seem to get the words out at first, his brain in overdrive trying to process whatever it was that Brian was saying. He finally managed after what felt like hours.

“I believe in love and commitment. I’m not a fan of sex. It makes things messy and complicated.”

“I should be running away. And yet, all I want to do is get closer to you.” Brian admitted before he leaned over and placed his lips on Justin’s.

The heat that immediately radiated from Brian’s body and into Justin at their contact almost stopped his heart. This kiss was like nothing Justin had ever felt before. If lightning were to strike him down at that moment, he would die happy. Their kiss continued long enough for Brian’s tongue to ask for entrance into Justin’s mouth. That little tap woke Justin up, and the magic was gone. He pulled out of Brian’s touch entirely.

The two stared at one another and muttered, “Fuck.” at the same time, but with entirely different meanings.

Then Justin ran to Daphne, putting as much space between him and Brian as he could.

#queer as folk #brian kinney #fanfiction #justin taylor #alternate universe #asexual spectrum representation

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albatmobile · 1 year

Text

The Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Chapter 13

𓅪 After not hearing from Roy or Jason for five years, you suddenly find yourself taking in extra income as a babysitter for their child.

𓅪 Rated: M | TW: mentions of torture + addiction | 8.2k includes: continuation from chapter 11, hurt/comfort, opening up, bonding

fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist]

Chapter 13: Diamonds/ Table for One | ao3 - wattpad

“HOLY FUCK!” You exclaim finally. “It’s… There’s no way,” You look between the two of them, not even realizing that your hands have moved to your face in pure disbelief.

So, Red Hood is Jason?

The memory of the motorcycle incident smacks an unwanted blush across your cheeks. One look at Roy’s lax form on the counter is the only thing that gives you reassurance as you tentatively walk toward Red Hood’s hulking form. You stop, nearly chest to chest with him, as you further test the limits by lifting your hands to caress his helmet.

It's a good sign, you suppose, that Red Hood allows you to take him in and hasn’t threatened to kill you yet.

All of these factors are further evidence that, yes, this is indeed Jason.

You use your knowledge of vigilante suits, which has been buried deep down in your memories, to run your fingers along the underside of the helmet. Immediately, your fingers find two nearly hidden buttons and click down on both at the same time. The helmet hisses as it unlocks around his face, but you don’t remove it just yet out of fear. You allow yourself a few more moments to bask in whatever remaining normalcy is left, clinging tightly to the only reality you’ve ever known.

You’re sure it’s Jason now because if it were any other gun-holstering costumed freak, you’d be long dead by now. Yet here you stood, imploringly staring up at the masked man, ready to remove the last remaining buffer between the two of you.

“Take it off.” The anticipatory edge of the silence that lingers in the dim light of the room stirs at your demand. His hands come up to gently remove the helmet and you’re instantly met with Jason’s signature skunk-striped hair. His usual gorgeous green eyes are hidden, however, as they remain covered by a domino mask. He doesn’t say anything as you take him in, suit and all. He doesn't even budge when your finger traces lazily up and down the familiar scar that stretches across his face. “So, it’s true then?”

You can’t help but feel betrayed by all those run-ins, knowing they knew exactly who you were the entire time. Almost like they’d been toying with you.

All those years, they shared those knowing looks, the odd family vacations, sudden ‘project.’ All those times you felt left out… It all made sense now. To anyone outside the situation, as you’d been until mere moments ago, it probably did look like you’d been strung along, toyed with and, shit, maybe even groomed. Maybe all those things did happen, but this reveal brings a hidden piece of the puzzle to the forefront of the fucked up puzzle between you, the Waynes and, strangely enough, Roy Harper.

Both of them appear too frightened to talk, which makes you want to laugh; however, the whole situation is far too fucked up for you to do anything but stare.

Between Roy bleeding out on the counter and you standing in Roy’s shirt with your pussy halfway visible, you don’t know what’s worse. No, you know what’s fucking worse? All the dumb, nerdy shit you did in front of the literal Batfamily…

You want to smack your forehead, remembering all the dumb shit you’d said and done. Even though you try to force it from your mind, the memories come flooding back anyway. You rub at the crease between your brows, thinking about how they all just sat there and let you- UGH.

“This is probably the most humiliating day of my life,” Your hands drop from Jason’s heated face in favor of slumping next to Roy’s body on one of the island stools. You continue to wallow in self-pity as everything settles over you. “You guys seriously have no idea.”

“Au contrar, I think we have the best idea.” Roy can’t contain his snickers as he mimics your past self with a high, obnoxious voice, “‘I swear, Nightwing has the juiciest ass! The new Robin has RBF, but I bet he’s DTF!’“

“Hey!” You admonish him with a barely held laugh at his crassness. “I never said that last shit and everyone talked about Nightwing’s- Dick’s ass too!” Hell, you're forgetting that you showed Tim your Red Robin fan blog. Twice. You groan again at the memory of proudly showing off all the ass shots and other salacious photos you’d collected for the blog. “So, I think we’re forgetting the bigger picture here.” You then dive into the recent coffee shop accident, slowly recollecting how you’d acted in front of them, “Oh my god, I kept you from your child. No, wait, holy shit, I whacked you in the head with a toilet tank!”

Roy snickers, but Jason shuts it down swiftly, “Shut it, arrow dude.”

You think back to them following you here and… “And you offered me money?” You still don’t understand why they’d tried to give you money. Regardless of the heroes being Jason and Roy, you can't place why they said what they said.

“Thought you would accept it,” Jason says it like it explains everything.

Your face scrunches up, “Like a cheap fucking whore or something?”

“I mean… if the glove fits.”

“You absolute fucking cunt,” You whack him in the chest with his boyfriend’s discarded trucker hat.

“I bet you’re a straight FREAK!” Roy throws a wink your way, but you continue to look at Jason. He doesn’t seem upset... You think back to the time Roy walked in on you and Jason in each other’s space and how nonchalant he'd been. “Jason knows I’m just a flirt. Right, daddy?”

““Okay,” You dramatically fake gag. “Not that this whole reveal thing hasn’t been suuper fun,” You say sarcastically, standing up from the stool to allow Jason easier access to Roy’s wound, “but I have to go and literally do anything that’s not this,” You gesture dramatically from Roy to Jason.

You think they’ll get the hint to fuck off with the immature shit, but no.

“You’re not doing this yet.” Roy wiggles his brows at you as he mimics your gesture, only to hiss when Jason applies antiseptic, “Oh, fuck me.”

You look over at an amused Jason, then at Roy’s shit-eating grin. You sigh, realizing you’ve been outnumbered by these dumbasses, “You’re both intolerable.”

You feel an impending headache coming on and rub at your already pounding temple.

“She sounds like Damian.”

You turn on your heel with a glare and get up in Roy’s face, “Do you have a death wish or something, Roy?”

“Already practically died, princess.” His loopy ass ruffles your hair, “Silly goose.”

What?

“What does that mean?”

You watch as Roy draws in a short breath as if he hadn’t actually meant to say it out loud.

He unwittingly reaches out for Jason’s hand, only to find it already there. He releases a shaky breath, clasping Jason's hand as he cuts off the pant leg high up on Roy's thigh to reveal a wicked-looking slash.

You attempt to school your reaction but, ultimately, can’t help the horrified look now stamped across your face.

You’ve watched enough shows on TLC to have seen some decent gore from those godforsaken surgery scenes they shoved into every show. Hell, even the bridal shows, it seems. Regardless, it always left you queasy. For some reason, seeing Roy’s gushing laceration right in front of you is different from that. It's somehow worse and yet not as bad at the same time. It probably helps that Roy's still being his idiotic self and not, like, screaming in agony or some scary shit like that, but still, it's a lot of blood.

One of the first things they’d shown you when you’d first arrived to babysit was where the medical kit was stashed. Without second thought, you retrieve it, practically shoving it into Jason’s grateful hands with an urgency you can tell he finds amusing. Based on their nonchalant attitude towards the whole situation, you can tell they’ve definitely dealt with worse.

You watch Jason’s steady movements against Roy’s freckled thigh with fascination. It’s as if he’s mapped out the spot so many times he doesn’t even need to look down to know exactly where to place his hands and where to avoid, even though the wound looks insanely fresh. It can't have occurred more than an hour or so ago and yet, Jason maneuvers around it with practiced ease as if he'd already been patching it up for weeks.

An uncomfortable ache catches in your throat as you watch them interact with each other. No walls, just intimacy and the inexplicable knowledge of their quirks and all the little in-betweens you’d never know the full extent of.

It’s bittersweet.

You could be here with them every day and yet you could only dream about what it’d be like to be on the receiving end of this situation.

Jason yawns for the seventh time since you’d brought the kit back and you surprise yourself when you nudge him out of the way to take over. Your eyes resolutely remain on the supplies if only to avoid the flush you feel stirring under their close inspection of your every movement.

The quick glance you’d seen of his wound earlier proves Roy would need stitches, something Jason had obviously already deduced since he’d already delicately placed seven neat ones along Roy’s irritated flesh.

With the stitching done, you know you can take over from here.

“You should get changed,” You eye Jason's dirty uniform with a palpable distaste until you notice blood soaking through his shirt. “Did you get injured too?”

Roy groans as he sits up to move his legs over the edge of the counter before hopping down with a visible wince. “Just my dumbass managed to get nicked.”

“Don’t think it counts as a ‘nick’ if you needed stitches, weirdo.”

“Fair,” Roy holds up his hands in mock surrender, allowing Jason to pull him in for a quick kiss before he disappears off around the corner. “I can finish this up.”

You think back to how earlier he’d been shocked enough to let you hold his prosthetic, but he seems to be coming down from the adrenaline finally and now suddenly doesn’t want you around him with it exposed?

“You sure know how to stare,” You shake yourself from your thoughts, meeting Roy’s eyes when he says your name. “I know you’ve been eyeing this bad boy up ever since our reunion, beautiful.”

You blush at your obvious obsession with his prosthetic… weapon?

“Roy, I just held a gun to your boyfriend’s back,” You look up at him seriously and motion him over to the couch. “I think you’re mistaking my guilt for judgment. The least I can do is finish cleaning you up.”

He beams blearily at you as he plops down with legs spread and a lazy arm thrown over his eyes. You wait for a sexual innuendo that never comes. When it doesn't, you settle on your knees between his legs with a warm, soapy washcloth.

He removes his arm slightly to watch you, “Jay tell you to use that?”

"No," You look down at the washcloth in your hand and wonder if you’ve made a mistake. “I’m just doing what seems most logical,” He snorts at your statement only to grit his teeth when you start to gently dab at the angry red skin near the stitches. You continue with your attempt to distract him from the pain. “Well, that and I watched Alfred do shit like this for me. Though, to be fair, nothing I had was ever anything like this.”

“Hey,” He says lightly. “We don’t have to compare injuries now, princess.”

You roll your eyes, turning your attention back to his thigh just as Jason reemerges in his PJs.

“Actually, that’s exactly what you’re doing. You did say you were going to tell her about your arm.”

“I said nothing of the sort!” He insists, trapping you between his legs when he absentmindedly closes them. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

You snort more as a reflex, than anything, considering you’re more preoccupied with your current, intimate position. Stop blushing, you reprimand yourself, and focus! Well, focus on the task at hand and not on what’s currently in front of you, at least.

Surely, if you stared at Roy's crotch in front of you, whatever little focus you currently have would go to shit.

Jason continues on nonchalantly, however, like you hadn’t just come face to face with his boyfriend’s crotch.

Shit, why are you being so chalant?

“You told her you practically died. You can’t just say shit like that and not explain.”

You try your best to focus on drying Roy’s skin with a clean towel, but your stomach flips at the idea of Jason offering information. Would you really get more answers to what you’ve been wondering about for years?

You feel Roy’s laugh more than anything, considering you’re looking anywhere but up.

“Guess it is about time after, what- six years of knowing each other?” You minimize yourself as much as you can, hoping he won’t stop. “Fuck, this is harder than it seems, especially with you not looking at me, princess.”

“Call me by my name,” You say suddenly, shocking even yourself as you meet his intense stare. Even though you know Roy can feel your hands shaking against his leg, you force yourself to continue on with a feigned confidence. “If you’re going to tell me everything, at least say my name.”

You watch as he gulps and turns to Jason, seemingly for backup, but for what, you still have no idea.

“Alright,” He obliges you with a sinful rasp of your name that leaves you reeling. “If you have requests, so do I.”

You tilt your head quizzically, then gasp and shift away as he brings his arm fully in front of you.

You shake your head, looking up at him before you can truly focus on any details. “Roy, you don’t have to show me. I didn’t really see anything yet anyway, so,” You trail off as you search his eyes for any sign of hesitancy but only find amusement. “But it’s not like I’d judge you if I did, per se!”

“My stipulations are that you look,” He says your name again. “Y’know, sometimes I’d catch you staring at my prosthetic. I wanted to show you, believe me, I did, but you’re like one of the smartest people I know aside from Jay. I knew you’d figure it out the second I showed you. ‘Sides, at the coffee shop, I could tell you were already somewhat suspicious of me already.”

You blush lightly at the realization that all those times you had been caught.

“Well, let me see then.”

You’d pushed the memory of the coffee shop far enough out of your mind that you only vaguely remembered arrow dude- Roy, damn… You’ll have to figure out a non-awkward way to ask him what his hero name is again. That's for another day, though, you remind yourself as you come face-to-face the prosthetic in its entirety.

He flips it over so you can get a full look at the expanse of it. The metal only goes up just slightly beyond the crook of his elbow and is met by a green skull and a scorpion with the word ‘Poison’ above it. You marvel at the odd green tattoos and allow your fingers to trace each indent and slightly raised line that adorns it.

“And to think I gave Jason shit for being edgy.” But you wink at him before you can even realize you’ve done it. Abort. Abort. You clear your throat timidly, “Er, what does it do?”

“What can’t it do, babygirl?” You fake gag at the name and the two of you laugh when Jason voices much of the same contempt. “Nah, really, though. Shit’s a lab-certified killing machine.”

You allow your fingers to delicately dance along each mechanical mechanism of his bionic arm and giggle when he unexpectedly unleashes a compartment that hides a small crossbow.

He watches you with amusement as you stroke the dark metal.

“I wasn’t lying when I said it looks like some Marvel shit, but this is so much cooler,” You watch in confusion as he blushes under your attention. “So, you left high school to get this?”

“No,” The air in the room chills as the mood suddenly turns somber.

This time, it’s you looking at Jason for backup, but he only meets you with an unreadable gaze.

Even though they're offering you the information, you don’t want to make them feel uncomfortable or obligated to reveal anything more. “It’s been a long night. You don’t have to tell me shit,” You hold up your pinky earnestly. “Swear to fuck I won’t hold it against you.”

“Ah,” Roy chuckles, “Well, since you’ve sworn to fuck…” He sucks in a breath, “No, but I really do want to tell you. It’s just hard looking back on who I was and the shit I was doing to myself.” He looks at you now. “I don’t want you to think differently of me, princess- I mean,” He quickly corrects himself with your name.

You shake your head to ward off his concern. “Roy, I-” You only barely stop yourself from saying you love him and attempt to cover your tracks. “I care about you a lot. Even with all those years apart, I still care about you just the same as I did when you left.”

“I didn’t leave. I didn’t want to abandon you and Jay,” He sucks in a shaky breath. “Shit, you know how I was… Always on some shit and if I wasn’t, I was looking for my next fix, whether it was alcohol or weed or… I was just always fucked up, okay?” He trails off unsurely.

You nod, remembering much of the same.

“I didn’t mean to drink as much as I did before I went on patrol this one night and I let myself get sloppy. They were waiting for me.”

“Who?”

“Cadmus.”

•••

It always went back to Cadmus.

Roy had spent the better part of the night shit-faced as usual, but this time, he still went on patrol against his better, read: piss-poor, judgment.

Ollie was pissing him off and so was that annoying bitch Artemis who seemed dead-set on stealing his spot. He didn’t even want to be a sidekick, having long outgrown the Speedy role.

It was the first night he went out in a brand new suit, without even having a name yet, when he got into it with what he assumed to be low-level henchmen. What he failed to realize, in his disoriented state, was that it’d been a trap.

A shitty one, at that.

Regardless, he'd been too out of it to fight at his full capacity and quickly succumbed to whatever poison they’d injected him with. He woke up in a lab who knows how many hours, days, weeks later in a sterile, quiet environment.

No one talked to him, no one acknowledged him and obviously no one cared about the immense pain their experiments put him through.

He'd been poked and prodded like an animal. Treated like a leper.

“They tortured me,” He isn’t looking at you anymore, seemingly focused on the memories that your questions had forced to the surface. “They starved me and sliced me with medical instruments all day. At night is when the psychological torture kicked in.”

You move without thinking, drawing Roy to your chest, if only to hide your brewing anger as you take in the new information. You’re so focused on the contact that you don’t even notice the sigh of relief he releases when his head falls against your cleavage.

Jason watches you for a brief moment before getting up to curl around Roy until you’re all one pathetic heap on the couch.

“They tried to make me into some sort of sleeper agent,” His voice cracks. “They wanted to use me to hurt my friends, to hurt Jay.” Jason coos and kisses away the tears from one side of Roy’s freckled cheek. You make use of swiping them away on the other cheek gently, wishing you could kiss it away as well. “I was, I am and will always be a weapon.” He laughs humorlessly and stares down at his bionic arm like it’s a curse and, after listening to him, you suppose it very well could be.

“That’s not true,” Jason insists.

You nod easily in agreement, “Once we’re out of the womb, we make ourselves. We’re not and you’re not, the product of anyone else.”

“Dish out sound advice, but can’t take it,” Jason stares at you blankly.

"Seriously?" Your head whips around to glare at him in retaliation, "Right now is the time to call me out on that shit?”

“I thought about dumb shit like you guys bickering while I was trapped in there.” This time Roy’s chuckle holds some merit as he watches the two of you in genuine amusment. “And about those dumb romance novels I knew Jason was reading all day without me there to annoy the shit out of him.”

“What do you mean?” You smile lightly in confusion, “He left right after you did.”

Jason glares as if you’ve somehow revealed some deep secret. Roy takes in your words as if it’s the first time as he elects to face his boyfriend.

“You came after me that fast, Jay?”

The way they're looking at each other is enough to make anyone envious.

You especially so.

“Always, Roy,” It’s slightly cracked and lets you in on everything you need to know about how they feel about each other. “Took Oliver a bit of convincing that you were really gone when that other kid was running around, but once I did, you couldn’t get us to take a break.”

You glance over at Jason, wondering if it means what you think it means, “So private school was all a lie?”

He shrugs, “With the resources I had and I knew Oliver had, I knew we would be his best, if not only hope.”

“How long were you there?” You ask gently.

“It was a blur,” Roy trails off, unsure, so you both look at Jason for the answer.

“Years,” Jason supplements easily, though you can see how it wears on his face.

Roy clears his throat uncomfortably and continues. “When I came to, I was being carried out of the place by Jay and my fucking clone who was working for them while Ollie fought off… I don’t even know what, to be honest.”

•••

Roy was a mess as he sat holed up in Jason’s apartment, coming to terms with the fact that, if it hadn’t been for the help from his clone Guardian, they would’ve all been lab meat.

Jason allowed him to lay low for a while, per Roy’s request and watched as he wasted the weeks following drowning himself in booze and…

It was the one day that Jason came home early, expecting to deal with Roy drunk off his ass, but found something else entirely.

Something worse.

“How long, Roy?” Roy watched as Jason rushed to him, throwing aside the needle he’d been busy injecting into the flesh of his forearm. “How fucking long have you been doing this shit here?”

“Chill!” Roy’s eyes flickered uncoordinatedly as they met Jason’s concerned ones. “You act like my fucking wife, bro. Last time I checked, I'm still a free man.”

“This isn’t something to joke about, Roy. I-"

Jason had done everything for Roy; spent years looking, helped him get back in shape. Hell, Jason was the only one even cooking and cleaning while Roy got used to his new arm in the way he knew best: drinking.

All the while, Jason avoided you, though he couldn’t keep his distance from you for too long. To escape the mental toll the apartment was taking on him, Jason added your place to his regular patrol route as a way to watch over you.

Between rehabilitating Roy and keeping an eye on you, Jason barely had enough energy, let alone time, to take care of himself. He was drained, though not completely spent. Not yet, at least.

It was only when Damian, as Robin, followed Jason back to his apartment and saw Roy's pathetic state that Jason let him in on what had happened.

Jason had been avoiding Bruce and the manor’s inhabitants ever since Roy’d first disappeared. Why would he? There was no reason to go crawling back to the trustfund, anyway, when he didn’t have even have the courage to let himself be seen by you.

“You look pathetic, Harper,” Damian said as he took in Roy’s thin form and sunken face. “I suppose this wouldn’t have happened had you not already been a habitual drunk.”

Roy winced, easily recognizing his harsh words as the truth.

He decided he’d quit drinking that night, decided that this time he’d really stick to it. Before the angsty teen could leave, Roy stopped Damian. to give you a message. “Tell her I’m okay, that I went to rehab.”

“People come out of rehab with metal arms?” Damian tch’ed at the piss-poor excuse, knowing you’d see right through it.

“People who know Oliver Queen and go to rehab come out with metal arms,” Roy challenged him easily, more out of reflex more than anything, though each man could tell it lacked his usual charm.

“If it comes up, I’ll be sure to mention it,” Damian still didn’t sound convinced.

“You takin’ care of her?” Roy rasped, watching as Damian moved toward the window.

Jason had yet to tell him of his new patrol route, so, as far as Roy knew, Jason hadn’t seen you in years either.

“She’s a grown woman. What control do I have over her?” Roy looked like a kicked puppy. Uncharacteristically, Damian tried again. “She can take care of herself, but yes,” Damian finally slipped out of the window and into the night, “I am.”

Just like that, he was gone.

•••

“So we’re just gonna skip over the fact that you have a fucking clone?”

“Two,” Roy says matter-of-factly.

“Two?” You repeat dumbly. “So, three Roys?”

“Two,” He says again.

•••

Roy had been mostly keeping his promise by only having a beer every once and a while, but he’d also been attending all his AA meetings, so he figured it kind of evened itself out.

It was shit logic and he knew it, but at least it was a start.

At least, Jason thought so.

Then, one day, Jason didn't seem to think so.

Soon, all the alcohol Roy would bring around the flat would be mysteriously dumped before Roy could get deeper in than a couple of drinks. All of this culminated into Roy to confronting Jason with an anger he’d never directed at him before.

Jason stayed through the anger, stayed through the tears and stayed when Roy eventually fell into a drunken sleep. He stayed through the good days and the bad ones. Jason was there through it all.

It was a particular run-in with a familiar redhead that left Jason’s head spinning.

It was Roy.

Well, not Roy-Roy, considering this man had two flesh arms.

Another clone.

He told him his name was Red Arrow, meaning Oliver knew about him, which now also meant that Jason couldn’t tell Roy. The man gave Jason a small arrow and told him to activate it when Roy was ready to talk. Jason seriously considered breaking it in front of his face right then and there if it hadn’t been for the fact that the guy’d just saved his ass.

Jason had forgotten about said arrow until Roy found it in his discarded gear.

There’s one thing you should know: Jason is a great liar. There’s another thing you should know: Jason can’t lie to Roy. Sure, he could keep things, but lying to him was something he could never bring himself to do.

Jason remained calm when Roy shoved the arrow in his face.

“He goes by Red Arrow.”

Jason watched as Roy examined the arrow with growing hostility but asked anyway, “Who does? What is this?”

Two seconds ticked by; three, four and Jason wondered if he’d be strong enough to help Roy through another spiral.

He had to.

“Your other clone.”

Roy broke down. This time, though, Jason lost himself in work to prevent him from falling further into his own creeping depression. He’d been looking after the two people he loved most and had nearly lost himself in the process.

All the progress Roy had made since Damian’s visit was moot and it all stemmed from something Jason had hidden from him.

Jason was losing control of the situation and was failing you and Roy in the process again. Just when everything was supposed to be looking up...

It’s easy, in hard times, to occupy feeble minds with work, which is exactly why Jason agreed to a multi-week mission with Dick and Tim even though, on any other occasion, he’d have rather bit a bullet. Jason needed an out. If only for a short while so he could get his head back on straight and be any support to Roy. It wasultimately an excuse, though. He knew he was abandoning Roy, but, fuck, Jason could hardly force himself out of bed every day as it was. How could he take care of two people when he couldn’t even take care of himself?

He imagined for a brief moment visiting you, letting you know he hadn’t forgotten you, that it was quite the opposite. He imagined telling you every secret he’d ever held from you, but it was only a figment of an irrational dream. That’s how it would have to remain and he knew it. For protection, he reminded himself.

Protection for you or himself? It was becoming more and more blurred with every passing month.

“So, you’re leaving me,” Roy scoffed as he threw an empty bottle into the existing pile on the floor. J

ason was completely worn out and had been heavily slacking in the cleaning department. Piles of dirty plates and takeaway containers littered the floor while the carpet was drenched in the remnants of booze, blood and bile.

“Roy, I want to help you and I want the best for you, but what you’re doing right now is hurting me… I need to-”

He cut him off swiftly, “To what, run away? Flee in the wake of adversity? She was right about you, you know? You never face shit. At least she would tell you to your face when she had an issue, but all you can ever do is bolt in the opposite direction,” He spat his words in Jason’s irate face. “Fucking, coward.”

“No,” Jason shook his head. “No, you don’t get to talk to me about her right now when you’re the only reason we haven’t seen her in years.” Roy seemed to sober up some at the harsh reality and Jason calmed his tone, realizing this would get them nowhere. “You don’t think that shit kills me? I’m trying and sometimes it seems like I’m the only one trying for both of us and that’s fine,” Jason was quick to reassure Roy because putting him down definitely wasn’t his intention. “But… I can’t deny that it’s been weighing on me, Roy. You are not and never will be a burden because I-“ Jason cut himself off at Roy’s startled face, realizing what he'd been about to say and cleared his throat. “I just need space to figure some shit out. I’ll be back soon. This isn’t goodbye and I’m not abandoning you.”

“Sure what it looks like from here,” Roy slurred.

“Yeah, well, you’re drunk, so what the fuck would you know?”

“Loosen up, Jay,” Roy called after Jason's retreating form. “You’re starting to sound as uptight as Bats.”

Jason hesitated by the door handle. He seriously considered leaving without another word, but for some reason, he just couldn’t, “That’s low and you know it.”

“Sorry," Roy drunkenly smiled. "Thought we were breaking hearts here, darling.”

Jason gave Roy one last look over as if it might be the last time he’d see him. Hell, with the downward spiral he was in, it very well could be.

Was it really right to leave him alone?No, but it was something he selfishly had to do.

“Yeah, seems like it,” His hand tightened around the door. “I’m sorry.” Sorry for leaving, for not being able to save him sooner, for not being enough to drag him from his addiction, sorry for not protecting you.

Sorry for all of it.

•••

Three hours after Jason left was the first time he met a sickly-looking, shaky Will and, coincidentally, the first time he met Lian.

As he opened his door, a warm bundle was immediately shoved into Roy’s newly strengthened arms. After a few months of Wayne Enterprise physical training, Jason insisted he stop calling their PT sessions that, Roy had steadily been gaining his muscle mass back.

Roy hiccuped, taking in whatever the fuck this entire situation was. He didn’t have to wait too long for answers though.

“The mom, Cheshire,” Roy couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath at the assassin’s familiar name “she’s not in the picture. Ollie can’t know and I’m dying and Lian…” Will’s desperate ramblings ceased when his eyes finally laid upon the kid’s dark fluff of hair as she rested in Roy’s arms.

“Yeah? Well, I’m dying too, so get in line,” Roy snorted humorlessly, attempting to hand back the kid and lock the door behind him, but Will’s wedged foot prevented him from doing the latter.

"It’s rapid cellular degeneration," He like he was losing patience but, more importantly, time. “I know I’m a goner by the end of the week,” Roy watched as Will looked down at his graying skin. “I don’t have much time and you’re the only person I can trust.”

Roy was on edge. There was absolutely no way this kid was staying with him. “Clearly, you don’t know me.”

“Know you? You are me,” Will said weakly.

“No, you’re ME.” Roy spat bitterly, “And all of this is because of you.” Will’s eyes unsteadily trailed across Roy’s shaky, pale state, still stuck halfway in, halfway out of a wasteland of alcohol, heroin and his own dismal thoughts. “I’m going through my own shit right now and I would just be a danger to it.”

“Her,” Will corrected.

“I don’t care,” Roy slurred petulantly, “S’not my kid.”

Will scoffed, noting how Roy had taken to supporting her head as soon as his grip had slipped out of position.

“Listen, the only reason I even knocked was to make sure my intel was right about this being your apartment,” He sagged forward, barely catching himself on the hallway wall next to Roy’s door. “I don’t have the time for this. I still need to tie up the rest of my loose ends. I can’t keep sticking around to convince you of the 'whys' of the situation. You’re a grown man. You know what you need to do.”

He saw the pain in Will’s eyes and how he never once took his eyes off of the kid- Lian.

Roy explained that he couldn’t. “How am I supposed to deal with this,” He gestured to himself, then to the kid swaddled in his arms. “And Lian at the same time?” He still obviously wasn't convinced.

"Who do you think tipped off Jason and Ollie about your location?" Will looked him over slowly as if the action alone was using up all his energy. Roy was shell-shocked. His clone switched gears as if feeling the weight of the seconds escaping. “I even made sure there was an inside man, Guardian." He looked at Roy as if he knew he had him cornered, "You owe me."

"I-" Roy trailed off dumbly.

Will had been the one to arrange the rescue mission?

"You're capable of great things, Roy Harper; Lian’s just the catalyst. Please,” He begged. “Take care of her and take care of yourself. We’re both counting on you now.” He didn’t wait for an answer as there was only one answer to give.

Without another word, Will stumbled off with a supporting hand on the hallway wall as he dragged his limp body further away.

Sure, Roy could've easily caught up to him, said 'fuck you, dude,' handed him back Lian and went inside to finish the rest of the bottle, but he didn't. No, Roy let him walk away. He closed the door as Will disappeared from view before finally allowing himself to take in the- no, his little girl.

•••

A month later, Jason came back to a semi-clean apartment with no booze in sight and a sober Roy on the couch holding a baby.

“I’ve been making amends with Ollie.”

“Oh?” Jason questioned as he cautiously circled around the tiny bundle.

This wasn’t the first time Roy had said this same shit; got sober for a decent amount of time before falling back into the same old, same old. Though Jason had to admit, the baby was a new thing. If it was a promising sign or not, he didn’t know, but Roy seemed genuinely happy at least, which was definitely a step up from how he'd been when Jason left.

Roy bounced the kid up and down in his arms, not having yet bothered to look up at Jason. “Said he thought Will running around as me might give me more time to recover in private.” He shrugged, “Don’t know if I believe him, but at least we’re talking again. He got me an online therapist that specializes in addiction and shit, so I guess that’s pretty cool. Means I get to watch Lian and still get better, ya know?”

Jason let the information seep in as he came to a stop right in front of Roy and… “Lian, was it?”

He nodded proudly, shoving her in his direction without taking his eyes off her small form, “She does this thing where she gurgles at me and then just kind of spits up everywhere. I swear to fuck, it’s the cutest thing.”

“Mm, I’ll take your word.” Jason had taken care of plenty of kids during his days on the streets, but it was Roy acting so domestic and tame that had taken him aback. “How long?”

“How long were you gone?” There’s a slight hint of venom behind it that would be impossible for Jason to miss, but it was nothing compared to the drunken rages Jason was used to quelling.

From there, it was a mix of dirty diapers, late nights, training, AA meetings and therapy... and, somewhere along the way, they fell for each other.

Though, Jason would never let him know he’d fallen for him all those years ago just as he’d done for you.

•••

“I still can’t believe that the two of you being together ended up being real. Especially after the way the two of you ardently danced around your gayness for the entire year I knew you. Why do you think I insisted on you guys not being dicks about it? I knew one of you was going to get hurt with the bullshit you’d say to each other.”

They offer you looks of sheepishness in return.

Roy’s the first to recover, “I mean, yeah, obviously, I always thought Jaybird over there was hot. You know what I mean,” He winks slyly at you, but you feign ignorance, choosing instead to stare down at your nails. “Anyway,” Roy rolls his eyes at you. “Then it was finally time to get you.”

You blush, “Why wait so long after you’d been rescued?”

“I needed the time to recover fully,” You watch as he gulps. “I didn’t want you to see me… how I was.” He sighs, “Shit, man, there’s some days where I don’t know if I even am recovered. It’s a long ass fucking process and it’s been brutal. I wouldn’t want to put you through that. Plus, the whole secret identity, vigilante thing didn’t help either.”

You still felt slightly betrayed he hadn’t wanted you for support, though you now knew it went so much deeper than you ever could’ve imagined.

“What about you?” You pull slightly at Jason's grip around you and Roy to look at him.

“Already basically told you everything,” Jason fiddles with Roy’s fiery locks in an obvious attempt to dodge your curious gaze, “but here’s what you don’t know about that night, I guess.”

•••

After he sent you down the chute, he made quick work of the goons before high-tailing it to the cave. He found Bruce and Damian already suiting up, discussing the dire situation. Jason began to do the same, alongside Dick, until Bruce placed a firm hand on his forearm, preventing him from removing his shirt.

“What’s your damage?” Jason shook Bruce’s grip with a swift glare, “I’m helping.”

“Your anger and your developing alias would only hinder the mission and endanger countless lives, Jason. The answer is no. You need to stand down,” He didn’t even bother shooting him a stern look or anything. The bastard was just arrogant enough to expect Jason not to fight him on it, “You're to stay down here.”

“I’m benched?” Pure desperation drenched each and every syllable. “You can’t stop me Bruce, I’ll-” His followed Bruce’s line of sight to the cameras on the main staircase and quickly trailed off. His heart stopped as he watched you being dragged up to the ballroom, struggling right beside...

By the time he looked away from the screen, Bruce and Damian were long gone, but Dick remained.

“Don’t take it personally, Jay,” Dick’s calm voice did nothing to soothe Jason’s increasing irritation.

Jason ignored him.

“I need to be there,” His voice was hushed against the whirs of technology that surrounded them, but Dick had heard it clearly.

Jason

“But it’s the Joker-”

“You think I don’t know?" He cut his older brother off vehemently. "She’s the one who doesn’t know, Dick,” How could he not see the agony this was causing him? Bruce’s cruel punishment was only making it worse. “She’s in danger and it’s because I let her out of my sight. You don’t understand, Dick, it’s my fault.”

Dick took in Jason’s, pleading, sopping form and sighed. “She needs Jason more than Red Hood right now. Go to her. We’ll take care of the rest.” Jason sucked his teeth, glaring at Dick before going back to the screen as you were shoved around. “’You know, Tim’s still benched after our run-in with Dent. He’ll need all the support he can get,” He patted his younger brother’s back comfortingly before securing his suit and taking off.

Jason took one more look at the security feed and angrily slammed his fist against the keyboard, shattering it in half from sheer force alone.

He refused to stay down here any longer when you were up there, fighting for your life.

No, he wouldn't don his Red Hood gear, but that didn't stop him from joining Tim in the ballroom as a helpless bystander.

Benched, he thought bitterly while Joker and his men began their torture when he was the one who’d sent you straight into the Joker’s arms just as his mom had done to him.

Like mother, like son.

•••

“You always go back to that night. Even knowing what I know now," You add pointedly, "you know, the whole gun-toting vigilante shit, there’s still nothing you could’ve done.”

"How?" His voice is distant and cold as if he’s in the midst of berating himself at this very moment. “I left you. What did I expect to fucking happen?”

“Jason, you were saving me,” You insist. “You got me out of the way andI was able to hide. For some reason, it was almost like they were looking for me…” You suddenly think back to the recent attacks and draw the same connections that Jason and Roy seemed to also silently be picking up on.

“You said something to me that night.”

You cut him off with a gentle hand on his knee. He looks up at you with a surprise that leaves you wanting to draw away, but you fight the urge and keep your hand in place.

“Jason, I wasn’t in the right mind whatever I said.”

You think back as hard as you can, searching your memories of that night, but nothing sticks out. It’s as if your thoughts have been broadcast across your face because Jason easily supplements what you’re failing to connect.

“You said something about how, unless I had some crazy ninja abilities, there’s nothing I could’ve done.” He looks up at you so that you’re forced to meet his striking, emerald gaze. “I… it killed me. I had all of that and I still failed you.”

You stop him in his tracks, "See, that's what I don't understand. 'Failing,'" You add air quotes around the word. “How could you or any of your family have failed me when I’m still here?” You bring his hand up to the scar on your neck and watch as he viscerally reacted. “I would take a million more ugly scars like this if it meant I got to see you another day. All those years, I felt that weight every day.”

“S’not like he stayed away from you, princess. Don’t know if you picked up on it, but he used to watch over you like some twisted angel.”

You turn your head to Roy, who seems to be analyzing your unmoving hand from his boyfriend’s thigh until his hand comes to cover your own.

You let out a pleased hum at the combined contact. “Yeah, actually, I did pick up on that. Can we go back to that because what the actual fuck, you perv?” You look to a laughing Roy. “And why the fuck are you laughing?”

"It wasn't like that," Jason admonishes his boyfriend. “You’re not the only one who’s had an incident with the Joker. Trust me, I know how it sticks. Hell, all I've been able to do is see how it sticks with you, too.”

You absentmindedly bring your hand to your scar. Whatever kind of experience Jason had with the Joker, you imagine it’d probably been a hell of a lot worse than what you’d experienced. You wince, noticing how they both watch your movement cautiously.

“What exactly did that entail?" You question him, "You keeping an eye on me?”

When Roy said Jason had watched over you like an angel, you didn’t have the slightest idea what it meant.

“Nothing,” Jason adamantly shakes his head, but Roy’s snickering gives it all away.

It’s all you needed to know that, yes, Jason had quite literally stalked you. These fucking vigilantes are going to be the death of you. Maybe quite literally.

“Oh my god, I never shut my curtains.” He blushes at that, causing your mouth to gape open. “Are you fucking kidding me? I feel so fucking violated right now.”

He holds up his hands in faux-surrender, “It’s not like I saw anything, really!”

“What do you mean really?” You lean in, questioning him menacingly.

He looks hot under his collar and you don’t give him a chance to back down. He seems to understand this because, for once, he gives in.

“I knew if I showed up, you’d have too many questions that I wouldn’t be able to answer. Not when I still had so many to figure out myself. Plus, it didn’t feel right to see you again without Roy there,” He looks at you as if he’s pleading for you to understand. Even though you definitely needed time to process all of this, you still nod in understanding. “It was therapeutic for me in a time when I couldn’t control anything. Roy was gone; I’d abandoned you,” He sighs and glances at your scar. “I knew Red Hood could protect you better than Jason Todd ever could. That’s something I know Damian feels the same.”

•••

It was always the same.

He really should’ve warned you about to basics about switching up your routine during training all those years ago to avoid creeps like, well, Jason.

The first few weeks were innocent check-ins, just making sure your lights were on and that you were feeding yourself. He watched over you when you went to the grocery store, dozed on and off when you went to school and cursed when he watched you go to the manor.

It was completely innocent until it wasn’t.

Three months in, he watched as you began to undress. Without hesitation, his head snapped in the opposite direction. The second time it happened, he easily did the same.

It was the third time that had him fucked up.

It was wrong.

It was so wrong.

You were wearing some skimpy skirt and tight turtleneck. Fucking nerd, he rolled his eyes at the latter choice, though he continued to greedily watch as you struggled to get off the offending fabric.

Any other visit, he’d look away right about now, but that night, for some reason, you had him in a chokehold that he couldn’t seem to shake. No, he didn't want to shake it. He was embarrassed by how quickly a tent formed in his pants before you'd even managed to strip a singular article of clothing.

It was definitely too late to look away when you bent down to toe off your shoes, flashing him your entire ass in the process.

Jason snapped his head so fast, that he was pretty sure his helmet mechanisms unlocked. He slowly turned back around to see you on your bed in a lacy black bra and red thong, talking to someone on FaceTime. He glowered for a few moments when his vision became preoccupied with the familiar tan and black hair annoyingly taking up space on your screen.

Damian.

Fucking bastard.

It was all too much for him. He'd already overstepped too many boundaries, so he disappeared into the night.

Jason forced himself to maintain distance until months later with the phone call to you on that fateful night.

•••

“So, now that we know Jason was stalking me.” Your face crinkles up in disgust, “Partially while I was underage, might I add?” You grimace.

“Again, wasn’t like that.”

You roll your eyes, “Whatever.”

“You were always alone.” Your stomach twists, realizing just how much they know about you. “It became therapeutic to know I could protect you.”

“Awesome. I thought we’d already been over the fact that my parents are pieces of shit, so what?” You're getting a bit defensive and irrational and you know it, but you can’t help but feel cornered when they're the ones who are supposed to be opening up to you. “So what if you knew I was alone? Back when we first met, it didn’t stop you from dangling the idea of me being a part of your family depending on how I responded to your advances on me that week.”

Jason shakes his head and breathes your name desperately, “You know that’s not true.”

You continue on, regardless, “You constantly teased me and for what? You didn’t even like me. I never had a chance with either of you, but that never stopped you from messing with my fucking head.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I?!” You exclaim, beginning to feel exhasperated. “Because I think I’m finally seeing clearly now. Who am I kidding? This whole situation here,” You gesture between them and the direction of Lian's room, “You’re still doing it even do it to this day. Both of you,” You glare at Roy, who shrinks sheepishly under your intense glare, “thinking that you can just call me whenever it’s fucking convenient to invite me back into your lives.”

Damn, maybe you do understand where Damian's coming from…

Jason’s voice cuts through your thoughts, “I did like you.”

You stop mid-rant, short-circuiting, “Excuse me?”

Jason has always been one to run from your confrontations, not meet them.

You think back to the drunken kisses, the close call in the fountain and even the Romeo and Juliet kiss, but you still can’t quite believe what you're hearing.

Even Roy seems visibly shocked by his boyfriend’s confession.

Jason looks at him, then at you. You still obviously don’t believe him, nor do you know how he got those intense scars you’ve endlessly traced over the time you've known him.

You wait in anticipation, thinking he’ll continue opening up to you, but no further explanation comes. You sigh when you realize you’ve gotten more information than you’d expected and that you'd just have to be content with the information they did give you. You still hate being left in the dark; hate how you came crawling back. Nonetheless, you still follow them to their bed and easily allow yourself to be scooped up into their arms.

At least you can lay beside them knowing something.

It'll be enough. For now.

Always one to fall asleep first, you attempt to keep your eyes open as your breathing evens out and manage to stay awake long enough to hear Roy’s silent question.

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

You’re already asleep before you hear the response.

A/N: all will be revealed in due time!! have an amazing day/night!!

[next] || masterlist || pinned || my ko-fi / tip jar

#jason todd x reader #reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd x roy harper #reader x jason todd #my fic: the art of rehabilitating snowbirds #my fic:ars

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gnomeniche · 2 years

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Duck definitely knows and is more aware than he let’s on , him saying “I don’t want to do this anymore” (on Food) implies he has known since a while. I think besides him being self-aware on some level, the fact that he can’t fit in whatever mold the show presents is his downfall, even when he tries going along he really doesn’t fall into the singalong. But that has also saved him (and the others)multiple times on the TV show, so I wonder if his character arc would revolve around him figuring that out (if they can somehow solve the resets / replacements issue)

this became impromptu duck analysis so uhhhh tl;dr I THINK YOU'RE RIGHT i think his character arc would involve heading in that direction. but readmore for full

I 100% AGREE WITH YOU. duck is absolutely aware to some extent. and the times he can't fit into the mold of the show are not for lack of trying. when he plays his role right, he does it so seamlessly that we don't even notice him twisting and turning himself. but when he can't, he REALLY can't, and it's always in response to something unexpected happening.

in "jobs," he does so well at first, even being the cue for the teacher, until the rug is unexpectedly pulled from under him, at which point he freaks out and tries to force things back on the track he thinks they were supposed to be on. in "food," one of his friends has COMPLETELY disappeared, which he cannot just ignore. "family" is somewhere between not fitting and playing along, where he objects but tries to go along with the twins' adventure and what they tell him to do, contorting his dislike of the situation into taking on the naysayer role that red has left unfilled. but all in all, when he does not want to do something he will NOT do it.

so why would he Want to play along? he clearly does NOT like the lessons. obligatory disclaimer about personal readings: if there are residual memories from the webseries in the back of these guys' minds, he's learned from "food" that any attempt at defiance will be met with something more painful. when he woke up briefly he found nothing but a black void (somewhat outside of the show-world, given how the episode was playing on the screens in that room) and evisceration. not that that WAS necessarily more "real"; the dull world that red found wasn't more "real," either, even if it seemed to be. but you would be under that impression if you were birdman at that moment.

so he's aware but terrified of what he might find if he decides to act on it. defiance means pain and death and darkness, so play along to stay safe. and it's hard to notice his dissatisfaction, as opposed to red's, because his coping mechanisms are joking/bravado instead of bitterness/apathy AND he's a better actor. his clipboarding at the end of "transport" shows that; he clings to a shred of normalcy and humor to deal with the reality that they are now stranded in a terrible place.

and i absolutely agree with you on the last part too. duck's growth HAS to involve dealing with his hidden terror and learned helplessness. but i think he can only do that for the sake of his friends. like, the one thing that terrifies him more than even the pain and nothingness is being left alone. that's why he knocks over the camera in "food," why he hates the "jobs" and "family" situations, why he can't stand being alone in his grave. but even though the road trip is SO transparently an attempt to break out, he seems fine because he's with his friends. if his arc is him learning that he HAS power and agency after all, he will be spurred toward it in some way by something involving his friends.

will it be him observing the little actions they make that builds up his courage? will it be the other two directly poking at reality again? will it be something horrible happening to them? who knows. birdmangelion when

#dhmis #dhmis duck #dhmis analysis #am.ask

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

Text

From Blood, Love and Courage - Chapter Fourteen.

A huge thank you to everyone for the continued interest in this little story of mine :) As ever, 25 notes minimum are needed to unlock the next chapter. I hope everyone has a lovely weekend!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen

Words - 5,221

Tag list - In the comments, please message to be added/removed

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Mami, are you sure you’re alright? I can hear you breathing over the aircon.”

Lily turned, nodding. “I’m good, just keep driving.”

It was her first time being without Angel since her attack eleven days ago, and Angie truly wasn’t convinced by her statement. She thought Lily was pushing herself for normalcy, that she thought she was being a burden on her boyfriend, a man who had assured her prior to leaving the house that if it was too much, she shouldn’t push herself. After she’d hung onto him at the door, he’d whispered to Angie that if she did begin to panic, to just bring her straight to the scrapyard, where he’d be working, even if she protested against it.

Over the last three days, despite her fear, she’d been trying hard to face the idea of being without him for short periods of time, taking little walks on her own to the end of the block and back (the first time she’d ran the entire way back, absolutely terrified) or asking him to go to the store for her, so she could see how she coped being alone in the house. The three times he’d done this, he’d returned to a visibly shaken Lily, gradually less so, but still not enough for him to feel like she was ready to spend an extended period of time without him close by.

Lily had different ideas, although she was fooling no one.

Angie kept one eye on the road and one eye on her friend, watching her chest rising and falling a little faster, her eyes fixing. She was zoning out, which she tended to do, as Angel had told her. It went either way when she became scared, she’d either panic, or go into shutdown mode, become catatonic while breathing like she was being chased by a predator.

She was. Three of them, always there in her mind.

“Lily?”

Nothing. At the next junction, she took a left rather than a right, heading back along the route that would return them to Santo Padre, scrapyard bound. The gates swung open a few moments after her arrival, EZ waving to her as she drove through, Angie parking up and getting out.

“Hey babe,” he greeted her with, kissing her cheek. “Did she panic?”

“A little, but she tried to downplay it. She’s gone into shutdown mode, though, so I thought it best to just bring her here, like Angel said I should.” she sighed, EZ putting his arm around her shoulders. “She pushing herself, trying too hard to be over it when in truth, she needs time. It’s still so fresh.”

Jodie had said similar to him the previous night after talking with Lily on the phone. “Yeah, I think you’re correct. I think she’s trying to run away from it and hope it doesn’t follow her, throw herself back into life. Well, I guess we have to show fairness, it isn’t like she’s going off the deep end, but I still think she’s trying to kid herself that she’s ready to begin trying to cope without my brother close by.”

Speaking of Angel, he appeared from around the corner, smiling thinly to see Angie. “I knew it’d be within the hour. Thanks for bringing her over. What was it, freak out of shutdown?”

“The latter,” she confirmed with a sigh, Angel nodding as he took off his work cloves and opened the passenger door, crouching down.

“Lily, hey baby. You okay?” he asked her softly, watching her suddenly stir with a little shudder, looking puzzled. He sighed, registering it. She’d zoned out so much, she didn’t even know where she was. She then turned to him, her face relieved, unclipping her belt and sinking into his arms. He picked her up, her legs winding around his waist, pausing to kiss Angie’s cheek and thank her again before carrying her over to the clubhouse.

“I’m sorry,” she muffled against his neck as he carried her in.

He placed her down on the couch, stroking her hair as he crouched at her feet. “What’s that word you’re not allowed to say, again? Remind me.”

Her smile was thin. God, the patience he had with her. He was amazing. “Sorry. And I’ll try not to say it, but I can’t help it, feeling like I’m a burden on you and disrupting your life.”

He was, as ever, quick to reassure her. “You ain’t burdening or disrupting shit. Circumstances leading to it aside, I’ve loved having you so close by. I just wish it was with my happy Lily, but I get that it’ll take a while for that to happen. You take all the time you need, and that includes not rushing yourself to get over it and get back to normal, alright?”

She sniffed, tears pooling in her eyes. “I just want to feel like me again, and I hate that I don’t! I’m so frightened all of the time!” For someone who prided themselves on being a fighter, being tough, it must have been so hard for her to feel like anything but. This was a woman who could take a grown man down with startling ease, after all.

He moved to sit beside her, pulling her into a hug. “It won’t always be like this, my little sweet pea,” he vowed, holding her in his arms, the warmth of his embrace as safe and comforting as ever. Whenever he held her, it always made her torment more bearable.

“No, it’ll be different. I’ll be different.” No, he wasn’t having that.

Taking her chin gently, he turned her head, kissing the tip of her nose. “If there’s one thing I know about Lily Georgina Armstrong, it’s that she’s a fighter. And I want you to know this, heed it, remember it always. You are not what happened to you, you hear me? I know that’s likely an easy thing to say, because it didn’t happen to me. You need to remember it, though.”

Her bottom lip quivered, Angel feeling his chest pull tightly. “What if I’m not strong enough to remind myself of that?”

“Then I’ll be strong enough for the both of us, and I’ll remind you, because I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now, querida mia. I’ll get you through this.”

“You didn’t sign up for this,” she sighed, feeling guilty.

“Yes, I did.” He stopped, kissing her softly. “The moment I told you I loved you, I signed my name to it. Nothing changes that.”

“I love you so much,” she whispered, turning to kiss him. “Thank you for being wonderful.”

He smiled, kissing her again. “Mr Wonderful has to get back to work. You gonna be alright just hanging out here?” The clubhouse was empty, none of the guys in since in outlaw hours, it was still relatively early, Angel only there because it was his shift, which he’d agreed to do last minute and relieve Creeper from taking over his hours, thinking Lily would be otherwise engaged, but expecting she likely wouldn’t be for long. He hated that he was right.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll come put some gloves on and help you if I get panicky.”

He raised his eyebrow, shaking his head. “Not with broken ribs, you won't.” He kissed her head, leaving her, but not really wanting to. At least he had the comfort of knowing that if she did freak out, he’d be close by, be able to soothe her again. While he went back to moving tonnes of metal around, Lily sat curled up on the couch, reading on her phone, from a blog she’d found from a woman who had gone through almost the same trauma as her, except her gang rape had involved more people.

She’d been drugged while at a frat party, as many as eight different men taking it in turns to rape her. Chelsea Masterton had eventually dropped out of college over it, secluded herself, found it impossible to deal with the outside world, becoming a recluse for a long time. In reading her story, Lily knew she didn’t want that, and felt relieved that whereas Chelsea couldn’t be around men – even those she knew well and trusted – for a very long time after her ordeal, she herself still had trust in the ones who she knew. That was something to be thankful for, that her experience hadn’t damaged her to the extent where she couldn’t sit and hug Taza, or be okay giving Bishop a kiss in greeting, or find comfort in the embrace of her darling Angel.

It was just the idea of any other man out there that terrified her. How was she to know they weren’t a rapist, too? She might even come face to face with one of her attackers at some point in the future, and wouldn’t even know it was them. She felt as if people could see it in her now, that she was a victim of sexual violence, that it would make her a target for someone else to think that he could have his way with her, her faith in her own ability to protect herself utterly shattered.

Reading Chelsea’s reasoning into it made some sense to her.

‘The truth is, prior to my attack, and now in the aftermath of it, I could not and cannot see into the dark recesses of someone’s mind. I was, and am now, no more or less able to deter a rapist, just because I have encountered it. I could have at least seen, or conversed with any number of sexual predators before what happened to me, happened, and in the wake, I still could and be none the wiser. Not knowing cannot take over my life. Just as much as I tell myself, when in self-protection mode, that the UPS man who delivers to my office, or the boy who pours my morning latte could be rapists, I must instil the fact that they likely aren’t. My experience does not dictate that I judge everyone the same way, or moving forward is something I would never have been able to have done.’

Those words did strike a chord with Lily, although she knew it would take a while for that information to truly sink in. She then continued to read, about something quite specific that had been rolling around in her mind.

‘The first time I had sex after the event was a year and a half later, with a new man I’d been dating, the man who later went on to become my husband. Richard showed me unwavering patience after I revealed why I was hesitant to take the next step in our relationship and open myself up, literally, to something on a physical basis, and he was very understanding about it. I was lucky. That first time, I want to say it was wonderful, but it wasn’t to begin with, and Richard called time on it and told me it was okay for me not to be ready.

“It took more than just a few attempts for me to find my stride, of stop starting, of me weeping and feeling frightened. Though fundamentally the same, a penis being put into a vagina, sex and rape are of course poles apart, but somehow in my mind, I couldn’t disconnect from the trauma I felt at being penetrated without consent. I felt physically sick, like if I felt pleasure from it, I was somehow wrong for doing so. This ties in with the notion that I didn’t feel like my womanhood was truly mine any longer, or my sexual urges mine. I felt they belonged to the men who had violated me, like they had taken them from me when they’d left me upon that frat house couch.’

Oh, how heavily Lily identified with it, of feeling like her sexual organs were no longer hers.

‘I learned that by opening myself up to the idea of enjoyment through sex once more, I was reclaiming it, my pleasure, my body and myself. It wasn’t theirs any longer, and I was not wrong for feeling pleasure while enjoying the most natural act in the world.’

Again, she felt soothed to read how another woman’s thoughts so echoed her own, for the very idea of her resuming a sex life with Angel absolutely scared her to death. She knew the difference, too, very much so. She was very aware that when Angel was inside of her, fully consented to be there, it was with the intention of her arousal, of showing his love, of being connected with her in the closest way a man and a woman possibly could be in the physical sense. That is, if the mess she’d been left in hadn’t put him off for life.

She still couldn’t directly touch herself down there. Drying off after taking a pee or washing with a sponge were okay, but touching with her own hand, nope. He’d had to put her numbing cream on for her when she’d needed it, glad now that almost two weeks on, she was starting to heal to the point where she no longer required it. He’d said everything was beginning to look more normal, too, stitches aside. The swollen bruising had died down, he’d told her, which she could feel too in just how moving around and sitting in certain positions became easier. Internally, she was still sore, though.

And he had to see it up close. The poor guy. How, she wondered, after witnessing something that likely looked utterly grotesque, was he meant to see her sexually ever again? It had likely messed with his head, too, the fact that three other men had taken for themselves what should have always only been for him.

‘Girl, don’t be silly. You know he isn’t going to think that!’ she thought to herself. But, really? Would he? Could she count on that, or would he maybe begin to look elsewhere? Might he decide that he wanted the woman he was inside of to be undamaged?

Knowing she was spiralling, she got up and headed behind the bar, pouring herself a large measure of vodka, shrugging that it was only early, still. “Five o’ clock somewhere.” she muttered. It was needed, before she began to have something completely new to begin panicking over. Finding an abandoned packet of cigarettes there, and after rooting around a little, a lighter, she went back on the fact that she’d been tobacco free for the last three months and lit one up, going outside and sitting on the step.

One of the things she knew was making it worse in her moving forward after her attack was knowing that they were still out there, all three walking the streets without a care in the world. Because of them being masked, what the MC guys had to go on was scant at best, with absolutely no leads whatsoever. Secretly, she kicked herself for allowing them to take over, no matter how much she loved them and knew they would deal the correct punishment for a rapist to receive, rather than the shockingly light custodial sentences handed to men who put women through such trauma. If she’d gone to the police, if DNA evidence had been gathered, then likely, they might have already been in the system and thus been found.

She wouldn’t blame them for it, though, wanting to protect her themselves. She loved Angel and his brothers much too much. After all, they were the ones there for her now, in the wake of it all. As if summoning them with her thoughts, she looked up to see the gates open, revealing the bikes of Bishop, Gilly, Taza and Coco all coming in.

Taza’s smile made her feel lit up when he removed his helmet, the other guys greeting her before heading inside, him hanging back. He gestured to her drink. “Starting early?”

“I’ve had one panic this morning, so I’m trying to offset a second. Credit to me, though. This is actually the first time I’ve turned to alcohol since it happened.”

His face, softened, leaning to kiss her forehead before taking a seat behind her. “I wasn’t judging, Lilypad.”

“I know, I just...”

“You don’t have to explain a thing,” he assured her, Lily leaning back against his chest.

“I might have to if I’m drunk by lunchtime.” He laughed softly at that assertion, although he noticed that while she’d been the one to make the humorous statement, the actual humour of it didn’t quite reach her.

“So, panics aside, how are you today? It’s good to see you out, I wasn’t expecting to ride up and find you sitting here,” he asked, resting his chin atop her head.

“I’m... hmmm, still not great. I tried to go out with Angie earlier, but then panicked, zoned out and the next thing I knew, I was looking at Angel. Didn’t even know where I was. I think it’s something my brain does when the stress gets too much for me, just shuts me down, takes me into self-protection mode. I hate that I can’t function unless he’s close by, I feel like I’m burdening him, even though he keeps on stating to me quite emphatically that I’m not.”

“Well, he’s right there. That man would do anything for you, you know.”

She smiled a little, sipping her drink. “I know. He shouldn’t have to, though.”

Taza reaching into his pocket, pulling his cigarettes out and lighting one up. “Did you ever think that perhaps, you might be in a rush for normalcy?” She made a small noise of acknowledgement. “You’re probably not going to find a method to being okay with carrying on for a while, you know, and the more you fight against that, the harder it’s likely to be, I can imagine. It’s like having a complex job to do, say, I don’t know, repairing an old watch. If you rush through it, you’re likely to put it back together incorrectly, even leave little pieces out, or place them back so hastily that they aren’t secure and fall off. Then, what are you left with?”

She understood his analogy completely. “A watch that doesn’t work.”

He gripped her shoulder, standing up. “Exactly that. Or, to be very specific, a watch that doesn’t move forward, it just stays still, unticking.” Needing to get indoors and discuss club business, he left her there, thinking on his wise words. If there was one thing that she could always count upon from Taza, it was wisdom, insight from a perspective that she hadn’t looked at things from.

To truly mend, she had to go through it all piece by piece, slowly, not rush, or she’d never be able to move forward. He was absolutely right. It was just a pity that not everyone else saw it in the same way, her phone ringing a few moments later.

“Lily, it’s Carol. How are you feeling?” Her tone was emotionless, like she didn’t truly care. Lily suspected she likely didn’t, though.

“Not good, so if you’re calling to see when I’ll be back at work, I’m afraid I can’t give you a definitive answer.”

“Well, your sick leave entitlement will cover you, but I was asking on a personal level more than anything, to save me having to try and find cover for you while you’re out. I’d like to think we have that kind of relationship where you could see that perhaps this would be an issue for me.”

Seriously?

“Carol, I was robbed and beaten so badly I have fractures, and only in the last few days have I been able to open my right eye again properly. I think you could be a little more considerate of that.”

Carol took a long breath, her chair squeaking audible down the line as she leaned back in it. “And yet, you still have your phone.”

Lily was aghast. Yes, she was telling some half-truths to her boss, but it wasn’t like she didn’t have good reason for them. Carol, on the other hand, seemed like she was suspicious of there being any kind of attack at all. “I did what is advised by police officers if you’re being attacked for your possessions, throw the high value items away from you so the thieves go after them and leave you alone. They wanted my bag more than my iPhone, it seemed. Would you like for me to come down so you can see the state of my face and ribs? All the other bruises I have all over me too?”

“And you couldn’t fend them off? I thought you did MMA?”

Now she’d really gone too far. Lily knew why, too, she wasn’t stupid. She was goading her for an angry reaction, because apparently, having to file her sick pay and find someone else temporarily was too much effort for Carol. She shouldn’t have done it, Lily did know better to rise to someone’s bullshit, but in this instance, if Carol was even the type of woman to resort to it in the first place, then she was not the kind of person Lily wanted to remain in the employment of.

“I know what you’re doing, trying to push me out by being mean, so don’t think I don’t see it. You’re not that clever, Carol, that’s why at fifty years old, the best you can amount your life to is managing a coffee house. Take your job, and stick it up you rotten, bony asshole. I quit.”

Ending the call, she finished her drink, sighing, getting up and going inside, ready to pour another one, muttering under her breath. When Angel stepped in for a break half an hour later, he could barely believe his ears.

“She fucking said what?” Of course, Lily knew he’d blow up. “See? I was right, El fucking Cupacabra! I hope you told her where she could stick it.”

“I did, right up her bony, rotten asshole.”

He beamed, kissing her. “I’m proud of you.”

She snorted softly. “Well, in hindsight, you perhaps shouldn’t be because I did it with no job to walk into and no security over where my next pay check is coming from!”

He made a dismissive face, stroking her forearm. “I make enough bank to cover us both for a while, you ain’t gotta worry about a thing.”

This statement, as grateful as she was for him being so supportive, didn’t sit well with her. “But you shouldn’t have to, baby.”

“Enough of telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. I want to, alright?” he enforced, grabbing her hand and kissing it. “You’ve got enough to worry about right now, you don’t need anything extra.” He felt his temper prickled a little bit, but shoved it right back down within, knowing that he needed to show a little maturity. If there was one good thing to come from something so horrific happening to Lily, it was that Angel knew it was forcing him to not think of himself first, for once, or give way to the kind of emotional outbursts that he was prone to.

He would grow as a person, because he had no choice but to. He wouldn’t allow himself a second of selfishness if it came at the expense of someone he was so incredibly, head over heels in love with. Not when she needed him, even though she felt uncomfortable with how much she was leaning on him.

As it turned out, though, a solution presented itself there...

“I couldn’t help but overhear about your story regarding that bitch at the coffee house,” Bishop began, taking a seat beside them. “Tell me, are you any good with numbers and computers?”

“I’m fairly proficient, why?”

“Well, since Chucky left, the bookwork for this place has been an extra headache that I really don’t need. It’s an easy enough job to do, you basically just input the figures from purchase and sales invoices into an online program and run the payroll monthly, but like I say, I could do without it. It also means you get to earn a living while knowing that Angel is nearby, but once you’re feeling more like your old self, far away from when you’re fed up of the sight of him, so long term it could work well, too. Hell, I wouldn’t even mind if you wanted to bring the crazy bird I’ve heard so much about with you, set up a perch for him in the office. It means you can get to coping with being around people again, people who aren’t us, and feel comfortable enough, because of you being right here in a safe space.”

His proposal was something she definitely could see the merit in, that was for certain. It would mean she could take slow steps in dealing with the general public again, earn, and be near to Angel. Getting to bring Charlie to work with her, too? The eternal dream.

“The software is easy enough to use, I’ll show you what to do but if you’re in any doubt, they have a helpline and a tonne of stuff online for references,” he further continued, Lily looking at Angel.

“Don’t look at me, it’s your choice, mamacita.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Thank you.” Standing up, she gave him a hug, thankful that such an opportunity had presented itself to her. After what she’d been through, it was about time the universe threw her something good.

She didn’t begin right away, still not feeling a hundred percent about being out of the house, also needing her rest while her injuries healed, but after another three weeks, she felt ready to begin dealing with being back in the world. It wasn’t a very busy job either, merely overseeing people bringing scrap metal in to be weighed and offering them the current cost denoted by the price for steel, iron, brass and copper, entering the sales into the software like she’d been shown and calling for the guys to come and unload vans and trucks. All with Charlie sitting on her shoulder.

One such morning while she was driving in (she began her day much earlier than most of the guys, so on the days Angel wasn’t in early, drove herself) Charlie sitting on her shoulder since he’d pitched a fit about the carry bag, she called ahead, hoping someone would be there to answer.

“Romero Brothers.”

“Hey Riz, it’s me. I’m fucking stuck in a huge tailback, no idea when I’ll be in. I’ll turn off when I get to Greenland Avenue, though, when I finally get to it, come round the back way. It’s just gridlocked on my route,” she explained, sitting there in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

“Yeah, no worries, Lily. Did you hear what happened?”

“Nope, I assumed a road traffic accident?”

“Nah, some kid hung himself from the bridge just after the junction. The police only recovered the body a half hour ago. It’s all over the news already.”

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, Charlie beginning to squawk and dance in response to her slight shout.

“Yeah, ain’t good. Anyway, see you when you get here.” She quickly sent Angel a message telling him to avoid the usual route, the cars beginning to slowly continuing to crawl along towards the divert before the road block, Lily managing to duck out around and take a left onto Greenland when the way was clear.

Lily’s message to him was what woke Angel, reaching for his phone and reading it. “Fuck.” he grunted, throwing the covers off and getting up, strolling out to the kitchen to find she’d left the coffee pot on for him, smiling at the little post-It note stuck to it, a heart with the words ‘Love you more than you love coffee!’ written on it. She was getting there, now just over a month after her attack. She still wasn’t a hundred percent, but he was starting to see more of the Lily he knew and loved returning.

While smoking his first cigarette of the day and drinking that coffee, he looked through his phone for more on the story over the kid hanging himself, seeing that the official sources didn’t have much, but the comment sections beneath them were going wild, the kid local, a lot of his friends chiming in, one whom provided information that once viewed, made the cogs in Angel’s brain fire into life.

The kid, a nineteen-year-old wannabe gang banger by the name of Kurt Wiseman, had left a suicide note, upon his Instagram page.

‘I wasn’t a good guy. People thought I was, but I wasn’t, man. I did bad things, ran with people I shouldn’t have, let addiction and bad influences pull me away from who I was capable of being. Mom, Tobi, Chad, Hannah, aunt Kim, grandma, gramps, uncle Joe, aunt Helen, uncle Keith, I’m so sorry. I know you all wanted the best for me, tried your hardest to get me back on the straight and narrow, and I didn’t listen to any of it.

“I became who you all feared I would. A crack addict, a criminal, someone who has lied and stole, ran schemes, fucked up people’s lives. I’ve shot people, one fatally, and become a person so low, he even went along with being paid to beat and rape an innocent woman. In light of my misdeeds, don’t mourn me. Just throw me in a box and burn me, because if I can take and ruin lives, then I ain’t worth being sad over. I ain’t. I always knew I was nothing, and nothing is what I died as. I love you all. You’ll do much better without me bringing shame on the family any longer.’

Paid to rape a woman. Of course, his mind went right back to the scant information he knew about Lily’s attack. This kid was remorseful, and one of her attackers had been reluctant. Bishop wondering if it was gang related, and this kid being a wannabe banger. Clicking the back button, Angel looked through the rest of his Instagram, not seeing a particular wealth of info, but recognising the gang sign the kid was holding up with his hands. He was affiliated with the 3OD’s, a gang that had ties throughout Southern Cali, Santo Padre in particular, although because of the MC, they did tend to keep things on the down low. They were, at best, a baby gang, nothing particularly notable, more a group of young guys who ran small street hustle enterprises, moving small quantities of weed, pills and cocaine, well out of the radar of the club or the cartel.

And there it finally was. A link to finding the two who remained alive. He just had to try and see if any pictures of videos of this kid would jog anything in Lily’s memory, a task he set to rapidly, knowing that sometimes authorities did take down accounts of people who were known to have criminal activity in the wake of their death, washing and dressing at speed before heading out and roaring away on his bike.

With everything he had in him, he needed to find those other two men.

#angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes smut #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x ofc #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fic #mayans mc #mayans fanfic #mayans fanfiction #mayans mc smut #mayans mc fic #clayton cardenas #clayton cardenas fanfiction #clayton cardenas smut #clayton cardenas x ofc

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musette22 · 2 years

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Hi, hello, hey Minnie my love 💕💕 I really don’t have anything to ask or say but I just was thinking about you and I thought I’d drop by to tell you how wonderful I think you are and how I hope you’re having the most wonderful weekend, because you deserve all the nice things 🥰🥰🥰

Also to tell you that your tags on the gifset of Steve in Captain Marvel have me thinking about your lumberjack boyfriends, so now I’m just sitting on the couch with a cup of tea thinking about them in their little cabin being all domestic. Them waking up on Sunday morning but staying in bed until noon, kissing languidly and curling up together, Bucky messing up Steve’s already messy hair even further. Bucky making them breakfast, humming along to a song while he’s at the stove, a song Steve has been playing a lot recently from an old record he loved before the war. Steve sitting on their couch looking out the window, smiling dopily at Bucky talking to Bernie right outside while he’s repainting some of the shed….just, you know. Peace and quiet and sweetness, just pure domestic bliss. Bc that’s all I want for them, and your fic was just so freaking lovely and brilliant and gave us all of that and more.

So I guess I’m also dropping by to tell you that, and to thank you again for sharing your amazing writing with us, I’m so grateful for it and for you 💖💖💖

Oh my god Maya, this is crazy, I was sending Oula an ask just now and I was fully planning on dropping by your inbox after to tell you that I adore you and that I can't wait to catch up with your fics, and lo and behold, what do I find in my own inbox?? That's right, this ridiculously sweet message from you 😭💘🥺💛

Are you kidding me??? Why are you the sweetest human on the planet, huh? Please explain 🥺💖 Arrgfgh YES, that Steve from the Captain Marvel post credits is just how I imagined Steve in Calico Skies (only happier)

And then Bucky is a little like this, only with longer hair and more of a beard (and happier)

I MEAN 🥺😍🥺😍 Imagine these big, lovely boys being all sweet and domestic and happy together 😭 Everything you described is just absolutely PERFECT for them... All the domestic bliss they both crave, all the sweet, quiet moments, the normalcy and the peace they deserve, in their cabin with their pets and their friends nearby 💫💘 I LOVE IT, it makes me so, so happy. Thank you so much for sharing these lovely thoughts with me, darling Maya, and for your super duper kind words that I do not deserve but appreciate regardless 🥰😘

And since we're on the topic of fics: I can't WAIT to read the last instalment of the Leather Jacket 'verse, but on the other hand I can feel myself wanting to put off starting it simply because I don't want it to be over 😭💗 I love the wonderful universe you've created for these beautiful boys SO much, with their pining and their fears and their bravery and their little notes and, eventually, their little girl 🥺💖 It's everything they deserve, and I can't thank you enough for giving it to them, honey baby 💛💛💛💛💛 You're such a talented, wonderful soul and I'm so happy to know you, amd so grateful for your lovely message 🥰 Hope you're having a splendid Sunday, lovely Maya!!!

#lovely people are lovely #mayaaaa 💗💗💗#stucky #my writing #minnie answers

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dorminchu · 2 years

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aux menteurs et tueurs, partout

In a few months, in a year, everyone would move past this scandal onto the next—but she would still be the freak who woke up screaming.

Consider this Chapter 3.5 of Insult to Injury, so to speak. It got too lengthy to work with the story itself, and going into Act II the focus is not on Madeleine. But I didn't want to scrap it entirely, so, here you go.

The biggest difference between private school in Austria and boarding school in France was the loss of intimacy. Sifting through a handful of students each year who’d all grown up with each other. Seeking out the ones who stayed on good terms with her, in the same way you kept a first-name basis with the chairman’s kid.

At sixteen she was still sitting by herself, poor thing. Most kids would strike up conversation, just to let her feel included. The best way to learn about people was to become invisible. Sit and listen most of the time without interjecting, despite the capacity. People could tell whether you were being genuine or just going through the motions. They stopped asking for her opinion on matters heavier than homework or that asshole professor who assigned us extra lessons or even did you see that cute new transfer student from Italy?

Finding respite in each other’s opinions while Madeleine sat and listened. She could not care less who caught smuggling a pack of cigarettes or a couple tawdry celebrity magazines. Playing informer only got you points with the teachers.

This transfer student they wouldn’t shut up about was a year older and had his own circle of friends, out-of-class. Madeleine was seated next to him during Economics. The same girls who went out of their way to avoid eye-contact with her, all of a sudden they were crowding around her seat at lunch. “So, what’s he like?”

Madeleine said they hadn’t talked much.

“Does he have a girlfriend or what?”

I don’t know. We just sit next to each other. Why don’t you ask him?

“What, are you trying to get in his pants? He’ll just tell stories to all the other guys.” Madeleine ignored this. “Hey,” said the same girl, putting a hand on Madeleine’s arm, “I’m just trying to help. You’re too nice to get involved with him.”

Madeleine looked up. Brushing her away, she said, That’s why he talks to me instead of you.

Just like that, the girls didn’t want to hang out anymore. They’d speculate among themselves, not much different from how they treated her initially, years ago. Forming an impersonal barrier between the truth and strategically interpreted bias. At least now it was somewhat within her control.

His name was Lorenzo. He had the kind of face you would only call fine-boned if you were her dad’s age, or being patronising. Handsome, in a way some of the boys in her year had yet to grow into. Besides serving as a viable study partner for the last three weeks, he made an excellent companion to her illusion of normalcy. Hell, it couldn’t be that difficult to ask him out.

So, the next time they studied together, she passed a note to Lorenzo. He looked at it. Looked over at her and said, “Someone put you up to this?”

Madeleine said nothing. Glancing at his hands as he wrote. All she could concentrate on was the scratching of his pencil. Tearing her attention back to her own notebook, she had not written anything down herself.

Don’t misunderstand, she muttered, I’m not in love with you or anything.

The sound of the pencil continued. Madeleine scowled at her book. Anything incriminating belonged on a written note. She tapped him on the shoulder so he would look over. He had striking green eyes.

Do you even care?

He stared at her. A couple other kids around had picked up on the situation. It was a hell of a lot easier to scheme behind a textbook, culminating the perfect effort to flirt only to get turned down. Maybe if she were a normal girl, the type to lament to a friend in-between classes. Risking everything for a moment of tacit, simple interaction. Intimacy without any real-world consequences.

She fumed at her notebook. Trying to impress someone who wouldn’t matter to her after graduating. A juvenile power play, no less immature than her peers. Totally beneath her.

Lorenzo bumped his knee into hers. “You trying to make your girlfriends jealous, or what?”

A couple kids were snickering to their respective friends.

Of course not, Madeleine said. Her face felt awfully warm. Just forget about it.

When the period was over she closed her notebook, packed up her schoolbag very slowly so she was the last to leave. Lorenzo stood up from his desk and said, “You like Indian food?”

Madeleine stared at him. He kind of chuckled, but his eyes lit up.

“Come on. I’ve got a sister your age, I know what you’re up to.” Shouldn’t a guy his age make fun of her? Call her names? Why did he have to bring up his sister and make it a thousand times more awkward? She averted her eyes to the door. Could still make up an excuse and save herself the first-hand embarrassment. Lorenzo muttered, “Hey, I wasn’t trying to make fun of you or anything, I get how it is. I guess what I’m saying is, I want to help you out.” He offered his hand. “Deal?”

She glanced at him behind a tight-lipped smile.

Next Saturday, in the thirty minute free-period before lunch, they met up on Saint-Germain. They didn’t eat, but they walked around plenty. Lorenzo told her about his family. The middle of three brothers. How his mother was pushing for him to become a banker like his older brother. He was good at math, and he didn’t dislike the occupation on its face. He asked, “What about you?”

Madeleine told him she wanted to be a doctor. She was not close with her father, and her mother was four years sober. As she talked, his eyes were scanning her face. In all this time, he never thought to ask why she could not sleep without medication. Or why no one wanted to hang out with her. Or why she was even talking to him at all.

Having affluent, unavailable parents, good grades, or a terrible home life didn’t make you interesting. Neither did playing the antisocial weirdo, too good for anyone else. It was a little too much getting-to-know-you for her liking, so she took him by the wrist and they went behind the restaurant he’d mentioned to begin with, into the alley. While Lorenzo stared at her, Madeleine checked the side opposite them. No one was going to bother them around here. Before she could rethink what she was about to do, Madeleine kissed his cheek. She was trying to kiss him properly, but he moved his head.

Frowning lightly, she put her arms around him, cheek to cheek. His hands on her waist, clinging to him, she could feel his heartbeat thudding against her ribs. His arms came around her, and that was nice. She could have stayed like that forever, almost, until he said something like, “You okay?”

Power, real power, was to kiss his cheek and say, I’ll keep watch if you’re that scared.

It didn’t go further than letting him put his hands up her shirt and sticking a hand down his pants. He was a lot jumpier than she was, which at the time she found interesting.

Lorenzo turned so her face was tucked into his neck and muttered, “You all right?”

Madeleine nodded.

He gave her hips a little squeeze. The warmth lingered, even when he stepped away, scratched the back of his neck. He didn’t look at her as he fixed his clothes and she did the same. Madeleine was just glad she wore a dress. They checked each other over to make sure it wasn’t obvious. Lorenzo trailed behind her as she walked down the other end of the alley.

“All the guys, they think I get a lot of—” he hesitated, as if for her sake “—you know, because I’m good-looking. I don’t even have a girlfriend back home. It’s really annoying. I wish they would just….” He stopped talking when she glanced at him. “Hey, I know you said you don’t want to talk. But I feel like, I dunno. I can talk to you.”

Madeleine didn’t know what to say to that. Or if she should say anything at all. When he cracked a smile, there was some quieter melancholy in his eyes she could speak to. Coming up alongside her, ruffling her hair. Madeleine lowered her face to hide a blush. “You’re a nice girl. You’ll find someone who likes you.”

Word got out by the end of the week. They each received a separate talking-to, but only Madeleine got sent to the infirmary. The same nurse, with slightly greyer hair and thicker glasses, looked up and said, “You again, Blanchard?”

Madeleine said nothing. Maybe if she feigned embarrassment, cried a little to the doctor, she’d get off the hook faster. Could be Lorenzo who ratted her out. Could be any of her classmates. The girl she’d spurnt at lunch, out for revenge. They all had their futures to consider.

When the doctor called her in, Madeleine took a seat. This situation unfair, more than humiliating. She was only fuming because it was patently unfair; Lorenzo couldn’t get pregnant and leave a mark on the school’s reputation. He didn’t have to sit here in the middle of the school day and questions about his sexual activity.

To get it over with quickly, Madeleine conceded that she had, in fact, been misled by someone a little more mature and worldly than her. It was obvious now she just wasn’t thinking clearly, and she was very remorseful about the whole thing. So on, so forth.

The doctor didn’t say a word throughout her whole tirade. He’d probably heard a lot of histrionic excuses from other students with more to lose. He just let her off with a canned warning about her future, as if she would really be so desperate to repeat this mistake. If she had any irregularities, she had to come back immediately. Of course, the school wouldn’t notify her father.

Every organisation had its fixers. She would have to try much harder than that, to get expelled. All traces of her little misdemeanour quietly went away.

Given the choice, she’d rather be a forgettable lay than an outlier among her peers. To be fair, they didn’t all make fun of her. They’d just steer away from her side of the hall in-passing. Leave petty messages on her desk that might have meant something if she’d been vying for their acceptance in the first place. If she were a guy, she could at least get in a fight, or bullshit a couple answers to her peers, and they would leave her alone.

The instructors did not intervene. In a few months, in a year, everyone would move past this scandal onto the next one. But she would still be the freak who woke up screaming.

#fanfic #fanfiction #madeleine swann #character study #nttd

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