#Instead they need to like. Fuck get it out od their systems and move on as friends

[rotzaprachim]

Matthias just being anti Grisha misogynistic to Nina in soc sucks. what is far more narratively satisfying is their extreme mutual dysfunction trainwreck as an actual sort of couple in crooked kingdom

#I can just laborate but it’s like #He’s just like gonna replace my worship of a homeland with a woman #And she’s like what if I’m not a god anymore. Or human. Or holy #And together I think they both Get Each Orher deeply as human beings but are wildly mismatched romantically #Which is like super realistic like if you have six people there will NOt be three long term romantic pairings #Instead they need to like. Fuck get it out od their systems and move on as friends #However what we do get is wildly entertaining

[doyumacy]

RIDE OUT - 5

ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴅᴏꜱᴇ, ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ, ᴛᴀᴇʏᴏɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴊᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴊᴀᴇᴍɪɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2,4k

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @coffee-prince-kyungsoo @xcharlottemikaelsonx

6, 7

you groan and get off your car, slamming the door. it’s been two weeks since you started racing against the famous ‘jwi’ and you still haven’t won. you are frustrated and doyoung is upset and desperate.

how come no one hasn’t beat the guy? maybe he’s too good. and maybe you’re not that good.

the streets are saying who the famous ‘jwi’ might be and they are betting on some people you know they’re not capable of doing what he does.

as the finish line begins to empty, you see doyoung staring at you. you know what he’s thinking: ways of murdering you and chopping your body so he can feed his dogs. he takes his middle finger to his thumb, snapping them. you sigh and approach him. “what?”

“i still haven't seen results,” he cocks an eyebrow. “it seems you’re not as good as they say.”

“then fire me.” you spit back.

“i could,” he nods. “but i’m way too invested in this, so you’re gonna finish what you have to do.”

“okay, then give me more t-”

“no more time, y/n. next race, if you don’t win tell your brother to dig a hole next your beloved yuta,” he mocks.

you clench your fists. “fuck you.”

“gladly.”

when doyoung is gone, you return to your car and sit there for a couple of minutes. you don’t want to go home. johnny will bomb you with questions and the last thing you need is him giving you a lecture. you turn on the car and start driving to mark’s place in glendale. you excuse it by saying is the closest place to your location.

when you arrive at his building, you park your car behind mark’s and get off it. you see a girl leaving the building and you hurry so the door won’t lock. you get into the elevator and press the 3 button. as the door opens, you make your way through the hallway until you’re in front of mark’s door. you slightly knock twice.

you hear footsteps approaching the door and you quickly fix your hair. the door opens, showing a red haired wearing a big shirt. mark’s shirt. it’s the same red haired he was flirting with weeks ago.

“can i help you?” the red haired aks.

“sorry. i got the wrong door,” you murmur and turn on your heels.

“so you were not looking for mark?” the red haired leans against the doorframe.

you frown as you turn to face her. “you know me?”

“how will i not know the whore my boyfriend is banging?” she cocks an eyebrow.

boyfriend?

you giggle, nervously. “i got the wrong door.”

and you leave. as you leave the building, you feel your eyes tearing up. why are you crying? men do that all the time. they get you and play with you until they’re done and ready to get someone else.

fucking stupid mark.

you feel so fooled and you can’t believe mark played with you all this time. you want to cry, and you don’t know if it’s because your heart aches or you’re just angry at him.

mark gets out of the bathroom, drying his new dyed hair. “who was it?” he asks.

“they got the wrong door,” yves shrugs.

mark nods. “thanks for dying my hair, yves. and sorry for ruining your clothes.”

she smirks. “it’s okay. i look sexier like this anyway.”

mark frowns. “when did you take off your jeans?”

“a minute ago,” she walks to mark and wrap her arms around his waist. “i was thinking of having fun tonight.”

mark yanks himself free and shakes his head. “not today. at least with me, not anymore.”

yves knits her eyebrows together. “why not?”

“because… i just don’t want to.” mark puts a hoodie on.

“is it because of that whore, right?”

mark’s eyes darts to her. “don’t call her like that, yves.”

“why not?” she rests her hands on her waist. “she’s a whore.”

mark clenches his jaw. “get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“what?” yves stares at him. “you’re gonna put her over me? are you fucking insane?”

“yes, yves.” mark throws her her jeans. “leave.”

“you’re gonna regret this.” she groans as she puts her jeans on. “i’m way much better than her and you know it.”

“whatever you say.” mark opens the door for her.

yves grabs her purse and walks to the door. she stands in front of mark. “you’re wasting your time if you think she’s gonna like you back. she’s too busy thinking of his dead boyfriend.”

(...)

when you arrive home you groan. johnny is throwing a party. again. but maybe some buzz will help you tonight. you enter your house and make your way through the crowded living room. you need a drink. a strong one. or maybe something else.

you spot taeyong walking to the bathroom and hurry walking to him. when you finally approach him, you take his hand and he looks at you. he knows what you want and he can give it to you. but instead of getting into the bathroom, you take him to your bedroom upstairs.

“what are you trying to do to me?,” taeyong jokes, the whiskey in his system.

once you’re inside your bedroom, his hand reches playfully snatching the bags out of his pocket and examining them a bit. you look up and smile. “sharing is caring.”

taeyong smirks. “what will i get in exchange?”

you shrug. “i’ll think about it.”

taeyong sees how you sniffle, and then your shoulders twitch forward in a stifled giggle. “oh man. that shit’s strong.”

“just the best.” taeyong smiles and he’s the nex to sniffle a line.

you realise you’re starting to feel hot. so you start to strip your clothes and are standing in your underwear and when you realise taeyong’s eyes are on you. coke has never made you hard before, but tonight it is. maybe is because you want to get revenge.

“should i leave?” taeyong asks, his eyes still on your body.

“no.”

“okay.”

you get close to him and take his neck from the back and kiss him. taeyong’s hand rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him. one warm hand finds your jaw and holds you steady as taeyong and sticks his tongue inside your mouth. his fingers urging you to open your mouth. you do so and now your tongues are swirling together.

taeyong breaks the kiss and you bite his tongue when he drags it out your mouth. “this is wrong.” he mutters.

“i don’t care.”

you kiss him again, slipping your tongue into his mouth. taeyong groans and pulls away. "yuta was my best friend."

"yuta is dead!" you growl, clenching your jaw.

taeyong is looking at you and you shake your head. "just... leave."

"y/n..." taeyong tries to approach you but you wave him off.

"we'll talk tomorrow," you say.

taeyong leaves your bedroom and you groan when he shuts the door. why are you so mad? clearly not with taeyong but with mark. and yourself.

yourself mostly. why do you even care if mark is fooling around with some other chicks? it’s not like he’s your boyfriend or anything, and you haven’t discussed being exclusive. then why do you feel betrayed?

“fuck it. fuck you, mark lee,” you mumble.

you put your clothes back on and join the people in the party. you’d find someone to fuck eventually. and you do.

jaehyun spots you sexily dancing alone, holding a red cup with your right hand. he knows you're high, because you wouldn't be dancing alone in front of other people. and he's high too.

he approaches you and takes you by your hips. "where have you been?"

"everywhere," you reply.

jaehyun smirks and grips at your hips. "i like your skirt, you look hot."

jaehyun and you constantly flirt, everyone knows it. but never in a million years you think the thought of him fucking you would cross your mind. and to be honest, it doesn't sound bad at all.

you turn and wrap your arms around his neck. "would you like it to take it off?" you stare at his lips. "I'm not wearing any panties."

jaehyun grins and nips at your lip. "i will take it off with one condition."

"what?"

"let's make a threesome."

the cocaine is making the men's talk even more grating. you don't care about anything they're saying. you only care that they’re good looking enough for a casual threesome, and you are already planning out the sexual acts that will keep their mouths occupied and make them shut the fuck up.

jaehyun invites his good friend jaemin. you don't remember much but arriving to jaehyun's place, drinking and doing more coke before the action began.

and you can tell it was nice fuck since you could barely move the next morning. and then the flashbacks: jaehyun taking you from the back and you sucking jaemin's dick.

oh my god.

you try to be as much silent as you can be when you get home, hoping johnny is stil sleeping and jisung didn’t even see you leave the party with two men. as you’re taking the stairs, a loud noise makes you turn. it’s johnny holding a cup of coffee. you curse yourself internally.

“brother!” you smile at him. “good morning. did you do something to your hair? it looks really good today.”

johnny doesn’t even blink and you know he’s mad. you sigh. “are you upset at me?”

johnny presses his lips together. “are you an addict?”

“what?!” you laugh. “no! what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“then why in the fucking hell you keep sniffling that shit, y/n?” he starts climbing the stairs. “you wanna die? you wanna od like your mother did?”

you stare at him. “you don’t have to bring her up. i like having fun, what’s wrong with that?”

“what’s wrong with that?” he mimics your tone. “everything! are you stupid? you left the party with two men!”

“if you are going to slut sham-”

“i don’t care who you fuck, i’ve told you that,” johnny clenches his jaw. “you can fuck as many guys and many girls you want, but you don’t leave a party with two men, especually with men you don’t know. what if they killed you or something?!”

you rub your forehead. “i did know them… sort of, just one guy.”

johnny groans. “if i hear you do coke again, i swear to god y/n that i will take you to a rehab center by myself, do you hear me?”

you squint your eyes. “i am not an addict.”

“then fucking prove it,” johnny glances at you.

the next night, you run into mark when you’re leaving your house to meet with doyoung. he has a different hair color and you want to slap yourself for wanting to throw yourself at him. he looks so good.

“hey,” hey smiles at you. “where have you been? i’ve called you all day.”

“i was… busy,” you shrug, without making eye contact.

mark nods and wraps an arm around your waist, you push him away. mark frowns. “what’s wrong?”

“i don’t want your girlfriend to get upset.”

“my girlfriend?” he looks at you. “i don’t have a girlfriend. i told you.”

“that's not what it looks like,” your murmur, staring at your nails. “she seemed very comfortable wearing that white shirt you like.”

mark keeps frowning and then he gets it. he giggles and that makes you groan. “i’m sorry, i just… you knocked on my door yesterday, didnt you?”

you nod and he sighs. he holds you hands, tugging you towards him making you wrap your arms around his waist. “yves is not my girlfriend and i wasn’t doing anything with her.”

“i don’t believe you.” you say as you try to pull away. he doesn't let you.

with his one hand free, he cups your cheek. “he dyed my hair and her shirt got stained so i gave her the first one i saw.”

“she was in her panties,” you mumble.

mark nods. “yes, she was. but still, i didn’t fuck with her that night. i haven’t since i started fucking you.”

you squint your eyes. “really?”

“okay, maybe the night after we fucked for the first time, but nothing since then,” he gives you a peck.

you hum and when mark’s lips reaches to your neck, he pulls away when he sports a hickey. “i didn’t do that.”

“i know.”

“who did it?”

you shrug. “not sure.”

mark frowns, looking at you. “what do you mean?”

“two guys were with me last night, i wouldn’t know who di-” mark shuts you by kissing you, crashing his lips violently against yours.

he cups your face with his hands and starts walking backwards where your car is parked. he pushes you against the door without breaking the kiss. he grinds himself on your and you moan. “i will have to fuck the shit out of you now,” he bites your lip pulling it. “until you can’t take it anymore and cry.”

“do it,” you dare him. “let’s see if i have a good time with you as well.”

mark groans and presses his hips against yours. “you’re mine, y/n.”

“i don’t belong to anyone.”

“yes, you do.” mark kisses you. “you’re mine.”

johnny’s whistle interrupt you two and mark sighs. “tonight. my place.”

“i might go.”

“you better be there.” mark warns you.

you smile sideways and see mark and johnny getting inside your house. you get into your car and start driving to doyoung’s secret location. just when you’re about to take the freeway, you realise you’ve forgotten your phone. you sigh and make a u turn to go back and get it.

you park on the sidewalk and get off your car. you take your keys out and unlock the door entering your house and go to your bedroom when your phone is charging. you unplug it and as you’re about to leave your house, a known voice calls you.

“y/n?”

you turn and freeze when you see who’s standing in front of you.

#mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee imagine #yuta x reader #yuta smut #nakamoto yuta #yuta imagine #mark lee #yuta nct #nct smut #nct 127 smut

[pagankingfinn]

The Unfaltering Chaos Trio - Chapter 1 - Goddamn it Izu

The noise of multiple sets of feet pounding against the pavement echoed up the walls of the building around them. The tallest figure spun around to cover their escape with a veil of fire, following the shorter companions soon after. The shouts of heros and the sirens of police cars reverberate around the inside of their skulls.

The tallest had dark, almost purple in color, burn scars that covered his body. Between old and new injuries it was difficult to tell what his condition was. He seemed to mostly be covered in dirt, however, the unlit alley ways provided no way to tell.

“Izuku this is all your fault!” The tallest yelled, the smallest responded by flipping his head back with a grin and a giggle. His green and black curly hair was pulled into a messy bun, his dark moss green eyes glimmered with mischief, he had several injuries already but didn’t seem to notice as he ran with a limp. The female running beside him was covered in scrapes and bruises, the hems of her clothing were singed and ripped.

“You’re welcome Dabi!” He responded as he looked forward again, and led the other two through the streets. Despite the delays they had been setting up, they could hear the pro heros getting closer and closer. A fireball narrowly missed the female of the group, hitting Izuku in the back. He cried out in pain as he stumbled and fell.

“Shit! Come on Izuku, tell us which way to go!” The female spoke as the taller male carried Izuku on his back. The anxiety of the three rose with every passing second, the heros were on their heels as they continued to run through the streets.

Before they could get any instructions, their escape was cut off by a wall of branches. The other passage was blocked off by several pro heros. Their sweat dropped as they heard the familiar thump of combat boots against concrete. They spun around to look at the raven haired man.

As Dabi and the unnamed female took a fighting stance, they were cut off before anything could happen.

“Your friend needs medical attention, it would be wise to surrender before he gets worse.” The pro hero, Eraserhead, stated. The pair didn’t seem to like that, seeing as the female gave a loud outburst in response.

“NOBODY TOUCHES OUR LITTLE BROTHER!” She screamed, the only thing keeping her from lunging forward was the weak grip she felt on the shoulder of her sweater. She looked to see Izuku was the one who had grabbed hold of her sweater, while Dabi sweeped his arm out to keep the female back.

“Toga, we’re surrounded. If we fight now, we might lose Izuku. Look at him-” Dabi tried to reason, Toga’s head dropped to the ground as she reached up and gently grasped the hand holding onto her sweater. They both knew that there was no way to easily heal him, after all the organization they belonged to had no healer in the group.

Izuku began to slip off Dabi as he spoke, Toga let out a screech as he rushed to try and support their chosen family member. Dabi looked alarm as they turned their attention to the boy faintly breathing at this point. They shared a look before slowly nodding, and surrendering.

Except, they forgot to put Izuku down beforehand, so they ended up dropping him on accident. Luckily Eraserhead was fast enough to use his capture gear and grab the boy.

The rest went as expected, except with Izuku in an ambulance while Toga and Dabi were being taken in for questioning. They ended up taking an offer that they couldn’t refuse from a mouse bear dog creature, and then were taken into the newest place of residence for the next few years.

That’s how Izuku woke up, handcuffed to a hospital bed, covered in bandages, with Toga sleeping next to him and Dabi leaned across the end of the bed in a chair. He stirred slightly and made a small noise as he reached out for his older brother.

“Hey Izu, how’d you sleep?” Toga asked him as she woke up and sat up, hooking an arm under his right armpit and holding his left arm to help him sit up. She then used her foot to poke Dabi awake.

“... Where are we?” Izuku rasped out, looking around the room carefully. Dabi slowly looked up and saw that Toga was helping to support the sickliest member of their sibling group. Dabi moved onto the bed, sliding behind Izuku so that he could fit. He looked at the bandages on his back and slowly untied them.

“We’re in UA. They used you as a bargaining chip against us, if we didn’t accept they were going to seperate us all.” Dabi explained as he unwrapped the tight bandages. Unfortunately, because of how Izuku’s broken bones had healed when he was younger, he had to be careful to not cause any more breakage. Izuku slumped softly against Dabi once the wrappings weren’t so tight.

“Thank you.” Izuku mumbled in gratitude. He shifted until he was more against the larger male, enjoying the heat his body gave off as it helped relax his taxed muscles. Toga joined her brothers in the pile on the bed, nestling into the crook beside Izuku.

That’s how the UA staff found them, well, that’s how Aizawa, Nezu, and Recovery Girl found them. They looked up silently at the door as it opened, the three of them stiffening as their muscles tensed. Dabi dragged Izuku closer to him as the trio subconsciously tried to squeeze themselves as much as possible against the white brick wall. They stood out against the sterile environment of the infirmary.

Izuku glared at the three, ignoring the tender areas on his back as he pressed against Dabi. He pulled Toga closer as well. The sight was quite interesting, with the three teens tense and hunched over like vultures. They didn't make a move or speak as they looked at the adults in the room.

Nezu jumped up on the bed and Izuku nearly screamed in response. It was hard to not want to reflexively screech when a white furred creature jumps up onto your hospital bed. Toga, Izuku, and Dabi were all too dazed and off put by the surreal events to fully process what was going on.

Recovery Girl did end up yelling at Izuku for not having his bandages on, when it was explained that the boy had a history of breaking bones without proper treatment. Meaning that, and this was especially true for his ribs, if there was too much pressure applied he could break his bones again. It also didn’t help that Toga and Dabi wouldn’t let the old woman get near Izuku if she had any intent of breaking his bones to heal them.

Once Izuku was no longer clad in a hospital gown. He instead was now wearing his tattered clothing that had been repaired with staples and the most hideous prints Izuku had ever seen - courtesy of Dabi and Toga - a random tee shirt, and the rest of his regular outfit. Including the twink shorts, stockings, garter belt, and high tops that had been dragged through the zombie apocalypse and back four times over.

Soon enough the chaotic trio had been led to the 1-A dorms, and shown their rooms. As the three weren’t allowed to leave campus yet, Nezu had instead placed them in the dorm systems as guinea pigs for how dorm life would look. Nezu would open up the dorms, likely at the end of the first semester, to the students.

It was only once the three children were inside the empty dorm building that they let out the breath they had been holding. They looked around the commons for a bit, then Aizawa gathered them shortly after.

“Alright you three, there’s a separate floor that’s just for you guys. Nezu had Cementos add to it while Izuku was in the infirmary. It does have running water and electricity, it’s also the floor where the boiler, furnace, and backup generators are. But you won’t be able to access that area.” Aizawa explained to them with an authoritative tone as he led the trio to the elevator. He inserted a key, opening up a button that would take them to the basement.

It was eerily quiet, the teens were still trying to process what in the fresh fuck was going on. It wasn’t too much of a surprise as their world had been turned upside down within only a few days.

“Thank you, we should be able to find our rooms from here.” Dabi huffed out as he coralled his siblings out of the elevator and sent them off down the hall. He raised his eye skeptically while Aizawa glared at him.

“What? We may have just had our entire world flipped, but we can take care of ourselves. We don’t need you or any other adult to keep us in check. The three od us may be chaotic but we’re not stupid, and even if Toga and Izuku are the most likely to get into trouble, they still know when to not push the boundries.” Dabi responded dryly, crossing his arms as he stood in front of Aizawa. His piercing lightning blue eyes seemed to cut into the hero’s soul.

“Yeah yeah, just stay out of trouble. Here’s a copy of the key to the elevator, don’t lose it.” Aizawa responded with the same dry tone, he placed a spare key in the hands of the teenager. He continued his conversation as he walked to the elevator.

“You three will be required to wear the UA uniforms tomorrow. I or another staff member will grab you tomorrow morning when classes start.” Aizawa spoke as he entered the elevator. The doors shut behind him, Dabi watching the entire time until he could hear the box departing. He headed in the direction Izuku and Toga went.

Toga came running around the corner screaming, hiding behind Dabi while the croaky cackling of Izuku could be heard. “He found a bunch of tools left over from construction!” Toga squeaked as she cowered behind Dabi, Izuku came tearing around the corner soon after with a sledge hammer in hand as he grinned widely. He was covered in dust and seemed very proud of himself.

“I knocked out the walls between the point where two of the bathroom cabinets connect, and the wall between two of the closets. So now we can have tunnels to visit each other!” He squealed, dragging them off to show his handy work. Surprisingly he didn’t absolutely destroy the walls and had somehow managed to get fairly clean cuts.

“How did you-” Dabi began to ask, before being cut off by Izuku.

“Magic.”

Dabi looked at Toga, who gave him a shrug. He seemed to just accept the fact that their younger brother was one to take action without thinking. This was clearly one of those moments, as Izuku ran off to go explore some more. Meanwhile, Toga and Dabi decided to explore the now connected rooms. Each of them were bare beyond a closet with some uniforms, a night stand, and a bed. They wrinkled their noses in disgust with a light sneer.

“Hey Izuku! We’re going to dismantle the beds and move them all to the central room! Bring that tool box you found!” Toga yelled out into the halls, there was some rustling and a crash before Izuku came bounding over with a tool box. Dabi set out on dismantling the wooden frames while Toga and Izuku went to work on moving the mattresses out into the hall.

Izuku and Toga soon returned to grab tools and go dismantle the other bed frame, they kept the one in the central room intact. Using the closet tunnel they moved the pieces of the frame into the central room. Dabi got them to help move the pieces into the hall and into the central room.

The entire process took over an hour, and rebuilding a bed frame to fit three mattresses all next to each other took even longer. By the time they had finished they were all wiped out, they had no clocks in the dorms, but guessing by their biological clocks and their exhaustion they figured it was around 9 or 10 pm.

The low growling of their stomachs shook them from their shock as they sighed, Toga flopped onto one of the mattresses with a heavy huff. Izuku gave a sigh.

“I’ll go scrounge something together for us, there’s likely something I can manage to find in the school kitchen.” Izuku offered, he had the most experience with living on the streets than the other two. So when it came to times like this he was usually the one to go and scrounge around.

On the other side of the city, it had taken Aizawa until he got home to realize he forgot to tell the kids to go grab food. He mentally cursed at himself, there wouldn’t be any other teachers present at this time to tell the kids. He didn’t have any way to call them, as he didn’t have their numbers despite them having phones.

Izuku didn’t take long to exploit his skills of having the flexibility of a ferret. To the boy, climbing around and finding escape routes was like a sixth sense. So within fifteen minutes, he had escaped the basement, gotten out of the dorms, snuck into the cafeteria through the kitchen back door, and was now poking around to see what he could find.

There! An open bag of white rice. He looked around for something to put the rice in, deciding to turn his hoodie around and use his hood to carry the rice. He filled it with as much as he could manage, pulled the draw strings tight, and fled before he could push his luck too far. He was back to the dorms even quicker now that he knew where to enter the basement again.

It wasn’t long before Izuku had found a hot plate and a small pot to cook with, he squirreled away back to the room where his siblings were. Toga sat up when she heard Izuku, and Dabi looked over from where he was seated. They watched as Izuku filled the pot with water and plugged in the hot plate. He scampered off to grab a lid, a stirring spoon, and some dishware to use.

Izuku had only made a small portion of the rice, and soon enough the rice finished cooking. The trio was able to dish up their plain meal. Izuku unplugged the hot plate as he and his siblings dug into the bland rice, but even so they enjoyed just having something warm to eat. Soon enough with the warmth of food inside them, mixed with exhaustion, they all climbed onto the beds and fell asleep with their limbs entangled.

The next morning the three woke up fairly early, each of them got up and stretched individually. Without saying a word, Toga bounded off to one of the bathrooms to shower, while Izuku and Dabi used the same one. Both boys had trouble reaching various spots. Izuku often couldn’t get all the soap out of the thick mop of hair on his head. While Dabi couldn’t always reach his back to clean the dirt out from under the staples and in between his scars. Izuku also liked to help Dabi re-dye his hair when the black began to face.

Soon enough all three were finished with their showers and had dried off. They each dawned the new uniforms they were required to wear, and Izuku went to wash the pot and cook up some more rice before a teacher came to grab them. All three of them scarfed down their rice after it was finished cooking. After, Izuku styled Toga’s hair into her usual space buns.

Dabi took the bun out of Izuku’s hair and brushed it while the other male was busy with Toga’s hair. He put it back up into a bun before brushing his own hair. Dabi grabbed the key and used it to access the elevator so that they could go sit in the commons. The three teens went and sat on the floor near the doorway while they waited for a teacher or staff member to come grab them. Time ticked by agonizingly slow for the tree, Izuku took to napping against the wall. Toga decided to subtly move the furniture around, while Dabi just charged his phone and played on it.

Finally salvation came in the form of the door knob turning. The three jumped to their feet and wept in joy as the boredom was finally banished from the kingdom, at least until the quest reset for the next person to come along and obtain it.

Izuku immediately recognized who the hero was without so much as looking directly at them. He quietly muttered indignantly under his breath, but didn’t comment on it as they followed Japan’s national golden labrador. Sufficient to say, the reverse-otaku for a hero was not the most favorite among the three. The vibrations of him walking up to the door were enough to rudely jar Izuku awake, and the smile that reflected light even in the depths of the abyss was enough to get the green haired teenager more than annoyed.

The walk through the halls didn’t seem to lift their spirits any higher. The sheer size of the place was enough to put all of them on edge, and the idea of it being filled with future heros didn’t help in the slightest. Eventually they reached the gargantuan doors of class 1-A, and just in time as they were called to enter the classroom.

Swallowing the anxiety in their throats and steeling themselves for the events of the future, they slid the door open and walked into the classroom. The murmurs and shouts of excitement died out entirely for a few blissful milliseconds, only for the chaos to return. They looked between each other, unsure what to do, before the caterpillar on the floor got up to quiet down the class.

“All of you be quiet. We have three new students joining us, as you can tell, they will introduce themselves and then you may ask questions. Keep the volume down, if I have to be woken up because you all are too rowdy there will be severe consequences.” The tired talking caterpillar spoke, the three stared at the amalgamation before realizing that it was a sleeping bag that contained their homeroom teacher.

Izuku hesitantly walked up to the podium to introduce himself, he wanted to get this done and over with. He spoke clearly to the class in an excited manner.

“I’m Izuku Midoriya, I don’t have a quirk. A fun fact is that I’ve broken several bones and never gotten any treatment, the worst is from when I broke four ribs.” He beamed, bouncing on his heels as if it was perfectly normal to have broken four ribs and even more bones.

Dabi gently pulled Izuku back, the small boy easily following as Toga soon took the place of where Izuku was once standing. She seemed to share the same attitude towards her greeting as Izuku, except not as much bent on the breakage of one’s body.

“I’m Toga Himiko! My quirk is Transform, I have to consume the blood of someone to take their form. I like knives and one time I ate a bird!” Toga enthusiastically spoke, spinning around to join Izuku. Dabi was the last one to go.

“I go by Dabi. My quirk is Cremation, basically I can use blue fire. These are my adopted siblings.” Dabi spoke plainly, making blue fire in his hand as a demonstration before putting it out and joining his siblings.

That’s when izuku noticed a particular ash blonde and pressed as close as he could to his siblings. While Izuku didn’t necessarily fear the man, he had mixed emotions and typically avoided confrontation at all costs.

“DEKU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE YOU QUIRKLESS BASTARD!” The boy remarked angrily as his palms popped with the sound of small explosions. Izuku let out a sigh and stepped forward slightly.

“I’m not here by choice, flaming dumpster fire man fucking hit me with a fireball and I woke up here after collapsing on the ground. I’m here not because I want to be a hero, but because I’m a villain who got captured thanks to the pompous assholes you all look up to. Got that, Kacchan?” Izuku snipped back, the class went quiet as the resident angry pomeranian stopped working. Izuku gave an annoyed huff in response as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“We’re not answering any questions.” The three spoke before heading to their seats. They quietly conversed between each other as they ignored those around them.

#bnha au #mha au #mha #bnha #izuku midoriya #rat coon #mha izuku #bnha dabi #dabi #mha dabi #toga himiko #mha toga #bnha deku #bnha izuku #bnha toga #class 1 a #class 1a #aizawa #shouta aizawa #mha aizawa #mr aizawa #aizawa shouta #bnha aizawa #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #rat coon side au #crack #pagankingfinn

[jaxl-road]

Hollow

“When I get stressed, I get violent and take it out on myself. I’ve pulled razor blades on myself but then realized that having a scar is more detrimental than not having a stereo. I’d rather kick in my stereo than cut my arm.” -Axl Rose

An AU where Axl changes his mind on that stance.

Pairings: none

***TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM (specifically cutting)***

~~~~~~~~~

There was a clawing in his chest. In his throat, in his stomach, behind his eyes and his teeth. Walking offstage, Axl felt like he couldn’t breathe, too busy focusing on containing the wild, storming beast that wanted to tear him apart.

He needed to get out of here.

The hallway backstage seemed to stretch on forever, staring at the backs of his bandmates as they headed towards their dressing rooms. As he walked, he found himself kicking an empty plastic chair viciously when he passed it.

Slash eyed him over his shoulder, "Jeez, what is your problem?"

Fuck. He wished the guitarist hadn’t asked. His fingers curl, nails biting into his palms as he grinds out, "Were you not listening out there? The audio was fucking shit, there was feedback every five fucking minutes!"

Rolling his eyes, Slash sighed, "Dude, it wasn't that bad-"

But before he could finish his attempt at de-escalation, Steven whipped around and interrupted, "Well maybe if you actually bothered to show up for soundcheck we wouldn't have this problem."

Axl ground to a halt in the middle of the hallway, snarling, “I shouldn’t need to be there for us to have halfway decent tech! All the fucking money we bring in and we can’t get a less mediocre PA system?”

“Guys, hey, let’s not-” Duff tried to intervene half-heartedly, Slash rubbing a hand over his face in the corner. Izzy sighed as he shared a look with the other two, because they all knew it was pointless. Axl was too volatile, Steven was too outspoken, and they were both too frustrated with each other. The match and the kerosene.

“We’d bring in more money if we weren’t constantly paying overtime fees because you can’t get your ass to your own gig on time!” Steven snapped, “I don’t get why you’re making more than me when you’re basically a part-time singer!”

That clawing beast inside Axl escaped. And it had a target.

His hand curled around the back of the plastic chair, blood roaring in his ears as he hurled it at the drummer. Everyone in the hallway ducked against the walls, Steven managing to step out of the way in time as the chair crashed to the ground harmlessly, sliding down the hallway as Axl started screaming.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about! You don’t know a goddamn thing! You think you could do any of this without me?! Fat fucking chance!”

Axl could feel his mouth moving, could hear the words distantly, but there was a disconnect. It didn’t feel like him. He could see himself storming down the hallway like a glitching television screen, jumping and skipping, showing him shoving Steven aside and kicking the chair again even harder, everything fuzzy, static in his ears. A door slams furiously and he finds himself standing in his dressing room, and then there’s something in his hands, and then he’s surrounded by broken glass and overturned furniture. There are holes in the drywall and blood on his knuckles.

And he’s breathing. Gasping, actually, and he wonders if he had been holding his breath during the destruction; if the rage in his chest left no room for air.

But it was gone now. There was nothing left. Just a gaping cavern where the rage used to be. He staggered backwards and leaned against the wall, feeling lightheaded, his limbs weightless and shaky. Sliding to the floor, he put his head on his knees, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.

Fuck.

The last half hour replays in his head.

Fuck.

What the fuck was wrong with him? This was hardly the first time he’d pulled this kind of bullshit, but each time felt worse. Steven didn't deserve that treatment. None of them did, and it was only a matter of time before he broke the camel's back with his fuck ups.

He wasn’t an idiot- he knew his bandmates wanted to fire him, and why wouldn’t they? Maybe Guns wouldn’t be the same without him, maybe they wouldn’t be as successful or popular, but with the amount of money they’d save from cutting out his property damage and late fees they’d probably still come out ahead, and that's not even considering how happy they'd be to be rid of him.

Axl was the one who’d suffer. He had a reputation now, and the bad was starting to outweigh the good. What would he even do, if he couldn’t sing? Couldn’t perform? Turning his head, he catches sight of his reflection in the shards of broken mirror surrounding him.

Reaching out, he picked up one of the larger shards without even thinking, turning it over in his hand. He ran a finger across the sharp edge in contemplation.

There had been a few times over the years where Axl found himself holding a blade to his skin. Everyone only saw rage, and that was part of it, sure, but it was more than that. There was a burning inside of him. Sometimes fire coursed through his veins that crackled and crawled and made Axl feel like tearing his skin off, like he was bursting at the seams, like even his own body didn't want him. Each time he'd reasoned with himself that it was better to scream and trash a room than scar himself. Things could be replaced, after all, so it was clearly the better solution.

Now he was rethinking that.

Something had to give, after all. He was halfway to ruining everything, steadily destroying this fragile life he'd built. If he didn't find a better way to purge this shit from inside him, it was going to crash down around him.

He thinks of bloodletting. He thinks of kneeling before some medieval priest to be drained of the devils and demons running through his veins. He wonders if that was why people were drawn to hurting him- his father, his stepfather, the bullies at school, the creeps who offered him a ride for a price- maybe his disease was so close to the surface that everyone could see it and knew that the only way to help him was to hurt him. Maybe this whole time he’d been flinching away from the cure. He thought of the empty feeling he got after each time he snapped and went on a rampage, and considered that maybe this way he could just bleed everything out- quietly, peacefully.

Sitting on the floor carefully, he slowly pushed his jeans down to his knees. Arms are a big no, he'd never be able to hide it, but legs would be easy to conceal. If he was careful, he could even make sure everything was hidden by shorts.

Looking down at the shard of reflection in his hand, he feels a sense of calm. It's not hopeless. There's still time. He has a plan now. He can fix this.

He pressed the glass against the top of his thigh.

He'll be better.

~~~~~~~~

It’s nearly morning when he makes it back to the hotel. Slipping into his room, he stays there until nightfall when they have to leave for the next city.

None of them talk about his outburst. They never do.

He sits alone.

~~~~~~~~

The night of their next performance, Axl doesn’t make it to soundcheck, but he does arrive before the openers go on.

“Wow, look who decided to show up,” Slash said mockingly, raising an eyebrow as he walked past.

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Duff rolled his eyes in response.

Steven laughed, and oh, Axl wants to scream.

I’m doing what you want! I’m here! I’m trying! This is what you wanted, why aren’t you happy, why isn’t it enough?”

Instead, he presses the tips of his fingers into the side of his thigh and keeps walking.

~~~~~~

It infuriated him, seeing his bandmates strung out when they were supposed to be working.

“Clean up your fucking act before you OD on fucking stage!” he snapped, shoving at Slash’s chest before stomping away.

Back in his dressing room, he tugged his hair in frustration. Who was he to lecture his bandmates? He was trying not to cause trouble, not to get on anyone’s bad side, and yelling at his guitarist wasn’t exactly the way to do that.

God, he was the worst fuck up out of all of them. He shouldn’t have said anything. The anger hadn’t left, but now he felt guilty on top of it. He hated feeling this much. He hated not being able to do anything right. Opening one of the drawers beneath the vanity, he opened a small pack of spare razors.

~~~~~~

Get up.

The room is dark, the curtains drawn tight, only a sliver of light shining through the bottom of the hotel door.

Get up.

Another performance over, another city crossed off the list, and now it was time to gather his things because they had to be on the bus in an hour. But instead he was laying on his side on the bed, staring blankly at the wall.

Get up, get up, get up!

It’s almost funny to him- if someone walked in right now they’d probably think he looked dead, unable to hear the screaming inside his head.

Mustering up as much energy as he can, he reaches over to the top drawer of the side table. Fumbling around for a moment, his fingers finally find the pocketknife he had started keeping there. He flips it open lazily.

An hour later, he is running up to the bus, out of breath, but right on time.

~~~~~~

When he sits on the floor of the generic hotel bathroom, holding a towel to his leg, he wonders if this is a punishment or a reward.

Maybe it’s both.

~~~~~~

“Hey Axl, you coming?”

The singer blinked in surprise at Slash’s question. There was nothing on the band’s schedule for the day, leaving them free to do what they pleased. Duff, Slash, and Steven had been talking about heading to some VIP bar a friend had recommended, Izzy shrugging and agreeing to tag along while Axl sat to the side and stared out the window mindlessly.

It had been a long time since the band had all gone out together just for fun. Lately their outings were specifically a chance to get away from Axl, after all.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” the redhead smiled, standing and following the group out, chatting amicably. He tapped his fingers against his leg.

He must be doing something right.

~~~~~~

Shorts still cover everything, but he’s had to move from the tops of his thighs to the insides.

Then the outsides.

He starts wearing longer shorts.

~~~~~~

When the show ends, Axl throws his arms around his bandmates, pulling them close, waving and bowing for the crows. They seperate, but Steven keeps his arm around him, even when they’re out of sight of the audience, and Axl knows that it’s all worth it just for this moment of not being alone.

~~~~~~

On this night, he wears his rose leggings, as well as black basketball shorts over them. When he woke up that afternoon, Axl had felt a churning in his stomach, felt on edge and jittery and angry, and he refused to fuck up, not again, not anymore. Things were good, the past few months had gone relatively smoothly, he was on good terms with the rest of the band, and he couldn’t afford to mess that all up just because he had a broken, defective brain.

That’s what he told himself, when he pressed the blade a little harder than usual.

So he wore the leggings, and an extra layer, and that was fine. He was on time, and the energy of the show was amazing, and if he didn’t hit a note good enough, or the sound system had a glitch, he could just kick his legs out, leap from an amp, feel the stretch and burn and growing dampness around his hips and legs and everything felt okay again.

By the time the show ended and they made it back to the hotel, his legs stung with every step. But he was so exhausted, he couldn’t bring himself to deal with it. So he simply pulled his shirt and shoes off before collapsing into bed, falling asleep with the familiar feeling of pain comforting him.

~~~~~~

When he woke up, he knew immediately that something was very, very wrong.

The room was dark, so he assumed it was still the middle of the night, but when he turned his head to look at the clock beside his bed the numbers were blurry. He was hot, he could feel sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat, making the thin bed sheet cling to his chest, and it felt like his eyes were burning in his skull. The heat was so distracting, making his thoughts fuzzy and muddled, it took him a moment to notice the pain. But once he did, he choked on a cry.

His legs hurt. The right one hurt, but oh, God, his left leg felt like an exposed nerve, every heartbeat sent a pulse of pain that seemed to echo from his thigh through the rest of his body. He felt like he was on fire, he felt like he was being flayed, he felt like he was suffocating.

Something was wrong.

Focusing everything he had, eyes clenched shut, Axl forced himself to sit up and swing his legs slowly over the side of the bed. His stomach lurched, and he took a few minutes to just breathe. When the nausea passed, he began to carefully slip his clothes off, sliding the shorts, leggings, and underwear away at the same time, biting his lip until he tasted blood as the fabric brushed past his thighs. As the garments fell to the floor, he finally opened his eyes.

Axl had to blink a few times, the room seeming to sway around him, and even as his vision cleared, it still took several minutes for his brain to focus, to process what exactly he was looking at. At first, all he sees is red. But slowly he is able to pick up more details- the angry pink that makes up the skin of his left thigh is broken up by lines of dark red, a few of them muted by a dull yellow color.

That’s bad. He knows that- that what he’s looking at is bad- but he couldn’t comprehend why. His thoughts are disorganized and inarticulate, understanding slipping through his fingers like water-

Water, he thinks suddenly, I need to clean this.

It’s the first truly coherent thought he’s had since he woke, and he clings to it desperately. Axl stands with a lurch, gritting his teeth through the pain, one hand held out against the wall to steady himself. Looking around, he feels confused, Where am I?, but he still manages to stagger towards the bathroom on instinct alone. He passes by a minifridge and without thinking shakily reaches in to snatch a small bottle of vodka.

He doesn’t remember the rest of the journey, but the next time he is fully aware of his surroundings he is standing in the shower, clumsily opening the vodka. Bracing himself against the tiled wall, he poured the alcohol over his thigh.

Axl has to bite down around a scream, and suddenly he feels like he’s snapped back into his body, the pain cutting through the fever haze and he gasps as he feels his jumbled thoughts finally click back together.

The cuts are infected, he realizes with dread, I cut too deep, I haven’t been cleaning them. It’s infected now. He looks down at the nearly empty bottle of vodka, his thigh still stinging, Alcohol isn’t gonna do shit now, it’s too late for that, I can’t fix this on my own, he feels his eyes burn with misery, I need help.

Swallowing thickly, the bottle slips from his fingers and clatters to the ground. His hand fumbles as he steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel and clumsily wrapping it around his naked waist. Every step hurts, and he feels the heat creeping back in, burning the thoughts from his head, and he leans heavily against the doorframe as he stares at the table beside his bed in anguish.

The phone feels so far away, and Axl just wants this to be over. He wishes he had never been born. He wishes his father had killed him instead of just ruining him. He wishes his stepfather had finished him off instead of always leaving him on the ground, broken and bloody and breathing. He wishes that stranger on the road had slit his throat instead of crawling on top of him. He wishes someone else would just take control and make it all stop.

Because out of all the things Axl hates about himself, the thing he hates most of all is that he does not want to die. He limps and stumbles towards the phone because he is a coward, and he's scared, and he doesn't want to die, he doesn’t want to go to Hell yet. Oh God, he doesn’t want to go to Hell.

By the time he reaches the other side of the room, he’s panting like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his face and chest, and all he can do is whimper in pain as he collapses onto his knees next to the bed, leaning his head against the side table. Curling up as much as he can in the corner between the bed and the table, he blindly reaches up, fumbling around until his hand finds the phone and pulls the receiver down.

Everything is swaying, like a boat on the ocean, and the nausea swelled, forcing him to wrap an arm around his stomach in a desperate attempt to swallow back bile. He's dizzy, and shivering, and he's staring at the phone in his hand when he realizes he doesn't know who to call. The front desk? 911? No, no, in either of those situations an ambulance would be involved which would increase the odds of paparazzi finding out. No, he just needs someone to drive him, that's all.

But of course, it's never that simple. Because he realizes he has no idea who is staying in what room- doesn’t think he could recall the information even if he had known it in the first place. They had booked most of the floor for the band and crew, but Axl couldn't remember specific room numbers. Clenching his eyes shut, he took a deep breath. There was no other option but to just guess and hope he got one of the crew members. He didn't want to see anyone- he didn't want anyone to see him- but he figured a tech could at least be paid to keep quiet.

So he punched in a number, any number for his floor, the buttons blurring as he looked at them, and shakily held the phone to his ear. The ringing feels far away, and he can’t decide if he feels cold or hot. He realizes suddenly that it’s the middle of the night, and he wonders what he will do if no one picks up.

But before he can think too long, he hears a click, and he holds his breath.

"Hmmmf, 'llo?" A tired voice filters through the line and Axl chokes out a sob.

Steven.

"Hello?"

Of course it's Steven. Axl hasn't fucked up the drummer's life enough apparently, now he has to wake him in the dead of night because he can't get his shit together. Another cry escapes him.

"...Axl? Is that you? Are you-"

The phone slips from his grasp, clattering to the ground as he leans heavily against the bed and sobs uncontrollably. A small voice chattered from the receiver, but Axl was too far gone to understand it.

He didn't want to hurt Steven anymore. He didn't want to hurt anyone, that was the whole reason he started all this. And why did he always hurt Steven, anyway? Was it because he was an easy target? Because he was so big hearted and forgiving he knew he could get away with it? This was why he was going to Hell. This was why he deserved this pain.

Gasping to catch his breath, his head aching and his whole body weak, he realized that the phone had gone silent. He feels almost afraid to pick it up again.

Maybe this is karma, he thinks. That would make sense. That would be fair. Maybe he can just lay down on the floor, and fall asleep, and not wake up. It’s not like he has the strength to do anything else at this point. Axl didn’t want to die, but he felt resigned. He was scared, but he just didn’t have the strength to fight it anymore.

There is a muffled thudding noise. He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but he listens, and it sounds far away, and he wonders if it’s his heartbeat. It gets faster, more frantic, and he thinks he hears a voice. Then he hears a crash.

Then he hears his name.

“Axl?”

Blinking sluggishly, he glances around the room in confusion, and then there is someone rushing towards him. He doesn’t recognize him until he is a foot away.

“Shit, Axl!” Steven's figure was blurry as he knelt in front of him, "Hey, hey, Axl, I'm here, you're okay," The drummer hissed when he pushed the sweaty red hair out of Axl's face, "Jesus Christ, you're burning up!"

“What’ryou…” Axl slurs, confused, Steven going in and out of focus.

Eyes widening in concern, the blonde put his hands on Axl’s shoulders to steady him, “You… you called me. Remember? You were-... you didn’t say anything but you didn’t sound okay. I was worried.”

Oh, Axl swallowed thickly, remembers now, dragging his thoughts back towards something resembling coherency.

Steven was here. Axl didn’t want him here, but he was here and there was no going back, and he still needed help, so even though he wanted nothing more than to keep crying, he had to press on. His thoughts felt shattered, all jagged edges scattering in every direction, so it took him what felt like ages to slur out, “Stevie…” his voice is raspy and raw, “Need you… t’drive me t’the hospital.”

The drummer frowned, “Hey, you’re okay, you’re sick, but we’ll get your fever down, okay? We’ll get you cooled down. If your fever doesn’t go away then we can-”

Axl shakes his head, slowly at first and then more frantic as Steven tries to reason with him, “No, it’s not… ‘m not…” he doesn’t know how to say it, he’s so dizzy, and weak, so he focuses his strength on clumsily pushing away the towel around his waist to just show him.

At some point his eyes slipped shut, trying to alleviate the nausea brought on by the spinning room, and he knows his sense of time cannot be trusted, but it feels like the silence stretches out for hours. The only sound is the rasping of his lungs, and if it weren’t for Steven’s hands still bracing his shoulders he’d assume the man had left. But maybe he was going to, just taking in the trainwreck for one more moment before walking out the door. Or maybe he already left and Axl was just hallucinating the idea of not being alone.

“Fuck, Axl…”

Steven’s voice sounds far away, but his hands are still present on his shoulders, his fingers tightening a bit and digging into his skin in a way that would probably be painful if it weren't for all the pain already drowning it out.

Axl is crying again, or maybe crying still, choking out through a sob, “‘m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay, everything is gonna be okay, man,” Steven rambles, hands releasing their grip and instead smoothing up and down Axl’s arms soothingly, “You’re gonna be fine. Let’s just… I’m just gonna call the guys, and we’ll take you to the hospital and get you all fixed up, yeah? You’re gonna be just fine.”

He reaches for the phone still laying on the ground, balancing it between his ear and shoulder as he snatches the receiver off the side table. Axl doesn’t notice his own hand moving, everything too syrupy and slow, but he feels his fingers curl into Steven’s shirt and hears a broken, wounded whine that he thinks might have come from his own mouth.

Pausing in his fumbling with the phone, Steven focuses on the singer in front of him. Axl is too tired, getting weaker every moment, has no more energy to sob but the tears are still streaming down his face and he wonders if he was nauseous because he was carrying an ocean in his stomach. He opens his mouth and he wants to say no, he wants to say please, he wants to say I’m sorry, I fucked up, please, don’t make me face them too, don’t let them see me, I don’t want to be hated anymore, it’s already too much, I can’t take anymore, please don’t punish me, even if I deserve it, please.

Maybe he did manage to say all that out loud and his own ears missed it, maybe he said some of it, maybe he stuttered and stumbled over fever thick words and somehow got the gist of it. Or maybe Steven just felt the way Axl’s hand shook with the effort of holding him, or saw the words reflected in his glassy eyes, or understood the shuddering of his breath. Either way, Steven set the phone on the ground and cupped the side of Axl’s face with a gentleness that makes it hard to breathe, tilting his head until the red-head is focusing fever-bright eyes on him.

“Hey,” Steven’s voice is soft, but strong, “it’s okay. I’m not trying to hurt you, okay? But if you don’t want an ambulance then I’m gonna need some fucking help. They’ll want to help,” he leaned in, eyes wide and emploring, “They’re on your side, okay? We’re on your side.”

Blinking slowly, it takes a minute for the words to cut through the haze, and then another for Axl to nod in defeat. Steven only has a second to sigh in relief before the singer is suddenly pitching forward, collapsing against his chest.

“Shit!” the drummer hissed, one arm coming around to hold him and wincing as his hand rested against bare skin and felt the heat radiating off his body.

Forehead resting against Steven’s chest, Axl let his eyes drift shut again. The hand on his back feels far away, he feels far away, feels like he’s underwater, everything floating and rippling. Every now and then he breaks through the surface for just a moment.

He hears Steven’s voice frantically saying Slash’s name, words sharp and panicked.

He sees shadows around him, tall and looming, fuzzy around the edges.

He feels hands on him, turning him, pushing his hair back, on his arms and his face and his neck, tugging at something around his hips.

He hears curses and arguing.

He feels fabric secured around his waist and draped over his shoulders. He feels arms around his back and under his knees. He feels a jolt as he’s lifted into the air. He feels a flare of pain in his legs from the movement. He feels himself open his mouth to scream but nothing comes out.

He feels himself sink beneath the surface, and this time he stays there.

~~~~~

Axl wakes up slowly.

Everything feels soft, muted, dulled. Like he’s resting just inches outside his body. There, but not quite. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s full of cotton, and yet his limbs feel heavy. He doesn’t feel tired exactly, but he feels so comfortable and peaceful he wants to go back to sleep, wants to wrap himself in this strange sensation and stay there. When he finally manages to open his eyes, everything is blurred and bright.

For a brief moment he wonders if he’s in Heaven. If maybe he’s been forgiven.

But his vision starts to clear, and he sees fluorescent lights, hears a steady beeping, and starts to feel aching and sore. It’s still confusing, there are bits and pieces of memory in his head but he can’t quite make sense of them, can’t see the image the puzzle is supposed to create. The answer is on the tip of his tongue, it feels like, but he can’t quite grasp it.

Then, as he slowly sinks back into his body, he becomes aware of someone holding his hand. He has to blink a few times before he can turn his head, and then a few more to find details in the dark silhouette sitting at his side.

“Hey,” Izzy’s voice cracks as he whispers, smiling shakily down at him, “welcome back.”

Axl doesn’t understand, just stares blankly up at the guitarist sitting on the edge of his bed. He opens his mouth because he feels like he should say something, anything, but all that comes out is a weak rasp, wincing at the sandpaper feel of his throat.

Izzy hushes him, reaching with his free hand and lifting a cup with a straw to his lips. Axl drinks greedily, the cool water hitting his stomach and making him feel more present. His throat feels better, but when Izzy pulls the cup away, he realizes that he has no idea what to say. So he doesn’t say anything. He simply blinks up at Izzy, and every time he closes his eyes he expects him to be gone when he opens them.

Swallowing thickly, Izzy rubs his thumb over the back of Axl’s hand, “We’ve been waiting for you all day.”

For the first time Axl becomes aware of the three other silhouettes in the corner of his vision. Turning his head, he sees Duff and Steven sitting on the floor, both asleep, the drummer curled up with his head on the bassist’s shoulder. Slash is sitting just to the side, sprawled out in an uncomfortable looking plastic chair, eyes hidden by his curls but the soft, steady breathing suggesting that he’s asleep too. As he looks at them his eyes also catch on machines, and wires, and the IV in his arm, and he finally sees the picture all the little pieces are making.

Hospital, he finds the word at last, I’m in the hospital.

He looks back up at Izzy. He finds the words. I fucked up.

Izzy’s hand grips his a little tighter, and his lips are trembling, and his eyes look watery and scared, and for the first time in years Axl thinks he looks like Jeff.

“You scared the shit out of us,” he whispers, “Fuck, Axl- Bill- Axl,” he takes a deep breath, grips his hand so tight it hurts, “You scared me so fucking bad.”

These words matter, Axl knows that, tucks them in his mind so he can give them their proper respect later, when he’s not dizzy on blood-loss and infection and painkillers and antibiotics. But right now, tears slip down the side of his face, soaking into stringy red locks, streaming silently for no other reason than because Izzy is here.

That’s all Axl can process right now, and even that is almost too much. Izzy is here. Steven, and Duff, and Slash, and Izzy, they’re here, they’re here, they’re here. After everything he’s done, they didn’t leave him on the floor of the hotel, didn’t drop him on the hospital doorsteps and move on, didn’t leave him here alone.

Izzy wipes at his tears, even though more replace them immediately. He stays. He holds Axl’s hand as he cries quietly and strokes his hair, and whispers softly. Axl is so tired, but he’s afraid to fall asleep in case this was all a dream, in case he wakes up alone.

“It’s okay,” Izzy leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Axl’s not sure he believes him, but his eyes are so heavy, and he feels himself sinking. He’s not sure he believes him. But as he slips back into unconsciousness, he allows himself to hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After sleeping through his first day in the hospital, Axl is released on the second.

Tapping his fingers anxiously, he sits on the edge of his bed, dressed in plain sweatpants and an old t-shirt Slash had brought for him. It’s just him and the doctor, who is monotone and indifferent as he gives the singer instructions. Three of the cuts had needed stitches, so he’d need to come back in two weeks to get them removed and have a check-up. Change the bandages two to three times a day. Take the prescribed antibiotics every twelve hours until the pills were gone, even if he felt better. He handed him a folder with the same instructions typed up, and the prescription, and a business card for a psychiatrist that Axl didn’t bother looking at.

Walking out of the room, he keeps his eyes on the ground. He’s walking stiffly, gauze and bandages thick around his thighs and hips making his steps stilted and awkward. The guys are waiting for him, all of them, still here he thinks, and his heart stutters. But he’s awake now, fever gone and head clear and he feels humiliated.

He doesn’t want them to leave, but he also wants them to have never been here at all.

“Good to go?” Duff asks. The four rockers stand and they look so out of place in the hospital waiting room. Not Axl though. Axl, with his pale skin, dark circles under his eyes, nondescript clothes hanging from his frame, hands shaky and weak. Axl looks like he belongs here. Axl looks like he shouldn’t be leaving.

But he nods, and they walk out the door together.

He doesn’t know whose car it is, but Izzy drives, Axl in the passenger seat while Slash, Duff, and Steven pile into the back.

They’re barely out of the parking lot when Steven leans forward, “How are you feeling?” He tries to keep his voice normal and conversational. He doesn't really succeed.

Axl rests his head against the window, “Tired.”

Steven nods awkwardly and the car falls into silence. Eventually Izzy stops the car by a pharmacy, quietly reaching over and slipping the folder out of Axl’s limp hands. He pulls out the prescription slip and hands it to Slash. There is no conversation while they wait for the guitarist to retrieve the medication, and Axl feels like he broke something. He wants to cry, but he feels hollow and dry and empty. He must have used up all the tears he had.

Slash comes back, grinning as he held up the paper bag, “I think this is the first time I’ve gotten drugs from somewhere other than a back alley,” he jokes. Axl lets out a huff through his nose, the closest to a laugh he can manage, and the others smile stiffly as the car starts again. Izzy turns on the radio to help fill the silence, but it only helps a little.

When they reach the hotel, Axl sits up and grimaces when he sees the grease mark left on the window. For the first time he looks at his reflection in the side mirror and is filled with shame and self-consciousness when he sees how stringy and dirty his hair looks, the dull matted locks only serving to make his pale face look even more sickly. A shiver runs through him at the sudden, overpowering dirtiness he feels, and he feels the urge to crouch under the dashboard, to curl up with his hands over his head so no one can see him. But before he has a chance his door opens, and he finds himself looking up at Slash.

The guitarist tilts his head and asks casually, “You alright, man?”

No, Axl thinks. He wants to scream. He wants to break something and throw a tantrum and snap and refuse to leave the car for anything. He wants to dig his fingers into his thigh.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I’m fine.”

It’s not entirely surprising when they go into the hotel and lead Axl to a different room than the one he was staying in before- he has no idea what sort of state he left it in- and it’s not particularly surprising when the guys trail after him, either. Axl is still looking at the floor, disgusting strands of hair falling into his face and he feels sick for a whole list of reasons. He spots his suitcase in the corner and shuffles towards it.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he mumbled.

Izzy’s voice stops him in his tracks, “You can’t get your bandages wet.”

He says it matter-of-factly, just pointing out the obvious, but it feels so cruel to Axl that it cuts him to the quick. He snaps his head over, eyes wide with something like betrayal.

“But…” He feels like a child- fragile and hurting and at someone else’s mercy. His head drops back down. He feels so weak and he hates it, but he can’t find anything in him to fight back. There is no rage. Only a bone deep exhaustion.

“I just want to wash my hair,” he says it mostly to himself, voice cracking just slightly and so soft he doesn’t really expect any of them to hear it. One hand raises hesitantly to touch his fingers to the side of his hair, and he wonders if he can die from shame.

He’s about two seconds away from just curling up on the floor in defeat when Duff steps forward, “I’ll help you.”

Axl blinks up at him in surprise, partially from the offer, and partially because out of all of them Duff actually manages to sound normal- like this is any other day, and it’s completely routine for him to help his lead singer wash his hair. He’s even nonchalant in the way he pats Axl’s shoulder, nudging him towards the bathroom.

“Duff…” Izzy starts, a note of concern in his voice, but the bassist cuts him off.

“Izzy.” His voice is clipped, firm, final, and Izzy raises his hands in surrender.

Meanwhile, Axl stares blankly from just outside the bathroom, unmoving and uncertain as he watches Duff snag the chair from in front of the desk under the window. Dragging the chair behind him, he grinned at Axl, waving his hand and guiding him into the ensuite. Once they’re both inside, he closes the door behind them, allowing for some privacy from the three sets of eyes looking after them.

“Here,” Duff placed the chair in front of the sink, facing away, “sit down.”

Staring at the seat though, Axl felt cracked down the middle. Because he doesn’t think he can handle not being clean for any longer, but it hits him like a freight train that what Duff is suggesting involves him touching Axl’s hair, touching the sweat and grime and filth and it feels wrong to subject Duff to that.

He wants to scream. He wants to dig his fingers into his thigh. He wants them to stay. He wants them to have never been here at all.

“It’s okay,” he wraps his arms around himself, shaking his head slowly, “You don’t have to…”

“I know,” Duff's smile never wavered. He leaned against the counter casually, head tilting, “I want to,” his voice softens to almost a whisper, “It’s okay.”

Axl struggles to hold his gaze. It takes a minute, but Duff is patient, and eventually Axl manages to step over to him, turning and sitting slowly on the chair, head hung meekly.

The bassist beamed, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly, “Excellent! Hang on-” he bustled around the ensuite, snatching various items and placing them on the counter. Looking over his loot, he hummed and excused himself briefly. Axl blinked in confusion, but the tall blonde was back in less than a minute, closing the door again and placing a brush and a few bottles on the counter next to the hotel amenities.

“You don’t need all that,” Axl blurted out, feeling a little overwhelmed, “I just-... Just help me rinse it out, that’s all.”

“No way, dude,” Duff grinned, “If I’m doing this I’m doing it right. It’s a matter of pride. My hair routine is impeccable and I’ll prove it to you.” He gives Axl no room to argue, draping one towel around his shoulders and folding another to place on the edge of the sink. His hand smooths across Axl’s shoulders, smiling kindly, “It’s okay,” he assured him, “lean back.”

Doing as he was told, Axl let his head drop back into the sink, Duff adjusting the folded towel to make sure it cushioned the singer’s neck comfortably. Staring at the ceiling, Axl’s arms tightened around his stomach as long fingers swept his hair back into the sink.

“You’re okay,” Duff repeats, “just relax.”

He hears the water turn on, and there is a delay while Duff waits for it to heat up a bit before filling up a plastic cup and carefully pouring it over Axl’s hair.

Something releases in Axl’s chest. Warm water soothes the skin of his scalp, Duff’s hand steadily shielding his eyes and face, fingers carefully running through to try to loosen some of the larger knots. It feels like he can breathe, like something uncoiled around his lungs and they can expand properly for the first time in hours.

Duff hums a tune he doesn’t recognize, and Axl lets his hands unclench. After a few minutes, he sees the bassist reach for one of the bottles on the counter.

“You really don’t have to do all the fancy shit,” he mumbled.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Duff smirked.

Huffing out a laugh, Axl’s eyes slipped shut as Duff started working shampoo through his hair. He tried to remember the last time he was touched like this- gently and peacefully and unconditionally. On stage he was always sneaking for affection, throwing his arms around his bandmates and dragging them close, confident that they wouldn’t shove him away in front of an audience. It was rough and loud and desperate, like it always was, even off stage. But here it was quiet, Duff massaging his scalp and humming and Axl feels like he could fall asleep under his hands.

Coating his hair with a generous amount of conditioner next, the blonde nudged his shoulder lightly, “Sit up for a sec.”

Blinking, Axl straightened, starting a bit when Duff pushed his chair forward just enough so he could stand behind him. He then began diligently brushing the red strands, the conditioner allowing the brush to slide through the knots and matts with ease, though he was still cautious not to tug too hard.

Even when everything wasn’t collapsing around him, Axl doesn’t think he’s ever been this thorough with his hair. Or really with anything regarding his own body. The most he did was the necessary steps to not fall apart on stage- taping his ankles after the third time he sprained one, vocal exercises so he didn’t lose the one thing he was good at, shying away from hard drugs, things like that. Beyond that, he never really cared. He supposed his thighs were proof enough of that now.

But Duff was here, pressing him back to rinse out the conditioner, running his fingers through his hair and checking to make sure the water was still warm. Axl had given him multiple chances to do the minimum, to do nothing, but he chose to do more. He cared enough to do more. Even after everything Axl had put them all through.

The water turned off, and Duff wrung some of the water from his hair before nudging Axl forward again so he could gently rub a towel over his head. It suddenly struck the singer that Duff probably cared more about Axl than Axl did.

He doesn’t notice he’s crying until Duff is kneeling in front of him. It’s strange to have the tall bassist looking up at him. One hand comes to rest on the side of his face, holding him steady while the other softly wipes a wet washcloth over his forehead and cheeks. Axl can’t quite place the look in Duff’s eyes. It’s not worry, or pity, or disdain. He thinks the best word for it is compassion.

“You alright?”

Axl blinks slowly, thinking about the question. There are still tears escaping silently, and he knows that this moment of peace is temporary, that he has shaken the foundation of their group and it will take more than a day for them to find their balance again. But he’s clean, and he can look Duff in the eyes without feeling gutted, and his hands are relaxed in his lap.

So he nods.

“Yeah,” even his voice sounds more steady and strong, “I’m alright.”

~~~~~~~

Izzy turns music on again to try to cover up the awkward silence. They’re all sitting around the room, stiff and quiet, Axl laying on one of the beds and reading in an attempt to ignore all of them. He eyes the second bed suspiciously. When they had first arrived he hadn’t been in the right mind to really think about it, but now it bothered him. The hotel probably just didn’t have any more single rooms available- that would make sense given the last minute room change.

Snapping his book closed a little more forcefully than necessary, the redhead sat up and glanced around at his bandmates, “I’m tired, I’m gonna go to bed early. You guys can go back to your own rooms now.”

Duff, Steven, and Slash exchange nervous glances, but Izzy meets Axl’s stare head on. “We’re staying here.”

“That’s stupid,” Axl snapped back, “I’m just going to sleep. Go back to your room and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean, we’re not going fucking anywhere,” the rythym guitarist crossed his arms firmly.

Axl growled, “Why not?”

Izzy softened, just slightly, his voice lowering, “You know why.”

Standing, the singer glared, “I can take care of myself, y’know. Take my pills every twelve hours, change my bandages, blah blah, I don’t need you all hovering around me.”

“Obviously you do,” Izzy snapped, “or we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!”

“Don’t act like I’m the only one who’s fucked up!” Axl was yelling now. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t seem to stop, his voice only getting louder as the conversation went on, “I don’t remember you all scrambling to babysit Steven after he OD’d,” he snarled.

“Steven didn’t OD on purpose!”

“What, you think I got an infection on purpose?” he asked incredulously.

“Maybe not, but you hurt yourself on purpose!”

“So what, you’re just going to follow me around everywhere? You can’t watch me forever! After all,” He sneered, “You’ll have to go shoot up eventually.” The words are cold and cruel, and he sees Izzy’s jaw tense.

Eyes narrowed and nose flaring in rage, Izzy’s eyes dart down, landing on Axl’s hands, watching his fingers clench and unclench.

“Do it,” He spits out.

Axl blinked in confusion, “Do what?”

“Throw something!” he snapped, “Break something, tear the room apart! Come on, I know you want to!”

“I-” Axl ground his teeth together, fury rising in his chest, feeling cornered and trapped. Everything about this felt like a trap. “I want for you to leave me alone!”

“No you fucking don’t,” Izzy challenged, “If you actually wanted us to leave, then you wouldn’t be trying so hard not to freak out. If you wanted us gone you’d have already destroyed this room, and the last one, and the one before.”

“So, what? You’re mad at me because I’m trying to be better? Fuck you!”

“This isn’t better!” Izzy gestured at the singer as he yelled.

“Yes it fucking is!” Axl screamed, “It’s better! Everything was fucking better until I slipped up! I was being good, I was doing everything right! And I get it, I fucked up, I’ll be more careful now. But don’t you dare pretend like you didn't like me better when I was fucking bleeding!"

The words echo through the room, Axl’s chest heaving, and he can see all the fight leave Izzy on a single exhale. He looks gutted.

Swallowing, body still coiled with rage, Axl can’t bring himself to look at the others. The look on Izzy’s face is painful enough. Turning on his heel, he snatches a pack of cigarettes and a lighter off one of the nightstands before storming to the door.

“Axl-”

He ignores the call, throwing the door open.

“Axl-!”

The door slams behind him, and he runs.

~~~~~

Not that he makes it very far.

His legs and hips still ached, and he was tired, so he found himself stumbling before he even made it to the end of the hallway. Eyes clenched shut in frustration, he limps over to the door leading to the stairwell. Carefully, he makes his way down two flights before finally sliding down to sit on one of the steps.

The cigarettes are partially crushed from the tight grip he had held them in, but not ruined, lighting one up and inhaling deeply. Sighing, he feels some of the tension leave him with the nicotine hit, but even as he relaxes he feels the guilt grow.

Screaming at his bandmates wasn’t exactly better than trashing the room as Izzy had suggested. How many times was he going to mess everything up this week? How was he supposed to even fix this?

Maybe the disease wasn’t something he could bleed out. Maybe he was the disease.

He’s halfway through his second cigarette when he hears footsteps coming down the stairs above him. Closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall, he prays that maybe it’s just some random guest or maintenance person or something.

Still, when the steps come to a halt beside him and he feels a body sit next to him, he’s not really surprised. They pluck the pack of cigarettes and the lighter from his hands, and when he opens his eyes, Slash is casually lighting up.

Axl looks away again, and for a few minutes they smoke in silence.

Eventually though, once Slash reaches the end of his cigarette, he grinds it out on the floor next to him and sighs, “I’m sorry.”

Turning to him, Axl blinked in surprise, “What for?”

There is a long pause, Slash staring down at his hands with a sad look on his face. When he speaks, his voice is almost a whisper, “For not noticing. For not questioning when you started acting different.”

“It’s fine-”

“No, it’s not,” Slash insisted.

“You shouldn’t have to question why I’m suddenly less of an asshole!” Axl snapped, “That’s not your fucking job! The whole point of all this was so that you guys wouldn’t have to fucking deal with me!”

Running his hands through his hair in frustration, Axl put his head against the wall again. He wasn’t sure if he didn’t want to look at Slash or if he didn’t want Slash to look at him.

“Axl,” The guitarist spoke slowly, “I know things were… rough for awhile. I know none of us were really getting along-”

“You were getting along with each other just fine,” Axl mumbled.

Slash ignored him, “-but even if things weren’t great, you’re still our friend. Fuck, man, I still think of you as my best friend.” He hesitated for a moment as he thought through his next words, “Look… I’m going to be honest with you, okay?” His voice was gentle and sincere, “It’s hard sometimes. It can be frustrating when you get into those moods because we just don’t get it, y’know? We don’t understand what’s going on in that head of yours sometimes. But if I had to choose between you screaming at me and you hurting yourself, I will pick you screaming every time.”

“But I don’t want to scream at you!” Axl exclaimed, hands clenched desperately in front of him, “I don’t want to- to break things, or mess up our shows, or hurt anyone, or feel so fucking-” his voice cracked, and he snapped his jaw shut. His head falls forward, hair hanging in his face as he swallows thickly to try to hold back… everything.

It didn’t work though, and when he speaks his voice is a shaky whisper. He sounds defeated.

“I don’t want to be like this anymore, Saul.”

He barely has time to take a shuddering breath before Slash is slowly pulling him into his chest. His arms are warm, and gentle, and safe, smoothing up and down his back. Resting his chin on top of smooth red hair, Slash says with a voice full of understanding, “I know. I know you don’t.” He tightens his hold and Axl shakes harder, “We’ll get you help, okay? We’ll figure something out. We’ll find a way for you to feel better- an actual solution. But in the meantime? We would so much rather deal with a late show or a trashed dressing room than… than find you like we did that night.”

Axl is tired of crying. But Slash doesn’t mind, says nothing of the growing dampness on the front of his shirt, or the way the singer wraps his arms around his back to cling to him desperately.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps out, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

There’s so much he’s sorry for, and he doesn’t know if he is capable of articulating it all, but Slash nods, stroking his hair and Axl thinks he understands.

“I know,” he said, and he plants a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “We forgive you.”

~~~~~~~

Axl drags his feet walking back to the hotel room. Slash tries to comfort and encourage him, but he still feels anxiety like a vice grip on his heart. He had messed up so much, and they were all trying to help, even if he didn’t deserve it, and he went and yelled at them. And just because Slash said it was okay didn’t mean it was and he had to fix this, he had to, but he wasn’t sure how. He was scared that nothing would be enough.

When he finally steels himself and opens the door, he barely makes it into the room before a body collides with his, arm wrapping around him and pulling him as close as physically possible, one hand between his shoulder blades and the other cupping the back of his head. Axl feels his breath catch in his throat even as he sinks into Izzy’s warmth.

Izzy’s breath ghosts across the top of his head, and Axl slowly brings his arms up to hold him back. Sighing, he closes his eyes, letting his head rest against Izzy’s shoulder as he relaxes into the embrace. Neither of them say anything.

But neither of them need to.

~~~~~

Axl tosses and turns in bed. He’s tired, but it feels like his brain just won't shut off. He is alone on one of the queen beds, the others giving him a bit of space, which he figures makes sense given that he had tried to kick them all out a few hours earlier. Slash and Izzy are sharing the other bed, while Steven and Duff sleep on the pull out sofa in the corner of the room.

Everything was fine. Axl knew that everything was fine.

For now.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how delicate the situation was- he felt like he was on the thinnest sheet of ice and the slightest wrong move would send him plummeting into the cold and dark. Under the covers, he tapped his fingers against the tops of his thighs, the touch too light to be felt beneath the thick bandages. He wanted to press harder, to dig his nails in, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t betray his bandmates like that, couldn’t disappoint them again.

It wasn’t easy though, and he couldn’t stop tossing and turning and worrying. He was seconds away from raiding the mini fridge for something strong to clear his mind when the bed dipped behind him.

Jumping, he whipped his head around, coming face to face with Izzy, smirking down at him as he pulled the sheets back.

“Izzy? What the fuck are you-”

“You think too loud,” he explained, and Axl’s jaw clicked shut. The guitarist slid into bed beside him, turning onto his side to face the singer and opening his arms, “Come ‘ere.”

Huffing, Axl grumbles half-heartedly even as he curls up in the other man’s arms, Izzy chuckling at him as they made themselves comfortable. It did help, Axl admitted to himself, sighing as he tucked his head under Izzy’s chin. He was still awake, but at least he felt less jittery and tense.

Then, the mattress dipped again, and Axl felt someone crawling over them to get to the other side of the bed. Snapping his eyes open, he saw Slash finally settle on the other side of him.

“What the Hell?”

“Izzy abandoned me,” Slash pouted exaggeratedly.

“Oh my God, you fucking dork,” Axl laughed as Izzy flipped off the other guitarist. The three of them began to rearrange themselves, but as they did, a silhouette made its way over in the dark.

Slash held his arms out, wide-eyed, “No, no, no-!”

But it was too late, and Steven launched himself onto the bed, landing squarely on top of Slash, the guitarist groaning while the drummer giggled madly. Axl and Izzy burst out laughing as Slash shoved the blonde off, the two bickering and shoving at each other. They were so distracted by the chaos Steven had caused, that they didn’t notice another figure approaching until he was crawling onto the bed.

“Duff, no!” Izzy complained, “You're seven feet tall and these beds aren’t designed for five people!”

The bassist gave him the biggest, roundest puppy-eyes, his lip actually quivering dramatically, “So you’re going to all be together except me? You’re just going to leave me all alone while the rest of you cuddle? All by myself? Alone?"

“...Goddammit,” Izzy dropped his head back onto the pillow in defeat, Duff immediately dropping the ruse and bursting into a mischievous grin as he draped himself across the rest of their bodies.

“Jesus Christ,” Axl muttered, “What is this, ‘Kerrang!’?”

“Don’t act like that wasn’t the coziest photoshoot we’ve ever done,” Steven chimed in, still laying half on top of Slash.

It was a tight fit, and it took quite a bit of maneuvering to get them all comfortable, laughing as they shuffled around. Their bodies overlapped, limbs tangling and curling around each other. Somehow though, they made it work, each of them warm and comfortable as they drifted off one by one. It was ridiculous, Axl thought. Utterly absurd.

But he was still smiling, even when he finally drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

#weak ending but eh #my writing #Guns n Roses #gnr #guns n roses fanfiction #axl rose #slash #izzy stradlin #duff mckagan #steven adler #self harm tw #tw self harm #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #I almost wrote more and included axl going to therapy and getting on medication and stuff #but this felt like a more natural end #so just like #imagine he does all the work and ends up healthy and happy #surprise! Jax rambles in tags

[404fmdminjung]

creative claims verification ; selfpara

summary: partial lyrics, full music for that xx warnings: none wc: 1066 (not including lyrics)

she walks into the studio like it’s her second home — a home she doesn’t consider her home. it’s not hers, nor does it serve as the safe haven that houses herself in something warm and homey. yet, the clicks of the security system that come with a single fingerprint scan leads her to a basement studio space of a friend she sees one too many times in a week.

a person on the end of one too many scandals, and goldstar’s enemy had they found out the regal princess of fuse had a past deeply rooted in the grit and grime of the underground scene (one too many friends floating in the same crowd). but it’s a day off, and minjung comes with one idea free-falling inside her head. an idea that doesn’t go away with the schedule of fuse.

but she’s modest. no. she’s honest — doesn’t lie to herself when she sees a reflection, and doesn’t allow the lies to seep from her teeth when she’s called to do something she can’t. a cry for help seems a bit dramatic, but she’s been known to milk the moniker of a diva in front of the friends that make her comfortable.

“hey — i need your guitar skills because i have an idea for a song. hence why i’m here.” her bag toss themselves along the sofa, and her body follow suits carrying nothing more then the pen and paper in her hand. 

“you didn’t want something to eat?” the boy huffs sarcasm, rolling out of his chair and reaching over for the lane of guitars lined up across the purple lit walls.

minjung’s eyes catch sight of one, a taylor acoustic — her fingers immediately point dead-on. “fuck you — and that guitar please. i want a whiny acoustic sound today.”

she pegs music theory to be her friend, and the exposure to piano lessons from an early age that picks her ability to hear chords and hum the tune. a wistful skill that followed and created the soundtrack to each lonely move she remembers like the back of her hand.

“what’s the song about?”

“i only have a few words, but you know — i’ve never been one to plan ahead of anything.” 

and the reason the song becomes a piece of her heart, or a piece of something far cathartic goes in between the lines of a fuck you ode. a fuck you to every past lover that forced her knees to her chest and pulled out each and every shallow breath of a phone call.

because seo minjung is vengeful, a bitch — but the devil plays harder.

she thinks to the last boy, a boy whose string was violently cut by her words and actions. a full-throttle laceration — the catalyst for her bleeding heart. yet,  there’s an ounce of jealousy that comes in waves. the first flows, and it’s the glimpse of someone moving on while she lingers and stays still in the past — pining becomes a one way street. suddenly, minjung’s left with nothing more than validation to her initial thought: love’s a bitch. karma’s a bigger bitch. and the biggest bitch of them all? seo minjung.

“i saw your girlfriend the other day i wanted to make sure, but my intuition was right. she took off her ring and linked arms with someone else. but that’s all i’ll say.”

“ouch.” is all that comes out. an instant reaction from his lips, curled in a hint of enlightenment. “is this based on a true story? or some morbid story you created?”

minjung shakes her head once — twice. let’s the ambiguity speak for itself as her lips mirror their own faults of petty jabs. (she ignores the question and cuts straight through the vision she has in mind.)

“i want minors — minors in the acoustics. maybe at a, because b sounds too melancholic for what i want. but the key is — i want a back and forth, teetering feel to each strum. but after each line — i want it to cut numb. empty. almost silent for an ad-lib.” 

he starts with an a — but she shakes her heads. still sounds off, too dark for the sardonic humor she wants to overlay inside the song. her finger motions downward the flick of her thumb, and she wants one key down — g.

g minor sounds more in tune with her thoughts, and she rolls her hands into motion singing the lyrics — carrying the words like it’s an honest conversation that morphs into a back and forth lulllaby. her fingers roll upward — halts. and she adds the adlibs.

“yeah i saw her. i told you. i don’t want to hurt you.”

but the words don’t sound so freeing like she imagines it to be. it tastes bittersweet on the tip of her tongue — a sourness that comes from being the person rubbing salt on a wound only to get specks in her eye. it leaves minjung centered and at a loss — the direction of a song no longer clear cut.

“now that i’ve said that — i feel shitty, ha.” it’s acceptance that distorts her initial idea. acceptance that she’s the second place prize — never matching up. “can you continue with that progression? but instead of doing it note by note, i want a complete strum setting for the chorus. a nice contrast from the verses of spite.”

and it goes with the same simplicity — yet, this time she speaks freehearted. without filter and it makes her heart a bit lighter. this becomes a cathartic.

“what can that bitch do that i can’t? why can’t i have those things? she doesn’t love you how long are you gonna stand a fool?”

she’s never been one to open the voice to these woes — never one to step into the trap of relaying insecurities and comparison. inside this studio — it becomes a safe haven. it houses all the secrets she shares with another soul who holds together the parts of her imagination. she voices it out — the music comes to life. and suddenly,  the images becomes palpable. visceral. the song that comes out is a pristine reflection of what she’s held the second she stepped in.

and maybe the words aren’t as coherent — maybe, it just remains choppy and all minjung carries is the verses and chorus slipshod hashed together for something that draws itself thin. but she’s no perfectionist, at least not with the words that run free in her heart. she likes her words raw. real. vulnerable. even if it provides the edgy blades that don’t smoothen themselves inside the recording studio. because today, she knows she's never gonna be the one to sing the words.

#fmdverification #으악→극한직업

[moze-xoxo]

OKAY YALL I'M TALKIN ABOUT MSPAR CLASSPECT STUFF AGAIN.

TL;DR: MY CURRENT GUESS FOR MSPAR IS HEIR OF BLOOD

so nepeta and sollux pesterquest just happened and putting my deeply personal and emotional reactions to the whole ordeal aside they gave me some REAL ideas about mspars classpect.

But anyways i had some thoughts skewing either bloodbound or hopebound??? like what??? yeah hope is very minimal, more in whispers. bloodbound is still pretty strong in my mind.

also i’m being pulled stronger into the direction of heir as a class.

So my two biggest hints here are

1. the choice in sollux’s route “tell him nothing’s wrong.” 

2. the group ending in nepeta’s route, explicitly how mspar saved jade and then instead of *dying* (the normal option) jade, dave, and nepeta saved their ass.

so my only real inclination toward hope as an aspect is the sollux bit. it almost seemed like believing/speaking something into reality?? that whole ass manifestation of safety and truth???

like. it just was gonna totally NOT be fine. and then it like. was. because you chose it to be.

sollux as a mage of doom KNOWS when things aren’t good. like. he has experience with things going to shit. under most circumstances, trusting him when he says things are gonna go south is smart.

BUT LIKE YOU CAN JUST SAY NO??????????

so the main point i listed was the group end. it makes SO much sense if we’re thinking bloodbound here. i mean fuck. you accidentally spark days of friendship between the PURRFECT PEOPLE. (early javepetasprite whaaaat) 

and that *kind of* makes me think hope? but then again, another element of the classpect system that has to do with embodying things and allowing things into reality is the HEIR class!!! going by taz od’s class analysis, heir is a passive class. this makes sense in sollux’s route in particular if we think about it like mspar is allowing things to become a certain way in favor of sollux and their potential friendship together. allowing things to be good by reassuring, rather than actively getting involved all aradia style yknow lmao

okay okay so to nepeta’s point

oh man oh wow there’s so much to her route when i say i cried i do not mean fake internet lie crying i was crying here in public at the bakery after work. man. (but then again i always am deeply personally affected by nepeta content and like ------ this fucking delivered ok)

you put yourself in a position where you need help from others, and they provide. fuck they save your LIFE. (DAVE LITERALLY HOLDS YOUR ORGANS IN AND USES HIS EXPERIENCE WITH GORY ORGAN WOUNDS FROM BRO TO S A V E  YOUR  L I F E. YALL I’M STILL CRYING ABOUT IT)

inspiring others, giving spaces for things to work out. but instead of coming from a place of movement and freedom, escaping an old world like earth, it’s coming from a place of love and friendship and history. 

unlike john, an heir of breath, who brings people together and allows freedom and escape from earth by literally embodying and becoming those ideals,

mspar brings people together and allows deep ties to form. allows bonds to spark. expidited shipping???? i mean come on.

so consider a pattern. 

so far in all the pesterquest routes i can remember, every time you take a weird bold selfish unexpected move, you die. it’s a fail route.

but when you embody what a true friend would be, when you allow space for the other person, when you let friendship hapen, shit goes stunningly perfect. 

i mean fuck. you are literally friend-SHAPED. you LITERALLY emBODY the PERFECT FRIEND.

okay so my official point. i think more definitively than before that mspar’s classpect is HEIR OF BLOOD.

#okay yall come on talk to me what do you think. #please i need to talk about this SO BAD. #this is all i'ma be thinking about for WEEKS #im still ......... reeling over nepetas route. the whole thing. #god it was so #like #okay look we all know im davepeta kin and a leo and like low key dave and nep kin but like #when i say this Affected me. as soon as i heard nepetas fucking pq theme music #i was crying here at work #in public #i was like shit ---- this might as well have been written for me am i crying wow ok #and sollux!!!!!! man. #i love him so so so so so sos o sos os os os odearly #and all of the other friends we saw!!!!!! we see so many friends!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #man. ohhhh man oh man #okay that's enough in the tags just talk to me #pesterquest #pesterquest spoilers #pq spoilers #classpects #homestuck #nepeta leijon #sollux captor #mspar #mspa reader #classpect #god i'm a mess rn #.txt

[soulbore]

“Alright.” She calmly stands up, fingers wiping down pants, wrists still sore from handcuffs and eyes still weary from too little sleep over the past year. What else is new? It’s a shame she couldn’t get a decent cup of coffee before all of this. “Danvers Big, Luthor, Teal’c. C-4. A lot of it. Plant it around as many key points of the ship as possible. No arguments from any of you, set a timer. Keep Teal’c close, he’s the only other one that knows around a Goa’uld ship.” Cat pops open another crate and starts tossing out a few zat guns. At least these will do some damage, swinging her own gun around her shoulder to rest along taut shoulder blades. “If any of you are idiotic enough to get caught, we’re making sure this overly tacky ode to Liberace is blown to high hell. Kara, Junior--” Lips thin, thinking that there’s likely only one other person other than herself that might be able to get through to Skaara. “You’re with me.”

       Kara literally lost it in a laugh cause Ken'tha was only a foot or so long. Kara was always amused when she was with the team as well, as she was the tallest, next to J'onn of course. Kara moved over to sit down on a log that was made to be her bench, watching her dig.

The envelope wasn’t what she was expecting, but she took it from Cat’s hands as she opened it and glanced over to Cat. The information was intriguing, though she couldn’t help but wonder what a mirror had to do with anything, especially in a warehouse. Kara pulled out the pictures and information on it, noticing the scribble of Lena’s writing and looking over each picture.

“This… This isn’t goa'uld tech,” Kara said, as she looked at Cat. “Ken'tha said its nothing made by Goa'uld knowledge,” Kara stared at the large mirror, enraptured by what she was gazing at. “This is… nothing like I’ve ever seen. It’s clearly something ancient, look at the stonework around it, and look at the other items here in the picture,” Kara said pointing to the objects. “This is…these are artifacts from different time periods, this is… its a collection. A laboratory of some sort.” Kara clearly loved what she did, even if she hadn’t been on earth, her clear excitement never died. “This could be some culture that use to study our ancient cultures. Just like we are studying other cultures across the world now. The mirror, it could be some sort of device, like a TV or hologram. If we could just figure out how to activate it. who knows what they might know!” Kara said as she looked at Cat, pausing for a moment.

Maybe she got a little too excited…

━━━━

      Cat's eyes have long since settled in the girl instead of the photographs, watching the way her brows raise and her hands move. Watching the way her eyes light up underneath the sunlight of another planet, painting her features in the hue of a forest. It's been a long time. "What makes you think they're studying us? What makes you think they're artifacts from Earth and not just other gift from the gou'ald?" Cat leans up against the nearby wall before holding open the door for Kara, curious if she's here to see the rest of it. To see what kind of life Kara has made for herself. 

She imagines it, sometimes. Coming back here. Going anywhere. But it's not exactly kismet so there's nothing wrong with a living a little vicariously. 

"Because of the other useless trinkets throughout the room? I know people would love to see me on TV, Danvers, but a mirror being a set is a bit of a stretch, don't you think?" Still, it's a further theory than anyone in the mountain had grasped at. 

━━━━

       Kara paused as she looked over to Cat at the question. For a second thinking it was clear but then remembered every time Cat always told her to explain. “Okay, see how the objects are positioned on the table,” Kara said, putting the picture in her hands. “A collection would often been seen on shelves, perhaps behind something to keep its value protected. Or even positioned in a way that was near something else that is religious, like a greek statue with offerings around it. But this,” Kara pointed toward each artifact. “They are on a table, positioned in a line. You see it often when studying other things, like rocks or some sort of scientific study.”

Moving into the house, she sat down at the table she had, spreading out everything that had been in the envelope. “I would know more if I could go there. See it for myself.” Kara turned to look at Cat and then back to the picture. “Well, these objects here. This one is a statue of Bastet, an ancient greek artifact, probably belonging to a family who might have paid homage to her. This is an african mask, around the 15th century. And this, this is a medieval Aberdeenshire Game Board. Pretty much things of everyday human life. But the mirror, the symbols, its not of any human earth linguistics I have ever seen, but its not goa’uld either. It must be part of the race that once lived on that planet, or perhaps they still do and no one saw them.” Kara put her hand up against her mouth, thinking carefully back to all her studies on Krypton and then everything she had done on earth and what she had learned thus far from the stargate program.

“It looks like a mirror, but it could have knowledge locked inside of it, like we found on the island before, when we saved Earnest. It might have something that could help us against the Goa’uld. Or it could be some sort of ancient dialect, or… it could be so many things! Honestly, its astounding,”

━━━━

      “Uh huh. Yeah, no where,” Cat drawls, “In there did you clearly state, ‘Oh, yes, Cat, this is obviously a weapon of mass destruction that’s going to eradicate our enemy before the war’s even touched our soil’. No offense,” Cat drops the bag on the ground with a heavy sigh, shoulders barely slumping before they straighten, hand coming up to tap at cracked lips, desert-scorched. A little pale now that she’s not underneath the warmth of the sun. Arms cross now that they’re free. “To junior. Because I would much rather it be a defense system.” A low hum, looking over Kara’s shoulder, “Not that it seems to have done them any good given the fact that the entire floor was empty. Maybe the Goa’uld wiped them out, too.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, brows barely knit before she looks back up towards Kara, tongue tracing her lower lip. A swift nod.

“What are the chances of it actually being useful? We’re tugging at scraps, here, already.” And she can feel it, crawling up her gut--settling between her ribs. That sixth sense of we’re fucked that’s already gotten her through enough life and death situations to where she immediately listens to it. “If I get you there, would it actually help you tell what it is?” 

━━━━

       "What?" Kara said, confused for a second before it dawned on her what Cat meant. Man, its been awhile since she's done this, but it did feel like old times. "No, no, I don't think its a a weapon or a tool of any sort of destruction. It not even defensive, by its look. If it was, I believe it would have be out somewhere else, like a protective shield or something like this. I think its something else..." Kara said, as she tilted her head slightly. "Ken'tha has never seen anything like it, its got to be something..." Working with pictures was difficult. She could get an idea, but it just wasn't as good as in person.

"Perhaps, but if it was something that could hurt the goa'uld or destroy them, they would have taken it, or destroy it themselves," Kara pushed her lips to the side, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear thinking. Studying the symbols she could see. But the dialect wasn't anything she had ever seen before, it wasn't goa'uld, nor was it egyptian or latin, or any base language. Not was it Kryptonian or Callicite, it was racking her brain to try and go through every language she knew. "I can't say for sure," Kara admitted, looking at Cat. Because she didn't know if it would be useful.

"I think I could know more, if I was there. Pictures only do so much, but being there, I could definitely get more information."

━━━━

     “We’ve been there.” Cat shakes her head, trying to make her point clearer: “If it’s not a weapon or a shield, it’s not worth going somewhere we have a direct line of contact to. The SGC might find you. No, probably will find you, and trust me, in a strained environment where we keep not running into weapons or shields—where it’s just thousands of artifacts we don’t care about because it’s not the next atom bomb—you’re the last bet they have against figuring out how a Gou’ald ticks. And I don’t mean,” It’s not sharp, just factual, fingers barely curling into her elbows, leaving small moon-circles of dirt in their wake before hands fall. “In the promotion kind of way. Forget it.”

She shrugs, fingers brushing off the dirt on her arm like it’s the most casual statement of the day. Because she hasn’t spent a year in a glorified prison just to throw Kara to the wolves on a hunch.

“I’ll have Winn poke it again and stare blankly at it for a few more hours. He’s particularly good at that.” Eyes flick down to the picture, lips barely pursing, “It’s a shame we don’t know who it’s from. Who built it. Maybe we could find them. Hmm…” Another shake of her head, sliding the cap back over damp hair, offering a slim smile, “We could use a bigger bully on the school yard in our corner.” 

━━━━

       “You’ve been there. Your team. Not me,” Kara reiterated, as she pointed at the picture. “This could have valuable intel, intel you haven’t had. For all we know, this could be a key to a tool you could use. I need to go! And if you won't take me, then I’ll go myself. I’ll just send whatever I find through the stargate and then come back here. But I’m going,” Kara grumbled as she pushed her lips together. “I don’t care what they do to me, Cat. But this is our…. Your world we are talking about. If this has something, anything, to help save it. I’m going to do it, even if earth thinks I’m an enemy of the world,”

Kara put the stuff into the envelope as she got up and found the bag she needed and was starting to pack things into it. “No,” Kara said, as she looked over at Cat. “He’s goods with computers, he’s not an anthropologist, he won’t know what to look for,” Kara finally finished gathering the few things and looked over to her. “That’s EXACTLY why I need to go. If this is the key to a new race, a race that could put up a fight against the Goa’uld, like the Asgard, then we have to try. I have to try!” She left the envelope for Cat and glanced over to her.

“If I find anything, I’ll leave it there at that planet. Look in the same room you took this picture on the table. It will be there. But I have to go,”

━━━━

     Shoulders lean into the wall, looking seemingly nonplussed by Kara’s sudden enthusiasm. An eyebrow slowly arches to touch the dip of her sunglasses, letting out a slow hum before she slides them down and then figures if she’s here she might as well look to see if Kara has any food. Is the food on this planet even edible? She’s been to so many, now, it seems a little negligible. It hasn’t killed her yet—

She pops up something that looks almost like an apple…if a cheap off-budget props department on a B Sci-fi movie made it.

“Love the enthusiasm, honorary flygirl.” The apple pauses over her lips when she remembers that time she was suddenly forty going on one-hundred and twelve and figures she’ll wait. The faux-pple is settled back in its happy little home, twisting around to fully face Kara with a hint of amusement clear on lips, even though her eyes are shaded.

 “I can’t wait to see how you get there without the dial address. You don’t mind if I wait here to hear how that little adventure goes, do you? It was a long trek, I could use a nap. Not beauty sleep, obviously, I’ve got that in spades.”

━━━━

       Oh… She hated that. She paused as she let the bag slowly slip from her shoulder and refuse to look at Cat just yet. “That’s not fair,” Kara whispered as she took a deep breath and turned around. “Really, that’s not funny. At all,” Her arms crossed over her chest, looking at her even though she had this amusement in her eyes as if she had done something humorous. Kara wasn’t humored.

“Please, Cat,” Kara said as she leaned against the table. “I don’t care what the people of earth do, but we aren’t going to earth. If I can figure out what this is about, if it can help you, isn’t it worth the trip?” The question lingered as she let a breath slip from her lips. “Look, I’m useless out here. Why is it going to hurt to go and see what this can do. If its pointless, you can just tell me ‘I told you so’ and bring me right back here. If its not pointless, what is there to lose?”

━━━━

     "Oh, it's funny." Cat leans forward just a little, fingers curling, but the smile falls in lieu of something serious, coming a little closer. "You say that because you've never been tortured." There's a weight to it, the sort of comment that might be bright any other day if it wasn't so true--something a graveness that comes from experience. It's a romantic notion, fighting for freedom and truth and the people you care about, until you're faced with the repercussions of it. "You'll care what the people of Earth do. Your people."

Cat will care. Bigger Danvers will care. Luthor--J'onn--Marsdin. The idiot Winn kid. There's a lot more to lose than a stir crazy archaeologist puts weight on, likely. 

Curling fingers flex--stretch--curl--and then stretch, again, before she suddenly dips down to pick back up the pictures, not wanting a trail to where they're going, or have been. All she has is a hunch. "You're right, what's a little treason between old friends." The dryness is back, lips thin as she once more shoulders her bag, idly wondering the chances of enjoying the sunshine on the way out before nodding towards the door. "Just because I clearly thrive on telling you I told you so. Let's go, march."

━━━━

       Quiet settled on Kara’s lips as she wondered if she had pushed past the wrong boundary. Cat wasn’t smiling any longer, she looked took a breath. “Being tortured scares me, more then anything, but what scares me more… is losing you, Alex, Lena, the whole team,” Kara sat down beside Cat, quiet for a moment as Cat seemed to let it twist inside of her head. She grabbed the other papers and pushed them over to Cat as well.

“There’s Colonel Grant,” Kara commented, leaning up against the table staring at her when she reached over and tried to take her hand but stopped and just took a breath. Kara wasn’t sure what boundary she crossed, she had done something wrong. But she really needed to do this. Kara reached over and gave her a small bag. “Here, some food,” She said, as she picked up her gown and moved out of the house, letting Cat lead the way now.

━━━━

"You had that too conveniently at hand. I knew you were waiting for me." It's a dry quip, fingers tucking open the small sack and eyes lingering before she follows after. It's a shame, she thinks, that she doesnt have the opportunity to see Kara's life here. But maybe there's no other Grant than Colonel Grant, after all, rifling through.

There's no comment on what Kara might lose, or what Cat might imagine loss to be. Instead, she plucks up faux-pple number two in front of Kara and smirks. "Chances of this killing me? Hmm, well, what does it matter, anyways? I like to live dangerously." A fact noted by the obvious: they're heading back towards a Stargate she was being fired at right before entering maybe ten or so minutes ago. She takes a bite. Hums at the unusual taste, letting it sink on her tongue, ignoring how close Kara's hand has been. "We'll have to take a detour before going there. If anything does happen, we're going to make it hard for anyone to be able to track you back to the Nox." Cat has a few planets in mind. "How have you been?" Eyes stay forward, "Really."

━━━━

       Kara smiled, as she gave a small shrug. "So, I had a feeling someone would come by sooner or later, at least I hoped. But, I have a huge store of food so, I eat a lot," Kara chuckled as she glanced back. "Next time, let's stay a little longer and talk about domestic things." A little comment, cause honestly, she wanted to just have a moment of normal.

then again when was any of this normal??

"Its not, would I really let you eat anything that would kill you?" Kara questioned, shaking her head in amusement. She paused at the stargate, staring at it for the first time in a long time. She hadn't been this close in awhile, taking a breath. She opened up her bag, looking at the weapons she had that Ken’tha had taken before she ran with Kara’s body. “That’s good. They don’t deserve to be harassed, they are a kind people,” She moved toward the dial device (seems the Nox already knew they were leaving) and paused as she looked over to Cat.

“Really?” Kara repeated as she took a breath. “I want to go home. I just want to have everything go back to how it was. But, honestly, I’m fine. I really am, I’m making this work. The Nox help, honestly. They’re very empathetic,” Kara won’t mention how many times she’s cried because she lost Krypton, then she lost Earth, she lost her family and friends, and then her second family and her friends. She was tired.

Rao, she was really tired.

━━━━

"You might let me eat something that turns my head...oh, I don't know. Perpetually blue. Makes my lips swell up like Pam Anderson. Who knows." But Cat takes another bite, regardless, twisting around on her heel to gesture towards that vague blur of...whatever it is hanging in the distance, a silky cloud of opaque a little far out of eyesight. Maybe that's how they do it. They're always just a little farther out of eyesight. "Hmm, maybe. Next time. Gun?" The last part is called out into the sky, gesturing with her hand for a few seconds before it materializes next to her ankle. "Thank you." A little short--huffed through nostrils before she moves over to the DHD, palm pressing until the chevrons engage, the loud whir familiar. Distracting enough. 

It's been a long time since cat's been the 'talk about domestic' type. The thought make her chuckle, continuing, "Maybe I'll bring over an issue of Vogue. It's been a bit since I've had an excuse to wear a dress." Normally, these days, her finest accessory is around her ankles. Thanks to Luthor, its tucked on the edge of camp a few planets away. "But if we're being optimistic, a girl can dream." The final Chevron engages, finally taking looking back over at Kara, watching muted sunshine paint her features. "I'm...glad." She settles on, voice calm and humming. Maybe just as glad that glasses are tucked on her nose, obscuring her eyes from an ever-observant pair. The last thing she needs is Kara reading her like some ancient Babylon manuscript. "That they've made it easier for you. Who knows, maybe we'll find something that wins the war." Cat tucks her newly materialized gun by her hip. A chuckling laugh, "Sounds about as likely as me getting the chance to wear a dress, anytime soon, doesn't it? But, hmm...a chance is better than none, isn't it?" 

━━━━

“No I wouldn’t!” Kara nearly spoke up without thinking when Cat took another bite and realized her leg was probably being pulled. That is what the humans called it, right? “Promise, I’m not going to turn you into a blue blueberry like willy wonka,” okay, the thought made Kara giggle a little bit, because it was one of the movies that Eliza showed her when she was a kid. She looked over at Cat as she had her gun back and she was sure her sense of security returned. Though here on Nox, there was nothing to worry about.

A grin crossed her lips as she looked over to her. “I’m sure you look great,” She said and then raised a brow. “One day, right?” Eyes watched each chevron entered until the bright blue wave erupted and Kara stared for a moment in awe. It never ceased to amaze her. “I’m sure the Nox wouldn’t mind if you stayed for a little bit, if you ever get a chance,” Kara chuckled and gave a shrug. “I’m going to hold you to that. When we win, you get to wear a dress. There’s always a chance,” A simple challenge, but always something that she enjoyed. “Come on, let’s go!” Kara said as she stepped through the gate, a little too eager to travel again.

━━━━

“Stay on some peaceful, non-violent planet where I don’t constantly have to look over my shoulder? Sounds a little.” The gust of wind dances up hair, fingers curling around metal, lips barely twitching upwards, settling the half-eating faux-pple in the bag. Leave no trace, Thoreau would be proud. “Boring, don’t you think? Even at Thanksgiving I have to step around a landmine or two, no--no. I’m not the type the Nox are looking for. But I could always call Stevie Nicks to fill in--she’d love it.” There’s something about the wind here that reminds her of the softly settling breeze in green trees in Istanbul and it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch of the imagination to feel like she’s home. No guns, and all. 

She steps through before Kara can and raises her own, ready, feeling the chill of ice on her bones. The immediate snow whipping through the air--wind. Something undoubtedly boring and full of science about the displacement of thermodynamics that she could just hear Luthor prattling on about in the background, a small little bubble of warmth following them past the explosion outwards before blue sinks back into the portal, both of them on the ramp. 

The warmth doesn’t last long. It’s immediately freezing and Grant tosses Kara her gun, casually shouting over the wind and ice, knowing they have a few pit-stops to pluck back up her gear — “Hope you remember how to use it—” before she rushes over to the DHD, slamming in coordinates before her hand can freeze to the platform, dipping down to knees in order to roughly knock off the platform in front of it, sliding a small little hanging device off of the edge of the plug-in for the panel before replacing it. Slipping it into her bag, cooling fingers untangling that rope. Waiting until that boom happens one more time, a rush of blue expanding outwards before it settles, a shimmering portal once more highlighting the darkened snow—

One down, three to go. 

Cat pushes Kara through it since it’s hard to see in the settling flurry of snow, not really giving her the chance, otherwise, really. A little like old times.

The next planet’s heat is enough to cause whiplash in nerves and Cat nods towards a small little clearing of purple trees down ahead, “Pit-stop.” Continuing, tugging up the rope and leaving mini-Danvers with the gun. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think your real desire to help is the opportunity,” In the time she’s talked, she’s popped open this panel, as well, hissing at the heat of whatever kind of metal this is searing the edge of her fingertips underneath the sun, rummaging around for a few seconds before the small little black attachment has disappeared inside. “To see me in a dress. Oh, not that I blame you. Annie Lennox and I have several things in common, Kara—a questionable phase in college, a distaste for producers--” She hops upwards, slinging the rope around her shoulder, “And we both look fantastic in dresses and suits, alike. Dress blues do great things for my bedroom eyes.” For the first time, she moves forward to pat Kara’s shoulder, hand lingering, suddenly serious, “You alright? It’s been a while since you’ve been through.”

 ━━━━

"After being constantly busy, a little peace never hurts," Kara said, as she looked at her. "Don't tell me you haven't enjoyed a moment of quiet just reading a book or sketching or anything?" She questioned, almost baffled and then stared at her. "You...what?" Sometimes, Kara forgets that Cat isi n the military. "Well, you deserve a normal thanksgiving. Though I do not quite understand why humans do Thanksgiving," Kara moved as she followed Cat through at first.

The gate was cold, once again, as she took a breath letting the warm air warm her lungs again. Except when she breathed in it was freezing cold and Kara wasn't prepared or dressed for this. She caught the gun, and nodded, shivering within seconds as her outfit was think and ill crafted. Before Kara had a chance to think she was pushed through the gate and tripped onto the metal platform, staring up at the gate as Cat came through.

"Next time, warn me about the cold. I'm not exactly dressed for that," But what was a chill was now sweat as she turned to look at the purple treeline (it reminded her of the forest of Krypton) and shifted the gun in her hands (she was always better with a pen rather then a weapon). A blush came to her cheeks that she hoped would be an excuse that the planet was so hot, and chuckled. "I didn't mean, its not like, its just...." Kara stumbled over her words, as she reached up and rubbed her temple a little. "I, uh, da....what?" Kara nearly fell over if not for the fact she was on her two feet. Every inch of her paused as she felt her shoulder touched and shook her head. "I'll be alright, its a little dizzy, its has been awhile,"

━━━━

A slow eyebrow arches upwards at the impressive tongue tie and it's this moment that Cat will never admit she missed Kara, a little. It's not like she made Luthor or J'onn nervous. Or...have emotions. She forgot how easy it was to rattle the other woman and wonders, not for the first time, what kind of weapon of mass destruction that gou'ald could really be with this as its cover.

But, then again, Cat also knew Kara Danvers was more than met the eye. 

Fingers curl--squeeze around the shoulder--before she pulls away. "Breathe, Kara. I can't have you hyperventilating." The hand moves up to pat her cheek twice, as well, before pulling away, entirely, heading towards those trees with rope in hand. "I left a few things I have a feeling we're going to need." Their emergency button, return home button being one of them. She'd rather not meet the other end of the eye without it opening if they do wind up having to go back to earth. "You didn't exactly give me much of a chance to warn you about packing before you started leaving. Someone had cabin fever."

Cat knows what that feels like. Which is likely why she doesn't linger on the subject of relaxing very long. 

"No, I've been stationed away the majority of the year." But Kara doesn't have to know the why. Need to know. And Kara likely carries enough guilt for both of them, already. Cat doesn't want to pile onto it. And she doesn't linger on that, either. "But I'd still rather be dodging actual landmines than having a conversation over martinis with my mother. And I thought you were the archaeologist, if you suddenly can't tell me the extensive backstory of a holiday, I've lost my faith." Lips twitch, heading towards the trees. 

 ━━━━

       "I never said I didn't understand the background and reasoning behind Thanksgiving, just it seems a little irrelevant at the same time. But then again, Americans do love their food," Kara mused lightly, and then shrugged. "And I like the food to so... Apple pie is the best home cooked desert I have ever tasted in my life." Hence the apple-like fruit she loved to collect on Gaia while she was there and living.

Kara shifted her dress, moving with her toward the tree as she shifted the gun to hang off a strap on her shoulder. The first thing she did was pull out her gou'ald weapon instead, fitting it onto her hand, each gold tip on a finger as she looked over toward Cat.

A breath came from her lips, one, two, three. "What can I say, I was ready to go do something. Even when I do have to go back, at least I had one more adventure," She smiled, and she truly meant that. Kara wasn't one to just sit at home, pick plants and live in the forest house. It was nice, but it wasn't something Kara could do forever.

━━━━

"We love our food, guns, and occasionally pretentious nationalism and freedom--it's what we're fighting for." Her voice might be dry, but her eyes haven't fallen from their surroundings for a moment, listening. Watching. When their feet crunch along underbrush, there's something familiar in it and cat is quietly thankful for each side step in count because it's just two sets of footprints, each time. 

Any soldier who claims they like a fight hasn't been in enough of them to understand how exhausting they are, and after enough detours to find the federal DOT a run for their money, she'll avoid them as much as possible. 

Shoulders tense for a moment at the sight of the glove before fingers flex around the rope, the trees coming a little clearer into sight, the scent of an unfamiliar forest settling in lungs. Right. Kara supposedly knows how to use one of those. The last couple of times cat had been close enough to see one, it wasn't pleasant. "You know, if you don't come back…" Lips part. Purse. The smallest sigh before she continues on, serious, "If Earth is stupid enough to shun you, there are other places you could go. We only took you to the Nox because we knew they would keep you safe and wouldn't let anyone take you back to Earth. It was our only option. It doesn't mean it's yours."

 ━━━━

       Kara didn't know much about the guns and nationalism, she was never truly a part of it here. But perhaps in Krypton, she understood that before. It was a long time ago, it almost felt impossible to remember. She was silent from that moment, just letting the sentence hover on the air instead. She followed her to the area, watching her pull on the rope, gathering what she needed. 

A breath sucked through her lungs at the fated words. Kara really honestly didn't want to think about that. Honestly, there was nowhere safe. The Nox was the only true safe place at the moment. Ken'tha told her about the assassins, and each world she has gone to, the distaste of goa'uld anything was pretty much hated .

"It is," Kara stated, nothing else to truly be spoken. "Its okay, I've accepted it. Like I said, they are kind, far kinder than any other planet could be," She took a breath, pushing a smile to her lips to prevent any show of sadness behind it. It's the last thing Cat needed to worry about, and there was no point in worrying about something that couldn't be fixed.

━━━━

“That’s what happens when an entire planet turns away from violence.” Cat hypothesises, anyways. Back still tighter than it ever used to be when she was younger. But it’s not like she has to explain that to Kara, of all people. She can’t quite remember how the air in any room might feel, anymore, without eyes that immediately snap up to the exits. Eyes linger on Kara for a long moment before she tugs off the rope from her shoulder before wrapping a round of it around her wrist, “Peace is a luxury we can’t afford.” Her voice is quiet, that crunching of her boots stopping next to a tree, hefting up the edge of the rope before tossing it over a branch hidden by shimmering, purple leaves. The rope is a hefty, familiar weight as warming fingers start to work the end she just tossed over into a harness by her hips. “And neither can you, right now, since you’re officially guarding my six. Try not to stare too hard at it.” A sharp tug on the rope before she’s climbing up both hanging strands, disappearing up into the tree for a few moments before a bag suddenly appears next to Kara, falling from one of the higher branches, and Cat once more materializes next to it, this time with hair tucked inside her hat and a familiar jacket curved around shoulders. Fingers curl upwards in gesture, “Alright, I want my gun back, since you’ve--have you had that this entire time?” The rope is shoved into the second bag. What a few bigwigs wouldn’t do for that tech, alone. Forging ever on-wards: “If you were someone that could stay on a peaceful planet for longer than anyone told you to, you would have stayed on Krypton. It’s funny what a good heart and an unwillingness to stand aside can do.” It’s hardly a judgmental statement, even as the eyebrow arches upwards. Because Cat, clearly, would prefer Kara stay on whatever planet the Nox homeworld is without the P in front of it, but that’s the funny thing about injustice and believing that the universe would benefit far greater with Kara Danvers’ contribution in it instead of without it. “What about the Tok’ra?”

 ━━━━

       Kara smiled softly, the comment something she agreed with. But the other thing made Kara nod her head. "I know," Her fingers flexed with the device on her hand, and while she had the gun, she's had more time with this one rather then the gun (plus she was never a fan of the sidearm). "I got it," 

After a few minutes, Kara gave back the guna and then looked down at her hand. "Yes?" Kara said, not quite sure why it was a surprise. A little thought passed her mind and then gave a shrug. "I... wear my heart on my sleeve." The thought brought a small smile on her lips before thinking about that. "I'm not sure the way the Tok'ra work is something I can work with myself," Kara said. The Tok'ra were very much the kind of people of the ends justice the means.

Including some of the things they have done. Kara wasn't sure she could deal with living among them with some of their views. "Its fine, Cat. Really, don't worry," Kara smiled as she touched her shoulder.

━━━━

“Cute.” Lips barely twitch upwards underneath the familiar rim of sunglasses. It seems to dance up her cheeks like sunshine might, if the shade wasn’t obscuring it beneath the rims’ lofty weight and though the flicker is imperceptible in eyes behind their shield, it’s evident in the faintest way her shoulder tightens and then relaxes underneath Kara’s hand. “You know,” Her hand comes up to a wrist, curving around the faintest dip of a pulse beneath unfamiliar metal. If the goa’uld’s tech is even made from metal. “It’s funny.” She squeezes before hefting up the gun, “I remember saying the same thing to Olivia about the Air Force. It seems like we all do things our conscience wouldn’t allow under the guise of the right thing. I don’t like the Tok’ra, either.” She acknowledges, humming, “But you don’t have to like yourself in a war. We all just do the best we can. There’s always a better to strive towards, don’t get me wrong. I could never just sit by. But if you want to,” A shrug, starting the trek towards the gate, “Enjoy the fake apples. The peace looks like it’s done you well.” For once, it’s not sarcastic. “Come on, we’ll gate to that mirror of yours.”

━━━━

Kara barely caught the smile, just barely there as she shifted back to her side, moving her hand away as she noticed the tension at first. Kara had always wanted to talk about it but she doesn’t. It's just...Cat. Though Kara still wonders. Kara pushed her lips to the side and nods a little, because Kara wouldn’t change herself just to fit in somewhere. What kind of person would she be, and what would that say about the way she wanted to do things. But honestly, she was learning things from the Nox, and when they had visitors as well.

“It's not about liking myself. It's about keeping my morals intact. If I waver on that, I lose who I am, what I stand for. Maybe I’m being too stubborn, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just too young,” 

But Kara paused, looking at Cat as she walked toward the gate not quite sure how to respond to that. Because while the peace was nice, she was still itching to help. To get back out there and help. She didn’t want to….just sit around and do nothing. That’s why she was doing this. Kara nodded her head as she followed, watching Cat enter the new gate dialup

━━━━

“Clearly just too young!” Cat readily agrees over the boom of naquadah flooding the space in front of them in a large puff of blue before it retracts, a shimmering pool of something not at all close to water hovering in front of them. “That’s what the Nox say about all of us humans, isn’t it? Or, hmm, well,” A gesture towards Kara’s stomach before realizing Junior’s probably wrapped around her spine, instead. It’s not the first time she’s wondered, since she found out, just how much of Kara she knew, and how much of it was...Ken’tha. It’s been a year, and she’s still getting used to the idea. A little faster than the rest of the SG had, but it’s admittedly taken time, whether she admits that, or not. Even now, she can’t help but wonder--

Well, that’s a little pointless, isn’t it? Wondering doesn’t do anyone any favors.

What does liking herself mean to Kara--to Ken-tha--to a Kryptonian, or a Goa’uld, or a human.

“I’m sure they’d say it to you, too. Not the Kryptonian. Or the Goa’uld. You’re not really like either side, are you? Either of you...both of you. Whatever you, you are.” A huff through nostrils at her own words being minced, a rarity. Continuing, “Maybe everyone’s young, outside of the people who refuse to enter a war, even when there’s a choice to. I don’t see the Nox standing here willing to help. You’re leaving, aren’t you? Young. Unwise. Uncultured. How brutish. Or...maybe,” It drawls out, “You’re just holding onto that idealism of yours. Nice to see it hasn’t changed, apparently. That’s fine, the rest of us are completely content living in a universe full of grays and good intent that falls on its face the moment we pull a trigger. Alright, ,” She hefts up her favorite method of good intent, metal glistening under sunlight. Her wrist gestures towards the portal with a flick of the gun, calmly walking up the ramp, jacket once more settled on shoulders--unscuffed as much as the rest of her outfit is. “Lady with the gun first.” Muttering before she disappears through the portal, maybe a reflection of her own: “I always get the fun job.”

━━━━

Kara had to hold back a laugh, the fact that Cat readily agreed with that thought a little too fast. When Cat gestured to her stomach, it confused her at first before it clicked what she was meaning. Honestly, Kara didn't know about herself. Kara knew she was Kryptonian. Her psyicology said that, and her religion and concepts and culture was all sitll Kryptonian. But Ken'tha, she was goa'uld, but she wasn't like the goa'uld. She was something else.

They, were something else.

Could Kara even claimed to be a Kryptonian anymore? Honestly, it was something she tried not to think about. She didn't fit into a pretty box, but then again what world, what culture, what customs and traditions truly fit into a box when they were all ever changing? "Its hard to say what we are. Ken'tha and I, I think we are something that has never happened before. The Tok'ra aren't really goa'uld, though scientifically, they are the same species. But Ken'tha wasn't born into their world. Nor was she truly a part of the Goa'uld. She's...different." But that was another story for another time. Focus on one concept at a time, Kara. A chuckle left her lips as she followed her toward the stargate, once more traveling through it, this time it not bothering her as much. 

Kara's eyes honed in on their surroundings, jumping back into old habits of being alert and trying to learn the surroundings quickly. "Where are we now?"

━━━━

Boots are tilted on the ground, crouched near the DHD by the time Kara follows through. The gun is tucked up in her palms, at the ready, hand up in a signal before it lowers. Habit. A habit that doesn't really die, stomach clenching and unclenching when all she hears is silence. There's no guarantee, after all, that this is as abandoned as they're now assuming. Cat doesn't like leaving things up to chance unless she's three glasses in at a roulette table. 

But, then again, one of the perks of being under constant lock and key is that she's horrendously sober all of the time. 

"That's on a need to know." The comment is flippant--smiling--rising up when she's positive that nothing is about to shoot either of them. The bunker is expansive and still mostly empty, sheets covering various artifacts they haven't bothered devoting time to studying. "P3R-233. This way to your museum. Hopefully some of this is actually useful." And there's that clenching, again. Her gut taut, anxious. The same reason she thought it was a hunch in the first place. A serious question. A hint of a well-buried journalist peeking through Atlanta the edges. "What makes you think you're both different?" 

━━━━

Kara glanced around, a smirk on her lips at the comment before pausing as she moved over and lifted up the canvas over the other artifacts. Kara’s eyes were bright, filled with amazement because all of this was like an archeologist’ dream. But against all want, she put the cloth down and moved over back to Cat’s side, ready to see the bigger thing, the mirror in that picture. “Well, think about it,” Kara said as she looked for what might be similar to the picture. “Ken’tha is a goa’uld,” She paused as Ken’tha still didn’t like being called that anymore. “But, she’s not really a goa’uld anymore. Kind of like the Tok’ra do not see themselves as goa’uld anymore either. Been they became Tok’ra hundreds of thousands of years ago, and have since deviated from that past, changing. Ken’tha was born into the goa’uld ranks, she was the greek goddess, Ken. The Goddess of Love, but she was to take on the new godhood of… ironically my namesake. Kara, the Kryptonian Goddess of love. Except she didn’t. She revolted. She’s not a Tok’ra, but she’s not part of the Goa’uld culture either. She’s… different,” Kara wasn’t even sure if any of this was making sense, but she was trying her best to explain.

“And I’m Kryptonian, by body, yes, and I still follow my culture even now. But, I’ve lived on Earth for so long, and I’m bonded with Ken’tha. We are one of the same, in a way. So, she is neither goa’uld nor am I fully Kryptonian anymore. I guess, basically, we are what we want to be.” She said finally as she paused at the doorway.

“Wait, isn’t this the room in the picture?”

━━━━

“The one and only.” The gun is tucked against her hip--never very far from her person, these days, unless she’s apparently traipsing through Nox-guarded meadows--and it stays that way, even as she comes closer to the mirror. Anyone who thinks she doesn’t have a reason to be apprehensive about things like this hasn’t been stabbed through the stomach by a sentient crystal being from another planet. She’s a little rightfully leery, in her book. “It’s almost like we can’t all be chalked up to where we were born.” 

How many years had Cat thought Kara was human? How many years would it have mattered? There’s a long, lean alligator of a woman a few planets or so away whose fingers are slender when hidden and eyes nearly red underneath shadows but the colonel is left wondering if she’s ever known any of Kara, at all. Maybe she has. Maybe she hasn’t. But maybe no one knows much of Cat, either.

But that’s a little pointless to wonder, too, voice calm and a little carefully bored despite the firm grip on her gun. “So...what do you think about your brand new television set?” Without a word, she tugs off the cloth over the mirror, eyebrows raising. “You know, there’s a chance it could just be that everyone else is as vain as people on Earth everywhere.” 

━━━━

“I’m still Kara,” She looked over at Cat, as if reading her mind. “I know there is no way to prove that Ken’tha isn’t in control, but it really is me.” Kara wondered if perhaps that was a stupid thing to say. By saying that, she might just instill doubt into the woman more. But, she had been working with them for a year, and Ken’tha preferred to stay quiet. Ken’tha didn’t like to take over, anything she had to offer she did so by their mind blending. “Okay, maybe that was dumb. Since I have no way to prove it…” She whispered to herself, because now she wondered how many thought that.

Did her sister think it?

That thought just made it hurt more.

She paused as she moved toward the mirror, staring at it with awe intent. “This, is amazing,” She said, as she turned and looked at the table. Her eyes scanned everything, but one thing stood one. She picked up the device, her hand brushing over it a few times, as the light turned on briefly before fading. “This is not like any of the artifacts here. And the entire room, it's definitely a lab. I have one back at the institute,” She said, looking all around but then back to the mirror. “But these two things, there the only ones that aren’t connected to them. This is amazing, it must be some sort of device, perhaps a recorder, or something else,” Kara started talking as she walked around the large stone mirror, and paused in front of it, leaning forward just slightly, and waving her hand over it. “Huh, but it's not a mirror at all,” She spoke more to herself, as she was better at thinking out loud.

She looked down at the device that was still powered on, looking much like the blue glow of the stargate. Then she reached up to touch the mirror, wondering if it would do anything. “I think that, that dev--” When she turned around, no one was there. “Grant?” She questioned, stepping away from the mirror, and searching around, stepping out of the room. “Cat Grant!” Her voice echoed, confused. What had just happened?

What transpired left Kara stunned, confused, but mainly, knowing she had to tell General Marsdin. She had to tell Cat. She had to tell them all, otherwise…

Earth was doomed.

Traveling back was a bit more difficult then coming through, and when she finally came through the mirror, her ivory outfit was tarnished with her red blood. HEr arm was severely wounded, the side of her face bleeding as well. Even with Ken’tha, this would take time to heal, and any regular human would die from it. She held the piece of paper in her hand as she looked around, not seeing Cat. If it had been the full day as she had in this alternate reality, then Cat would have had to leave. She held no fault. But she was about to do something that Cat would most likely lecture her on. There was no other choice. Her hand left bloody prints over each symbol. Earth. She was going back to earth. She reached into her bag, pulling out another thing she conveniently didn’t turn over and punched in the digits that she was a friendly. However, she collapsed to her knee, as she took a breath. Resolve the only thing helping her move forward despite the amount of pain she was in.

The chill of the stargate only lasted a second as she tumbled out the other side, her bag rolling down the metal ramp, and the hand holding the piece of paper in hand. Her vision was fuzzy, she could barely see anything, but she could make out the silhouettes of her former team. And then everything simple went black.

━━━━

Final straw. It’s a cute little two-word phrase Colonel Catherine Jane Grant is intimately familiar with. The last day a haze. Her fingers are bloodied and hair still strung with grease, but the rest of her remains hunched on the bed, fingers twirling a fountain pen between tips above her palm.

The position she’s currently in is familiar, too, given the fact that chains are hanging from her limbs, body curled on the edge of a cot. Her cell and home for the past year.

“You tied my hands.”

“Well that’s a shame, Olivia. I didn’t even buy you dinner first.”

“Cat, for fuck’s sake, this isn’t a game—”

No, it’s definitely not a game. They’re closing down the Stargate program, Cat’s being shipped to something close to Guantanamo, Kara is still missing and despite her immediately coming back to try to mobilize a unit—

“You could stare harder, Luthor, or just snap a polaroid and put it on your wall.” Cat calls from the bed, feeling the Captain lingering. Hesitant. But there’s no sign of a smile, or a sharp quip, or anything short of something pressing.

“It’s Kara.” Luthor offers and Cat immediately sits up on the bed, handcuffs rattling in a way that makes the airman to the right stiffen.

“At ease, bagboy.” Her voice is sharp and at least Lena has a little bit of sympathy because she returns the phrase loud enough for it to actually matter, the airman turning the other way. Cat’s fingers wring knees before she shifts closer. As close as she can, anyways, because Luthor shouldn’t look so pale, unless they found her and— “Is she—”

And then Lena explains the rest of it. Which is how Cat finds herself, an hour and a half and a fidgety airman unusually compliant later, sporting a black eye in the middle of the medical bay next to Kara’s bed and Danvers. Who should probably be recused from duty, but isn’t, despite the fact that Kara’s tied to the bed far tighter than Cat is.

“How’d you get the black eye?” Marsdin asks from the doorway, the room clear in medical save for the three of them.

“I’m told I’m mouthy, but I have no complaints other than this raging migraine. Imagine that, I didn’t even get to see who did it.”

Maybe it’s the final straw of Liv’s that allows her to stay in the room until Kara wakes up, Cat’s arms crossed as she twirls her pen, chained to the bed next to her.

“Must have been some hell of a television.” Cat greets. No longer caring that the room is bugged. That all the rooms are bugged. That knot in her stomach taut and…furious and far too glad to see she’s alive to care. “Why the fuck did you come back here?” Comes out before she asks, “What the hell happened?” 

━━━━

It took some time for her body to recover, that she was unaware of what was even happening at first. Her head was pounding, the headache must have been from hitting the metal so hard, or just the pain she had to deal with. Kara blinked her eyes, when everything came rushing back. Cat, Alex, Lena, Teal’c, they were all… dead. No, not here, but there. Whatever that world was. Her arms jerked up, before realizing they weren’t going anywhere. She was pretty much locked down in the bed, and it took a few seconds to put two and two together. 

“Cat, you have to tell them!” Kara tried to speak quickly  but all she got was a groan after her lips, as her shoulder was still sore. “It wasn’t a TV. Why would you… It was a plane of existence. Like, you were there, and Alex, everyone. Just, not the way you are here. It was some sort of different world, an alternate world unlike this but… Cat, they are coming. The Goa’uld, they are going to make a strike.” Kara looked down toward the restraints (why did they think this was necessary? She’s never tried to kill any of them!) as she threw her head back, clearly annoyed with her situation. Alex was already by her side, as she looked at her sister, and she could see the worry in her face. And then she noticed Lena across the bed as well.

“You all have to believe me. That piece of paper, that’s the key. I don’t know what it is, I didn’t have time. The Goa’uld…. they killed everyone. All I know is that, what they were saying…” Kara paused as she stared at the ceiling, closing her eyes. “It translated to ‘They are coming’.” She curled her fingers into a fist as she took a breath. “I know what my sentence is,” she looked at all of them, because Mayborne and whoever else would love to get their hands on them. “But it won’t matter if there is no Earth to come back to,” Kara stared at the entire team, then looked back at Cat.

━━━━

“Kara--” Cat tries to interrupt, but she just keeps on going and Cat finds her lips pressed thinner and thinner. Pale underneath the garish contrast of her eye. “Slow down.” Her voice has dropped any sense of nonchalance, something sharp and steel in her gaze and jaw. The sort of thing that might make both soldiers by the bedside thoughtlessly tighten out of habit, and her own chains don’t rattle, this time, as she sits up. “You’re telling me you transported somewhere--to somewhere where we all died which, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re all here--and you think this is going to happen to us because…?” The question hangs in the air, a hint of frustration barely peeking through underneath it. “What, like the mirror sent you to an alternate universe? We’re not in an H.G Wells novel, Kara. Ignoring the...particularly large space portal outside.” 

“Well, it is possible--” Luthor supplies and Cat holds her groan behind teeth, holding up a hand that rattles underneath cuffs to stem it. 

“Who is they?” She cuts over before she can get a science lecture, focusing solely on Kara. “For all you know, you just got knocked out, teleported somewhere by someone like the Asgardians, and all of what you saw was some kind of freudian nightmare dream. Which, in case anyone has forgotten, has also almost happened to us, before. Without the teleporting.”  

━━━━

“Thank you,” Kara said toward Lena, at least she seemed to follow what she was talking about. “I’m not talking about some story or book, Cat. I literally went to a different world in a different time. That wasn’t a mirror, it was a transportation device.”

A pause in her voice, as she leaned her head back (she couldn’t do much when her wrist and legs and neck was strapped down against this bed like she was some serial killer). “I don’t know ‘who’ is they. Just that it was said, over and over on a message. And they were repeating those symbols on that piece of paper I brought back.” Kara turned her head, giving a look to Cat as if she had just said something that made no sense. “A nightmare dream. A nightmare dream that caused me to pretty much bleed out and pass out?” She pointed her hand toward her arm which still hurt, but her finger was directed toward that direction.

“It wasn’t a dream Cat. IT was real, I was there. You have to trust me. Please,”

━━━━

“What piece of paper? What symbols?” Eyes flick up to Luthor, an eyebrow arching. That information was decidedly lacking before the black eye.

“I believe Kara Danvers refers to this piece of paper.” Teal’C—because of course he does, since he loves withholding information until the last minute, apparently—performs some kind of magic trick, a piece of paper suddenly held up between them. Cat’s eyes flick back to Luthor, who immediately grabs it and starts pouring over it, before Cat calmly looks back towards Kara. “It was clasped in her hand before she lost consciousness. I did not see the benefit of leaving it with Senator Kinsey.”

“No one sees the benefit of leaving anything with Senator Kinsey, Teal’c.” Grant agrees, gaze still settled on Kara. Assessing. Thinking, despite what follows. “There’s nothing we can do, Kara. There is no SGC. No stargate. The program is being dismantled, Teal’c over there—you remember Teal’c, don’t you? Wave, Teal’c—“ Teal’c, obviously, does not wave, “Is going back to Chu’lak, Luthor over there is going somewhere I no longer have clearance to know about, and your glaring, delightfully broody sister is probably going to have the benefit of watching you be tortured because you were too stubborn to stay on planet Flower-child.”

Cat doesn’t point out where she’s going, instead continuing, seriously:

“They’re not listening to reason. Or me. You should be focused on getting out of here.”

“What was the recording?” Luthor asks, paper practically glued to her nose it’s so close, clearly not listening to the conversation. Cat’s glance upwards is as dry as her voice might be and there might be a mumbled response quietly to herself of “Sorry...ma’am.” And damn if the curiosity didn’t kill the Colonel, those thin lips pressing thinner. Sighing.

Oh, what the hell.

“Let’s say, against, oh…all.” A heavy-winded sigh, Cat’s eyes moving up to the ceiling before looking back, once more, “Better judgment and common sense, I trust you…why. “Pointed. “ Do you think something bad is going to happen here?”

━━━━

Kara had to take a breath, because her mind was reeling over everything that had happened and all she can do think that they had to do something. And they had to do something now! While they discussed the whole paper, she just laid there, trying to let the previous hours come into understanding. Alex’s hand touched her shoulder, as Kara looked over at her, worry on her mind. Kara would have touched her hand, but there wasn’t anything she could do besides look at her.

Eyes turned back toward the group. “No stargate...What…” Kara pushed her brows together because this was their number one defense against the goa’uld and shutting it down…. “Stop,” Kara said, not wanting to hear anymore about where everyone is going. “It kept repeating they are coming,” Kara said, looking at Lena and then over toward Cat. “Yes. What happened in that alternate universe. The Goa’uld ships came to earth, and they were destroying ever human life on earth. They weren’t taking prisoners, they were simple eradicating everyone and everything. Starting with the big cities. Washington, Philadelphia, even Egypt,” Kara thought back to it and finally spoke again.

"It was a transmission that came from their earth, the alternate one. They said they received it 3 months before the invasion. It said "Beware the destroyers. They come from-- and the rest is broken." She looked over at Cat and pointed at that. “Whatever it came from, whoever it came from, it came from the planet where that mirror was on. They know something that we didn’t know. But I’m pertty sure what I saw, the invasion. Its coming to us. So, screw any court martial that might be coming your way, screw the senator, I don’t care about any of that. If we don’t do something, maybe go through the stargate with those symbols I wrote down on that paper, then all this experimental, court martial, going to a different unit. It won’t matter if we are all dead,” Kara said, as she threw her head back, ignoring the headache she was getting. 

“I don’t know how, but we have to go. That is the key,”

━━━━

Cat is quiet, lips still pressed in that thin line, eyes tracking every dip and valley of Kara's face that she had only just seen for a minute before she was gone for a minute.

The empty planet. The planet that they were just on that didn't have a single soul, with no transmissions, no fancy symbols, no one there warning them. There was no radio crackling on their Earth, and Kara was recently discovered to be a goa'uld, a viable national--global--threat of species who impersonate, infiltrate, and twist the world's best until they're bent at their knees in subjugation. 

"You expect me to tell everyone on this team to ignore a presidential order--to go against everything we respect on some fever dream you had on another planet regarding an invasion that may, or may not happen." It's drawled, face unmoving before she sits a little further upwards, cuffs rattling as she looks between her team. 

Risking everything on a hunch? Betting on the fact that Kara is not only of sound mind, but that it isn't just a trap to lead the goa'uld right to them? Betting on Kara, period. 

"Well, you heard her, let's go." She gestures towards the cuffs and then Danvers, the only one here with the keys. "I'm not ordering any of you to do this. I can't order any of you to do this, anymore. We don't know what will be on the other end of that gate, but you bet your ass I'm not going to risk it being true. It's likely a one-way mission, either way. No one here has to go." Eyes flick up to Luthor--Teal'c, whose brow arching matches her own--Danvers before settling on Kara. 

They could tell everyone Kara and Cat escaped, overpowered them. But Cat has every intent of going to the guns locker. If they're heading towards a fleet--an army--an...anything that isn't a High school dance, she's going to be prepared to save Earth from it. 

She hopes there's nothing on the other end. That it's just a wild goose chase. 

But if it's not-- 

Her voice is strong, firm. Unwavering. She'll bet every hunch on Kara Danvers and her little tag-along. What else does she have to lose?

"I'm with you and Junior."

━━━━

Kara looked over at Cat, waiting quietly as she didn't seem to speak. Only the clink of the cuff as Kara knew she passed the wrong boundary. "Um... When you put it that way..." Okay, maybe that wast stupid. She didn't have proof, she was just going on what she saw. She didn't know why, but she was just absolutely sure those charons were where they had to go.

She expected a shout of no. Instead, she got something completely different. Alex was already smirking, working on the straps and releasing Kara, tossing Lena the key to release Cat at the same time. Kara sat up, rubbing her wrist, her hand pressed against her shoulder which was pretty much healed now. "Thank you, Cat" She silently thanked Ken'tha for helping her heal, as she got up, and grabbing a jacket and a change of clothes that was in the corner. "Col Grant, with all do respect, your crazy if you think I'm going to let you and my sister go without me," Major Danvers responded, raising a slight eyebrow toward Grant.

"I'm good with a gun as I am with medical," Alex added and moved over, standing next to the bed and Kara came back changed in something a bit more ready for a mission then the gown she was stuck in. "How do we get out of here? You guys help me escape last time," 

━━━━

"In my experience, Major." Lips twitch upwards, "The words 'with all do respect' are a politician's and soldier's way of saying 'fuck you'. Hopefully," Grant rolls now-free wrists, nodding up at Luthor without another word, pointing, signalling towards the door. Luthor immediately moves. Now that they've decided, they won't have time for anything else. First step, make it through the gate. Second step, blow everything up on the other side, likely. They're good at improvisation. "You won't have to showcase just how good you are, Danvers. Tactical espionage 101, Kara. Have someone on the team accidentally, or intentionally, who knows with Luthor, flirt with that nerdy IT guy of yours for months." She probably just smiled at him. "And happen to have enough brains to get us through the gate. Danvers, take care of your sister, bring her to the gate. Call in a medical emergency two floors up, that will clear the bay. Teal'c, we're loading up. Explosives, the big kind. If you're good to go, all of us load and stay in formation to the gate. No one hurt anyone on the way out. We're all the good guys. Questions?" 

She hops up like it's just another Tuesday, slipping the pen into her pocket before moving towards the exit, not actually waiting for a rebuttal, tossing over her shoulder before popping into the nearby armory unit, tossing a few guns back. "Good. Clock's ticking." 

━━━━

   Alex pushed her lips together and shrugged a little. So maybe that was a bit of a fuck you, but in a way that she would never let these two out of her site. She was their doctor, Kara was her sister, and she would protect them at all cost. "Wherever you two go, I'm going," She nodded. "Yes sir," Alex added.

Kara listened in as the two agreed with the plan. Easy enough for Kara, she wasn't exactly what you called Stealthy. "Find my bag," Kara said to Cat, because the items she had in there would be useful for all of them. Alex glanced at Kara, knowing what she meant and looked at Cat. "They were put in the armory with the rest of the weapons. Not hard to find," She added. Once everyone had the job figured out, Alex reached over, grabbing a medical bag she could take with her.

Both Kara and Alex headed down the hall, Kara had her hair pulled up and under the hat, making it less lightly for anyone to notice. Alex put her hand on Kara's shoulder, as the door open. The gate was already starting to move, knowing any second that the alarm would be going on.

━━━━

Being a still-respected individual stripped of title and prestige wasn’t as big of a band of red as it used to be. People are so used to her barking orders at them, by this point, that the majority listen before hesitation kicks in--logic. Memory. All of them going ‘oh, yeah, Cat Grant saved our lives, that one time, but she’s an enemy of the state, now’ a few minutes too late. Enough minutes that both Teal’c and Cat have managed to get into the armoury by the time an alarm sounds above them, lights flashing. Enough that she can toss a few guns a few airmen’s ways so that even when they hesitate, they keep moving. 

“Look at me, later! We’ve got a base to defend! Move!” A smirk towards Teal’c a few moments later, “I know, I’m good at that. I like to think in that alternate world of Kara’s, I was constantly yelling at people, it’s really where my management skills shine, don’t you think?”

Teal’c’s eyebrow raise. 

The sound of boots continuously passing them by is music to her ears and it’s not long before Teal’c is hefting up two bags and Cat swings by to grab not only Kara’s...but a hat, as well. There’s no telling what planet they’re about to wind up on, after all, tucking the hat down and calmly starting to walk towards the gate room.

Having to knock out two soldiers before they can shoot Luthor is small play given the fact that they’re essentially trying to jailbreak the most defended national secret in the States. 

Which they’re doing, exactly two minutes, later, listening to the sound of Marsdin and Senator Kinsey in the gate room behind them, locked in, as Grant blockades the door and Luthor gets their authorization device ready. 

The gate’s opened with a boom and Cat tosses Kara her bag, saluting towards the open windows in front of them before the windows slam down. 

“No second guesses, SG-1.” Grant pats Danvers’ shoulder--solid--a member, now, if there ever was one, before curling fingers over the other Danvers’ shoulder. The one that’s not wounded, anyways, as a welcome back.

Before pushing everyone towards the open gate because she has no intent to get shot at by the airmen and marines on the other side of the door. 

━━━━

And, if on cue, there went the alarm. Kara felt her feet itching, looking up and mouthing a small sorry to Winn, because he didn't deserve this. Maybe she could make it up to him one day. If they made it out of this. With was a big if. Eyes looked up toward Marsdin, not sure what to do at the moment so instead focused on the gate. Both Kara and Alex looked at each other and then at Cat with one single movement. A nod of agreement.

They were sisters, and blood didn't matter. Moving through the gate, they all moved through and then Kara looked behind, watching it closed. This... wasn't like any gate they had gone through, and then Ken'tha whispered into her mind.

Goa'uld ship.

"Its a ship," Kara said, as she stared at the area and then behind her at the stargate. "A goa'uld ship," She didn't know how it was possible. From what the others had said about the stargates, is that all coordinates could only be accessed by a specific location. If it moved at any point, the charons wouldn't work anymore. She reached into her back, grabbing the golden hand device, pulling it onto her wrist and fitting each finger and looked back at the others. She didn't have to say it, she was sure they all knew.

This was bad.

━━━━

A ship.

Cat immediately moves towards the nearby window, space expansive and endless with its cool, creeping touch. The walls around them are practically cavernous and shining in their dramatic hues of golds and reds, excessive and decadent and cold. Sterile. Space actually seems more welcoming in comparison, lights twinkling, unfamiliar, behind thick, thick glass. 

Definitely a goa’uld ship.

“Luthor.” It’s drawled out, as much of an order as it can be, the sound of Captain Science scurrying towards the stargate immediately, sending back through the MALP before the ship jerks forward and the gate cuts off. Suddenly intent on getting her people off this floor. “Luthor.” Repeated. 

“It’s not working, ma’am, the chevrons--” 

“Quiet!” A noise. Loud. The walls open suddenly, swiftly, and Cat hates the Goa’uld’s dramatic flair for design and secret entrances, tugging Luthor down and gesturing to the Danvers to do the same, fingers rifling through a nearby crate before people get closer.

It only gets worse from there.

A meeting of Goa’uld. A succession--an heir. And, worse, Skaara. Innocent, kind Skaara, who’s now holding Apophis’ son around the thin glass of his neck, voice deep and eyes cold. They’re invading Earth. 

Cat’s forehead rests on the crate for a long second until the gate once more de-activates, knowing it likely won’t work again and, after another long moment, they’re all alone in what’s likely a loading bay for a military ship, again.

#pulitzerpanther #→ kara / replies. #→ general / close starter. #→ EV 01. kara and cat.

[relenafanel]

I wanted to tell you that I loved, loved, loved Lessons in Normality. How'd you come up with the idea?

I’m not sure how I came up with the idea. I love identity porn, and I think I was brainstorming shrunkyclunks identity porn ideas (as I do sometimes).

I WILL SAY that the first time I had the idea was in the summer of 2017 and I wrote a bit of it then.  I ended up scrapping it, but I managed to find it on my hard drive, so this is what my honeypot au started as:

Concept:

Shrunkyclunks fic where Bucky isa modern assassin for hire who is hired to extract info from steve and hedecides to go for seduction instead of torture. Steve, in all of Bucky’s research, is very difficult to seduce, so Buckygoes into the plan with contingencies. Then he’s a bit hooked at how easy itwas to lure Steve into a dark corner and whisper filthy things into his earwhile jerking him off.

Basically: an ode tohow pretty and soft Bucky can look while being the deadliest person in theroom. Also how easy Steve is for him.

Scene brainstorming:

Steve Rogers was a staid andproper man, every inch of someone raised during the great depression, trainedby the army, and embodying every stereotype of power and authority thatrepresented.  Bucky had met his type, thetype of man who didn't give in to torture, and couldn't be easily swayed by apretty face.  It was the kind of man whocouldn't be seduced, and who was nefarious because it seemed to be a personalitytrait, something embodied and practiced, when it reality it was a case of notoffering the right things. and he snorted internally as he watched the man'sback straighten as a lovely female brushed against him deliberately.  Stark's parties were always a tight fit,going beyond the legal firecode for any building, but it wasn't tight enoughthat the move hadn't been deliberate.  

Bucky watched as Rogers helpedthe woman across the floor in front of him and deposit her safely at the barbefore gently extracting himself and walking away without a backwards glance.

Courteous.  Old fashioned. 

No wonder seduction techniqueshadn't worked on him.  Steve Rogershadn't even noticed the first woman sent to seduce him.  He hadn't noticed the first man, either. 

Bucky adjusted parametersagain.  Torture wouldn't work. Seductionwouldn't work, but there were different forms of seduction, and from the wayRogers looked out of place, uneasy with his back to a pillar and an eye on thedoor, Bucky thought maybe he could use a friend. 

He considered that as heapproached.  Then Rogers noticed him, hiseyes on Bucky's face for long enough that he wondered if he'd been made beforethey dropped and looked him over with interest that wasn't subtle, but it wasgenuine and heated and surprising.  Buckyopened his mouth in surprise and for a moment forgot what he was going tosay.  "Hi," he ended up with,licking his lips to test the theory out. 

"Hello," Rogersresponded, his focus on Bucky's mouth. As gratifying as the attention was, Bucky also recognized it's worth. 

"I know of a private balconynot far from here," he said, taking a risk on the line.  "You look like you could use some freshair. 

It turned out Steve Rogers couldbe seduced.  And easily.

 _____

"I'm the most dangerous man in the room, Steve," Bucky said in a serious tone but with a lazy smile as his back curved over the arm of the chair and he stared up at Steve.  He was wearing a hoodie that had been washed so often it was faded and soft-looking, sagging off Bucky's shoulders because he hadn't bothered unzipping it all the way. It was riding up his waist, showing off the tight t-shirt Bucky was wearing beneath it in a way that made Steve think about how the skin there felt against his hands, smooth and covering taut muscles that Steve had watched Bucky work hard to maintain.  There were kitten socks on his feet, thick and warm, and terrifyingly adorable considering the way Bucky was running his toes up the inseam of his calf and looking at Steve like he knew exactly what he was thinking.

"I believe it," Steve told him, low and shaken with the need to touch.  He remembered that he could allow himself that.  Hell, Bucky was the most dangerous person in any room, if only to Steve Rogers. "You're fucking gorgeous."

There was sincerity there that made a slight flush stand out on Bucky's cheeks.  "I like hearing you say it."

He'd seen Bucky deflect or take compliments with ease, so watching him accept Steve's like it mattered made Steve's heart swell.  

____

Steve opened his door, his jacketin one hand as he checked the GPS on his phone. He had a meeting with an informant in less than an hour and a torrentialdownpour had left his pants soaked over the thighs where it had run off hisjacket.  He tossed his jacket over one ofthe hooks in the entryway and kicked the shoe mat out from beneath it so itwouldn’t drip all over it.

Then he considered kicking itback, because wasn’t it THERE to protect the floor from water?

He walked into his living room tofind Bucky on the couch, one of his long legs draped over the arm of the couch,swinging back and forth in a way that had Steve focus on Bucky’s thigh muscles,devastatingly dressed in tight black denim, and the inviting gap between hislegs.  Then his gaze went higher and henoticed the gun.

 “Hi baby,” Bucky said, amusementaround his mouth, wicked and deadly, as he gestured for Steve to sit in thechair.  “You got distracted for a moment,there.”

 “What…” Steve questioned, quicklyraising his palms to show he was unarmed as he mentally calculated his chancesof reaching Bucky before he was shot. Even if Bucky had horrible aim, at this distance there wasn’t muchchance of Steve not being hit.

 Of course, it wasn’t as much of adeterrent for him as it was for other people. “Oh,” Bucky answered him, like he was just as surprised by the gun inhis hand as Steve was, which wasn’t fucking possible and was such a little shitmove that Steve didn’t know whether to laugh or use it to reinforce hismounting anger.  “I figure it’s time wehad a real talk.”

“We had a real talk last night,”Steve pointed out, gritting his teeth, because he’d told Bucky things that hedidn’t think he’d ever be able to tell anyone, and Bucky had looked at himsoftly and kissed him, and then he’d molded his body around Steve’s so sweetlyhe’d almost cried. 

Steve was definitely gettingfurious, now. 

“We did,” Bucky agreed, “andthat’s why we’re having a real talk again today.  My codename is Winter Soldier – you’ve heardof me?  Good. That makes it easier.  I was hired to extract certain informationfrom Captain America to support an ongoing investigation for corruption.” 

That made Steve’s brain stutterto a halt.  “I… I don’t… I would never.” 

“That’s why we’re having thisconversation.  You’re not going to meetyour meeting because it’s a trap. They’ve hired one of the world’s deadliest assassins to kill you.” 

Steve narrowed his eyes.  “They hired you.” 

“They did,” Bucky agreed, thatplayful grin on his lips again.  Stevewanted to bite it off, and he wasn’t sure all of it was in anger.  “That’s why you’re going to miss it.”

__ 

“It was supposed to be hard,”Bucky told him, and Steve could tell he was looking at him from the corner ofhis eye, despite the sunglasses.   

“What was?” Steve asked, to playalong.  There was annoyance buzzingthrough his system, almost as potent as the arousal he was experiencing at theease Bucky had helped him disappear from the city, like the moment they emergedfrom Steve's apartment, they where ghosts. 

“Seducing you,” Bucky said, andturned his head slightly to level Steve with a smirk.  “I wasn’t the first one they sent to try thatroute, you know.  I was probably thefinal resort.  Usually, my talents lieelsewhere." 

"I find that hard tobelieve," Steve answered in an even tone that Bucky liked to call hisdeadliest level of sass.   

Bucky's mouth twitched.  "I deserve that considering I justcalled you easy." 

"I was easy," Steveagreed.  "For you." 

"Keep talking like that andyou're going to distract me from the point I'm trying to make..." 

"Besides pointing out howeasily I was seduced?" 

"You were fucking hard toseduce and you know it," Bucky told him. "Just not for me.  They sentme in to do what needed to be done, honeytrap included but intended to fail,and you just... Christ, I always knew it was me is what I'm trying to say. So I'm relying on that a little when I say this doesn't change muchbetween us if you don't want to let it." 

"That's delusional.  You think nothing is going to change?" 

"No," Bucky told him ina confident tone.  "I think youwillingly came with me even though I told you I was hired to kill you.  Do you know I was offered 2 million dollarsfor completing this hit?  That's a lot oftrust to put in someone." 

Steve felt a chill at that,because in a way Bucky was shaking him to the core again by pointing out thathe'd had his world turned over and Steve had still been blind with trust.

 ___ 

 Steve paused to stare at Bucky,his mouth opened slightly with the shock of seeing him, but also that potentpunch to the solar plexus he usually felt at seeing Bucky.  He had his hair pulled back, emphasizing hisdelicate face and strong chin, the mouth that made Steve stop and catch hisbreath every time Bucky scraped his teeth over his bottom lip, and the dark,almost dangerous glint to his eyes that Steve had always been drawn to. 

Bucky looked over at him andgrinned in a knowing way, like he could feel Steve noticing him. 

He looked beautiful and innocuousin a room full of beautiful people in tuxedos and evening gowns.  He stood out, to Steve, and it wasn't becauseSteve knew that he was the most dangerous person in the room.  He'd stood out to Steve long before he'dknown that.  There was something aboutBucky Barnes. 

#lessons in normality #the honeypot au #deleted draft #i'm glad that i reconceptualized it #Anonymous

[mimedusa-blog]

a low-profile extortion by the name of JANG YEONGMIN as decreed by Hydrus, presided over by MIDNIGHT and FALLACY  (@myeongchokrp )

some people go back to school to advance their careers. others go to career and skills workshops to get the promotions they want.

this isn’t any different.

medusa knows that murder can’t be all there is, and once she begins thinking about being told what to do – no matter how much she enjoys doing it – it often niggles at the back of her head like a centipede crawling into her ear and twisting around in her brain. as much as she loves her work, and as much as she’s proud of it, her father had larger plans for her. in a different world, perhaps her ambitions would align more with a perfectly acceptable position for a sociopath; like, say, a CEO. like all others, however, it seems she has to work her way from the bottom.

still, she takes instructions with a grain of salt and a healthy degree of interest. when she asked to be trained in this, she decided that she would excel in it, no matter who she had to kill – but this doesn’t involve that (unfortunately). it’s far more boring than she expected, but she won’t back out now, or ever. she still has her pride to uphold.

her supervisor, a senior extortionist going by ‘midnight’, eases her nerves before they go into the shop, saying it’s just like murder. no – no, hold on. it isn’t nerves. it’s boredom. no matter what information she gets from their backup hacker, ‘fallacy’, it just seems so boring. this is small fish, and she’s casting her net wide, but she supposes it’s better than nothing. one target at a time. maybe it’s cumulative.

she nods when midnight pats her on the back before they enter the small barbershop, located at a side street in yeongi. “just a good word?” she asks, raising an eyebrow and laughing a little, rolling her neck and her shoulders, taking it as a challenge. “how about a bonus?”

her senior probably says something, but it doesn’t quite register when she’s already walking away and pulling a new mask over her face; she also has some really nice shades on for the occasion (this time, it’s a face mask with the ‘uwu’ emoji on it. it’s cute, and goddamnit, if it’s a job, she might as well look presentable.) probably something about her finances. you don’t need more money, or something preposterous like that. how stupid. she always wants more money, and that’s the issue.

she steps inside the barbershop, even going “hello!” as if it’s a great day; as if she’s still obligated to be friendly. there’s only the two of them here now. behind her, she clicks the dial to a locked position and turns the sign to ‘closed’.

her target is a middle-aged man named jang yeongmin. his business isn’t too big, and he owns another apartment that he rents out to visitors. (it’s not doing well.) his barbershop is decent, but vacant on a wednesday afternoon. most appointments are closer to the weekend, and the middle of the week, during these hours, is quiet, with only the low thrum of the fan in the corner of the ceiling and the idle chatter of a small, indistinguishable TV behind the tall counter to keep their silence company. it stinks of hairspray and shaving cream. there are three security cameras in the establishment that run on a rudimentary closed system, and she hopes fallacy is as good at their job as they say they are.  

she expected to see a short, stout old man. instead, yeongmin is tall and middle-aged. he has the face of a rat, she notices, when he looks up from the TV. he freezes when he hears the lock click closed and she draws a gun. “hands up, buddy. c’mere and have a seat,” she instructs, cheery as ever, patting an aged leather chair in the middle of the row. there are three. he knows how to listens to instructions, it seems, when there’s a gun pointed at his face.

he walks over cautiously, saying, “i – i don’t know what you want from me, but –,”

god, even his voice is grating. she could kill him now if she wanted. if she could. she should. she’d be doing hydrus a favour. but, in a show of great restraint, she just lets him ramble on about how he has money, how he can pay her, etcetera etcetera. he’s still sitting down on the chair, and she keeps the gun pointed at him when she sharply interjects, “so how do you do this whole… shaving thing?” medusa heads to the nearby drawer. there’s some shaving cream, some old-fashioned razors meant for shaving. she takes out the set, the cream, and lays it out in front of the mirror, in front of him. “is this it?”

he looks confused, but nods. “wh-what…”

“you have a very annoying goatee.” with one hand, she takes the razor; with the other, she tucks her gun behind her back. that same free hand takes hold of his hair and pulls it back just enough for him to expose his neck and be able to look at his reflection. “and a very annoying voice.” she presses the blade to his adam’s apple; it bobs as his eyes water up.

“i have children!” he blurts out tearfully. his voice even trembles.

“i…don’t want them?” she answers right back, slightly confused. is he offering them? she isn’t usually in the business of killing those. they have more time to make mistakes, and they aren’t nearly as satisfying to kill. “look,” she continues, pulling her head back as if that’ll make it so that she doesn’t have to hear him crying when he does start to sob. she even lets go of his hair, but keeps the blade to his neck, and places her hand on his shoulder. just in case. “you owe hydrus a debt. i don’t know how stupid you have to be to do that, but you do, and you’re a fucking idiot, and we know that, right?”

oh, he’s really sobbing, now. it would be so. easy. to swipe the blade through his skin and muscle and windpipe right now. but he nods, like he can even hear her through his sniffling. “y—i – hic – d-don’t have en-n-nough to pa-ay th-is month – pl-please – oh g-ohu-ood –!”

oh my god. oh my god, he’s so annoying. is that the test? to see if she can withstand the job without killing anybody?

damn, that’s good.

“it’s not money we’re after,” she tries to say past all that, moving her hand to his hair again and pulling hard. “although…yeah, i heard you owe us. kinda have to grab the rest of what’s in your cashier after this, but – will you shut up?!” she presses the blade harder against his skin. he bleeds, but stops crying, seemingly trying to hold it behind a closed mouth. good enough. “look, someone who knows someone who knows someone knows that a certain police officer passed by here and blabbed about where they’re hitting us next. so, you need to tell me that, and y–,”

“the docks! the – fu-ohhuuhuhu – oh g-go-od, don’t kill me – god help me! – it’s the docks! w-warehouse… five or – or ten – or three – one of th-those!”

“and the code to your register! will you let me finish?! – actually,” she amends, “you better open it for me, so i know you won’t do anything even more stupid, like call the police.”

what he says isn’t lost on her. it’s not entirely useless, which is good for him, and she makes a mental note of it. he follows her instructions like a trembling, frightened old dog. for good measure and to motivate him further once the blade is off his neck, she takes out her gun and presses it against his back as they walk behind the counter.

someone laughs in the tv as the register dings open.

“and everything in your – i don’t know what you call it. the other money that’s not here that you keep, you know? you know what i’m talking about, right?”

he nods, bends down and opens the little cabinet under the register. there’s a fat stack of rubber-banded cash. she should know what it’s called, working for jieun’s little boutique now, but she doesn’t, and she won’t bother to. it’s money that shouldn’t be touched, and that’s all she knows, but she knows now that all shops have to have them. float, or sink, or something like that.

“put it in a bag.”

he does. it’s for the little cosmetics that not many people buy from a barbershop – hair wax, gel, 2-in-1 shampoos – and would rather buy from other local stores. she takes it from him and sighs a sigh of relief. finally.

medusa takes a step back and grins. not that he could see it. “now close your eyes and do the macarena.”

she takes another step back, and another away from the counter to move in front of it. the man is sobbing, now, and actually dancing the macarena, even singing it tearfully. she takes a video of it and lets him do the rest, walking back to the door slowly. when she opens it, his eyes dare flutter open, and his arms stop mid-raise, but she quickly shoots her gun at the ceiling and snaps, “did i tell you to stop, dickhead?”

he sobs harder and continues, absolutely butchering the song, even as she tucks the gun behind her back (it burns a little) and lets the door close. to the rest of the street, she’s walking out with just a bag and looking absolutely cute. as soon as she gets back in the car with midnight and fallacy, she’s greeted with laughter and praise.

“yeah, shit, i know, right?!” she laughs right back, finally letting it out and giving the bag to midnight, wheezing a little, having had to hold it in. “fuck, let’s get outta here.”

maybe this gig isn’t so bad, after all.

#so.low #mi:prompt2 #tw: mentions of violence

[valdomarx]

Mutually Beneficial

For Ults Day, an ode to how much Ults Steve likes getting fucked.

It was a casual arrangement, that was the thing. This unspoken exchange between them, where Tony knew what Steve needed and gave it to him without him having to ask.

It had started after a discussion about Ultimates strategy and teamwork had dissolved into bickering, with Steve huffing out that Tony thought he was so insightful but he didn’t have any idea how to handle his teammates.

At that, Tony had glanced up at him with a flirtatious smirk, eyes sparkling with clarity rather than the usual drunken haze. “Try me,” he’d challenged, and Steve had snapped. He’d thrown Tony full force against the wall of the office, luckily without knocking him out, and kissed him with demanding insistence.

When they’d pulled apart, Tony’s eyes were wide with shock though he hid it quickly. “Why, Cap, I never would have thought you had it in you,” he said a little breathlessly.

And that would normally have made Steve feel smug, made him think he’d gained the upper hand in this game that Tony was playing. Tony was always teasing, testing him, pushing at parts of Steve that he would rather have stayed dormant, but finally Steve had shown him that he wasn’t afraid of a bit of innuendo. He’d been in the army, for god’s sake. He knew what men like Tony wanted, and he’d thought only to make a point, to demonstrate his lack of surprise at Tony’s antics. But now, with Tony panting up against the wall and the taste of him still on Steve’s lips, it only fed the hunger raging within him.

He’d stepped forward, pressing their bodies together and letting his burgeoning erection brush up against Tony’s thigh. “I know what I want, Stark,” he’d hissed in his ear, and Tony had shuddered.

“Mmm, you want to take advantage of my splendid hospitality, is that it?” Tony slipped back into his easy seduction routine impossibly fast. “Bend me over that desk and fuck me into oblivion?” Tony’s voice was smooth and practised.

“Close,” Steve had said, and Tony had eyed him curiously, “but I was thinking more about the other way around.” Steve took Tony's hand and placed it on his ass, encouraging him to squeeze and spread his fingers.

“Oh.” Tony looked genuinely dumbfounded for a moment, but recovered with a delighted grin, grinding up against him in slow circles. “Okay, darling, I can work with that.”

“Are you sure-” Tony began, but Steve didn’t want to hear it. He wasn’t some fragile glass of a man who would break under a little rough handling.

“I want you to fuck me, Stark, and hurry the hell up with it,” he’d interrupted and Tony had looked like he might almost be scandalized. Steve was too keyed up to be embarrassed; the shame would come later. Right now he needed Tony with him, on him, in him, the desire pulsing through his body and making him reckless.

He liked the weight of Tony on top of him, pressing him down into the mattress and holding him close. He liked the feel of Tony’s fingers as they ran across his skin, the little bursts of pleasure as they moved around him and inside him. He liked it when Tony would angle his fingers so that they would rub up against that spot inside him, making his breath short and his blood race.

But most of all Steve liked the sensation of Tony burying himself inside his body, pushing past his walls and his defenses until they were one flesh, without an inch of air between them. That feeling of safety, of unity and having no space for guilt or shame, that was what he craved.

It was supposed to be a casual arrangement. No expectations, no commitments. Tony would turn up at Steve’s door, push him onto the bed, prep him like it was an art form, then screw him fast and hard, just how he liked it.

Then he would leave. While Steve was panting into the sheets and the scent of sex still hung heavy in the air, Tony would gather his clothes and slip out of the room.

They didn’t talk about it. What was there to say?

Steve needed it most when he came home from missions. Other soldiers would be exhausted after weeks away on deployment, but Steve could go for days without sleep. His heightened physiology made it impossible for him to come down, and adrenaline would pump through his system for days. He would be on edge, attuned to every stressor, snapping to instant combat awareness whenever he heard footsteps or felt a change in air temperature.

It was exhausting, and it was isolating. No one else experienced this - other soldiers were happy when they got to come home, not uncomfortable. He dealt with it the best he could, locking himself in the Ultimates’ gym for a couple of days and forcing himself through every workout he could think of.

By then he would need something else, and Tony would always know. When he emerged from the gym, at some point Tony would lay a hand on his arm in passing and give him a questioning look. He’d give a quick nod, then Tony would come to his room later that night. He’d take him apart with his tongue, his fingers, and his cock. For a moment, Steve would let the anger and the obligation and the tension go, and he would feel only Tony, fucking him like he wanted.

Steve couldn’t pretend like he was in control here, he knew that.

Tony was easy. He was a safe bet. He'd fuck anything that moved, and everyone knew it. Steve enjoyed having Tony there to scratch an inch, but he wasn't deluded enough to think that he was anything special to Tony.

And Tony was… god, Tony was dying. The tumor that was eating through his brain could kill him at any moment. More than any of them, Tony lived perpetually on the verge of death. Steve had become highly practiced at failing to acknowledge that fact, as if by denying reality he could save off mortality with sheer force of will.

Tony was in no position to be the repository for Steve’s feelings of loneliness and his secret, shameful desire for companionship and domesticity. That was not what they did.

It was just sex, and there was no need to make it more complicated. Steve had learned the hard way not to pine after a relationship with a teammate, and this time he wasn't going to get emotionally involved.

He wasn't.

One of the problems Steve had to deal with was those damn robes Tony liked to wear, luscious silk which flitted when he walked and just barely covered his thighs. Every time he saw Tony in one Steve wanted to spread himself over his lap, wanted to push the edges of the robe up until it exposed his cock and to ride him right then and there.

When Steve walked into the Ultimates living room to see Tony lounged across the sofa and dressed only in silken royal purple robe, he felt his jaw set and his pulse picked up. He could almost have called what he felt anger - anger for Tony’s casual extravagance and his lack of reasonable propriety.

But he knew Tony, and himself, better than that. The heat that ran through him had more to do with desire than disapproval.

Tony turned to look at him, taking in his clenched fists and ramrod straight posture. Steve could tell straight away that Tony knew exactly what he had been thinking, and he pushed aside his skin-crawling guilt and raised his chin a fraction to meet Tony's eyes. Tony smirked, and Steve turned and stalked out of the room, blush threatening to spill over his cheeks, feeling immensely foolish for how easily Tony could see through him.

Later that night though, long after everyone was asleep, there was a soft knock at his door and Tony slipped inside. He was still wearing that damn robe but he smiled at Steve with what appeared to be unguarded fondness.

“I know what you need, darling,” he said quietly as he crossed the room to Steve’s bed, pushed aside the covers, and trailed a hand down Steve’s chest.

Steve let himself be maneuvered onto his front, let Tony rub up against him so the the smooth, cool silk moved against his ass. He was grateful for Tony’s unrelenting chatter, telling him what he was going to do and how good he felt. It meant that Steve didn't have to say anything - it wasn't as if vocalizing his emotional state was Steve's strong suit, so that was just as well - and he could talk with his body instead.

Tony prepped him carefully, long fingers working him open while his other hand rested between Steve’s shoulder blades, holding him in place. Steve began to unreel at the feeling of Tony's fingers inside him, his muscles stretching to allow him access.

When Tony finally deemed him ready and pushed his cock deep inside, Steve sobbed with desperate relief and Tony pretended not to notice.

Dealing with his physical urges was simple. A firm hand, a warm body, a good fucking. Straightforward.

But the times that gave Steve pause were when he'd find himself smiling softly at Tony, admiring the elegant lines of his nose, wondering at the gentleness that he tried to hide under a layer of cynicism and booze. Steve would catch himself wondering what it would be like to wake up in bed together, eating breakfast, discussing their plans for the day.

Steve could be discreet about his desires; he had plenty of practice at that. But trying to hide his heart was proving more difficult than he'd ever imagined.

He'd push aside his feelings of longing and try to pretend that he didn't wait up each night, anxious over whether Tony would visit him. He could have gone to Tony's room himself, but that wasn't how this worked. Their understanding was not reciprocal in that way.

So he waited, and tried to think of Tony's late-night visits as an unexpected surprise when they did arrive rather than a loss when they did not.

This would do. It wasn’t everything he wanted, but it was enough.

It was enough until, suddenly, it wasn’t.

Steve had spotted Tony poking through the fridge in the Ultimates Mansion to grab several bottles of water before disappearing back to his room. He was unsteady on his feet, poorly balanced and moving with uncharacteristic clumsiness. He looked, frankly, extremely unwell.

Steve’s heart raced at the realization that not only was Tony suffering, but he was trying to hide it and stick it out on his own. This would not do. He debated going to find medical help, but decided that Tony was disdainful enough of doctors that he would be unlikely to listen to their advice.

Steve couldn’t fix Tony or take his pain. But there was something that he could give, and that was his care and attention. He walked up to Tony’s room and knocked softly.

Tony opened the door, and Steve sucked in a breath. Tony’s skin was wan and there were deep gray circles beneath his eyes. His normally impeccable hair flopped greasily into his face, and he was gritting his teeth against the obvious pain of walking around.

Still, he managed to plaster on a smile when he saw Steve.

“Cap. Far be it from me to fail to meet expectations, but I’m afraid I’m in no state to entertain you tonight.”

Steve leaned forward and laid a hand on Tony’s shoulder, trying to convey his care physically if not verbally. “That’s not what I’m here for.”

“Oh? Oh. I suppose you better come in then.” He pushed open the door and Steve followed him inside.

Tony turned and eyed him suspiciously. “If you’re not here for sex, then what…?”

Steve noticed that Tony’s hands weren’t shaking, and for once he didn’t smell of spirits. The thought that Tony was so ill that he was avoiding drinking made Steve worry even more.

“I just thought,” Steve reached out and brushed the sweaty hair from Tony’s forehead, trying to compose himself. “You seemed unwell, and I thought you might like some company.”

Tony flinched away from him. “It’s been a bad few days. I usually avoid other people when I’m like this. It’s not pretty.” He sounded ashamed, as if he were admitting a weakness.

With all the ugliness Steve had seen in his life, he wasn’t going to be put off by a bit of sickness. He shrugged and told Tony so, then encouraged him to get back in bed and fetched a damp washcloth and a glass of water. Tony fidgeted at first, but let Steve tend to him and to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Tony said quietly, face pale against the pillow.

“I know I don’t have to,” Steve said, sitting on the bed beside him and stroking his hair. “But I want to. You do so much for me. You’re always there when I need you.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at that. “Mmm, I’m a real trooper, heroically and selflessly fucking Captain America as and when required. You know that I enjoy that too, right?”

Steve found himself smiling. “And I enjoy being here with you.” Tony pulled a disbelieving face at that. 

“Can I stay?” Steve asked, suddenly fearless about the possibility of rejection. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he left Tony when he was this ill.

“Mmm. Yeah, okay. I’ll try not to vomit on you.”

Steve kicked off his shoes and wrapped himself gently around Tony. He smelled of sweat and the sweet, sickly scent of illness. He seemed smaller and more fragile that Steve was used to. “I wouldn’t mind if you did,” he said earnestly.

Tony managed a weak laugh. “Kinky.”

Steve huffed and laid a protective hand over Tony’s chest.

“You’ve always got me when I need you, Tony. Now I’ve got you.”

#stevetony #stony #ults day #me: appears from the mist to post ults day fic before scurrying off back to work #anyway i love the ults garbage fire and ults steve in particular #my writing #marvel #ults

[sstabhmontown]

Towards a new bestiary of Demons

D&D has two kinds of demons, we've used both already:

Randomly combined animal parts are in the AD&D Dungeon Master's Guide, and the LotFP Summoning spell.

The famous Eldritch Wizardry/AD&D Types I–VI, plus friends like Lemures, Imps and Succubi.

I like the specificity of those six types, but find their design clumsy. II–IV have never felt quite right in particular, and the awkward fitting of the type VI from a pre-existing monster into that system, while not really fitting the XP curve...is bad. I also found an interesting conflict in their presentation—originally they are sort of suggested as individuals with names like Nalfshenee, rather than such a wide type.

So: some princicples and ideas I want to move towards:

A new interpretation of those types should fit within the system.

A good medieval mysticism should provide lots of cover for Magic-users to call them Angels instead, for the difference is slight. The system should be able to describe the Living Creatures and the like. And fuck the Demon/Devil distinction.

The other source from OD&D: The Invisible Stalker should be within this category. Perhaps this is a way to award the additional powers that that spell and monster suggests may be necessary per-task. We also use AD&D's Cacodemon & Spirit Wrack by way of Dying Earth Spells for D&D.

More importantly, the reverse of the Cleric's Dispel Evil is of course not “Dispel Good” but Conjure Evil. What can it summon?

Perhaps this requires some quick way of describing tiers.

We can start adapting from Swords & Wizardry Complete's Demons, as they are already close to our rules—keeping in mind the same issues that we've had with that ruleset since the start. Oh here's a good one: in their description, the Quasit is compared to the Imp; the Imp is not listed.

Percentile magic resistance is bad. Creatures with it will now roll with 5e-style advantage—two saving throws, taking the better roll, and suffer no damage on a successful save, as well as being immune to specific forms. If the demon is called out by its true name, they instead use the worse roll. Additionally, they will get saving throws to break protection and barring spells (Wizard lock, Protection from evil, etc), unless those spells are inscribed with a specific symbol for that kind of being.

Greater demons should have the power of Geas when making contracts. Completing the quest can give you an arbitrary magic reward you've bargained for, but changes your alignment to Chaos.

Perhaps most of all, these creatures need a cleaner description of how they can slip between worlds, and get what they need to grant wishes. Perhaps they are just Geas spells. But this might fix the clumsy stating of their Gate power from Eldritch Wizardry forward, and fill in the blanks of the Invisible Stalker.

As befits the goals of my game, the specific references to historic D&Ds should be roughly equal in importance to direct references to source materials (mythology, medieval bestiaries, Hebrew mysticism, 16th century alchemical texts, etc).

#monsters #theory #rules #demons

[stubbornattempt]

I guess I'll tell the story going backwards. When I first moved into the place with my dad I was worried about being in the same town as John. I didn't know if he was going to fuck with me or not. There was a kid's mouse ears headband in the freezer and a USB chord tied around the refrigerator door handle and I was freaked out that John had broken in and was leaving threats. When I lived at the house where you and I first "met" and the whole John thing broke open he had come into my house and left threatening things around including a toy in the freezer. At least I'm pretty sure he did because there was a pic on Tumblr of that yellow character from Adventure Time in the freezer. So anyway, I thought I'd need to get extra security on the house. I texted my sister and asked her if she knew anything about the headband in the freezer and the cable on the refrigerator door and she did. The headband was in the freezer to make it glow in the dark and the cable had been used to secure the door closed. I assumed that my phone was bugged and that those texts were read by others. I got a job at Kroger and on my very first day there John came into the store. He looked at me sympathetically but I was spooked and ran and hid in the back. That made me think that he was aware of the texts and knew that I was working there. When I left work that day there was a plastic bag that said "Pilot" on it, and it was under my car right in front of the rear tire so it couldn't have been there when I parked. Someone had intentionally placed it there. I thought it meant that you were coming for me. John came into the store several times. He had earbuds in and that made me think he was trying to show that he was listening. I was working in the meat and seafood department, as I'm sure you know, and John came up really close to me one time and so I decided to talk to him. I followed him into an aisle calling his name and he finally looked at me and said, "You work here!" and I said, "Yeah I live in ***** now. Well I just wanted to say that you know where to find me if you ever want to talk about anything." And he smiled very brightly at me and nodded as he walked off. I found him extremely attractive, as I always have. I got hammered one night and was texting my mom about homophobia and I said something about how penises were desirable. (I have no fucking clue why I texted her this, I was shit faced really.) The next day in my parking space at work there was this St. Patrick's day thingy on the ground. I started seeing clues and messages in the groceries at work. I thought that John was offering to take me back and I wasn't really interested because I wanted you. Then I thought the messages said that I could have both, so I began thinking it might be nice to reconcile with John and finally tap that even. Then it seemed like you didn't want me to be with John so I wasn't going to but he kept trying to convince me. Sometimes customers would say things to me that seemed like code. One time this old woman wandered into the back of the meat cutting room and this old man told me that he "lost his wife." I began to evaluate every customer interaction as a potential message and also every misplaced piece of merchandise. I thought that you were mad at me for talking to John and made a mean comment about my weight. I thought that John tried to convince me that you were abusive to me and that he would treat me better. I got a little firm with you and threatened to break it off, but I couldn't do it for real. So its entirely possible that all of this was completely in my head, but I thoroughly believed it was happening at the time. I was very stealthily scavenging the store for products to place around and deliver my messages. I thought there must be people coming in and looking around and reporting them back to you guys. It started to get super stressful. I thought that John kept harassing me and I really only wanted to be with you and I told him so. Then I thought his wife got involved. I thought I saw her come into the store one time. In my mind they started threatening you. The messages at work were supplemented with perceived messages from Pandora and also the various screen savers on the computer. I thought that John and his wife were actively trying to sabotage you from getting to me and so I agreed to give them what they wanted if they would leave you alone. I have no idea if any of this was real at all or completely in my mind. I suspect that at least most of it was in my head. Eventually I became afraid of every misplaced product and read grave messages in everything. I don't remember what was the straw that broke the camels back but I walked out one afternoon and never went back. I thought that the Pandora messages told me that my car was tagged by you guys and so I drove off to another town and spent the night in a store parking lot hoping you would meet me there. Later I came to believe that my car was tagged by the bad guys, which led me to ditch it. Somehow I got it into my head that I needed to leave my dads place, and that's when I got that cheap used car and drove off to another state. I wanted to hide my car so I drove off into a wealthy residential area, and that's where it broke down. I spent the night in the car but in the morning I was worried about the cops showing up since I wasn't allowed to drive a vehicle without an interlock so I walked back into town. I went to a bar and had a beer. Then I went and got sushi and had another beer. Then I napped in the grass. At night I slept in this gazebo that was by the road. A car pulled up next to the gazebo and stayed there. The person didn't get out. The car was there for hours. I didn't know if I was bugged or not so I was talking to you a lot. I asked if the car behind me meant that you were on the way, and when I said that the car drove off. I didn't know who might be able to hear me if I was bugged, whether it was just you guys or some bad guys too, so I abandoned my shoes in the bushes by the gazebo and went into a CVS or something and bought some other shoes. I hid my old shoes rather than throwing them away in case they were the only way you could find me. In the morning I thought about buying a bunch of Benadryl and ODing in a hotel. I took a taxi to a larger city and used up almost the remainder of my money on a hotel room. Then I went to a waffle house to get something to eat and I had a few mimosas. It was too early to check into the hotel so I laid in the grass next to the restaurant. Some woman got out of her car and asked if I was alright, so I left and meandered on. I decided to cancel the hotel room to save money, but they said that the money wouldn't be refunded to my card for several days. I only had like $50 left but it was super hot and I wasn't dressed appropriately. I was wearing my binder and it was really uncomfortable so I went to a clothing store and bought some shorts, a bra, a t-shirt and a cap to keep the sun out of my face. I didn't really have any money after that. I got on a bus randomly. I slept that night in the grass near a McDonalds. I went to a gas station and asked for a piece of cardboard and a pen to make a begging sign. I thought I could beg at an intersection near a main highway at night and that way it would be easy for someone to swoop me up as they drove by. I didn't make very much money doing that and people are kind of dickish. That night I slept on a bench at a bus stop. Early in the morning this guy woke me up and talked to me. He was very nice and kept talking about the ants on the sidewalk and I thought maybe he was trying to say that I was bugged. I'd bought all new clothes but maybe someone tagged me while I was asleep. He asked me if I wanted to get a coffee with him so I said yes and we took a bus to a Starbucks and sat outside next to a fountain drinking them. He asked if I wanted to shower and we took another bus. We arrived near the metro station and sat on some steps across from a big sign that had your name on it. The guy told me that he didn't want me to shower because he was worried that other guys might watch me showering and he asked me if we could just go to a bathroom and clean up there using the sink instead. So we went to a Subway. We talked a lot and he said things that made me think he was an avatar for the theater guys. Their avatars seemed to always be trying to convince me that you were bad and that they could help me. I appreciated their concern very much but nothing would keep me from getting to you. That guy had an EBT card so we went to CVS and he bought me some food. We were walking along and he wandered off and I kept walking. Then he caught up to me and asked why I wandered off and said that he was worried about me. Eventually we did part, and I slept on a bench outside of a women's shelter. There was a dumpster that was very convenient for peeing behind. I'd go to the bathroom at McDonalds when they were open and put TP in my pocket for later use. In the morning this black guy walked by and gave me $10. The other guy who I thought was an avatar was a black guy too. Eventually I came to think that their avatars were always black because of our Scandinavian thing. Anyway, I located the soup kitchen and stayed near to it during the day so I could get my meals. I still thought I was finding signs from you about picking me up. I thought I got a message from the Guys that it wasn't safe and that we were gonna be busted, so I tried to tell you that by going into a record store and leaving a message in the records. I was running out of money so with the last of it I bought a train ticket home. On the way home I was stopped in another city with a metro system and was trying to lose my tail and get to you. I had bought a train ticket back home but it wasn't until the next morning so I decided to make them think I was simply riding around the metro checking out the city and eating and drinking. I said something about riding the metro out loud so you guys would hear my plan. I went to buy my metro card and this woman came up to me and started asking me questions about how to get a metro card. She pointed to the line she wanted so I decided that I'd ride around and eventually get on that line and ride it to the end. I rode around various places eating and drinking, and I thought my wallet might be bugged so when I transferred to the final line I left my wallet on the train so if they were tracking it it would look like I was still riding on the other line. I ended up making a run for it again once I got off the train. I skulked around in the shadows and hugged buildings and zigzagged for a while until I was certain that I'd been elusive enough. I laid down underneath the trees at the edge of this abandoned parking lot. I heard a really weird noise and looked and it was a deer. After some time a car slowly pulled into the parking lot and turned off its lights. I waited but it just stayed there. I skirted around the edge of the parking lot remaining under the cover of trees to get closer to the vehicle. I saw a person in it briefly and then the head disappeared down. I thought it had to be you. I thought we would wait again until morning so they would think we were already gone and stop looking. I peeked a few times during the night and the vehicle was still there. I didn't sleep at all but when it was light I looked and the car was gone. I was crushed completely but I figured I must have been bugged and it wasn't safe. I was gonna stay in the city and keep trying to get picked up by you but I received a message to go home so I did. The station was within walking distance of my dads house so I just walked home. I told him that I'd run into some friends from high school at Walmart and that we decided to go to the beach for a few days and that I'd left my car in the Walmart parking lot. I don't remember what I eventually told him about the car. More time passed and while watching TV I thought I got the message that I needed to leave again and that the authorities were after me. So I left on foot one morning and went to a dollar store and bought new clothes and a backpack so I could be sure they weren't bugged. I went into a fast food bathroom and changed. I was looking at cars and license plates driving by to see if anything seemed like instructions. I went into the woods and drank a few spiked seltzers. I thought it would give you guys time to realize what I was doing and give you time to plan. Then I walked to the interstate to hitch a ride. An old woman stopped and I told her I was going to the hospital. I think she said her name was Mary Anne and I thought that might be code for "ma" and that she might be an avatar for John's wife. She asked me if her driving scared me. If she was an avatar I think she was trying to convince me that there was no danger and that I should return home. But I didn't trust her. She dropped me off at the hospital and I went in for a minute and then I went back out. I walked to another intersection after getting some food from a gas station. I hitched again and another woman picked me up. She was really nice and cool. She said something that made me think my backpack had been tagged by the previous woman. I told her I was going to a city slightly south to visit my boyfriend. She said she could take me about half way there. She said she was going to drop me off at this one exit so I said ok. She dropped me off by the side of the road and I walked to the exit. There was a car parked by the side of the road that started driving once it saw me and the black guy stopped and asked if I needed a ride. I quickly ditched my backpack and got in the car with him. He introduced himself using the name of my ex-boyfriend who I was pretending to visit. He said for me to tell this boyfriend to thank him and that he was giving me a ride because he didn't want to see me wind up dead on the news. I think he was again an avatar for the Guys. He drove me to a certain truck stop after making lots of unnecessary turns and loops. He went inside the truck stop and came out telling me that he found some people who would give me a ride the rest of the way to my destination. They were a really redneck couple with a young child in the back and apparently they were on the way to score some heroin. They asked where I wanted to be dropped off and they left me in the city. It was starting to get dark and I looked for a hiding spot. I found this little caul de sac outside of an apartment building. I laid against the wall so that satellites couldn't spot me. I had a little bit of food left. There was a radiator thingy that I peed behind. After I found my hiding spot a car drove up and honked two times. So I decided to stay hidden for 2 days. I thought they would give up looking for me in that city after two days. So I waited and no one bothered me. After it got dark for the second night I started to wonder if I was supposed to emerge or wait for another sign. I don't remember what made me decide to come out but I did and immediately I felt as though I'd blown my cover and fucked it up. I went to a bar so I could pee and I drank a beer. My shorts smelled like urine because I hadn't had any TP. I walked around and everywhere I went I thought I saw signs that I'd fucked up and you were mad at me. I was so distraught that I contemplated jumping off of this very tall bridge. Then I decided to go to the hospital instead so I started walking towards the direction I thought the hospital was in but I realized I wouldn't make it because it was very far away. So I found a secluded area of land and went to sleep. I talked to you on the off chance that somehow you could hear me and I cried about messing things up and told you that I couldn't live without you and begged you please not give up. In the morning I walked back into the city. I stood by the intersection and tried to hitch a ride. I didn't know where I'd end up but I thought I needed to keep moving. The intersection was too awkward for anyone to stop though. So I took a taxi about 30 minutes outside of the city to a truck stop. I hung out in the grass behind the truck stop for a while crying and talking to you. I was going to hitch another ride but I wanted to be safe so I bought new clothes again. They only had flip flops. Between melting down I asked one or two truck drivers for a ride and they said no. While I was sitting on a bench a woman got out of her car and had lots of envelopes that she was depositing in a FedEx box. I thought maybe that meant the Feds were trying to make arrests. Some security guard type of guy approached me and told me that I couldn't hang out at the truck stop and that if I didn't leave they would call the police so I left. I asked him if he knew where a bus stop was and he told me there was one at the McDonalds but I went there and there wasn't one. I went to a restaurant to get something to eat. This group of people came in and sat in the booth next to mine. Their conversation made me think that they were coming to arrest you and I couldn't hold back the tears. I left the restaurant and laid in the grass weeping with my arm over my eyes. Some guy started talking to me asking about if I wanted to hang out with him in a hotel room and how he would paint my toe nails. It started to rain really hard so I set off walking down the road. This woman pulled over and asked if I needed a ride. I got in the car and asked her where she was going and she said she was just going to give me a ride to a motel. I got my motel room. The guy asked if I wanted a smoking room and I said yes. There was no ash tray in the room though. Because that guy had said something about painting my toe nails I thought maybe my flip flops were bugged. I don't want to talk about when I figured out you were in the room next to me because what happened between us is intensely private and I don't want another soul to ever read it. It's just for us. When we decided to run for it, I slinked off into the woods and stayed put until dark. This car started honking insanely and I started to creep towards it but then I thought it might be ruse so I stayed hidden. As it got darker this man and woman seemed to be looking for their dog Marco. They had flashlights and were in the woods. I started to follow them out but they were walking too fast and I was wearing flip flops and couldn't keep up. Eventually they broke and I went barefoot. I had trouble getting out of the woods because of a very dense wall of thorns but I did and I hid behind a dumpster. I wasn't going to fuck it up this time. The man and woman continued to call out for Marco. It seemed like this went on for at least an hour. I tried to get their attention. I was hiding behind the dumpster and I heard a car honk once so I emerged from hiding and started walking towards it. It was an SUV with a black man and woman in it. Once they saw me they drove away and I thought maybe I'd been tricked by the bad guys again. I went back behind the dumpster and this homeless looking guy comes up and starts peeing right in front of me. His pee almost sprays onto my bag on the ground. I said "Hello" but he didn't respond. And he had a raccoon on his shoulder. I thought maybe the raccoon meant "coon" like a black person and that those people had tricked me. The guy turned and went back into the woods so I followed him. I went deep into the woods and there were a lot of neat bioluminescent plants and critters. I was thirsty so I opened my little fruit packs and drank the juice. I thought I was supposed to wait the night out in the woods. Then I thought I was supposed to leave my bag behind the dumpster so it would look like I'd been picked up. It was too late to go back though, so I left the bag hidden in the woods and walked away from it. I decided to take no chances and left absolutely everything behind including my ID and keys. I found a cozy little place underneath some foliage and settled in for the night. It was a little chilly so I put my arms and legs into my shirt. I dozed off then a stick hit my head and I heard someone say "Move!" so I sat up. This bird sounded funny and the more I listened it sounded like "NEV-ER GET BACK" and the more I listened the more I could hear it. I looked in the direction of the sound and I heard "Don't look at me." So I started to find my way out of the woods. The thorns dictated which direction I could go, and sometimes I'd be going the wrong way and I'd hear "GET BACK" until I course corrected. When I emerged from the woods I knew I had to run to the interstate but I didn't know if you'd ever be able to find me again. I said in the direction of the bird, "Find me!" As I ran off I could hear the bird saying "Thank you." I wanted to stay off the roads and I climbed over this fence into someones yard and ripped the back of my shorts. It took me a long time to get to the highway. At one point I was forced to be on the open road, but a car drove by and put its blinker on but it didn't actually turn, so I turned and went into the woods. I heard more bird noises but instead of words they were being rhythmic and I started crawling on the ground to a rhythm that would make me seem like an animal. I had lots of thorny encounters and at one point got entangled with some barbed wire. I was getting nearer to the highway, I could hear it. Then I heard a voice call out, "Hello? Is somebody there?" And I was deep in the woods so I knew it couldn't be innocent. I ran like motherfucking hell. I ran as fast as I could through dense walls of thorns and lost them. The entire time all I could think about was how upset you would be if I didn't make it out of there. I was running on pure adrenaline and I didn't feel any fatigue. At one point I was running through some vegetable field and I hopped a fence and walked along in a creek. I kinda twisted my ankle. Eventually I spilled out of the woods and into the highway. I flailed my arms maniacally for someone to stop and pick me up. Then a truck stopped and I ran to get into it. The driver was this very nice Indian man who asked me what happened and I made up a story about getting car jacked. I was dying of thirst and he gave me water and Doritos and Starbursts. Then he said I could sleep in his bed in the back and put bacitracin on my cuts. I was laying there when the cabinet door opened and there you were, tiny and hunched up in the dark. Again, I don't want to discuss our personal stuff where there is a chance someone else could read it. I want you to know that as I drifted off to sleep, listening to you, I was the happiest I've ever been in my life. We had been victorious, I thought. I didn't care where in the world we went. I was so happy. And also incredibly tired. My whole body shut down and I slept. Unfortunately you know the rest of the story. 

[not-close-to-straight]

Lost Boy (Chapter 2)

MASTERLIST

TW: Drug use

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

The first time Tony met him inside the library at his usual table, Steve looked him over quickly, checking his eyes and his hands for any trembling or dilation, before finally smiling and sitting down.  Tony just rolled those dark eyes and pulled an equally thick textbook from the shelves and slouched in a seat to read. “Am I going to have to do a pee test before you let me sit with you each time?”

“Are you planning on sitting with me often?” Steve asked, reaching for his glasses and glancing up in time to see Tony’s smirk.

“Oh as often as I can, lawyer man. Not gonna get tired of those baby blues anytime soon.”

Steve smiled and shook his head, trying to concentrate on his reading. But Tony was shifting in his seat, rubbing his hands down his thighs, clicking that tongue ring and Steve couldn’t handle it after a few minutes and finally asked, “Really? ‘Special Relativity and It’s Experimental Foundations’? That’s what you’re reading?”

Tony grinned at finally having gotten Steve’s attention, but then frowned a little. “What, you’ve never re-read a book?”

“Re-read.” Steve pulled his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes. “You’re telling me you’ve already read this.”

“A few times.” Tony flipped a page casually. “My thesis for my masters pulled quite a few ideas from this.”

Steve just stared. “Thesis. You’re twenty.”

“I didn’t say it was finished.” Tony flipped another page. “I went to college at sixteen. Well started college. Tested out of most of the first few years. Got my bachelors basically online. But I’ve slowed down these last several months. Life has kind of…” his voice trailed off, and he leaned back in his chair, balancing a scuffed show on the library table.

His bony knee was showing through his torn black jeans, and the hand not holding the book moved restlessly against his thigh. Steve was having a hard time not staring, watching Tony’s hand, even in those ridiculous black gloves, stroke up and down, over his thigh.

“Honestly? Sixteen?” He dragged himself back to the conversation, kicking himself for letting his mind wander.

“Yeah.”

“So why are you–” Steve flicked a hand over Tony’s outfit.

“What, living with my Aunt, dressing like I’m homeless and hanging out with kids who just get high all the time?”

“Sure. I didn’t know about the Aunt part, but sure.”

“Why not?” Tony shrugged and Steve didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t sound condescending, so he just went back to reading.

Tony did as well, and for a long time the only sound was the turning of pages. “You don’t like how I dress?” He asked quietly and Steve forced himself not to look up.

“No, I like it. I mean, I don’t mind it. Not my usual style but-”

“But you’re willing to walk on the wild side?” Tony’s voice dropped into something low and dark and Steve nearly snapped his pencil.

“Oh my god.” The boy laughed soft and slow. “You are fucking adorable.” ************************ Steve didn’t know when or why it became a ‘thing’, but suddenly Tony was at the library all the time, slouching in his chair and speed reading his way through  different physics textbook every few days.

He started ordering lunch in, after licking his lips and declaring that a big boy like Steve needed to keep his strength up for more fun activities. Steve always paid for the food, and Tony always made a comment about ‘making it up’ in one way or another.

Then he’d laugh quietly when Steve rolled his eyes and go right back to reading. 

Sometimes they would talk through lunch, Tony wanting to hear about law school and the upcoming exam, Steve just wanting to hear Tony talk about his life. He had a way of speaking that made him seem so much bigger than his average size, his voice rising and falling with every sentence, his dark eyes so earnest sometimes that Steve wanted to sit and watch all day.

He learned Tony lived with his Aunt Peggy, and had since he was seventeen. Tony’s mom had died several years before, and his dad wasn’t in the picture.  He had been interested in physics since he was in junior high, and liked to tinker in his garage when he had free time because engines and cars fascinated him.

Steve told him of getting the scholarship to play football, and how he’d never been able to afford college otherwise. How living this far from his family was kind of a relief after so many years in a crowded house in a shitty side of town. How law school had always been a dream of his, and that he had a job waiting for him once he passed the bar, and he couldn’t wait.

Steve was fascinated by Tony, there really was no other way to say it. 

Tony was hilarious in a dry sarcastic way, a change from Steve’s straightforward sense of humour. He was into old rock bands and the detective show genre, quoting from his favorite shows constantly, until Steve started watching them when he got home, just to understand the references. And every time Tony said something funny, he would lean forward in his chair, eyes sparkling, like hearing Steve laugh was the best part of his day. 

Tony never even made a point of being discreet with his glances, in fact he was purposefully obvious, often staring at Steve while clicking his tongue ring, until the blonde blushed and looked away. Or running whatever pen was in his hand over his lips slowly, while glancing up through his dark lashes.

Several times Tony would ask an innocent question, maybe about Steve’s childhood, then yawn and stretch and run his foot up Steve’s leg until the blonde couldn’t ignore it and jumped, stuttering through whatever he was trying to say. He had started texting Steve more often too, sometimes just random observations about people he saw, other times it was in depth reasoning about morality or politics.

And then there were the flirty texts, that made Steve stammer and put his phone down, trying to focus on his reading, but entirely unable to when Tony was saying things like “you should wear less jeans and more fitted slacks. I didn’t take my eyes off your ass once today.”

Finally, after a couple weeks of this… whatever it was, Tony stood to leave, and leaned over the table and cleared his throat, waiting for Steve to look up.

“What’s up Tony?”

“Oh just–” he reached out and stroked his finger over Steve’s jaw, leaning closer and sighing softly before sliding their lips, tongue flicking out to tease against his mouth, then slip inside when Steve opened in surprise.  “Mmm.” Tony made a satisfied noise deep in his throat when he pulled away. “I’ve been trying to seduce you for weeks, and the flirting wasn’t working so I figured I’d try something a little more straightforward.”

“Seduce me?” Steve knew his jaw was hanging open, but couldn’t quite manage to wipe the shocked look from his face. “Is that what you were doing?” 

“Did you really think I sat here all this time to brush up on my physics? I finished my paper weeks ago.” Tony winked at him, and gathered his things nonchalantly.

Steve stared until the boy disappeared out the front door, then reached for his phone when it buzzed.

<From: Tony> –your move pretty boy. ***************** 

Steve shook his head to clear his eyes and gripped the steering wheel harder.  It was three am. Three fucking am and Tony had texted him asking for a ride.  Steve wanted to be pissed, but he couldn’t be. He was mostly glad the kid knew he could text him for help, but another piece of him was excited to see the brunette. He hadn’t seen Tony since that mind blowing kiss the previous day, and thinking about anything else was proving impossible.  So instead of getting mad, Steve just rolled out of bed, threw on some jeans and stumbled out the door.

“There he is.” Steve muttered, rolling to a stop next to a bus bench, where the teenager was sprawled out, head tipped back and eyes closed. “Tony! Hey! Are you alright?”

“Hey. Oh my god you came.” Tony blinked at him slowly, then smiled. “I didn’t think you’d actually–” he stood and nearly fell off the bench, struggling to right himself just long enough to slide into the passenger seat.

“You’re high.” Steve said, stunned at how far gone the kid actually was. “I mean high as hell. Tony what the fuck?”  Tony laughed breathlessly. “I am high!! You’re so smart. You’re gonna pass the bar no problem. So smart. And gorgeous too. Love that blonde.”  He was rambling, barely coherent and Steve sent him an anxious look. “What’d you take?” he turned the car around, heading towards Tony’s place on the other side of town.

“Doesn’t matter.” Tony slurred. “Didn’t take enough of it to OD. Should come down in a few hours. Don’t take me to Auntie’s though. Pretty please, Pretty boy?”

“I have to, Tony. Where else could I take you?” Steve was trying not to shout, trying not to be irritated but he was so angry Tony was doing this again. Especially after finding out how smart the kid was.

Steve had looked him up after that first day at the library and Tony hadn’t been lying. He’d graduated with a bachelors at nineteen, and that was after he’d invented some hybrid fuel system for aircraft that allowed them to double the distance they could fly before needing to refuel.

It could literally change the way the military operated, and commercial planes traveled and Tony had figured it out on paper, patented it, and was pulling in royalties so large the number had made Steve’s head hurt. No wonder he always argued about who was paying for lunch. No wonder he had casually mentioned that engines were fascinating to him.

Steve didn’t understand it. Tony was gorgeous, smarter than anyone else he’d ever known, and rich as hell, and he chose to spend his days hanging out in the library and his nights getting high.

“You’re angry with me.” Tony pouted, biting his bottom lip. “Why are you angry?” 

“I’m furious.” Steve admitted. “I read up on you Tony. You are just…wasting yourself like this, and maybe it shouldn’t piss me off, but it does.”

Tony laughed softly, his head lolling back against the headrest. “Everybody fucking says that. Everyone says I’m wasting myself and that they’re angry about it, as if they have any right to care what I do with my life. But… but do you know the worst thing about being brilliant?”

“Brilliant? Tony you’re a genius. I feel like brilliant isn’t even the right word for you.”

“Okay then.” Tony replied sarcastically. “You know the worst thing about being a genius? My mind never stops. Not ever. I can tell you right now how fast you should be going to get optimal gas mileage from your car. I know that your left foot is the slightest bit bigger than your right, which is why you walk with a little swagger like that. I also know the other reason you walk like that. I can figure out how much alcohol someone can consume before being legally drunk based on their height and weight in my head.” He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands down his thighs.

“You know the best thing about drugs, Steve?” Tony tapped his head. “It slows me down here. My mind moves maybe at average speed. It’s the only time I get some peace. The only time I feel something like normal. Problem is, it takes so much to slow me down it’s always dangerous. Always always always. Good thing I know how much I can handle right? It’s math. It’s all math. It’s just numbers and equations and dots and shaped in my head. Just math, just math, just--”

“Hey easy, easy.” Steve placed a hand on Tony’s thigh, stopping the frantic up and down motion. “Just slow down, Tony, breathe through it.”

“That’s exactly it! I can’t fucking slow it down!!” Tony’s laugh sounded a little manic and Steve flinched at the sound. “Nothing ever slows down and all you people angry with me? You have no idea what it’s like.” 

“I’m sorry Tony. I can’t say I understand, but…I’m sorry.” Steve finally said, and Tony sighed, seeming to deflate, slouching further down in the seat.

“Don’t take me home to Aunt Peggy’s. She cries every time I come home high, and I can’t do that to her tonight. It kills me when she cries. I’ve made her cry a lot. Seems like she’s always disappointed in me.”

“Alright.” Steve made a quick decision, switched lanes and turned the opposite direction. He didn’t say anything else until he pulled into the driveway of his duplex, walking around to help Tony out of the car. “Come on, then.”

His house wasn’t anything like the brownstone Tony lived in, but it was enough for just him, and Tony looked around the space with a curious smile on his face as Steve helped him lay down on the couch, grabbing a trash can in case he needed to vomit, and several bottles of water.

“Why didn’t you put me in your bed?” Tony leaned up on his elbow, a wicked smile curling around his lips. “You know, I see how you look at me. You think you’re sly, but you’re completely not.”

Steve sighed and rubbed his face.  “I-I  don’t look at you any particular way.”

Tony just smiled a little more and stretched out, his shirt pulling tight over his chest, and Steve made himself look away. “You look at me like you want me. Don’t you want me? Don’t you want to walk on the wild side? Come on and show me why blondes have more fun.”

Jesus Christ. Steve was so angry he could barely see straight. It was bad enough the boy was high, but to be talking like that, especially after kissing him like that was just too much.

“Whether that’s true or not,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “Not gonna touch you till you’re sober, Tony.”

The brunette giggled, a sound that would have made Steve’s knees weak if the situation had been different. “So when I’m sober you’ll bend me over and fuck me?” Tony clicked the “k” sound, “like over our study table in the library? Or up against the wall in that back corner? That could be fun.” 

Steve just shook his head in disbelief. “No. Tony, what the hell?”

Steve’s answer seemed to upset him, and Tony sat up farther, his grin disappearing. “What? Well why not? Why wouldn’t you fuck me? I’m gorgeous and you’re gorgeous. What’s the problem?” 

“Because I’m not that type of guy.” Steve insisted, tugging at his hair. This night was going so badly he could scarcely believe it. “I’m not-- I don’t do that sort of thing.” 

“You’re not gay?” Tony flopped back into the couch. “Did I read things that badly? Jesus H on a stick I can’t believe–”

“Tony, Tony hush.” Steve held up his hands to stop the rambling. “I meant I’m not the type of guy to just… fuck you like that. Not our first time together, and certainly not while you’re high.”

“Oh.” Tony thought for a few seconds. “That’s the only type of guy I know. Guys who would take me up on that offer.” Tony looked away and the truth-  the implications- of his quiet statement washed all the anger from Steve’s body.

“You need to know better people.” He said quietly, and Tony turned away, rolling over and hiding his face in the couch cushions.

“Better people like you? Cos I’d like to know you, Steve.” The words were muffled, but Steve still caught them and swallowed hard.

“I’d like to know you too Tony.”

#stony #stony fic #steve rogers #tony stark #college au #marvel #marvel fanfiction #piercings #glasses #drug use #falling in love #lost boy