maltcup



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    Ilya hums, playing the card he's been considering for this entire conversation. “We could make more interesting, yes? A bet.”

    “A bet,” Shane repeats, eyes flashing. “Like what?”

    The reporter cuts in. “What about wearing the other player’s jersey?”

    They both turn to her, and Shane says, “Like, the loser wears the winner’s jersey?”

    “Maybe at the next game in a couple of months?”

    “Is a good idea,” Ilya muses, nudging Shane’s elbow. “You will look better in my jersey than in Montreal jersey.”

    Shane makes a low noise, his eyes holding a bit of a spark when he looks back to Ilya. It’s what Ilya was hoping for—the tiniest crack in the mask. He can see a hint of exasperated affection around the corners of Shane’s eyes, a little bit of fire burning just beneath the surface. It sends a thrill down Ilya’s spine, and he wonders if Shane will be snarky when Ilya gets him naked tonight.

    “That’s not happening,” Shane replies, shaking his head. “Because you’re not winning.”

    ---
    Ilya should have known better.

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    15 Jan 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 33

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    Ethan didn’t seem to mind the thumb twiddling, of course. He acted like tepid domesticity was a natural progression after tearing through a warzone, dutifully wiping away dust and plastering cracks in the walls and cleaning the bed linens. Karl shouldn’t have been surprised. Ethan could adjust to a nuclear wasteland with little more than a complaint about the scenery.

    Ethan, who always slept with a handgun nearby, who couldn’t walk into the cellar without imagining monsters at his heels.

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    29 Dec 2025

  3. Public Bookmark 41

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    "Just so we're clear, you're not one of the Four Lords anymore, okay?" Ethan said, passing a loose cluster of houses. Maybe he should have been more nervous over entering society with Heisenberg. It hadn't felt like a possibility until he was faced with all those lights and people. "No sadistic bullshit, you make nice like the rest of us."

    "Fine, I can be one of the peons."

    "For fuck's sake—"
     
    "Relax, Ethan," he said, clapping Ethan's knee a little bit harder than necessary. "Where's your sense of humor?"

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    29 Dec 2025

  4. Public Bookmark 84

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    “Fine,” Ethan spat, hating his own weakness, his lack of choice. Always, always, there were never any choices worth making. “Fine, I’ll help you get out of the mountains.”

    “Wonderful,” Heisenberg said, manic grin falling back into place. He strode out of the room, and Ethan sank back onto the bed.

    He should have known he wouldn’t die, but being saved by Heisenberg after their best attempts to kill each other was unexpected by anyone’s standards.

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    29 Dec 2025

  5. Public Bookmark 66

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    But then comes Heisenberg. The guy whose idea of 'hello, nice to meet you' involves a gut wound, a little time in an improvised metal coffin, and then being dragged off and put on trial in chains. Who keeps calling him up over unseen video feeds and taunting Ethan with a lazy drawl of someone who's probably taking this call with one hand in his pants, and whose every word to Ethan promises that he knows. He knows, and he likes it. And he might just be convinced to play along.

    It's exactly the last thing Ethan needs.

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    28 Dec 2025