#and I was like. if you’re dead set on using this forsaken shit

[darkredsugarcookie]

The Tower - Chapter 3 // Bucky Barnes

"You know he's like, a hundred years older than you, right?"

Author's note: HAPPY THUNDERBOLTS RELEASE WEEK!!!! I really like this chapter and I hope you guys love it too! xx

Taglist: @cats-chaotic-mind @averyjoyysworld @sleepysongbirdsings

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, smoking weed, language, Cassandra Stark

Steve had attempted to mend things with his daughter later that night. Avery was reluctant, but cut out the silent treatment and accepted his apology. I, however, was still bitter. But I wasn’t going to let that stop my plan for tonight.

Avery turned nineteen today and despite the fact that she was blatantly ignoring her birthday, I was still going to make something happen. Friends don’t let friends turn nineteen without getting done up in a somewhat slutty dress and eating too much junk food.

I plated up a stack of chocolate chip pancakes in the kitchen, my hair tied up in a bun and my sweater falling off my shoulder as I slaved over the pan. I could make pasta from scratch all day long, but for whatever God forsaken reason, these pancakes wanted me dead. The pan was smoking and I was going to lose my shit if the fire alarm went off. 

“What is happening?” A voice came from behind me. 

I turned around. I was well aware of the pancake mix all over the kitchen, the sink full of dishes, the outright disaster that surrounded me. “Hi, Daddy,” I tried to charm myself out of whatever trouble I was already in.

“Cassandra, what is this?” Dad asked. 

“Be quiet!” I replied. “It’s for Avery’s birthday. I’m gonna go wake her up as soon as I’m sure this pan isn’t gonna light on fire.”

“Here I was thinking that twenty was old enough for you to be unattended in the kitchen.”

“Very funny,” I said, clicking off the stove and pouring some syrup into a small bowl. “I’ll clean it up in a minute.”

Dad stood with his arms folded, watching me buzz around the kitchen. 

I stuck a candle in the stack of pancakes and grabbed a lighter from the drawer. I sparked it over the candle and walked back Dad, who tried to steal a chocolate chip. I batted his hand away and continued down the hall, knocking before I opened her door. 

“Rise and shine, birthday girl,” I said, tucking the lighter in my back pocket. 

Avery groaned, pulling the blankets over her head. 

“Well, if you’re gonna be like that, then I’m eating these myself.” 

She pulled the blanket down just enough to see and I laughed at the way her face lit up. 

I sat next to her in bed, setting the plate on her lap as she sat up. “Make a wish,” I said. 

She glanced at me and I noticed the solemn look on her face before she blew out the candle. 

“What’d you wish for?” I asked. 

“Can’t tell you,” she replied. “It won’t come true.” 

“Surely there’s an exception for best friends.”

Avery shrugged, picking up the fork on the plate. “Better safe than sorry.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Okay, here’s the deal.” She looked up at me as she ate her pancakes. “You are going with Nat and my mom to the store to pick out some food for dinner. After that, you and I are going out tonight. Somewhere fun.”

“Not a frat party?” 

“Not a frat party. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Avery raised her eyebrows like she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t say anything. “I didn’t want to do anything today,” she said. “Today is nothing special.”

I tilted my head. “First of all, don’t lie to me like that. Second, today is absolutely special. It’s your day. No one else’s. And we’re going to have fun and be crazy because this is your last year to use the excuse that you’re a teenage girl.”

She sighed. “Okay, fine.”

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Okay, finish these. Take your time and then get ready to go. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

The smallest smile pulled at her lips. “Okay.” 

I kissed her cheek and left the room, pulling out my phone. The notifications I’d been ignoring sat right there, very present and causing a weight in my stomach. One message from Rhys trying to explain away what he caused and the other… 

I clicked on it, ignoring the lump in my throat as I read the words. 

Maggie from chem: Hey girl. I’m sorry about the other night. I pried the truth out of him and I understand why you were so upset. I am too. I guess you showed me his true colors one way or another. I just don’t want any bad blood or anything. I’m leaving town for a bit and figured I’d tie up loose ends. If you’re ever in Cape Cod maybe we can grab a drink. 

I took a breath, no words coming to mind. 

“Are you okay?” someone asked. 

I startled, looking up. “Oh,” I said. “I, um… I’m fine. Thanks.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? You look a little shaken up, sweetheart.” 

I shook my head, ignoring the strange feeling that set in me. “I’m fine. Just… drama.” I started to walk away before a better idea popped into my head. I turned back around. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You’re taller than me. I bet you know how to hang streamers.”

“Where is this going?” 

I grinned. “You’re helping me decorate as soon as Avery’s gone.” 

“What?” he said. “No. You’ll be fine.”

“Come on! Everyone else has their own little assignments. I can’t get it all done alone!”

“No, Cass. Figure something out.” 

Fine. I knew how to handle this. I stepped closer until I was just a few inches away, tilting my head and looking up at him. “Please?” I said gently. “Come on, I never use my manners.” 

Something was burning in that stare of his. Something that almost had my facade breaking. “Fine,” he relented. “Just… Stop looking at me like that.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” I replied, smiling. 

“Yes. So it’s no longer allowed.”

I threw my head back laughing as I walked down the hall to my room. “You’re no fun, Bucky!” 

After Avery left, I texted JJ and got him up into the penthouse. “Okay, here’s the deal,” I said. “No smoking. Not in the main room anyway. The balcony, I don’t care. Don’t break anything or I break you. Be nice to my family. Cool?”

“You must be fun at parties,” JJ muttered. 

“For your information,” I said, digging through a bag of streamers and decorations. “I am. There’s a bag of balloons in the corner, go blow those up and find me when you’re done. Also there’s a birthday card on the counter if you want to sign it.”

“I got her my own.” JJ pulled out a few purple balloons.

I blinked. “Man, I didn’t realize you guys were that serious,” I teased. 

“Funny,” he deadpanned, casting me a glance. “I just… I don’t know, I didn’t wanted her to have something from me even if it isn’t a lot.”

I softened. If she was here right now she’d be a puddle on the floor. I smiled to myself, pulling out some tape and streamers. “Fair enough.”

“Cass,” Bucky called as he walked out of the hall, carrying a container of supplies. “Where do you want this?” His eyes landed on JJ, who saluted him for some reason. “And who is that?” 

“He’s one of Avery’s close friends,” I said before JJ could say anything and make Bucky more protective than he needed to be.

“We met through school. He’s helping.”

“Huh… Okay.”

I grabbed a stool from the bar and dragged it over to the wall, a banner in hand. Bucky set down the container and hurried to my side the second I started to climb up onto the stool. “You’re gonna bust your ass,” he scolded. “Why don’t you get a ladder?”

“This is quicker,” I said, ripping a piece of tape to hang the first section of the banner. 

“It’s like you’re trying to get yourself hurt.”

“If you’re so worried, stand there and catch me if I fall.”

I heard him sigh and I almost did fall when I felt his hand slide up the side of my leg. To keep me upright, yeah, but I did not appreciate the way it made me suddenly way too warm. I kept my focus on the banner and the tape and my balance and not how Bucky was touching me. 

You need to get a fucking grip. He’s too old for you. 

Fantasies were called that for a reason, though… right? 

“Does that look straight?” I asked. 

JJ looked up from the balloons. “Seems right. I like it.”

“Buck?” I said. 

“It’s even.”

“Such an engaging response,” I muttered before struggling my way down and off the stool. I wavered just a little bit when my feet hit the ground and suddenly his hands were on my waist, holding me up. 

I looked up at him, blanking on any sane thought. “Thanks…” 

Bucky just nodded before pulling his hands away like I’d burned him. Weird. 

It took another hour of navigating streamers and yelling about balloons to get the place straight, but once it was done… 

I climbed onto the counter to get a higher look at it all. “She’s gonna love it.”

All the decorations were in Avery’s favorite color and the table was set with her cake and snacks, the lights dimmed to blue, pink, and purple as the sun dropped below the horizon outside. 

“Not bad, Stark,” JJ said. I smiled. 

“You helped. Now, the last thing. She’ll be home in like fifteen minutes, so act natural.”

Bucky was putting away the containers the decorations were stored in somewhere on this floor. 

I walked to my room, digging the two dresses I’d been saving for weeks out of my closet. The same dress— one in red and one in blue. They were short, soft satin with thin strips and corset style in the back.

Holding the hangers, I snuck off to Avery’s room where I laid the blue dress and bundle of flowers I’d gotten on her bed. 

“Is this the final phase of your plan?” Bucky asked from behind me. 

I turned around, grinning at him. “Yeah. I mean, cute dresses are like the perfect final touch.” I held up the red dress against me. “And they match.” 

“How charming.” His eyes raked over me. “You’re… gonna wear that?”

I slumped a bit. “I don’t want to hear it. The dress is cute. You’re not my dad.”

His eyebrows flicked up, raising his hands in surrender. 

I walked past him, pausing in the doorway when we were close enough that if I took a deep breath we might touch. “Thank you,” I said gently. “For helping.”

When Avery got home, I was standing with JJ in the living room, smiling. She stopped in her tracks immediately. “What…” 

Bucky nodded. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

“Surprise!” I exclaimed. “I know you said you didn’t want to do anything, but I know you better than anyone. And I figured this would be fun.” 

Avery looked at me for a moment, then her eyes slid to JJ. “You’re here,” she said gently. 

JJ folded his arm. “Ah, well, you know… Didn’t have anywhere better to be.”

I watched her smile just a bit. 

I walked up and squeezed her hands. “We have to go get dressed,” I said. “Come on, you’re gonna love this.” 

She glanced back over her shoulder as I dragged her to the bedroom, but laughed as I shoved her in and shut the door. Avery gasped and dropped her bag, hurrying to the bed to pick up the dress. “Is this—”

“What if I mentioned that I have the same one in red?” I asked. 

“From the new soft satin Windsor collection that just came out?” I grinned, holding my hands behind my back. “Maybe…”

She ran her fingers down the fabric. “You’re amazing.”

“We’re matching?!” Avery exclaimed. 

“Don’t cool people match with their best friend?” I pulled out my red dress from where I’d hung it in her closet. “Let’s get dressed and then we can have dinner.” 

After changing, we stood in front of her mirror as I zipped up her dress. “My dad’s gonna meet JJ,” she said. 

I looked at her. “Are you nervous?” 

“A little. I’d be more nervous if we were dating. But… I think it’ll be okay.”

“I think so too,” I wrapped my arms around her, resting my chin on her shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

She softened a little. “For what?”

“Just in general. I’m proud of you. You’re pushing through a lot right now.”

“Love ya,” Avery said. 

“Love you too, shortcake.” 

She pulled out her phone and clicked a photo of us in the mirror. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

“That’s my girl,” I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her out into the hall. 

JJ was sitting at the bar and the second he saw her, he froze. “Woah… Okay, New York.”

She laughed, taking the drink he offered her. I smiled and blew her a kiss before walking away. 

I spent a few minutes starting music before I brought a tray of cocktails to the living room, where the majority of the team was sitting. Mom helped me arrange the coffee table. “That is quite the dress,” she said. 

“Hey, thanks,” I replied, ignoring the underlying message. 

“Careful or you’ll get mistaken for your dad’s old crowd.” 

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that bad!”

“I think it’s cute,” Nat said. 

“See!”

Mom shook her head and walked to the kitchen. 

I caught Bucky’s stare a second later. He didn’t hold it, instead clearing his throat and shifting his hips in his seat. 

Shifting his hips. 

Oh God… 

Pressing my lips together in an attempt to stall the blush rising on my face, I tossed my hair over my shoulder. 

With a jolt I realized he was following me into the kitchen. 

Breathe breathe breathe. 

“Want a drink?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder at him. 

His eyes ran over me with hesitation. “Yeah… Sure.” I reached for a glass over the counter, well aware that my dress rode up a little with the movement. I guess one way to find out if I was really being crazy was to test the limit. 

I heard him blow out a breath. “So, uh... That kid running around... Friend of yours?” Bucky said. 

“JJ?” I asked, “Oh no. He’s here for Avery.”

“For Avery?” 

I turned around holding a glass of whiskey. “Can you keep a secret?” I asked, stepping closer so I could speak quietly. “She’s got a crush on him. I’m working my magic.”

“Magic, huh?” Bucky replied, taking the glass from me, his fingers brushing mine in the movement.

“Mhm,” I said. “I have special powers as a matchmaker.”

“Why am I just now hearing about this?” 

“Because it’s a secret,” I replied, looking up at him. “Duh.”

“Right.”

Change the subject. Change the subject. Change the subject.

I cleared my throat and stepped back. “Did I tell you that I applied to the honors program for next semester?” 

“No, you didn’t.” 

“I’m not super sure if I’ll get it or not. It’s super exclusive.” I poured myself a drink. “But if I get it, I’ll graduate a year earlier.” 

“Cass, I think we both know you’ve got this in the bag.” Bucky tossed back his whiskey. I was so enveloped in everything about him. The way it was so obvious he wasn’t just some frat boy, but he was a man. The way he took his whiskey, the way I could see his muscles shifting through the black button-up, the way his hands gripped the glass with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. “Cassie,” Bucky said, his eyebrows raised.

“Hm?” I blinked, flushing when I saw him smirking. “Oh, um… yeah.”

“What’s got you all flustered, doll?” 

This was it. I was going to fall to my knees and die right here. “Nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all. I should find Avery.”

Way to play it cool, Cass. 

I found Avery in the living room, still shaking off that interaction. 

“Are you okay?” She asked. “You’re all red.” 

“I’m fine.”

Her eyes narrowed on me. “Don’t lie to me, Cassie.”

“Um… I just had a very interesting interaction with Bucky.” 

Avery grabbed my arms and dragged me to the corner of the room, far away from everyone else. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, just… Now I feel… kinda warm? Maybe it’s hot in here. Is it hot in here?”

“Cass.”

“I am having a lot of feelings that I am used to feeling but also not?”

“Cassie.”

My mind was racing, my heart pounding. “This is so weird. This is so weird.” 

“Cassie.” Avery grabbed my arms and I stopped. 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you trying to hook up with my uncle?” 

“No!” I exclaimed, trying to rid myself of the image that appeared in my head at those words. “No, absolutely not. No way.”

“You know he’s like a hundred years older than you, right?” 

I shrugged. “If we’re being technical, yeah… But… we don’t have to be technical.”

She was looking at me like I was insane. “Even if we subtract the hundred, he’s maybe, I don’t know, thirty? You’re nineteen, Cass. And he’s my uncle!”

“Shut up,” I hissed. “Be quiet! It’s not like that.”

“It certainly sounds like it!”

I shoved my hand back through my hair, sighing. “I don’t want to hook up with Bucky. I’m just wondering if…” 

“If it’s worth it?”

“No! I just want to know what it means. As long as we’ve known him, he’s been single…” 

“I think we both know what it means,” Avery said. I gave her a look right as Mom walked into the living room. 

“I think it’s time for cake,” Mom declared and I shared one more glance with Avery before sighing and leaving the conversation and any ideas it'd given me behind.

Mostly.

[postsforposting]

The end credits---

I’m tired of these absolutely vile rumors that I got Johnny killed. Let’s look at the tape.

"You'll be delighted with the absolutely true fact that that YOU got Johnny killed."

You being us, god, the people he's addressing. This is delivered an a tone of offense, so he's actually pissed off at us. For thinking he would do such a thing without being asked. For thinking he'd be like us.

In The Void, you’re either food for Alioth, or you work for her.

"In hell, you're either food for god or you work for the devil."

The shot is set up so that he's addressing us. The way this works for Johnny is that he's not lying like Wade, he's simply wrong. "I'll handle this", he says, and then gets smoked.

Go on, Johnny.

"No....stop...."

And I’ll tell you who her is.

"I'll tell you who the devil is".

Cassandra Nova, a megalomaniacal psychotic asshole.

"The Omega, (addressing us, aka it's us) a megalomaniacal psychotic asshole."

Nova is an omega level mutant, ie THE Omega, of Alpha-and-Omega, ie god. This is about us as god-the-author for fiction.

A finger-licking, dead inside pixie slab at third rate dime store nut-milk. And I’ll tell you what she can do.

I'll tell you what YOU can do.

I’m listening.

"Shut up", you don't know what you're saying because you don't know you're fictional and that they're listening--this is RECORDED on tape, both in universe and out. AKA, you're going to get yourself killed, god's gonna kill you.

Wade is also Jesus so he is.....listening....to what Johnny is telling him. This is framed as a prayer, a wish.

She can lick my goddamn cinnamon ring clean and kick rocks all the way to bald hell. In fact, I don’t give a shit if she removes all my skin and pops me like some nightmarish blood balloon. If the last thing I do with this God forsaken, cum gutter existence, is light that fuck box on fire, I still won’t die happy.

"You, god, can lick--". The cum gutter existence and the "light that fuck box on fire" are references to slash and how so much fiction is about sex without actually containing sex. Until you get to fanfiction, ofc, which literally does....light that fuck box on fire.

Holy shit, girl, you crazy.

"Goddamn man you're right." Wade defies the narrative, because he doesn't like that he's enslaved to us. He's the only one who knows the truth: god joke.

That’s right, Wade. I won’t be happy until I’ve urinated on her freshly barbecued corpse and husk fuck her charred remains while gargling Juggernaut’s juggin’ nuts.

Dead dove joke. Not only does he want to kill god, but since violence and necrophilia are sex. He wants to reach through the screen and engage in some "dead dove x reader".

Wow.

it's said with incredulity, so it's not amazement, it's disgust that this guy whom we screwed over wants to fuck us.

And you can quote me.

We did. Prayer sent directly to us, recorded, undeniable.

Okay.

Kitschy, so he's actually thinking it's not cute. This is his dead dove, and he wants no part. Because Wade is Jesus and he knows Johnny's mind, that he wasn't actually serious.

Gotcha, fuck face.

Addressed to US. We're the fuckface, because we created this whole thing and blamed our slaves. (Suspension of disbelief, this is not a pipe, joke.)

Johnny wasn't lying when he said all that, he was just wrong that he would enjoy it. We did in fact....make him ask for it. Dead dove: do not eat. Heed the tags, which are meta-level information that isn't included in the story itself. Subtext and ultratext matter.

Aka, don't look further if you don't want to read. Don't put in the effort to get fucked if you won't enjoy it. Don't go looking for Deadpool's subtext unless you want that. He's all about consent, after all, he'd never enslave anyone like we would.

Wade sent his sincere prayer up to god--us--and we blamed him (Both him and Johnny) when we're the ones who made Nova go through with it despite the fact Johnny rescinded the offer. Nova reads minds by touch, she touched him before all this, and knew both what he was thinking and that he didn't want to go through with it.

Be careful what you wish for, dovey. What happens in fiction stays there, but doing it in reality has consequences. Sticks and stones, words can never hurt you.....unless?.....you're a fictional reality. Textually, being offensive is not asking for it and should not result in death. Subtextually, being attractive--violence is sex, did you see the look and tone Nova used at him?--does not mean anyone is asking for it and should not result in them getting fucked.

God tier joke: Not all prayers get answered, and some of the ones that do shouldn't have been.

Quite literally, Johnny got fucked by the fourth wall. Seeing god isn't always helpful.

Only Wade is special enough to not die when doing that.

Disney vs Deadpool

if all deadpools are liars, so nicepool is lying about being kind, then that scene--

"If you can’t be a responsible pet owner, then maybe you don’t deserve this little unicorn." If you cared you would deserve this anal shitknot. (Logan deserves her, Logan cares, that's why Wade hands her to him) "Guilty on all charges, Your Honor. Shan’t happen again." Never once in my life have I cared. I ain't starting now. "Why are you so nice?" The fuck is wrong with you? "It costs nothing to be kind." ie, I give it away for free It costs everything to be kind, ie Thanos joke: I take what I want and it'll cost you everything. "Shutting the fuck up is also free." Running your mouth will cost you everything, ie terrible disney sewn mouth deadpool. "Caliente." Go fuck yourself jack-ass

AND---

(Calling dog) "She’s coming with us." (No no go away, not me, anyone else, go to Wolvie) I fucking hate this thing. "No, she’s not." Can I keep it? "Oh, yes, she is." You want this thing??? Really??? "Fuck, no". God yes "Oh, yes." Christ alive, if you're sure

It's about Wolvie saying it looks like Wade so obviously he's taking it home.

"If you can’t be a responsible pet owner, then maybe you don’t deserve this little unicorn." To Logan, that's "I know you love me and you deserve my ass" "Shutting the fuck up is also free." To Wade, that's "Running your mouth will get you everything you're asking for", ie, "I'm gonna make you scream if you keep going". And then the Honda happened, and he did.

There's a superficial sanitized Disney narrative with no crack, and then there's the Deadpool subtext under it all where there's a whole other conversation happening and they definitely "stuck their faces in each other's crack"

[the-iceni-bitch]

Paralian

Pairing: soft!Winter Soldier x fem!Reader

Words: ~3.6k

Summary: You find the Winter Soldier washed up on the beach in front of your small cabin and debate what you should do with him.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (titty worship, soft sex, unprotected vaginal sex) minor angst, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: My official entry for @bonkywobble ‘s halfway to 1k challenge! I chose the prompts paralian (one who lives by the sea) and stranded so here we are!! Congratulations Georgie!!!!

It was your third year being stationed on Rankki, and fuck you were starting to get so bored.

You cursed yourself every day for taking this shit assignment. Sure, an isolated life on an idyllic Finnish island sounded great! All you had to do was monitor the radar for any Soviet subs and the radio for any communications that were worrisome, and other than that, you could enjoy the nice quiet life by the sea you’d always wanted.

Fuck all that shit.

Nothing ever happened, the last blip on the radar you’d received was just a pod of whales, and as sure as SHIELD was that they were tapped into the appropriate Soviet channels, you had never heard anything exciting or important.

You were damp all the time, the wind and sea spray soaking you to the bone and leaving you with a never ending chill. You had a fireplace but there was no wood anywhere on the tiny island. You knew, you’d walked all over the damn thing a thousand times. You had to arrange for shipments of wood from Helsinki every few months.

You were standing on the rocky shore outside your tin sided house as you sipped a mug of tea with a thick wool blanket wrapped around you. There were vicious looking black and purple clouds rolling in from the east, and you sighed to yourself before heading back inside to prepare for the upcoming storm. At least that would be a break from the monotony you were stuck with.

Within twenty minutes you heard the roll of thunder and then the wind hit your house with a howl, shaking the siding as rain pounded on your roof. You just stoked the fire with a sigh, secure in the knowledge that the construction of your house was sound.

You sat back in your armchair and curled up under your blankets to look out the window as lightning streaked across the sky. You could see see massive waves rolling far out in the gulf when suddenly your radio crackled and a distress call broke the silence in your living room.

The caller was speaking in frantic Russian as you scrambled to pick up the microphone. You tried to get a location or any information from the caller but they were babbling frantically and you didn’t think they heard you. The only words you were able to make out were Sverdlov, Karpov, and Soldat.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the last word. That was supposed to be a fucking rumor. Maybe evidence of the Winter Soldier would finally get you off this god forsaken strip of land. You tried to remain calm as you called back over the radio, but all you got in response was dead air.

You cursed before trying to raise the SHIELD base over comms, but there was no luck, the storm was causing too much interference. No matter which frequency you tried, you couldn’t get anything but static.

“Goddamn it.” You muttered, chewing on your lips as you gazed out the window again. You’d try again once the skies had cleared, maybe you’d get lucky and the ship would make it through, and you’d be able to hail them again.

The storm ended in a little over an hour, stopping as suddenly as it had started. You stood up and stretched, folding your blanket and tossing over the back of your armchair as you headed to your radio. You flipped through each channel slowly, desperately trying to find a signal, but all that greeted you was dead air.

A sigh escaped from deep in your chest as you shook your head resignedly, deciding to head out to walk over the island for the million and first time.

You cursed when you walked outside. The beach was littered with driftwood and other debris, including what you were quite certain were the pieces of the vessel you had received the distress call from.

You muttered angrily to yourself as you picked your way over the rocky beach, dreading the task of clearing up all this shit. At least it would be something to occupy your time over the next few days.

You caught a hint of movement out of the corner of your eye and felt your body tense as you went to investigate, suddenly regretting your decision to leave your gun inside.

You came up on what you initially thought was a dead body until you saw it roll over and jumped back warily. A set of blue eyes gazed up at you questioningly and you caught a glimpse of metal below the man’s sleeve.

“Who are you?” He rasped in surprisingly good English, struggling to stand up. “Where am I?”

“You’re on the island of Rankki in Finland.” You answered, searching for something you could use as a weapon gas you kept one eye on the stranger. “What do you remember?”

“I don’t know.” He muttered, drawing slowly to his feet as you sucked in a breath at the sheer power of his build, not missing the glint of metal on his left hand.

“Fuck.” You muttered as you realized you were now stuck on a tiny ass island with the Winter Soldier and no outside communications. “What’s your name?” You asked, looking around desperately for something you could use as a weapon if you had to fight him.

“I... I don’t know.” He mumbled, shaking his head and staggering as he tried to walk towards you.

You took a step back and chewed on your lip, trying to decide what to do. If he really couldn’t remember anything, he was going to be useless to you, though SHIELD would probably love to take apart that arm and study it. If he was faking it, he would most likely kill you in your sleep.

The look he gave you was full of pain and confusion, though, and you cursed yourself in your head for being so soft and gullible.

“Ok, let’s get you inside before the sun sets. I’ll make you some tea and get you into some dry clothes, ok?”

He nodded and followed you inside, looking around warily once he stepped into your tiny cabin. You chewed your lip as you closed the door behind him, still trying to figure out exactly what you should do about this new complication.

“The bathroom’s through here.” You said as you ushered him towards the back of your house. “Maybe take a hot shower and I’ll try to find you some clothes?”

He just grunted as he closed the door in your face, and you let out a deep sigh. You moved to put the kettle on the stove and reheat some lentil stew before heading to your radio. You flipped through all the channels, cursing under your breath as you still failed at raising the SHIELD base on the mainland. You worked at stashing all of your weapons as you listened to the shower running, knowing that if he really wanted to hurt you, he wouldn’t need a weapon.

You heard the shower shut off and grabbed an oversized sweater and some thermal leggings you hoped would have enough give to fit over his thick thighs. He stepped out of the bathroom and you swallowed a moan once you saw him with nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. It had been three years with nothing but your fingers to keep you satisfied and the presence of the massive soldier was reminding you just how hard up you were. You took a deep breath as you handed him the clothes and turned back to the kitchen, pouring two mugs of tea and serving up the leftover stew.

“Eat up.” You said when he returned from getting dressed in your bedroom. “Sorry, there’s not a lot of food options here.”

“S’fine.” He mumbled around a mouthful of stew as he sank onto your couch, and you did your best not to ogle the outline of his cock in your too tight leggings.

You gulped down your tea quickly as you tried to school your thoughts. This was very bad. You were stuck with one of the most dangerous Soviet agents alive and all you could think about was crawling into his lap and fucking yourself on his cock. Even if he did have amnesia, this was a very, very bad idea.

“The stew was good.” He mumbled as he finished his bowl, turning to you as you worked on your own helping. “Thank you.”

“Mmhm.” You mumbled, still trying to think about anything else except letting him bend you over and fuck you against the counter.

He stood up and moved to rinse off his dishes in the sink, brushing past you and making you clench. You tried to move out of his way but your kitchen was so cramped that all you ended up doing was tangling your feet with his until you almost fell over.

You gasped when he caught you by your elbow and yanked you into his chest to keep you from going down. His chest rumbled with a low growl as you steadied yourself, and you could’ve sworn you felt him sniff your hair.

“You ok?” He murmured before releasing his grip on your arm and letting you step back.

“Yeah, just clumsy.” You whispered, squeezing your thighs together to try to do something to relieve the ache in your core.

“Good.” He said with a deep sigh, running his hand through his hair. “Where am I sleeping?”

You cursed in your head as you thought about that question, looking around your tiny house as you tried to think about where you could stash him. The couch was too small for either of you to comfortably rest on, and you only had the one bed.

“Shit, I guess we’re doubling up.” You muttered, chewing your lip again as you dreaded spending the night in your kind of small bed with the gorgeous, massive stranger that was staring at you with puppy dog eyes. “There’s not even room on the floor anywhere.”

“Ok.” He grunted, avoiding making eye contact with you as you slid past him to wash up for bed.

You locked the bathroom door behind you and started splashing cold water on your face as you tried to calm down. Bad, bad, so bad this was bad. You couldn’t even try to reach SHIELD now and you weren’t sure when you’d have the chance to try again. You brushed your teeth furiously as you did your best to school your thoughts.

You threw on your pajamas once you were finished and stormed into the bedroom, determined to not let your libido get the better of you. He was sitting on the bed in just your leggings, and you swore under your breath as you moved past him to your side of the bed.

“Back to back?” He said with a cocked eyebrow as you slid under the covers and he turned off his lamp.

“Yeah.” You muttered, shutting your own light off and pulling the blankets up your body as you curled around yourself and squeezed your eyes shut.

You heard him let out a deep sigh as you tried to fall asleep, your brain refusing to focus on anything except the warmth of his back against yours.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you did, until you woke up under the suffocating weight of his body draped over yours, his face buried in your hair as he whimpered in your ear.

He wrapped his arms around you and snarled, and you were surprised to feel tears soaking your hair.

“Um, hey.” You muttered as you tried to turn towards him. “Wake up.”

You squeezed his shoulder and gave it a small shake to try to rouse him and his eyes flew open. You yelped as he flipped you over and pinned you to the bed with his hand around your throat.

His eyes were murderous as he gazed at you, his pupils blown wide while you feebly clawed at his metal forearm, struggling to breathe. He finally came out of his post-sleep haze and released you with a hiss, scrambling back on the bed until he was huddled in the corner as you sat up and spluttered to catch your breath.

“Fuck, I don’t know what happened.” He muttered as he buried his head in his hands.

“It’s ok, I think you just had a nightmare.” You said as you rubbed your hand over your neck. “Are you ok?”

He turned his gaze back to you and you sucked in a breath as you saw tears glistening in his cheeks. Your instincts took over and you crawled towards him, curling your body around his and murmuring softly as his chest shook with sobs.

You ran your hands through his hair as he tucked his face into your shoulder, trying to figure out what exactly you should do to help him calm down.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He choked out, his tears soaking through your shirt as you tried your best to comfort him.

“It’s gonna be ok.” You cooed, running a hand over his back softly as he moved his face up to your neck and inhaled deeply, moaning as he took in your scent.

His breathing had finally slowed down, and you could feel his chest moving in deep breaths against yours as he sighed into your hair. You moaned when he suddenly brushed his lips against the hollow beneath your ear as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“You smell so good.” He murmured as he ran his mouth over your throat, his soft lips on your skin making you whine. “Like pine and wind and home.”

“Uh-huh.” You muttered, trying your best to get control of yourself as he ran his hands over your sides until they came to rest on your hips.

His teeth brushed over your jaw and you whined as you felt your core clench around nothing as you throbbed with need. Your breath hitched when he moved his lips to yours and barely brushed against them as you rested your forehead against his and screwed your eyes closed.

“I need you so bad. Open your eyes.” He ordered, bringing his metal hand up to cup your cheek. You did as he asked, losing yourself in his darkened gaze as you breathed deeply. “But we can stop if you want.”

You but your lip as you considered that for a second before smashing your mouth against his in a desperate clash of teeth and tongues as you moaned against his lips.

He wrenched your shirt off and pressed his palms against your tits, gripping them harshly and groaning before bending forward to rub his face over your nipples. You felt a rush of arousal seep out of you as he laved his tongue over one of them and pinched the other, gazing up at you through his lashes as you arched into his face. He brushed his lips over the soft slopes of your breasts as you devolved into a whimpering mess.

You started grinding against his thigh as he worshipped your breasts, tracing their curves with his tongue and lips as you felt the sensation echo in your core. It was too much for you in your touch starved state and you felt a shiver travel up your spine as he brought you closer. He brushed his teeth over your nipple and you came apart with a wordless cry, your pleasure rolling over you in a wave as your pussy fluttered wildly over his thigh, your release soaking your leggings.

He moved his mouth back up to yours and nipped at your lips as he started to turn your bodies to pin you underneath him. His mouth devoured yours as he pulled your leggings off you before shoving his own down his legs as he slotted himself between your thighs.

You bit your lip as you felt him run his steely length through your puffy lips, coating himself in your slick before lining himself up. He rested his forehead against yours and gazed into your eyes as you just blinked at him and pressed your knees against his sides. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you dug your fingers into his biceps as he slid into you slowly, letting out a low moan as you stretched around his girth.

“You still good?” He asked, his eyes still focused on yours as he felt you relax around him.

“Very, very good.” You mumbled as he started to move his hips in long, slow strokes, hitting every spot inside you that had been neglected for the past three years as you melted into the mattress.

“You feel so good.” He murmured, moving to bury his face in your neck as he continued pushing his hips into you. “So tight and warm and... fuck you’re just perfect.”

You couldn’t say anything, you were so consumed with the feeling of him inside of you, your pussy clenching around his cock in waves from base to tip and tip to base as he edged you closer and closer to your release. He sucked your ear lobe between his teeth as you locked your ankles together at the small of his back and did your best to draw him even further inside you.

He kept moving his hips in smooth thrusts, his lips moving over your throat softly as he took you apart with slow, deliberate movements. A final twist of his hips had you screaming, every muscle in your body tightening and releasing like a bowstring as you spasmed uncontrollably around his cock. His eyes moved back to watch you closely as your face contorted with pure bliss and you sobbed underneath him.

You panted as you came down, smiling back at him and unwrapping your legs from around him as he slowly slid out of you. He moved his lips over your shoulders as his hands slid to your waist, starting to turn you over slowly as your breathing finally returned to normal.

He brushed your hair aside and pressed his lips to the back of your neck once he had you on your stomach, his chest pressed against your back as he nudged your thighs apart with his knees. You bit the pillow as he teased his tip against your entrance before pushing into you again, making you whine.

His hips started moving again as he wrapped his fingers through yours and pinned your hands above your head while he fucked you in swift thrusts, his hips slapping against your ass as he smothered you with his body.

“You close, honey?” He murmured against the shell of your ear as you arched your back to meet his thrusts.

“Yeah, I’m so close.” You moaned, your cunt clamping around him as he dragged his cock over your g-spot with each push. “Need more.”

“Yeah? I can do that.” He grinned before sinking his teeth into your shoulder and slamming his hips forward.

You shrieked as he fucked you, your body sinking into the mattress as he pressed against you. It only took a few thrusts before you shattered around him, stars exploding behind your eyes as you vibrated underneath him. His hips started stuttering and then he roared in your ear, his cock throbbing and swelling inside you until he was flooding you with his spend, warming you from inside as he fucked his cum into you with quick, rhythm less jerks.

He collapsed on top of you when he was finished, his breath coming in deep sighs as you panted into the pillow. You felt exhaustion starting to drag you under, your lids growing heavy as you felt him soften inside you.

“Can we just stay like this?” He muttered, his lips brushing over your neck gently. “I just want to hold you.”

“Yeah, ok.” You hummed, surrendering to the pull of sleep as he pulled the covers back over the two of you before he sank on top of you with a deep sigh.

You woke up with him still on top of you, his limbs tangled with yours as he snored softly. You moved gingerly as you worked to extract yourself from him, desperately needing to use the bathroom.

He gave a soft huff when you rolled him over, but quickly relaxed as he nuzzled himself into your pillows. You closed the blinds to block out the early morning light and tiptoed out of the bedroom. You took care of your business quickly and we’re heading back to bed when you heard the faint sound of your radio crackling to life.

You rushed into your comm room and turned the radio down before really listening to what you were hearing.

“Agent Y/L/N? Come in!” Someone from the base was calling over the link.

“This is Y/L/N.” You answered.

“We got reports of a wrecked Soviet ship in your area. Intel says they had some sort of asset on board. Has anything turned up?”

You chewed your lip as you thought things over. If you turned the Winter Soldier over, you could probably finally get off this island and land a cushy desk job back in the States. It was all you’d been thinking about for years.

But then you thought about waking up to those small fearful sounds, and the look in his eyes before he started sobbing into your chest. And there was no way you could turn that broken creature over to the cold scientists at SHIELD.

“Just some debris.” You called back over the radio. “Nothing important.”

“Alright, well keep us updated.”

You hung up the receiver and started to move back to the bedroom, smiling sadly as you heard the soldier wondering where you were.

——————————————————————————

A/N: 🥺🥺🥺

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[house-of-slayterr]

Poison the Ivies:

Tag: @keffirinne @howl-fantasies @flaysthings

Maggie’s POV:

I stomped into the dinning hall, a place where Oswald frequently held meetings. Four angry sets of footsteps followed shortly after. I walked to the end of the room near the window and began pacing. This was bad, this was really bad. I had five of the scariest people in Gotham upset with me right now. How I was still breathing was a miracle.

“Maggie” a voice called.

I wasn’t sure which one.

“Maggie!” It called louder

I kept on with my pacing, biting at my nails.

“MAGNOLIA BLOSSOM!”

Now that voice caught my attention. Y/N, shit.

“Sit down!” She demanded.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I was an idiot, not suicidal.

They all stood, staring down at me. It was like they were debating who should speak first. But Y/N as usual took the reigns.

“What’s this Basil was telling me about you lying to us?” Y/N said.

Attempting to sound calm. But you didn’t need to be a genius to know she’s was just one wrong answer away from exploding.

“I can explain.”

“Really? Go ahead then kitten.”

I opened my mouth several times, attempting to think of a coherent answer. But it was heard to think when Victor Zsasz’s eyes were boring into your soul.

“Can you make him stop, he’s stressing me out.” I mumbled.

“He’s stressing you out?” Oswald laughed. “Magnolia, you have someone trying to kill you, Victor is the least of your worries.”

“This is Gotham, everyone’s always trying to kill everyone.” I tried to defuse the situation.

It seemed my humour was not appreciated at this time.

“Why does Ivy want you dead?” Y/N asked.

“What do you told them that but you couldn’t bother to explain the rest?” I glared at Basil.

Fucking snitch, can’t even do his job right.

“Oh no, he did, I want to hear it from you. Explain to me again how you got yourself in this situation.”

“Sorry I was trying to be an adult and handle my own mess. I didn’t want to drag anyone else into my bullshit. I was handling it.”

“Handling it.” Victor scoffed.

I shot him a glare. Not my best idea.

“We’ll that’s the problem isn’t it? You’re just a little girl! And now mommy and daddy have to clean up your mess.” Y/N scolded.

I hated when she talked down to me like I was just some kid. I’m not the naive little girl I was when I first moved here. Before I ever met Y/N and her insane husband. Before I ever got dragged into the underground. Before I ever got blood on my hands.

Though I suppose that wasn’t true. Grodd showed me the truth. He showed me the memories I’d long forgotten of my childhood. The memories I had before Oliver and Thea. Before Slade killed our mother in front of us. Before I ran away from home, making my way to this god forsaken city. And now my mind was clearer than ever.

I was never meant to be innocent, that ship sailed a long time again. And I was tired of pretending I was to keep up this facade. Sure I’m not some hardened criminal. But I’ve seen things, done things nobody should ever have to do. Molly Maddox was a part of me I could never change. She was a part of me that protected me from trauma, therefore making me weak. But that barrier was down now. I was Magnolia Blossom because I wanted to be, not out of survival anymore.

There was no going back to who I was before all this bullshit. That person simply did not exist anymore.

“No.” I simply said.

“I’m sorry, did you just tell me no?” She asked.

I stood up from my chair.

“I’m not gonna let you just waltz in there and take the kill. I’ve worked to damn hard, suffered too much. Ivy Pepper is mine, and I’m going to make her regret every knowing the name Magnolia Blossom. If you want to help, I’m not gonna stop you. But nobody lays a hand on Pepper. I’m done being a scared little girl. You can lecture me about it later.”

The four of them stood there stunned. Basil was holding back a smirk, the edge of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. Oswald was smiling like an idiot, all anger lost in his face.

“So you do have balls after all” Victor said.

“I trained you good.” Y/N smirked.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Standing up to them was possibly the scariest thing I’d ever done. And I’m glad it didn’t backfire on me.

“She’s going to go after Bruce, she needs him for her plan to cover gotham in plant life. Something about a solution that will decompose bodies faster, filling peoples insides with plants until they strangle out your organs and burst out of you.”

Oswald shook his head in disgust.

“She needs my blood to complete the process. Which means she’ll come to get me next. She also has a plan to keep the cops distracted, a love flower than can make the people who come in contact with it obsessed with her. They’ll do anything she wants without question. Vic, Basil, do you think you could stake out the police station to make sure she can’t enslave any of them.”

Basil nodded his head.

“You just want us to babysit your precious little detective.” Victor sneered.

I rolled my eyes.

“Or I don’t want all of Gotham’s police to have their guns trained on me. I know they’re shit shooters but I don’t seem to be very lucky these days.”

“Os, you’re the only person in town other than Selena that she kinda likes, think you could try to distract her?”

“I’m not sure how well that will go, but I’ll do it.”

I smiled. Y/N stood there with her hands crossed over her chest, looking smug as hell.

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to order me around like everyone else?” She raised a challenging brow.

“I’m not ordering anyone. Simply trying to communicate, something you were just yelling at me for not doing less than 20 minutes ago. We all know nobody call tell you what to do.”

“What’s your plan kid?”

“You’re the back up. If I fail, you get to kill when and say I told you so. Sound fair?”

She laughed, a short and crut laugh, throwing her head back.

“I think I like this new you kitten, feisty.”

“No, to wait around and get kidnapped so she doesn’t suspect anything.” I said, as if it was the most normal thing in the whole world.

My siblings would be so ashamed if they saw me now. Oliver might understand more than Thea. He’s had to kill people before, back on Lian Yu. But ever since he met Felicity he suddenly had a new moral compass, against killing his villains. Something about “hero code”, which is utter bullshit. Why lock someone up when you know they’re just gonna break out and kill more people? Just so you don’t have blood on your hands, and skeletons in your closet? Kind of selfish if you ask me.

When I woke up the next day, I was in a different room. Thomas Wayne’s study. I was tied to a chair, but my back felt warm. I turned my head to side to see Bruce passed out in the chair behind me. There was a thin trail of blood on his forehead, he must have put up a good fight. Poor kid. And where was Alfred? I wouldn’t put it past Ivy to try and kill the man, which I desperately hoped wasn’t the case. Bruce was like me, he couldn’t afford to loose anyone else. I’d already lost two sets of parents in my life, I couldn’t imagine losing Y/N or Victor. No matter how much they got on my nerves.

I nudged my shoulder, trying to wake him up. He came too after a few minuetes.

“Maggie?” He asked.

“Hey Brucie. Told you I’d come visit soon.” I joked.

He didn’t find it very funny.

“How’s your head?”

“Throbbing, but I’m fine. Ivy-“

“I know. I know.” I said, trying to keep the boy calm. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan. Just follow my lead and do what she asks, yeah? We don’t need that genius little brain of yours getting bashed in.”

“She told me he plan to use the Wayne toxin, to counter all the damage our company made to the earth. She wants me to pay for what my dad did to all the plants in Gotham.” He said.

“I’m not going to let her lay another hand on you, ok Bruce. Where Alfred?”

“I don’t know, he had some business to deal with. When I tracked his cell it said he was somewhere in the narrows.”

Of course he had a tracker on his butler. It was sort of adorable, how much he cared.

“The narrows?” I asked, more to myself than the kid.

What the hell could Alfred Pennyworth need on the Narrows? To break up the Peace, Ivy entered the room with a few goons to guard the exits.

“Morning sleepyheads.” She greeted.

I rolled my eyes. Always fashionably late with this one. She started monologuing to Bruce, telling him step by step what she was going to do. And how she was going to “save” Gotham. Just hearing her talk made me sick. She had killed Grodd again, after he betrayed her. Saying she no longer needed him for her bigger plan. She’d found a better way to control the population. Which was true, her love concoction was quite potent.

Bruce convinced her that he’d help her finish her serum if she untied us. Smart on the kids part, he was playing up the victim role nicely. She leaned down and gave him a kiss. Which made me extremely uncomfortable to witness. I swore I was about to pull right there. She untied him first, then me with a warning. Bruce and I worked in silence for nearly half an hour. I was able to send him secret messages through the the morse code he’d taught me. Reassuring him that everything was still going according to plan.

I knew if Selena Kyle was anything like me, and she was, she’d come looking for Bruce when he didn’t respond for a while. And his phone had been blowing up on the corner the last hour. I watched silently as she crept in through the window, grabbing on of the goons and taking them hostage. Ivy’s face went from bored to excited.

“Seems like the kitty joined our garden party! Good, now you’ll get to watch him die.”

We were almost finished with the serum, but there was no way in hell I’d let her use it on Bruce.”

I passed Bruce a letter opener and he had my back while I continued working.

“What’s this Maggie, not going to join their little heroine party?”

“It’s pointless Ivy, you’re just going to kill is anyway.”

I tried to act defeated, and it seemed to have fooled the villainess. Between Selena and Bruce they were able to knock out most of the goons, Ivy finally stepping up to play.

“Enough!” She grabbed Bruce by the throat, threatening to dig her nails into his jugular.

Selena froze, and I broke my concentration. It was expected sure; but I wasn’t really willing to call her bluff when Bruce’s life was on the line. I placed the finishing ingredient in the serum. My blood. I cut into my hand and let it fall into the concoction. A sizzling sound filling the air, as a sickly sweet smell filled the room.

“It’s done, Ivy. Put him down. This is between me and you.” I bargained.

She smiled, a Cheshire Cat like grin.

“And we have the perfect little test subject.”

“Let them go Ivy. They’re just kids.” I reasoned.

“But he’s still a Wayne, and she’s just a lowly thief of an ex best friend. Who’s gonna miss her?”

I saw her reach for the special flower pollen she had in her pocket. She was going to enslave them. I had to act quick or my plan would fall apart. And I couldn’t have their deaths on my conscious, worse, actually have to hear Y/N say “I told you so”

“Selena Run!” I yelled.

I threw a book at Ivy’s head, the object distracting her for a second as she let go of Bruce. Selena grabbed his hand and ran. Ivy hot on their tail as she caught her bearings. I was quick to extract some of the serum into a syringe and chase after them. Thankfully the idiot was wearing heals, so I could easily catch up. The kids made it to the bottom of the stairs and we’re headed to the door. I tackled Ivy, the two of us stumbling down the grand stair case. That would surly leave several bruises.

We fought for a minuet struggling on the ground. She used her vines to trap both the kids before they could leave.

“Just give up Maggie. You’re not going to beat me. Your little assassins aren’t here to protect you now.”

I watched as the kids struggled agains the vines. The thorns cutting into their skin lightly. I wasn’t gonna let her win. I couldn’t. I lunged forward, but she easily dodged. Ivy swiped at my face, her claw like nails cutting through my skin and slicing into my left eye. I cried out in pain falling to the ground and holding my face. My vision severely impaired now.

Ivy moved in closer, seemingly ready to admit the finally blow. I mean she had all she needed from me. No reason to keep me alive.

“Any last words?” She asked smugly.

I beaconed her closer. And when she was close enough I plunged the needle into her neck, injecting the liquid.

“Yeah, have fun being plant fertiliser bitch!” I said.

She stumbled back, ripping the needle out of her neck. Her eyes widened in shock. Her control of the vines loosening, as the kids fell to the floor. I quickly scrambled up, running over to them to check them both for any serious injuries.

“We’re fine.” Selena assured.

The door creaked open and I instinctively shoved them behind me. I saw Y/N standing there and relaxed a little.

“You we’re taking too long, I got worried.” She said.

We watched as Ivy stumbled forward, seemingly to try one last time to get what she wanted. Y/N raised he gun to shoot her in the head, but I held my hand up to stop her. She raised a brow at me.

“Wait.” I said.

“If you’re going soft on me now-“

She was cut off when we heard Ivy mutter. “Shit!”

She exploded in a display of viscera and plant matter. I used my hands to cover Bruce’s eyes, and he did the same to Selena. I cringed as the blood hit my face.

Y/N started laughing hysterically, louder than I’d ever heard her laugh before. She wiped down blood off her cheek.

“Holy shit kid, that was brutal.” She laughed. “Come on, to celebrate baby’s first mission, I’m taking the three of you to get ice cream.”

She said. As if we all hadn’t just witnessed something incredibly traumatic. She reached out her hand to help me off the floor. Selena pulled away from Bruce, and despite the blood all over them, I could still see their cheeks flush as they looked away from each other.

“You think maybe we could stop by the hospital first?” I said, pointing to my eye.

She rolled her eyes, breaking into a big smile. She threw her arm over my shoulder.

“I’m proud of you kitten. But you ever do something like this again, I’ll kill you myself”

We followed her out of the house, the police and Alfred being stationed outside. Bruce ran over to give the worried butler a hug. I gave him a weak smile as he mouthed a “thank you” seemingly for keeping the boy alive.

There was an ambulance waiting, and Jim was quick to rush over and get me to sit.

“Shit, Maggie, you looks awful”

“Gee thanks, exactly what a girl wants to hear from her crush.”

He shook his head. “I’m just glad you’re ok.” He said, pulling me in for a hug and kissing the top of my head. I’m pretty sure my heart was beating faster now than when I thought I was going to die. When the paramedics finished the stitches I hopped up.

Basil was leaning against the car, and Zsasz was passed out in the back seat.

“The hell happened to him?” I asked.

“Y/N happened.”

I chuckled. Basil pulled me into a hug and helped me into the car.

A few weeks later:

I was sitting in the ice burg lounge, nursing a drink at the bar, when I heard the click of heels. I turned to see Tabitha and Butch standing there. My face lit up, but I was nervous. Surely they were mad at me. I looked back down at my drink, downing it in one go. I was going to leave, let them have fun. It’s not like they didn’t deserve it.

“Oswald told us what happened.” Butch started.

I halted in my tracks, turning around.

“You really sent us away to protect us?” Tabitha asked, skeptical.

I didn’t blame her. Nobody in Gotham did anything without an ulterior motive.

“You’re my friends.” I said.

Friend was a term that was used loosely in these parts of town. I had to admit, it was really nice seeing them. I was going to leave it at that, but Butch opened his arms. I silent invitation. He was like a big teddy bear. It was funny watching people shake in fear before him, knowing what he was like behind closed doors. An overgrown puppy. I gratefully accepted the hug. Tabitha placed a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s nice to be home.” She said, smiling. “Sick scar by the way.”

She complemented. I was supposed to be wearing an eye patch but I hated how ridiculous it made me look. Butch pulled back to look at it, lightly tracing the claw marks with his fingers.

“You know, I know somewhere you can get a new eye.” He said.

Only in Gotham.

An: remember that episode where Victor was all lovey dovey for Ivy? Yeah that’s what’s happening in their POV right now. Y/N rushes over there to help get her husband back, because he’s not allowed to be obsessed with anyone other than her. She the scolds him and Basil when Vic comes to, and asks Basil why he let this happen. And Basil just shrugs “it was funny”

[shoyodon]

Reclined Seat Prank HCs

𝙐𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙟𝙞𝙢𝙖, 𝙊𝙞𝙠𝙖𝙬𝙖, 𝙆𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙮𝙖𝙢𝙖, 𝙆𝙪𝙧𝙤𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙞𝙠𝙏𝙤𝙠 𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙃𝘾𝙨

Warnings: Suggestive b/c Kuroo - what’d you expect, language

A/N: it’s 1AM heres a shitpost 

Ｕｓｈｉｊｉｍａ

You had seen this prank on Tiktok a couple of times, a girl picks up her boyfriend but the passenger seat is reclined all the way back and gets their reactions

Ushi does NOT know who Tiktok is or why his girlfriend finds him funny and he does not care

Honestly, you had no clue how he’d react, he didn’t ever respond to the majority of your cheesy pranks but maybe this would be the one

You had messaged him telling him after practice today you'd pick him up and the both of you could grab something to eat together to which he responded an “Okay 🙂”

Tendou is still teaching him how to use emojis leave him alone

You pull up, placing your phone down so that it records the passenger seat and you recline the seat. 

You pull out a tube of lipgloss and begin applying it in the camera as if you were using it as a mirror and Ushi comes up to the side of the door, knocking twice on it before he opened it.

He does that so you know its him and dont get startled 🥺

He gives you a short greeting, a ghost of a smile on his lips, climbing in

Bro literally just adjusts the seat correctly and puts his bag in the backseat

What

“Ushi..” “Yes, my love?”

Sigh

You cant even be mad, the dude trusts you blindly, the thought of you cheating on him doesn’t even cross his mind

With a shrug you lock your phone, sparking normal conversation before pulling out to go get him a well deserved after practice dinner

Ｏｉｋａｗａ

Okay THIS motherfucker. 

I feel like Oinks definitely has Tiktok, unlike Ushi, and he is the definition of straight Tiktok

HOWEVER I don't think he has a lot of couple Tiktoks on his FYP and if he does they're like the sitting in your partner's lap pranks, not something like this

Hes also like...7 years old so he probably does his own petty pranks but theyre ones he comes up with himself that he thinks are fucking hilarious like taking a million selfies, posting them on your instagram/snapchat stories until theyre like 10-15 minutes long and filling your storage with them

So THIS

Oh this is well deserved

You set up your phone in a place that he wouldn't notice, and started recording

He runs to the car, opening the door quickly and tosses his bag in, getting in the car and literally fucking falls flat on his back

Confused™️

“Hey babe” 

“Yes tooru?”

“Who was in my seat?”

“Your seat?”

“MY seat who was in MY seat??”

No longer confused, just panicked

He sat up, leaning over the console looking you in the eyes, you can't tell if he's going to start crying or throw up

Not your intention to make him cry

Carefully explaining that it was a joke while he let out a loud, dramatic huff, placing his forehead on your shoulder

“I’m having heart palpitations”

“I'll pick up milk bread on the way home if you stop the dramatics…?”

“Deal.”

Ｋａｇｅｙａｍａ

Bro he has 3 brain cells, one for you, volleyball, and milk

Why would you do this

He doesn’t know what the fuck a Tiktok is despite you repeatedly showing him videos or telling him to make an account

He is far too busy watching 10 hr long volleyball compilations

I also HC him as having boomer humor so even if you showed him a fucking FUNNY video, he’d be brain dead, absolutely. He doesn't get the appeal

 He laughs at the minion memes this is fact

BUT ANYWAYS

You saw this and for whatever god forsaken reason wanted to do it on Kags, the most oblivious person on planet earth

It was like 3 AM and you told him you were coming to pick him up to go on a drive, which was normal for the two of you, it's one of the more peaceful moments in your chaotic lives 

He agreed, ofc, because babie is a huge softie for you. 

You pull up in your jammies, seat reclined and start recording

Kags comes out in sweats and a hoodie you gave him for your anniversary and opens the door, he notices the seat and gets in carefully

“Hey Y/n? Did you sleep in your car?” he asks quietly, turning to look at you, almost concerned.

“Did your parents kick you out or something? You know you can always stay with me..” baby starts rambling because he fr thinks you're living in your car for some reason

The whole concept of cheating doesn't exist to him, you are the one and only person in the world he has complete trust in, so naturally the only conclusion he could come up with was you being homeless

“No..Kags...I’m not sleeping in my car...it was a prank”

Cue explaining to him what the prank was

He doesn’t get it, why would pretending to cheat on your partner be funny

sigh

Ｋｕｒｏｏ

You know exactly what I’m about to write

This motherfucker

Kuroo for sure has TikTok BUT WAIT

Its canon that Kuroo is just a cocky dork that knows how to shit talk

He would never be on straight or couple tiktok, he's on science/nerd Tiktok and deep Tiktok for sure, he sends the craziest shit to you.

So there is NO way he would know about this prank unless someone explicitly explained it to him

Perfect

You told him you were going to pick him up for a lunch date since it was saturday and the two of you hadn't seen each other for a couple days

He agreed? Obv he is in ✨🌸love🌸✨with you 

You pull up, seat reclined, and set up your phone after shooting him an “i'm here” text

He runs out, pops the door open and looks in

Does NOT get in, instead, this cocky SOB leans down so you can see his face fully, hands resting on the roof of the car, shit eating grin on his face. “Is this you telling me you wanted a little something before we got lunch…? that'll ruin your appetite y'know..” 

Spit on him

Why didn't you see this coming

It did ruin your appetite

[cheelduh]

The Shackles of Duty

Pairing: Diluc x gn!reader

Synopsis: As a weapon of the Abyss, your obligation towards your Princess should be eternal.

Warnings: Unedited angst. Pls ignore any mistakes besties <3

Word count: 2k

You've never really given the weather any thought. It's not as if it matters to you. Stormy day or not, your responsibilities—no, your duty towards the Abyss will remain the same.

It's still raining. The mud thick underneath your boots, slippery against your heel, the putrid smell of grassy dew lingering miserably against the air.

"You know what you have to do." The Abyss Princess commands you, her loyal servant, hers to dispose if she so desires.

"The dragon...Stormterror." You explain, goosebumps forming on your skin as a result of the damp clothes that adorn your wet body. "Your brother, the honorary night, along with others, thwarted our plans by eliminating the fragments."

"Why?"

"You know why, your grace." Is all that you can give to her. "I shall follow him. Keep him away, from inciting another encounter—"

"No," Lumine declares, no room for argument. "Infiltrating their ranks is no easy task. You mustn't be relieved of your post, not yet at least. We need to extract as much information as possible to further avoid outcomes like these."

Exactly the answer you don't want to hear in the middle of this archon forsaken storm, all bruised and bumped up from Stormterror's confrontation.

Don't make me do this again. I don't know how much more I'll be able to take.

You bite your tongue, knowing full well the finality of her words. "As you wish, my princess."

The familiar redhead suddenly plagues your mind, stoic, and with years worth of anger at the world. The hero in the shadows, the man with an agonizing past, a sense of retribution albeit his severed connections with the knights of favonious.

Despite the obstacles of life and the intellect honed from his journey, he's reckless. Reckless enough to still believe that he can make a difference. That anyone can make a difference.

Diluc is reckless enough to love someone, reckless to think that his sworn brother would be the only one capable of betraying him.

—

"There's no point." Diluc whispers loud enough for you to hear him underneath the stars, adding onto the lull of night. "They all keep walking—no, running, aimlessly because of duty. They follow orders without knowing where they come from. It's utter chaos."

"But in all the chaos, there is calculation." You lean against the stone of the walls, and as always, you know how to speak to Diluc. How to open him up and read him like a book.

You're sure he can do the same with you, but he just isn't looking where he should be. You need him to look; to realize he's tangled up in your web of deceit and that there's no way out.

"How do you do that?" He says, aware all at once. "How do you give me so much yet so little?"

I want to give you everything, the pretty and the ugly things alike. I want to give you my secrets, fold them up in a dirty, black, envelope, and have you turn it to ash with the violent flames of your heart.

It's a lot of work hiding under false pretences.

"It's a beautiful night, my love." You say instead.

Diluc's never gotten used to the term of endearment, still new to receiving affection. It warms him up differently to his vision, pleasant yet unfamiliar. It takes a moment for him to come back to himself.

You briefly jolt at the pleasant warmth of his hand atop yours, a silent reassurance, one that worsens your guilt, weaves it into something that pierces your rotten core.

—

You don't know what you're thinking when you stand in front of Jean's office, fist hovering.

Is forgiveness why you're here? No, because you would've went to Diluc first. You would've confessed to him right then and there about what a vengeful weapon you are, a mindless soldier that will do anything for their queen.

You don't even get a chance to think of the various ways he'd kill you when the door is open, and you're met with the view of the acting Grandmaster herself. Another dear friend that will come to despise you.

"Y/N! I'm glad you're here—"

"I'm a servant of the Abyss." You cut her off, and don't stop yourself, letting the words run freely against the fast pace of your heart. "I've infiltrated Mondstadt under the orders of the abyss princess and used what I've learned to conspire against the archons."

Everything's spinning, so fast you can barely breathe.

Jean doesn't move, doesn't even blink as the confusion dawns on her face. You aren't looking for confusion.

"Don't pretend you're blindsided completely," You give her a humourless chuckle, and by the hush of your tone it's as if you're telling her a secret to any spectators. "You've known for a while now that there's been a traitor within your ranks. Every single attack from the Abyss—too clean, too unpredictable, one could say with coincidence."

"But the universe is rarely so lazy." Your voice is smooth, calm, the complete opposite to the flurries of emotions that bloom your being. "Varka knew that. And so do you."

"No," Jean finally speaks up, denying your claim incandescently. "We've fought together for years. You're one of our best, our most dependable. Everything we've done—everything you've done has been for Mondstadt. As always."

If only that were the truth.

You wave a hand over your right eye, releasing the magical bind to reveal the intricate marker. Jean's eyes widen, and she's far from her usual composed self.

"Still don't believe me?" You ask, knowing full well she's still in denial. It's not everyday your best mate, the one that fights alongside you, admits to being a traitorous scum of the abyss drenched in years worth of lies.

Ah the trials and tribulations of friendship.

"Fine then," With the flick of your wrist, it doesn't take much effort for the main doors to open up with a bang.

The acting grand master draws back at the shrill sound, teeth gritting.

She isn't the only one that's provoked. Wood and Wyratt, the only two guards on duty at this time let out shouts of surprise, reaching for their swords on instinct.

You summon your abysmal magic, which shapes into deep blue, if not black, appendages. They glitter, hiding the entire galaxy in them, with stars that burst into life. Breathtaking if not used on the battlefield.

In mere seconds, one latches on to Wyratt's leg, while the other takes Wood by his arm. All it takes is a jerk of your index finger, and they're sent flying outside the doors, which unceremoniously slam shut behind them. The lock clicks into place, cherry on top.

Jean materializes her sword, taking on a defensive position. You don't think you've ever seen the woman irritated, let alone as livid as she is right now.

That's more like it.

"Go on. Arrest me." You bring your wrists up, casual as ever. "We'd better hurry. They'll come after me soon enough, it's in your best interest to listen to everything I have to say if I'm willing to die over it." There's a tightness in your chest that you can't explain.

Jean hardens her gaze, not allowing herself to relax. You know what she's going to say. You've been her friend, her advisor, long enough to understand where most of her actions and decision stem from.

She says—well she says nothing, because she doesn't get a chance to when an abrupt screech erupts from her office, causing your ears to perk up and your blood to run cold. A series of heavy footsteps, footsteps you're all too familiar with follow.

Although you're fairly certain you know who it is, you glance over her shoulder anyways to meet the fiery red eyes that have reserved a place in your heart. The sole reason you're blowing the whistle.

You feel a sharp pang in your heart.

The pure, authentic, hurt in Diluc's hardened features are enough to have you gutted completely. Mouth dry with a rock in your throat, you don't so much as allow yourself to exhale.

You finally understand why you didn't go to him first. You were sure he'd be able to survive the betrayal, but you weren't sure you'd be able to survive it yourself.

Diluc. You want to tell him, tell him how sorry you are. Tell him how much of a piece of shit you are. Tell him that he doesn't deserve this, that he deserves so much better. Tell him that you love him, devastatingly so.

It isn't supposed to end this way. Things never go as planned.

You avert your gaze, clench your jaw shut, and wait.

"Jean." Diluc says, and there's grim finality in his voice. "We need a moment." His words send small pricks throughout your spine.

Jean regains her composure, mulling over his request, but any resistance is placated by a simple look from the redhead.

When she reluctantly leaves, the quiet is near unendurable.

"Why?" If the way Diluc's fixed gaze could set anything on fire, you would've been burned to the stake by now.

You'd calculated this moment countless of times, predicted exactly how this would go, lived through every outturn in the dead of the night as you struggled to find sleep in his arms.

Living through it is far more dreadful than you could've ever imagined it to be.

His body closes in at your lack of reply, hands gripping your forearm to pull you in and kick the door shut. "Why?" This time it's more firm.

You open your mouth to speak, like a fish out of water, and out comes nothing.

"I trusted you," Diluc says weakly, in a way that has your heart shattering a million times a second. Tightening his hold on your arm, he continues "You were the only one I...I should've known. I was foolish to think I could believe in you." a sharp exhale, and he pushes you back against the door, but it's not harsh at all. He's gentle, and somehow that makes everything so much more worse.

Your inability to reply sparks a different kind of rage in his heart.

"It must have been quite the show, watching everyone run in circles." He seethes, furious, wounded. "Was it all just a lie? Were my feelings ever returned? Or was I just another one of your fair games?"

You wrench away from his hold as if it's burning you. The words are like needles, pinning into you with so much force it has you lurching in place, and then they twist deep within your blackened veins.

"Stop it." You should've just left. Should've just pushed back the nagging in your brain and jumped off a cliff or a something. Surely the unexpected death of a royal guard—no, the death of a fundamental piece in their plan would surely be enough to cripple them for at least a few days, if not weeks.

Anything but this.

You meet his gaze. "I do love you Diluc, that I am sure of. You don't have to believe me. I know I wouldn't."

"Is that all you have to say?" He all but hisses, gloved fingers closing in to form a fist. "You've betrayed everyone. Your friends, your family...me."

"You think I don't know that?" Your voice breaks when you look away. "I don't know what's right anymore, what's wrong. I don't even know what I've been fighting for this entire time." A sharp, mirthless laugh escapes your lips, "To allow myself to carry out orders I do not believe in is too much to bear. How long do I delude myself into thinking that this is all for Khaenri'ah? That this is all for a reason that is beyond me?"

There's a sliver of softness that shows in his features, but you're too busy calming the waves crashing in your head.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter anymore." You say, the sinking of your chest only expanding. "I've already contravened against the abyss, and for that they will come for me. The only thing I regret is that they couldn't get to me before you did."

A stricken look passes across his face, brows furrowed and desperation as clear as day when he reaches for you.

This time, you let his arms curl around your shaking figure, welcoming the comfort that you're undeserving of. "I won't let them."

"I'm sorry." You whisper shakily, fisting the fronts of his coat. "I'm so sorry Diluc."

Diluc hums as he strokes your hair soothingly, with the utmost of care. Although his trust in you has shattered, like irreplaceable fragments of glass, his love for you will remain constant.

Even with the storm that is fated to come.

[forlove2020]

Day 2 - No Vacancy

It is the last day of November and no one wants to buy any more pumpkins. 

Halloween has gone by, and Thanksgiving has blown past too. The people of Lebanon, Kansas have had their fill of the bright orange gourds - for more than two months they've displayed them on their front porches, carved them into jack-o-lanterns, and added them into every kind of dessert and frothy little drink imaginable.

And that is why, on November 30th, Dean decides his family is going on a field trip to the Lebanon Corn Maze and Pumpkin Patch.

Things have been good lately. No, scratch that. Life has been freakin' awesome. It has been just under two weeks since he rescued Cas from the Empty and a week since Jack came home. Dean is over the moon; radiating happiness in a way he never has before. They're all together, alive, and no Big Bad hovers menacingly on the horizon. Dean's not one to believe in a 'best case scenario,' but hell if this doesn't feel just like it.

The farm is about a twenty-five minute drive from the Bunker, and Dean, Cas, and Jack pull up in the Impala at the same time as Sam and Eileen arrive in Sam's CR-V. 

(Dean had teased him mercilessly about his new ride until Sam looked him dead in the eye, placing his hand protectively on Eileen's protruding belly, and insisted "Honda gets really good safety ratings, Dean." Dean, wisely, had shut up after that.)

Claire and Kaia are already there waiting, leaning up against Claire’s car, hand in hand. Jack leaps out of Baby as soon as Dean puts her in park, barreling toward the girls so he can nag Claire about his latest obsession: TikTok. Even from a distance it’s clear she’s rolling her eyes at him, but smiling despite herself

Dean and Cas get out of the car at a more leisurely pace and survey their surroundings.

What had been a busy festival complete with a lush corn maze, vibrant pumpkin patch, and stalls selling kettle corn and caramel apples two months ago is now a dismal scene. The corn maze has dried out and shriveled up, and the stalls are unmanned. Technically, there are still pumpkins aplenty in the field, but they're the ones that have been forsaken. The remaining pumpkins are leftovers that were considered either too skinny, too fat, or just too misshapen and lumpy to have been picked as the cream-of-the-crop.

Dean looks over at Cas. He’s squinting at the scenery in the dim autumn sunlight, and the nippy breeze has swept through his dark hair, making it seem more tousled than usual. Not for the first time, Dean thinks that he is gorgeous.

But now, he can actually tell Cas what he is feeling in these moments. There are no more half-truths or lies between them, nothing secret. After years of pining for one another without any hope of reciprocation and hiding the pains of longing, they’ve finally broken down the walls that kept them apart. They love one another fiercely, and while their relationship is new, it is not tenuous. 

So, Dean turns to him with a crooked grin.  “Hey, handsome.”

Cas blinks, and then a little smile curls the corners of his mouth. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean moves closer until their shoulders are brushing and he can feel the warmth of Cas’ body through both of their jackets. “You think Jack’s gonna be disappointed?” he asks quietly, watching their kid practically tackle Sam with a hug as Eileen signs something Dean can’t quite make out from the other end of the parking lot. “I mean, this isn’t exactly the ‘autumn glory’ we were promised on those fliers earlier this month.”

Cas doesn’t even hesitate. “No. I think Jack just appreciates having a normal...uh, sort of a normal life again. He’s excited to be here picking pumpkins, especially with Claire and Kaia, and Sam and Eileen joining us. This was a nice surprise you planned for him, Dean.”

It’s a simple compliment, and not even particularly saccharine, but Dean flushes from head to toe anyway. He’s working on believing the good things Cas says about him; he’s really trying, but it’s always been difficult for him to take a compliment about anything other than his good looks or hunting prowess. Instead, he meets Cas’ eye, and nods silently. And then, remembering he is allowed, takes Cas’ hand in his own, twining their fingers together.

They walk hand-in-hand to join Claire, Kaia, Jack, Sam and Eileen at the front gate. It’s hanging wide open, and no one is standing there to charge them an entrance fee. However, the sign does make a point to state that the maze is open until December 1st. Eileen shrugs, and so the seven of them wander down the path towards the pumpkin patch and the entrance to the maze. 

“Kaia! I’ll race you to the end!” Jack shouts, and laughing, Kaia chases him into the maze, dragging a grumbling Claire along behind her. 

“Let’s see if we can find anybody still working,” Sam suggests.

Eileen points at a worn down farmhouse tucked mostly behind a newly-painted red barn. “Someone must be home,” she signs pointedly, gesturing to plumes of smoke exuding from a grey chimney stack.

Dean ends up knocking on the door. He leaves Sam, Eileen, and Cas at a nearby picnic table, debating in Sign Language about the best flavor of cotton candy and whether or not the color of the dye changes the taste. 

 A minute or two later, an older man swings open the squeaky screen door to the house. He’s scowling, wearing muddy overalls, and chewing on a thick cigar. “Yeah?” he asks shortly. “Whaddya want?”

Dean raises his eyebrows at the farmer’s bluntness, but manages to respond politely. “My family and I saw fliers for this place a few weeks ago. We were hoping to buy some pumpkins and candy apples. What are you charging”

The farmer’s scowl grows deeper, and he looks past Dean to Sam, Eileen, and Cas relaxing on the bench, then narrows his eyes at the corn maze, where shrieks of laughter can be heard as the younger adults chase one another through the thinning stalks.

Getting impatient, with the man’s surly silence, Dean prods, “And…? It’s a yes or no question. Are you still selling pumpkins?”

The old man pulls the cigar out from between his teeth. “My wife and daughter run this hokey shit,” he grunts. “They went into town today ‘cause folks already came through here earlier in the month. They like customers. We haven't had anybody else stop by since before Thanksgiving.”

As his temper flares, Dean turns his grit teeth into a sharp smile. “Well, then it’s your lucky day! Here we are,” he says mockingly, sweeping his arms wide. The farmer mumbles something insulting and covers it with a hacking cough. Dean pretends not to hear him, “Fine. I take it from your sunny attitude that there will be no popcorn or apples today?” 

The man scoffs, “Enjoy the maze, boy-o. Free of charge.” He turns to lumber back inside, but Dean grabs the screen door before he can try to disappear.

“Hey!” the hunter barks. The farmer pauses, his body tensing for a fight. “Are you gonna sell me the goddamn pumpkins or not?” 

Cas has wandered to his side, either noticing the commotion, or simply because he wanted to be closer to Dean. Now, he interrupts casually, “You still have quite a few squash left in the fields and there’s going to be heavy frost two days from now, overnight. It’d be a shame if all of these pumpkins rotted, and you wasted the rest of your harvest.”

He has, quite deftly, snared the salty old farmer’s attention. Money is the man’s language; he might not enjoy having customers on his property so late in the season, but he certainly likes having the funds to maintain his land.

****************************************

“A hundred.”

“A hundred?” Sam sounds insulted. “You’re gonna pitch all of these in a couple days. There’s no way we’re paying a hundred. Try twenty-five dollars.”

The farmer rolls his eyes dramatically. He is in his element; the thrill of making a good deal and bartering his wares on the last day is an unexpected but welcome surprise that has put him in high spirits. “You’re cute, kid. I know my produce is worth more than that. I’ll go down to eighty-five, and you can take whatever you can carry in one trip.”

“Thirty-five,” Sam shoots back.

“Eighty.”

“Forty-one.” Once, Sam was going to be a lawyer. He’s got the upper hand in this situation and he’s going to crush his opposition. One more price reduction and they’ll have dozens of pumpkins to take home, way below the original asking price.

“Sevent…”

“Sixty-five, and we fill up all of our cars,” Dean interrupts, and Sam looks at him, utterly betrayed as the gleeful farmer shakes on the deal.

As Cas, Jack, Claire, and Kaia help carry the pumpkins to Sam and Claire’s cars respectively, Dean just claps Sam on the shoulder and tells his brother, “It’s still a cheaper family outing than going to Disney.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam says mournfully, and sulks over to help Eileen, who is supervising the influx of pumpkins that are being loaded into their vehicle.

Dean chuckles, and scoops up a few pumpkins. He’s got some recipes he wants to try out, plus he’s excited to teach Jack to carve ‘Jack’-o-lanterns. The kid seemed to want to learn how to do everything the human way now, and Dean is more than happy to teach him.

One by one, Dean places eight pumpkins in the backseat of Baby. One is tall and oblong with lots of stringy stems, matched with the only short and well rounded pumpkin he sees in the field. Between those two he sets a teeny tiny baby-sized pumpkin. Then, there’s a pumpkin that is half-green half-orange. It seems like it must have grown too fast because it is still quite young despite its size. Next, he adds two medium pumpkins that are also young, but growing strong. And last but not least, he picks up two more pumpkins. They are both a bit damaged - one is bruised and discolored, the other looks like it might have grown sideways. But Dean picks them because they lean against one another in the field, steady despite their flaws, despite what they’ve been through. 

He sets them all up in a long line along the backseat, and when Cas sees what he chose, his eyes go soft and warm as he looks at Dean.

“Let’s go home,” he breathes out, and takes Dean’s hand again.

Everyone gets in their cars - Dean in the driver's seat and Cas taking shotgun, as before. Jack tries to get in the Impala, then looks in the back window, and starts laughing. 

“Dean! There’s nowhere for me to sit.”

Cas chuckles quietly beside him, as Dean grins. “Aw, tough break, kid. Guess you’re walking home.”

“Hey, no fair- Dean! C’mon! Cas! Tell Dean he has to -”

Dean starts to roll up the window, laughing loudly as Jack knocks on the window pane.

“Sorry! No vacancy!” he hollers. Jack is nearly doubled over, hilarity spilling from him in peals of laughter.

Claire honks her horn loudly, and throws open the back door to her car. Jack straightens, and scrambles to join her and Kaia, shooting Dean and Cas a bright wave goodbye.

Sam and Eileen also wave as they leave the parking lot, wheels sending gravel spinning in their wake. Claire and Kaia follow, and Jack rolls down the window as they pass, and calls across to Cas and Dean, “This was the best family trip ever!”

They too are soon gone, headed for the Bunker to drop off dozens of pumpkins which will decorate every room until they end up decaying or until Dean cooks them. 

Dean and Cas wait until the others have left, and then Dean leans over and kisses Cas, long and sweet. When he pulls back, Cas traces his cheek, and says thoughtfully, “We could take the backroads home today….”

Dean is so gone on him. He kisses Cas once, twice more, and then puts the Impala in drive, and they’re on the road, taking the long way home.

**********************************

I enjoyed adding a little Day 1 ‘Harvest’ flare to Day 2!

My goal is to make most of my Suptober fics one-shots that are in some way related to my multichapter fix-it that is still a work in progress (Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, etc, post 15x20).

Thank you for reading!

-V

[boognish-worshipper]

ok so like i had this idea for a while n it took me MONTHS to finish bc i was nvr content w/ my writing n whatnot yadda yadda yadda anyway,, this is basically a what if thing about the triads shooting trevor in ludendorff n michael realizing how dumb he is

(my apologies that it’s so fuckin looooooong but I didn’t wanna leave it on a short note that felt incomplete. hope y’all like it !!!!! sorry for any grammatical errors or if the formatting’s funky)

//

Why didn’t he realize it sooner? Was he stupid? No, no. He was just blind. Blind for the past 10 years. Who knows. Maybe even longer than that. Fucking Michael. It always came back to that venomous shithead, constantly ruining everything for him. Did he just... forget? Was he so focused on that bloodsucker when he was “dying” in front of him he completely forgot Brad got shot first? That Brad died first? He didn’t even really think about him when shit went down. Or care much about Brad in general for that matter. The guy was a dick who just worked with other dicks back in the day, eventually joining their motley crew. A fading memory more than anything. His primary focus had always been Michael, who he thought was his right hand man. Trevor always knew that there was something different about him. As frustrating as Michael could be, it still didn’t change how he felt deep down. Michael wasn’t like the others. Or at least, that’s what he had thought. The night he found out that Michael’s lie ran deeper than he led on was one he wouldn’t forget.

He arrived at Michael’s house in a short amount of time. Hopping up the steps he made his presence known, standing in the entrance of the living room. He plopped down next to Michael, who scooted away from him slightly, still not ready for close contact from Trevor.

“Family ain’t back yet, huh?”

“Nope.”

“She’s a Goddamn fool, man.”

Trevor was never one to hide his jealousy towards Amanda. The two had been going at it for years, and it was always regarding Michael. Catty behavior between two people who had complicated relationships with the man, in their own unique ways. Amanda was scared of Trevor, but was never afraid of talking shit to his face. It was never any serious threats whenever they shot petty quips at one another anyway. She knew Trevor would never kill or harm her, all thanks to Michael, who spoke up again.

“Despite all the chaos of these last few weeks, I think I finally figured it out… I know, it sounds ridiculous-“

To Trevor, the thought wasn’t ridiculous. He knew Michael would never change. He would always be a killer, a man of action through and through. He was wasting away on a couch, rewatching classic Vinewood every night. To him, it only seemed right for Michael to keep taking scores.

“You’re back man!” He proclaimed, emphasizing his next line, “We are back!”

With excitement in his eyes, Trevor went on to boast about the little clique they had formed, and how they only needed to bust Brad out to fully reunite. Michael looked solemn, shaking his head slightly.

“That’s not it. I got money, it just makes you miserable-“ Now it was his turn to have excitement shine in his eyes.

“I wanna make movies.”

“Great. That’s great… and uh, so where exactly does this leave me in the second act of your life?”

He felt his stomach sink somewhat, regretting having asked that question. Michael would always tiptoe around it, avoiding the inevitable. But he couldn’t run from the past anymore. It would always catch up to him.

“This is not a game to me! Alright? This is a fuckin’ way of life.”

“I got a fuckin’ family!”

“Yeah, well, I got nothin’! No one gives a fuck about me!”

There was a pause. A hesitation. Amber eyes looked sorrowfully yet savagely into pale blue ones.

“I do.”

Something in Trevor snapped hearing those words. He couldn’t stand the audacity of Michael saying that to him. Because to him, Michael didn’t seem to give a fuck about what happened to Trevor. No matter how many times he lamented to him about everything he went through.

“Oh… Fuck you.”

Trevor rose from his seat, beginning to pace around the room, stabbing a finger in Michael’s direction. He did nothing but stare between his feet, not bothering to look up at Trevor.

“I saw your grave. I mourned you. And then it turns out that everything I fucking thought about you was wrong. Everything! You’re not dead, and you’re not a man.”

Michael shot up from his seat, cool demeanor abandoned in a fit of anger.

“Well, what the fuck are you?”

“I’m your fucking nightmare!”

“Yeah, enough with your Goddamn threats!”

Trevor did nothing but scoff at him, backing away like he was about to leave the room. Instead, some kind of alarm went off in his head, urging him to stay and ask the question he pushed far into the back of his mind. The inevitable was happening, and he couldn’t ignore the need to ask anymore. If Michael himself stood before him alive as ever, then who the fuck was in Michael Townley’s grave? Then suddenly, and ultimately, it clicked for him. Fucking Brad.

“You treacherous piece of shit! You’re fuckin’ dead! You’re fucking dead!”

As it clicked for Trevor, it clicked for Michael.

“Oh, fuck! Trevor! Hey, T!”

He peeled out of the driveway in Michael’s car. God, it smelled just like that fucking prick. It made him want to cry.

“Fuck!” He screamed out to no one in particular.

He slammed on the gas and wiped away any forming tears. His phone began to ring and he saw an all too familiar photo appear. Michael. What the fuck could he possibly say or want right now?

“Fuck you.” He spat out.

“Hey, come on. Where you going?”

“You know where I’m going, fuck you!”

The fucking nerve of him to ask that. What was wrong with him? The rest of the conversation wasn’t any better. It sounded like some stupid break up between two teens, as if Michael had cheated on him with some hooker instead of lying about the past decade or so.

“Trevor, come on!”

“Fuck you Michael! Soon enough, I will.”

He was on his way to the air field, and dialed up Ron as soon as he could. He needed to get out of here before Michael could stop him.

“Trevor? It’s great to uh..”

“Is there a plane I can use? Get me across country?”

“Sure! Sure. We got one fueled up for a trip south of the border.”

“I’m taking it.”

“Is everything okay, man?”

“Everything is not okay. Nothing has ever been okay but I’m going up there to see it for myself. I’m going to see an old friend alright? If you’re where I think you are buddy...”

Trevor gripped the steering wheel harder until his knuckles turned white. Tears stung his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to let it out.

“I don’t know why I didn’t see it. I guess.. I guess I didn’t want to. Fuck!”

He clutched his phone tightly as he spoke, cracking the already shattered screen more. His voice was faltering, and it became harder to speak clearly.

“Maybe I knew all along. I’m gonna find out for sure and I’m gonna... do something about it! God there was always something wrong with that job, what went down after I guess I-“

The tears made their way down his face. His voice trembled and threatened to crack.

“I guess I wanted to believe- Fucking.. Fucking flea circus!”

He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Too many things began to resurface. Seeing red, he just cried out to Ron, still on the phone patiently listening to him rant.

“Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!”

“I’m sorry Trevor...”

He slammed on the gas as he approached the airfield. Running over to the plane, he hopped in and began his journey to Ludendorff. As he left, storm clouds poured in and darkened the sky. A thick rain accompanied by the thunder and lighting combo shook the small plane he was in. He braced himself for the rest of the trip there and kept going.

Ludendorff was just like he remembered. Cold, empty, and super fucking depressing. Why was the midwest like this all the time? Sure, living it up in Sandy Shores wasn’t the most ideal but for fucks sake, at least it was warm. He pulled up to the cemetery shortly after landing, and hurried off to find that God forsaken grave. After glancing at each passing gravestone, there it was. The late great Michael Townley’s place of burial.

“Who you got in here..?”

He scoffed, knowing his answer.

“As if I need to ask...”

It took forever to reach the coffin. The wood was brittle, which meant it would be easy enough to pry open and see who was actually in Michael’s place. He had been so caught up in his digging he didn’t notice a set of steps coming at him.

“You’re wasting your time.”

Trevor was wasting his time? No, he was making perfectly good use of it. Michael was wasting his if anything. Flying all the way out here for what? No, don’t say it... Was it finally gonna happen? Was Michael waiting for the opportunity to finally take a pop at him and leave his carcass for good? To toss him right into the grave with Brad? He didn’t want to believe so but hey, it’s Michael. Who knows what he’ll do. He couldn’t bear to listen to another word that came out of his mouth, and knew he needed to get the jump on him.

“You reptilian motherfucker!”

How did it end up here? Why was he pointing a gun at Michael? What the fuck was he doing? He didn’t want to kill him. He never did, even if he had a million justifiable reasons to.

“I didn’t want it to have to come to this.”

There it was again. The fucking lying. That same exact fucking lying that got them here to begin with.

“Yes you did! You just don’t have the fucking balls to do it! But I do!”

But Trevor was also a hypocrite. He didn’t have it in him to ever go through with killing Michael. No matter what the son of a bitch did to him, he meant too much to Trevor for him to ever consider killing the man himself. He didn’t want to think about being the cause of him dying for good.

“I’ve got more to lose than you!”

“Never a truer word has been spoken, brother.”

He said that with as much malice as he could muster. Michael was the farthest fucking thing from being a brother. This was a man he had loved. Hell, still loved, despite it feeling more and more like a stranger before him with each encounter they had.

“Now.. pull the fucking trigger.”

The air was too still. It was choking him, making him feel frozen. Sure, weather played a part in the feeling but this... was different. His blood felt like ice. He couldn’t do it.

“You ain’t got the guts.”

Neither of them could do it. Even if he fired he knew he’d miss. Michael had the upper hand here.

“Take the fucking shot!”

Wait. Was Michael... crying? No. No way the great Michael fucking Townley was actually crying over this. That motherfucker. He’s such a fucking fraud. A coward. Always running. Running from Trevor, his past, his problems, his family and his fucking emotions.

His train of thought had been interrupted when he heard snow faintly crunching not too far from them.

“What was that?-“

A noise shot through the tense air that surrounded them. Woosh. Fuck. No. It couldn’t be- Ow. No. No fucking way. He looked down in awe and there it was, a distinct bullet hole, pierced through his torso. It nearly missed his heart, but was most certainly in a spot to do enough damage to him. He looked back up at Michael, mouth slightly agape leaking with the blood that began to pool in his mouth. Peaking behind him, he saw two figures lingering far behind. The fucking Triads. Of course, how could he forget? It’s not everyday you slam the head of a Chinese mobster’s son into a post. Fucking shit. If only he hadn’t messed with Tao…

He was fucked, and he didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that he felt himself wanting to collapse on the ground. Michael looked at him in pure disbelief, eyes wide enough to pop from his head. Normally Trevor would giggle at the sight, but any noise from him would be a gurgle of blood in place of it.

“…Trevor?”

That was enough to knock him to the ground.

“Mr. Phillips! Mr. Cheng wants a word with you!”

Michael whipped his head back, and began dragging the two of them to cover. Was that supposed to be a fucking warning shot?? The one who shot Trevor spoke in Chinese to the other gunman, then spoke in English to the duo.

“Phillips! You and your boyfriend cannot hide from us!”

Michael grabbed his gun and started firing back, clipping the two in the front instantly.

“Trevor… what the fuck did you get into?! What are they on about? I… I’m not…”

Trevor couldn’t speak. He could only murmur at the man beside him.

“Trevor, seriously, you better answer me because I’m pretty fucking lost here-“

He angrily turned his head back to find Trevor on the verge of slipping out of consciousness, his face dropping at what was before him.

“Ah, Trevor! Shit!”

Before Michael could help him out, a van burst through the gate to the left, and more yelling ensued.

“Get out the van! Go find them!”

Michael panicked, pushing his gun into Trevor’s limp hands so he could grab the dead Triad henchman’s sturdier gun. He fired and clipped a few more men, trying his best to keep an eye on Trevor. His breathing was shallow, and he attempted to prop himself up so he could fire at them too.

“Trevor, what the fuck is going on? Who are these guys?”

“It’s the fucking,” He winced, pushing himself onto his knees so he could grab the side of the grave they hid behind. He spit out some blood that leaked from his mouth, staining the snow beneath them.

“The God damn Chinese, sugar tits.”

“Why are they-“

“Ask questions later, I’m fucking bleeding out here.”

Trevor forced himself to fully stand, his legs wobbling slightly. He fired a few more rounds, face contorted in pain. Another bullet flew by him, grazing his side.

“Fuck! Ow!” He growled.

“T, what in the hell are you doing?! Get down!”

“Fuck off you fucking leech! I can-“ He spit out more blood.

“I can handle this myself!”

He groaned, keeping his aim as still as he possibly could, which wasn’t very still at all. Stubborn as ever, Trevor went in guns blazing. He used not only the gun Michael had forced into his hands, but also the one he had brought with him. Several more shots fired at him until he felt a hand yank him back to the ground. He fell with a slight thump, and pain jolted through him again.

“You crazy bastard! We’re getting the fuck out of here, but that can’t exactly be accomplished if you’re dead!”

“Oh please! You already want me dead you fat fucking snake!” He wheezed out.

“Jesus Christ- Trevor. I already told you-“

“Shit, Mikey-”

Before either one could do anything about it, a Triad that had snuck up on them pistol whipped Michael in the back of the head. Trevor scrambled backwards and attempted to get on his feet, but to no avail. In a last minute effort, he lifted Michael’s gun and fired. For someone who was labeled a lousy shot by his partner, he felt that Michael would’ve been proud of his aim at that moment in time. A clean shot, right between the fucker’s eyes. He grinned slightly, adrenaline still coursing through him. He barked out a laugh, forgetting how much of a chore it was to allow any noise to escape him. It caused him to break into a coughing fit, spitting up more blood onto the snow. He looked from the small circle of blood that formed in front of him, back to Michael’s limp body. He shoved him slightly, trying to nudge him back into consciousness.

“Mikey. Michael. Get up. We gotta go like you said-“

He heard another van pull up. Then another. Fuck.

“You gotta be shitting me..”

Trevor, disregarding his wounds weakening him to the point his vision grew spotty, swapped his handgun for the gun Michael grabbed. He tried his best to prop the other man up against a grave, well out of the Triad’s line of sight. He pushed through any pain he felt, still riding his adrenaline high, wiping the rest of them out one by one. He rushed back over to Michael, who was stirring awake.

“Michael, for fucks sake get up already! Jesus I’m still fucking bleeding and I have to save your ass right now? Come on!”

He was finally able to stand, and Trevor slung Michael’s arm around his shoulder, helping him regain his balance. They helped one another walk through the mess of snow, blood, and bodies to get to the rental car, which surprisingly was still in alright shape. Across the train tracks, one more van started to pull up, right before the nightly train passed through town.

“Haha! Thank you train for being useful this time!”

He forgot how much it hurt to laugh, clutching his side and muttering curses under his breath as the two raced over to the car. Michael hopped in the driver’s seat after placing Trevor in the passenger’s side. Trevor’s adrenaline rush began to die down along with the rest of him. Michael raced out of the cemetery, narrowly escaping the left over henchmen. Glancing over at Trevor, he realized how shit of a shape he was in. Despite not living in North Yankton in close to 10 years, he still remembered where all the nearby hospitals were. It wasn’t ideal, considering what they were doing up there and who they were and what not, but it was better than having Trevor die on the spot.

“Hey, don’t you fucking die on me right now buddy. There’s no way you ain’t surviving the shit show we just went through, which only happened thanks to you.”

Trevor asked himself why Michael was still giving him snide remarks about his unruliness. He figured now wasn’t the time to really argue, but still tried nonetheless.

“You… fuckin’ snake.. you think you’re so..”

“I’m so what Trevor? No you know what- Don’t speak right now, but try to stay awake, please?”

“Mmph..”

The ride out of Ludendorff was quiet. The radio was off, and neither one chose to speak. Michael of course was driven mad by the silence.

“…Look. Trevor I- I fucked up. There’s nothing I can do now to fix it, no matter how many times I apologize. But you do- You do know that I cared about you then, and I care about you now…”

Trevor did nothing but grunt in response, eyelids heavy. Michael sighed.

“We’re almost to a hospital. They’ll fix you up good, and- and you’re gonna be fine. You ain’t dying on me yet. I mean- you’ve survived worse? You.. I…”

He huffed out a breath, gripping the steering wheel tight. The rest of the ride was silent, save for Michael making sure Trevor was still alive and conscious. They made it to the hospital, with Michael carrying him fireman style, seeing as Trevor was very lanky compared to him. He called out for someone to help, using his gift of lying to say that Trevor was just shot by a random mugger, so the report back wouldn’t seem too suspicious. He patiently waited for word back from a doctor, eventually seeing someone come to him with a clip board.

“Are you… Franklin?”

Michael had been smart enough to give them both fake names, but he just blurted out the first two names that came to mind. Right now, he went by Franklin, and for all they knew Trevor was Lamar.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Your friend is in critical condition, but you got him here just in time. Any later and he wouldn’t have made it.”

The last sentence caused Michael’s ears to ring.

“He’s going to be out of surgery soon, the bullet wound was pretty deep.” The doctor narrowed their eyes slightly, getting ready to write the report down.

“You said that he was mugged?”

“Yeah. The guy fired at him and ran off. Didn’t get a good look at his face.”

“Hmm… well alright. I’ll let you know when your friend is ready for visitors.”

The rest of the night was painfully slow. By the time Trevor was out of surgery, he was still hopped up on morphine, allowing him to rest properly for the first time in forever. Michael sheepishly walked in, careful not to be too loud. He made his way over to Trevor’s side, sitting in the seat next to his bed. He hadn’t seen Trevor look so content like that in so long. Not since... those days. He spoke to himself, seeing as Trevor was fast asleep.

“You worry me so much you dumbfuck… why do you pull the shit you pull? I mean.. shit. I… I love you, man. I do. But what if you died without ever hearing that from me again? Is that the reason why you get like this? Shit. Right. I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Besides everything about Ludendorff, it angered Trevor to his core that Michael could never admit he loved Trevor unless he was drunk or alone. In this instance, he technically was. Trevor was peacefully dreaming, while Michael felt restless. He proceeded to fumble around for his cellphone to reach out to Franklin, who had been wondering what happened to them. He knew Franklin would probably be up anyway.

Yo Mike, where u at? Trevor too, Lamar n I gotta do one last job wit him.

F

Currently in North Yankton kid. Trev found out about Brad. Some Chinese gangsters rolled on us, T got shot. Be home soon hopefully.

M

Oh shit. Stay safe out there homie. See u soon ig.

F

Michael let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, looking back up at Trevor. He tried to think about what he would do next. Knowing that visiting hours were limited, he felt a twinge of guilt knowing he’d have to leave Trevor alone for a night after what happened. But it was late, and he couldn’t stay there overnight. He figured he’d have to bunk in some cheap motel for the time being. Just until Trevor and him were ready to leave North Yankton. He spoke to the doctor from before to let them know he would come back the next morning. When he arrived at the nearest shit motel, he still couldn’t find it in him to sleep. He was tired, sure, but his mind wouldn’t allow him to drift off. Even if he did, he would find himself jolting awake, the scene of Trevor getting shot playing over and over in his head. He’d almost been responsible for Trevor’s death once, he couldn’t let it happen for real. What would he do anyway if he did die? He quickly brushed the thought off, not wanting to consider the possibilities.

He returned to the hospital the next morning, half awake from the lack of sleep. Visiting hours were early, and he wanted to get them both out of here as fast as he could. Walking to Trevor’s room, he saw the man sitting upright looking out the window. North Yankton may have been cold as a bitch, but from time to time it had real pretty sunrises. He knocked lightly on the door, and Trevor turned to face him.

“Hey, T…”

He couldn’t read the expression on his face.

“I thought you left.”

“Visiting hours are limited, T. You should know that by now.”

He didn’t say anything in response, facing back towards the window instead. Michael sat down in one of the chairs across from him.

“You.. you worried me. I thought-“

“You thought what, cupcake? That I’d just die on the spot, and you could just leave my dead body there-“

“Trevor! For the last time that wasn’t my fucking plan!”

Their voices steadily increased above the normal level it should’ve been for a hospital setting.

“Then why did you have a fucking gun, huh Mikey?”

“I could ask the same for you!”

“Oh of course, turn the situation onto me again-“

“You brought a gun for what, Trevor?!”

“That’s not the issue at hand here!”

“Yes it is!”

A voice chimed into their argument.

“Excuse me. You,” A nurse who walked in pointed at Trevor.

“You need to rest. And sir, I’m not sure who you are, but if you want to stay as a visitor I suggest you lower your voice and behave.”

The two men looked at each other angrily before sitting back down. The nurse exited, most likely wanting to return later so Michael could discuss discharging him. Silence filled the room briefly.

“T… I meant what I said.” His voice had dropped to a whisper.

Trevor didn’t look him in the eye. His arms were crossed, and he just looked out the window.

“I could’ve lost you.”

The other man still said nothing.

“I could’ve lost you and you would’ve died not knowing I..” He trailed off.

Trevor turned back to look at Michael while speaking.

“Knowing what? You hiding something else from me, porkchop?”

“I…”

“Spit it the fuck out Mikey or I swear to God-“

“I love you.”

His felt his stomach twist uncomfortably, and his hands became clammy. He finally forced the words out, sober.

“I love you.” He repeated, shutting his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Trevor while saying it. He chose to look at his feet instead.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. And I just.. kept thinking that you could’ve died not hearing that from me ever again.”

He didn’t notice it at first, but tears brimmed his eyes. Trevor’s scowl fell and his face softened.

“What?” Was all he could choke out.

“Don’t.. don’t make me say it again.” He said, face flushing red.

“You..” Trevor didn’t finish his sentence. He shuddered in his seat, ready to cry himself. He buried his face in his hands, muffling something incoherent.

“What?”

He lifted his head up, tears streaking his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Michael.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For.. being like this.”

Trevor was a lot of things. You couldn’t just describe him in only one word. Michael tried sifting through the options of what he meant.

“I pushed you so hard back then I.. I thought I was losing you. I didn’t want to. All it did was make you want to leave even more.” Trevor kept sniffling.

“Trev…”

“Why Michael? Why do you do this to me?”

He wanted to ask him “Do what?”, but they both knew the answer. Michael never let his feelings be more than surface level. He was repressed and Trevor hated it. Trevor continued to cry, and the tears that Michael held in spilled.

“Hey.. don’t… don’t apologize, T. Please.”

“I..” He hiccuped.

“I’ve loved you for so long. Why couldn’t you have done the same?”

Michael kept his head down. He didn’t want to see the heartbroken expression on Trevor’s face. It only made him feel worse.

“You left me.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“But you still did. Telling me that doesn’t change anything. You became another person in my life that I loved and then you left. Same as always for me.”

Everything Trevor loved was always out of his reach. Flying, his mother, Michael, Patricia… He could go on. Nothing was ever gonna be permanent for him.

“But I’m here for you now, T. I’m not going anywhere.”

He finally looked up to see Trevor’s sad eyes burning a hole right through him. His silence told him it’d be a long while before he could believe his words.

“Now.. uh. Let’s get the fuck outta this place.”

It didn’t take long for Trevor to be discharged. The doctors had told him he should stay for another day or so, but only got an irritated response from Trevor. Figuring the duo wouldn’t budge on wanting to leave, he was signed off for clearance. They eventually found the plane Trevor flew in on, and made their way out of the state. Neither one knew if this would change anything between them, but Trevor felt more at ease around him. It would still take time and effort for any left over wounds to heal, but for right now, Trevor was content.

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt 37 (from the first list) and bodyguard au seems interesting

By the way I love your writing please never stopped just finished your recent fic and its one of my favourites.

~Notes: 😭😭😭 baby u can’t be out here recklessly making me sob!!! I am so flustered right now!! Thank you so much for being a beautiful soul 😌😌 ok NEGL the bodyguard thing is not here Becs I’m dumb and couldn’t think of one, but there’s protective sirius💜 I hope you don’t hate this!!! ILU!!!

.-

Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜 |  A Reblog Means SO Much!!!!

.-

Alphard Black was a good man,  a man of his community,   a man of the law. He taught the ins and outs of the constitution  at Columbia, never went an inch over the speed limit, hell, he even  separated his recyclables into their proper piles for the garbage collector, and  all while spending his down time volunteering at some sort of virtuous charity or impactful outreach program for inner city youths—the man basically leaped right out of the screen of some cheesy, after school special, wacky ties and rumpled hair aplenty.

Alphard Black was a virtuous, humble man who abided by the laws set out for him to a painstaking degree—So Sirius sorta thinks it’s hilarious that he’s kind of the exact antithesis of his uncle— the man who brought him up after running away from his bat shit parents and their bat shit values as the top of the one percent.  Just kind of though.

Sirius likes to think he’s still a good guy—albeit in the typical, non second coming of Christ wannabe kind of way.  He gives spare change to homeless folks at Grand Central, doesn’t sneer at raucous kids inside of restaurants or busses… for fuck’s sake  he even smiles at strangers more often than not—— just the typical, What a nice day isn’t it, smile and not, I’m actually a blood thirsty maniac ready to carve out all your organs and wrap your naked, dead body in saran wrap Dexter style, smile…Which is actually a type of smile Sirius has become intimately familiar with considering that unlike his Uncle Alphard, Sirius may have a problem with the whole “Laws are created for the good of the public,” ideology, and rather subscribes to the way of thought that thinks it’s kind of thrilling to see how much you can bend and skirt around the rules till they break, or till he gets caught. Which in turn mostly manifests into Sirius participating in a very high demand business—the sort that’ conducts it’s transactions within the metaphorical underground, and makes it so he spends his days with a group of brilliant  assholes that he considers family, and a discretely wicked boy who he thinks is most probably the love of his god forsaken life.

Mother Mary,  help them all.

~*~

“Padfoot too Moony, are you in, Moony.” 

A moment of static passes before Remus’s voice trickles through the minuscule bluetooth  snuggled in Sirius’s ear, and he can’t help but smirk. “Why are you still trying to make these codenames work—they don’t work, they’re all awful and trash,  and we should just stick with the numbers we were given when Moody first scouted us.”

“Mmm yeah, Moons, talk dirty to me.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,”

“Say trash again.”

“I hate you,” Remus intones. He  sounds all surly and bothered, and Sirius’s fingers curl together to card through the phantom strands  of his hair, knowing full and well how adorably flustered Remus gets whenever they are having one of their little sparring sessions—It’s also the same look he gets whenever he’s incredibly turned on and has no idea how to handle it. Coincidence? Sirius thinks not.

“Ah, Moony, my love, you say that as if my perfect baritone isn’t the highlight of your day. Like you don’t write sonnets and odes about it’s every cadence and lilt in your little diary you think I don’t know about. As if—“

“I’m shutting you off now,” Remus cuts in with his best, I’m trying to pretend  that I am so totally annoyed even if I’m actually really amused by you and all your antics, voice. It’s one that’s basically come second nature to him whenever he speaks to Sirius, ever since they had met three years ago and Sirius had to teach him the trick of the trade after Remus had been invited into the fold, while also trying not to completely accost him with his lips and hands and teeth until the work day was over.

“You would never.” 

“You seriously have an overinflated sense of worth if you’re starting to doubt that I very much would,” Remus goads, but he forgets that Sirius can see every nook and cranny of the swanky penthouse from his perch in the getaway van, thanks to his very beautiful laptop monitor.  And yeah, Sirius can so totally spot that little flicker of a grin tugging on the edges of his pink lips,  where Remus is trying to hide it behind the flute of wine in his grasp—his very strong and capable grasp, one that’s wrapped around the neck of that glass just so tight—Oh, erm, yeah. That’s  a thought Sirius should definitely not be having at their current predicament.

“Righto, beautiful, whatever you say.”

“Was there an actual reason for your little interference, besides you being pissy that you had to take the get away position this time around?” Remus sighs, long suffering before offering a subdued, half grin to a very haughty looking woman passing him, predatory leer on her plump lips. And jeez, Sirius bemoans her poor eardrums if they’re suppose to be carrying diamonds that thick all night long— Poor hag will probably end up needing stitches like his dear mother.

“I missed you is all, lover.”

“Goodbye, Sirius.”

“Oh fine, you total spoil sport. Just an FYI that Marlene’s gotten into the volt’s room, and she’s decoding it as we speak.”

“Oh, good. Should I-“

“Moons, it’s Marls, she’s got her shit handled. You just stand there and be a the good, pretty honeypot that we all know you can be.”

Remus growls somewhere deep in his throat, and it’s bringing a flurry of such beautiful imaginings to the forefront of Sirius’s mind— including last night, with Remus’s lovely, thin wrists tied up and Sirius’s mouth trailing up and down his every patch of skin.

God, was that a good night.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” 

“I know, it’s a point of pride for me that I get to say I tap that. But hey, always game to switch things up if you are?”

“You are the absolute worst person ever.”

“Ooo are we circling back around to speaking filthy things, because I’ve been having this fantasy including you and these lace—“

That’s when Remus actually does shut off the communication device, and starts chatting up some smarmy businessman who can’t stop staring at his protruding collarbones.

Sirius is most certainly not jealous.

Nope, not at all—Not even a little bit.

Sirius is not jealous.

Okay, fine…So he’s a bit bothered, but can anyone blame him? All of that—chorded muscles and sparkling eyes—is reserved for  Sirius, and Sirius alone. It’s taken years of volleying barbs and really intense sexual tension that was all finally resolved after a way too dramatic spat outside some sleazy BDSM club on the wrong side of town where Sirius got himself fucking shot, and Remus couldn’t stop yelling at him for being such a mother fucking, idiotic, thoughtless prick, (Remus’s words not Sirius’s,) for them to finally get to this point. For fuck’s sake, it seemed as if Remus’s anger fueled diatribe would never end, so Sirius just took the dilemma into his own hands and slanted their lips together, bloody and breathless, panting out an “I love you too,” while Remus just patted up and down Sirius’s torso, not knowing where to put his hands, dumbfounded and eager. As if he could hardly believe that it was actually happening, as if he was shocked that Sirius had finally just put them out of their mutual misery and spoke out loud what’s been lingering in their gazes, and tailing the ends of too short exchanges for years at that point—ones always composed of banter and barbs but always to fearful to take the extra step they yearned for.

Yeah, so it wasn’t exactly a cinderella story level of romance, but the point is they’ve fought tooth and nail to finally get to this point in their relationship. Nights made up of spilt hair on warm sheets, and  hungry kisses of farewell, and shirts tumbling together so many times that  they don’t even know which belongs to who anymore—All of them lingering with a sent of both of them, together. Something intimate. Something remarkable. Something far too soft when considering their line of employment—But it works for’m, and that’s all that counts.

Before Sirius could get to lost in getting all starry-eyed over the life they’ve built for themselves, Sirius moves to sweep his hands across the keyboard, A cautious eye still on Remus and his unwanted suitor while dividing the screen so that he can check back on Marlene’s progress, which is quite impressive if he does say so himself.

“And Black Widow pulls through again,” He commends with a low whistle, watching her practically stroll out of the volt, ancient artifact securely settled in the bag swinging off her shoulder, and cocky sneer proudly splayed across her pretty face.

“You know it dweeb.”

“THat’s not my code name,” Sirius points out  with a put upon exhale.

Marlene’s only response is to hike up her manicured brows in counterfeit surprise.  “you sure? I could’ve sworn…”

Sirius legitimately contemplates just driving off and leaving her stranded, signaling to Remus a separate meet up point for just the both of them. But Eventually, he reasons  that might be a bit of an over reaction. So he settles for just growling out a reminder for her  to “Respect the name,” while a glowing Marlene slinks into the passenger seat.

“Your so precious.” Sirius swats her hand away where she’s begun rubbing her knuckles into his scalp. “Call pretty boy and let’s bounce, will you?”

Reluctant, Sirius listens—only and only because he’s about ninety nine point five percent positive that she could probably beat’m to a pulp with one hand tied behind her back and both eyes glued shut.

~*~

The mission was one they’ve been calculating for months, a huge catch with a credibility brought with it that doubles its actual monetary prophet—(And wowza, that price check is all levels of ridiculous.) Moody is beyond  proud, and tells them as much with a crazy large celebration back at their little underground headquarters, (which is actually an entire floor on one of the top levels of a huge ass skyscraper in the meatpacking district that disguises itself as just a financial consultant firm in the light of day.)

It’s made even more wonderful considering how he, Remus and Marlene are basically the guests of honor for their success. So that night  they drink, and dance and just generally get absolutely slobbered…Then subsequently remember nothing the following morning, as tradition always dictates.

Though Sirius does  distinctly remember trading sloppy hand jobs in the bathroom with Remus while the latest Beyonce banger pounds in the space between them.

 It’s a good night.

~*~

Unsurprisingly, the hangover that persists even two days later really makes Sirius question the worth of all that celebrating, and he ponders on whether or not being sober would be so bad.

“Morning, Black!” 

Sirius cringes back at a crowing Dorcas—Looking as wickedly gorgeous and put together as always—Dark eyes clear and methodic, and long curls obviously freshly washed. 

“Sorcerous!” He accuses with as much vehemence as he could muster. “your evil! How are you even so perky! Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting my eyes!”

Dorcas just preens with far too much amusement than what should be warranted—it’s almost as if she’s enjoying his pitiful disposition. “Not all of us got as sloppy as you Saturday night may I remind.”

“Then you’re doing your entire life incorrectly.”

“I just have a modicum of self restraint, unlike you.”

“Lies! Lies and slander! I am so very disciplined! I didn’t even tell you guys about the time Remus gave me a blow job in the middle of a glass elevator when we were shopping for Jamsie and Lily’s engagement gift!”

Dorcas just rolls her eyes heavenwards, painstakingly exasperated. “C’mon, dumb ass, Alice needs you to use those hacking skills of yours to get the money Lestrange still owes us for collecting those tears of the ocean. And her bank account is sealed shut.”

“Ah, no Cas ’s too early! And my head hurts! I can’t.”

“Shouldn’t have been such a drunken mess during the party I reckon,” Dorcas scoffs with an imperious tilt of the head, tugging him along without even an ounce of sympathy.

“Hey! It was a celebration!” Sirius flails, and Dorcas just looks at him with a decidedly unconvinced glower. 

“It’s all in moderation Sirius.”

“Not at a party it isn’t!” He argues back, totally knowing he’s in the right.

“Yeah whatever, you’re just lucky you weren’t sent off to Shanghai with lover boy, which by the way,” Dorcas pivots on her heels  to face Sirius straight on, prodding at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder.  “Looks like you missed a hickey sweets,” she toots loftily, poking at it again, a flush blooming across Sirius’s cheeks in response.  “Not good work decorum if you ask me.”

“You’re face ’s not good work decorum,” Sirius snarks back mulishly. Dorcas just laughs with glee.

“Do I need to talk to poor, innocent Remus about proper biting placement for you once he gets back?”

“Pff, Remus and innocent don’t belong in the same sentence.”

“Fine, then  I can just give you some tips on how to properly layer foundation? I’m sure it’s a travesty how easily shit shows up with your Wonder Bread complexion.”

“You actually are evil! Aren’t you?”

Sirius could still hear Dorcas’s cackles from down the hall where Alice has set him up for the morning, and he idly thinks to himself how exactly he’s made it so that every woman in his life could destroy him with nothing more than a look.

~*~

Considering that all of their  livelihoods are basically glorified bank robbers, Sirius knows that their jobs don’t really lend themselves to being able to check in on each other whenever they’d please—the only devices they’re allowed for communication are the bluetooth sets  for the team deployed on the task at hand, and a single burner. It can get annoying sometimes, but Sirius and Remus always make it a point to send each other a message from the router phone  whenever they arrive to the mission’s ground of operation—It’s a practice ingrained into them, one  they began long before they ever started dating, one  that they never break, not even if they’re arguing or it’s the middle of the night—It’s important. They’ve both lost to many people in their short lives, and they both know how it feels to be delegated to the worrying mess, wondering what’s happening to their loved one, being consumed by the most awful of possibilities. They do it because they respect each other far too much not to.

So Sirius finds it excruciatingly odd that he doesn’t hear from Remus in over thirty-six hours since he left to the Shanghai hit. 

“Maybe he just forgot, Pads,” James shrugs, always the level headed ringleader. “No Proclivity is absolutely bullet proof—Ah, excuse me for the unplanned pun.” He scratches the back of his head a little sheepishly— the glasses of his wireframes glinting in the light of their shared workspace.

And the thing is, point. James is totally right. Remus just could’ve forgot. It was a long plane ride, he could’ve just been jet legged and a little dazed and it could’ve just slipped his mind  to message Sirius when he landed. That’s totally a possibility. 

But see the thing is, that’s also totally not a possibility—like at all. Remus is like the most diligent person on the face of the planet, which may kind of seem out of character considering how he’s more of the type to follow his heart over protocol when it counts, and his entire livelihood is based off the evasion of the law—But even still, Remus is also the guy who likes a true and tried method. He likes having security in the aspects of his everyday  life he can control. Sirius knows how borderline neurotic Remus can get about certain things, like finishing all of his paper work the night it’s given, or having a stable workout regiment, and a bunch of other minuscule, everyday things that tethers him. But Sirius also knows that the texts Remus sends him blows all of those out of the water. They’re something crucial—something vitally important. If the roles were reversed, if it were Sirius who forgot to send the text, then yeah, Remus would have a perfect history to look back on and just shrug it off as Sirius having been thoughtless, no big deal. Remus would just make a note to give him  an ear full when he gets back. 

But the rolls aren’t reversed.

It’s Remus who didn’t send anything, and Sirius knows it in his heart of hearts that this is not normal, that Remus would never have forgotten. Remus would never have fucking been able to go to sleep without passing Sirius a message of safe arrival. It’s just not him. 

James still looks unsure even after Sirius’s way to verbose and borderline babbling explanation of why he knows something isn’t adding up, so he decides to hit him below the belt.

“If this were Lily you wouldn’t be second guessing this.” 

James jolts back as if Sirius had just smacked him, which Sirius guesses is kind of true, in the metaphoric sense at the very least. But whatever, Sirius’s right, and he knows it. 

IF this was Lily— the beautiful, kind baker that James had met coincidentally on a random Sunday afternoon, someone completely divorced from this world— well, there would  be no room for discussion.

“IF this were Lily you would trust your gut, and we’d already know what went wrong. We’d know that you were right, the she wasn’t safe.” Sirius’s face feels heated, and he knows that his throat is closing up, but he can’t help it god damn it. This is Remus—And even the thought of him being in any way hurt—No, Sirius refuses to think that way. Because he’s not, he can’t be. This is Remus god damn it. He’s brilliant and strong and he can handle himself. He’s what everyone in their group secretly strive to be—He’s not hurt, he can’t be hurt.

James just sits there, gawking at Sirius, for a moment of pure and utter silence. Sirius doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t fold back from the intensity in his best friend’s— his brother’s— gaze. 

“This is Remus god damn it, James”

Something fierce rippling over his face, James nods, finally seeming to understand.

“Let’s tell Moody,  and call a group meeting. We need to figure out what the hell’s going on.” 

Sirius sags with the little relief he’s given, pretends that it doesn’t feel like there’s not a wildfire still spreading over his chest  from the  bone deep fear.

~*~

Two hours later finds their little ragtag group huddled in the largest meeting room they have, and  Sirius hunched over a menacing letter that was hand delivered by one of Lestrange’s ghoulish little minions— Crouch if their intel is correct. 

“Any news is good news, right?” Peter— their mousey little researcher— says in some weak attempt of comfort from where he’s silently been situated in the love seat the furthest away from the lump some, and Sirius replies by snarling viciously at him;  making Peter shutter back, like the spineless weasel Sirius has always assumed him to be.

Sirius is not comforted. Sirius is furious and sick and he hates everything  in sight. And all Sirius could think of is Remus, Remus, Remus.

“What do we do,” James’s voice is strong, convicted in the painful silence of the room—But when Sirius looks up, he could still see the worry etched into his handsome features, and the fear threaded into his stance. 

James is scared, and that might worry Sirius more than anything else could. 

“This is my fault, I sanctioned just stealing the money she owed us and I was the one who thought Remus would be fine on a solo mission—I thought it’d be a simple grab. I didn’t put two and two together—I just didn’t—“ Alice breaks off, looking away from the group, and Frank slings an arm around his wife’s slender shoulders.

“Hey now, ’s not your fault, ’s not no ones,” as if to emphasize his point, Frank gives a downright menacing grimace to everyone in the room, daring them to disagree. “It’s Remus, he’s resilient. And that bitch knows if he’s actually hurt we’ll destroy everything she’s ever built for herself.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” Sirius’s surprised of the jaggedness of his own voice, leveling him with a look of utter fury. “She’s a psychotic, selfish, self indulgent bitch—There’s worse things than just beating him up or locking him in some cellar.” 

From the corner of his eye he sees Alice shutter, is briefly reminded of that stint where she was badly injured after a run in with one of the darker ringleaders in their line of work, Riddle. And then he remembers, unbidden, how that bastard has some sort of fucked up Harley Quinn, Joker esthetic going on with Bellatrix Lestrange— and a sick, twisted part of Sirius that actually does blame Alice for sanctioning those two risky missions so close together, is savagely pleased of the effect that the reminder has on her. But the rest of Sirius is just disgusted by himself and hates himself even more when remembering where Remus is at this very moment, and what he must be going through. There’s no time to be pointing fingers, and Sirius knows it.

“Whatever, no time to think of it now,” Sirius rises, and the way all of their eyes follow his every move (Even Moody who is the actual boss— doesn’t go over his head. 

“What do you think we should do from here?” Dorcas asks in a small voice, clutching onto the letter like a life line—She’s Remus’s best friend, Sirius knows that, knows that she stopped only skirting  along the edges of this unsavory line of work until Remus came along and helped her wiggle out of her shell. And the reminder makes Sirius feel such a burst of aching for Remus all at once that he nearly topples over, just barely catches himself with a hand on the tabletop.

“Peter,” Sirius barks, making the blonde finally straighten. “Check out where Bellatrix is scheduled to appear next.”

“Ah, erm on it, of course.” 

Sirius starts to feel a little better—no not better, balanced. He knows what needs to be done, what will   happen next, knows that it’ll turn out all right. 

It has to turn out all right, because he can’t fathom a world where it doesn’t— a world without Remus isn’t worth even a breath.

~*~

If there’s anything that Sirius knows about supreme bitch face herself, it’s that Bellatrix is  cavalier to a fault. So it really doesn’t surprise him when Peter finds out that she’s holding a little gala for her new play things art exhibit in her own home that night, and Sirius intends on giving his congratulations, whether or not he’s on the guest list. 

~*~

“Hey, can you hear me.” 

Sirius presses an inconspicuous finger onto his eardrum when Dorcas’s voice breaks through, speaking the affirmative. 

“All right, well Moody says that upstairs is most likely where you’ll find’m. Marlene and James will stay down at the party just incase anything goes wrong.” 

“Right,” Sirius nods to himself, trying to put together all the new information that’s swimming in his mind. “Thanks Cas.”

“Stay safe, and bring him home. Don’t fuck this up, Sirius.” Her voice is small and fragile. Sirius could picture the gleam to her big doe eyes. “We need you both safe.”

“Of course."

~*~

As expected, the upstairs is a labyrinth of doors and alcoves that Sirius could barely wrap his mind around, the only constant thought is that it makes sense that Bellatrix would want to keep the money from the job she had them perform for her. The rent for this place definitely can’t be cheap.

Sirius tries at least ten different rooms before he comes across one that’s locked from the inside as well as a deadbolt, and His heart seizes with a choked sort of hope before he starts pounding against it. 

“Remus! Remus! Are you in there!” His voice goes ragged at how loud he’s screaming, but Sirius doesn’t let up. He starts calling  for him even louder if possible. “Remus!” 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Sirius stiffens, his blood running cold before slowly turning around to a very amused looking Bellatrix Lestrange. Predatory sneer swept across her blood red lips, and weight slung to her left hip. The picture of radiance and leisure in her slinky, black dress. She’s having fun toying with Sirius, with all of them. 

“Where the fuck is he,” Sirius spits out tersely—trying to sear wholes right through her disarming face. He thinks with a start  that she’d be pretty in an almost unchanging way—a timeless elegance that kind of mirrors Remus’s. But where beneath Remus’s golden exterior is all passion and goodness and an endless capacity of love, under Bellatrix’s pale white skin and dark eyes and sheets of even darker hair is just ugliness and cruelty and Sirius has never hated anyone more, or so intensely.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry that they sent the best of their group to the den,” She swaggers up to him, each step premeditated—a lion closing in on her prey, and her leer right then— self assured and cruel all at once— is like a mirror of his mother’s so thoroughly that it’s painful. “I’d really hate to ruin those movie star good looks you’ve got going on,” she runs the back of her hand down his face slowly, tendrils of her warm breath edging his lips. “And honey, you really are so deliciously gorgeous. But Moody needs to learn that no one double plays me so flippantly. No  respect, that kind of behavior  really can’t be tolerated. You understand that, don’t you  love?”

Right then, Bellatrix moves to  gouge Sirius right in the stomach with a dagger she had hidden in the sleeve of her dress—but Sirius’s quicker. 

He sweeps Bellatrix’s feet right from under her, twisting her arm behind her back and using her own weapon to chop off the doorknob, all in one fluid movement. Though,  he only has a sparing moment to feel boastful before he steps into the room to find Remus—sickly looking with blood matted in his golden locks, before everything turns to a buzzing in  the background—Sirius runs on autopilot, with the only crucial thought being to get Remus out safely. 

“Baby, I’m here, I’ve got you.” Sirius tells him with the words catching in his throat, and feels such a drowning amount of relief when he hears a gargled retort from Remus. “I’d never let anything happen to you, love. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let something like this happen again.” Sirius tells him with all the earnestness in the world, gently collecting him into his arms. “I’ve got you now, I won’t let go.” The promise is  as sure and true as the pump of his heart—Remus, Remus, Remus.

~*~

When they all return to headquarters, everyone circles a still limp and shallowly breathing Remus, while Dorcas figures out the extent of his injuries.

It’s the worst hour of his life Sirius thinks—The not knowing, it hurts like nothing else. And he swears once more, to himself and the moonlight and the stars peeking through the skyline that he’ll never let this happen, never again., doesn’t want Remus ever out of his sight.

~*~

A week later, and everything feels as if it’s back to normal—more or less.

Their bedroom smells like sage—thanks to the candles Lily bought Remus for his last birthday—And Remus’s swaddled into the most comfortable blanket Sirius could find—his twisted ankle elevated, and a fresh bowl of soup on his night stand.

It’d be the picture of absolute bliss… Now if Remus wasn’t scowling so morosely. 

“You seem mad,” Sirius notes, standing over him with a freshly fluffed pillow. Remus looks up at him from under his spider leg lashes, so very unimpressed.

“You’ve never taken care of me  nearly so intently   a day in your life.”  Remus charges.

“Untrue!” Sirius squawks in contrary. 

“When I got food poising from that sushi place last year, you blamed me for eating it wrong.”

“Yeah, well it’s blasphemous to ever blame Kimiko! The woman is a titan!” 

Remus’s mouth quirks up, his eyes twinkling with unadulterated adoration. “You’re an idiot.”

Sirius deflates. “Okay, so I might be kind of majorly mother penning it right now,” Remus cranes a incredulous brow. “Okay, okay so a lot mother penning it. But, Remus— love— you were missing—like legitimately missing. And then i found you and you were…” He trails off, can’t even speak the horrors of that night. 

“Yeah, I was,” Remus links their fingers together, pulling Sirius closer, and opening his mouth so that when Sirius crouches to come face to face, he can kiss him properly.  “But you happen to be a pretty all right boyfriend, you found me—I’m fine. You made sure of that.”

“More than all right prick,” Sirius knocks their foreheads together and Remus feigns being in excruciating pain. “I fucking hate you,” he snorts, saddling against Remus’s side, and nuzzling into his neck, taking in the miraculous scent of him— the citrus and cinnamon and sunlight that he’s come to crave at all hours of the day. “I love you sort of a lot, and it was the worst three days of my life, all right. Can you understand that?” 

Remus only hums,  kisses the tips of Sirius’s fingers before lacing them into his own.

“I understand, love, but Sirius, I’m fine. I’m here. You’re amazing, but you don’t need to protect me. Not constantly. This is our lives, and I need you to trust me that I can handle myself for the most part. All right?” 

Sirius makes a displeased sound, lips curled distastefully, and it makes Remus actually giggle like they were school boys again. And Jesus, Remus’s smile is blinding and beautiful and fucking hell, he’s here. He’s back in there room, back in Sirius’s arms.

“God, I missed you.”

Remus crunches upwards, kissing Sirius, and it feels like a promise that he’ll never leave him again. “I love you Sirius.”

Sirius leers, isn’t ready to have the conversation about learning how to let Remus go out without him. So instead he traces his thumb over Remus’s beautifully plump bottom lip, and bends down to whisper into his ear. “So can we talk about the lace then, because I’ve made some purchases and—“

Remus pushes him off their bed, and Sirius feels his laughter punching out of him in response.

~*~

~My Wolfstar FIC Index💜

[moral-turpitudes]

Drowning:

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Guns, Neglect, etc.

Word Count: 2,400

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Shelby!Sister 

I’ve wanted to try my hand at OC’s for a while so her name is Evelyn Shelby lol.

Request: “Hey! Maybe one with Thomas were he kind of forgets that his little sister actually has feelings. He keeps on using her as bait for the business and one day she snaps, pointing a gun to her head. Just an angst fic. Love your writing so much. xx”

Requested by: Anon

Summary: Years after returning from London and agreeing to help out her family, Evelyn Shelby soon comes to terms with the horrors of her job and hopes someone can help her see the good she’s done for the family, even if it means talking to her ever-distant brother Thomas.

“That’ll be 3 pounds Mr.” The third youngest Shelby said quietly, grabbing her hand gun from her purse while the man looked away, giving her enough time to slip her coat on over her bare body, and hiding the gun in her pocket.

“I’ll give you 5 if you tell Mr. Shelby I’m coming for him tomorrow, I know you’ve seen him around here.” The man said, his breath reeking of whiskey as he whispered in her ear.

Shivers went down her spine as the man touched her face. He caressed her cheek roughly before moving away from her, placing two extra bills on the bed before heading to the door.

“Wait, I forgot to tell you something...” She said as he stopped to turn around. He smirked, eyeing her up and down as she walked towards him.

“You won’t be seeing anyone.” She said, giving him a wicked smile as she quickly pulled the gun out and shot the man point blank. As he fell to the floor with a loud thud, blood dripped down her face and bare chest as she looked at the mess of the bedroom.

Tommy saved this area of the Garrison for when anyone in the family needed a place to stay or a place to fuck, and tonight was her night to use the room as she pleased, all in the name of blinder business.

She walked over to the en-suite bathroom, looking at her haggard reflection in the mirror. Blood glinted off her face and chest in the dimly lit room, her makeup was smeared in some areas, and her hair was in a messy bun of sorts.

As she glanced silently in the mirror, she lit a cigarette, letting the smoke escape through her lips before curling it back through her nose, desperately needing to calm her nerves as she thought about the past couple years.

After her brothers left for war, she left for London, leaving Ada and Polly to care for Finn in order to start her life on her own terms for once, knowing she couldn’t stay out in Small Heath like the others as it held too many memories. But when she eventually got news of her brothers coming home, she knew she couldn’t leave them, especially after their mother’s death and their fathers sudden departure.

As the memories came flooding back, she remembered that she took this job to help them and to spend more time with them, but it only took a toll on her as time went on.

On the outside, she remained calm much like her older brother Tommy, but on the inside she was drowning. Drowning in the darkness that consumed her thoughts when she was near her brothers, thinking that if she’d succumb to the waves, that no one would be there to pull her out, not unless they were forced to. The only ones who paid her any mind these days were Polly and Finn, as Ada was out with her son most days and the boys were out wreaking almost as much havoc as she was.

As she finished her cigarette, she dabbed some of the blood off her face and chest, realizing there weren’t many wash cloths to use.

“Fuck it.” She mumbled under her breath as she quickly got dressed and put her bloodstained coat back on. Her dress was wrinkled and torn where the man had roughly gone for her chest, not having any sense in his drunken state.

With light footsteps she padded over to the bed to strap on her heels, and grabbed the money as she headed for the door, avoiding the puddle of blood and stepping over the mans body.

Her heels clicked down the stairs as she made her way through the back hall of the Garrison, the bar seemingly empty except for her brother Tommy.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, almost no emotion in her voice as she spoke from tired lips, a cut from a few hours before making itself known as she remembered the man slapping her for being too “bossy” when explaining her rates like rehearsed.

“I’m here to drink, Evelyn. I’m also here to collect that mans body so I don’t have to deal with it tomorrow.”

“Tommy Shelby, getting his hands dirty? I thought that was for Arthur these days. What about uncle Charlie? You seem to have enough blood on your hands already.” She remarked, sitting down across from him at the booth and looking at his bloodied knuckles. He scoffed as he took a swig of his whiskey, the smell of it making her stomach churn slightly.

“Did he do that?” Tommy said, an angry look filling his eyes as he looked at the cut on her lip.

“What do you think?” She said putting out her cigarette as she blew out a final puff of smoke.

“It’s a good thing he’s already dead.” He said, looking out the window and avoiding his sisters tired gaze.

“How was the family meeting? I wasn’t invited apparently.” She remarked, ripping him out of his thoughts.

“I’m not doing this, Ev we talked about this.” He said rolling his eyes at her as he sat back in the seat, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I just want to know why in the hell you include everyone except me in the meetings. I want to know why you make time for everyone except me...Tell me. Now.” She demanded, her heart racing and face flushing with anger as her temper flared. Her eyes eerily mimicked her brothers as she looked at him.

Tommy sighed as he spoke, choosing his words carefully.

“We think that limiting your attendance at meetings can be good for you. We’re just wanting to protect our sister.” He said.

Evelyn scoffed as she took the bottle of whiskey in her hand, drinking straight from the bottle.

“You think you’re protecting me but you’re not. One day Tommy...one fucking day you’ll realize that I’m valuable to this god forsaken family as more than a whore. You can pull that shit with the others about what’s best for us but you’re not pulling that with me.” She said taking another cigarette out of her coat and lighting it herself as she continued.

“I want to be here, believe me I do, but not being let in on what’s happening doesn’t help as much as you think it does. I barely know what’s going on unless you come to me personally...If you cared about me, you wouldn’t cast me out as the fucking bait of the family and then leave me hanging.” She said, tears threatening to fall down her blood stained cheeks.

“You’re helping with the business because it’s in your blood, Evelyn. We’re family, and we’re paying you more than you could back in London. Would you want to abandon us?” He asked, getting defensive.

“What difference would it make Tommy? I’m no more valuable to you dead or alive. I just lure the men you can’t kill right away and I don’t get any recognition for that. I’ve killed 20 men since I’ve moved back to help the family and I can remember each of their faces.” She said, looking away from him annoyed.

“Don’t you get tired of seeing their faces haunting you?” She asked, taking another swig from the bottle, the alcohol burning her cut lip as she swallowed.

“I stopped seeing their faces a long time ago Ev, and you need to as well. This is why we’ve been keeping you out of the business most days.” He said taking the bottle from her grasp.

“I’m sitting here still covered in his blood, I’m sitting here after another night with a drunken evil man and I’m disgusted Thomas...I feIt nothing when I shot him.” She said, her fingers grazing the metal of the hand gun in her pocket.

“You know how you said you felt like you were drowning when you came home from France?” She asked.

“Well I feel like that too, but no ones dared to ask how I've been. I’ve always been the last in command. Hell, fucking Finn has more say in this family than I do.” She said, putting the gun to her head shakily. Tommy froze inside, barely being able to speak at first.

“Evelyn...listen to me...your work has helped us, we’ve just been too busy to stop and fucking think about anything else. Who was the person that cheered me up when Arthur and John and I got home aye? It was you. Not Ada, not Finn, just you. If you’re drowning...I’d like to help, if you’ll let me...” He said, looking into his sisters eyes that were almost a reflection of his.

With a sigh she set the gun on the table, sliding it to Tommy. He immediately put it in his coat and stood up.

“What are you doing?” She asked, running her hands over the dried blood down her cheek.

“We’re going to talk about this and I’m going to clean you up.” He said, lighting a cigarette before heading over to the bar.

“What’s eating at you aye? You may not think I can tell that you’ve been off but I can. You know Polly sent me here for you...” He said, pouring her a glass of water and drenching a cloth in alcohol.

He handed the cloth to her and got to work on the other one as she wiped off the blood on her chest, looking at the tear in her dress and pulling her coat tightly to her as she tried to cover the large rip.

“Polly will kill me herself if she sees the dress is torn. Fucking bastard.” She said taking a sip of water.

Tommy sat near her and dabbed the cloth on her face and inspected the cut on her lip, causing her to wince as he cleaned it.

“I’m not talking about the dress Evelyn, that can be fixed. What’s going on up here?” He asked, pointing to his head.

“Everything and...nothing...” She said, looking down at her hands that were clenched together in her lap.

“I guess it’s in our blood because I like this business...getting rid of bad men that keep fucking us over, but...killing them takes a toll. I see their faces when I try to sleep some nights, and other nights I sleep as if nothing happened...” She said as Tommy sat back in his chair, he nodded for her to continue.

“I just get so scared that one day I’m going to lay with a man and not come back, some of them are vile people.” She said, wincing at the memory of a past painful business deal.

“If I put you on regular business in the shops, would that help you?” He asked.

Evelyn scoffed at his offer.

“You know me Tommy, I have to keep moving. I have to do something more than sitting at a desk crunching numbers. I’m too wild for that.” She said smirking, her features resembling her aunt Polly at times.

Tommy smiled at the memory of her chasing rats with Ada, shooting at them with a revolver as they played in the streets near their house.

“I know. That’s why I’m planning on changing your job.” He said giving her his signature smile. Not many people saw it after the war, but when she’d returned from London when the boys had gotten back from France, it was the one thing he reserved for her, the one thing that made her realize she didn’t completely lose her brother.

“What are you planning? I can practically see your brain flipping over in that ugly head of yours.” She joked, lightly punching his arm.

“I’m wanting to hire some lighter muscle. Someone who can get info on the inside but still be able to hold their own. Ada’s been working on getting some inside information about her contacts she had with Freddie, and I think you could help me when we go on more blinder business.” He said.

“Do I look like I could hold my fucking own? Are you mad?” She asked.

“I’ve seen you shoot my enemies plenty of times, and you wrestled Arthur and I to the ground years ago. I’d hate to see what you could do now.” He said smirking.

“I’m sure with enough training I could still take you down.” She said looking up at her brother. His eyes tired and wrinkling at the edges.

“I wouldn’t doubt it. You’ve never liked being in one place and never liked people picking on us. If anything you’re the only one of us whose really held on to our gypsy roots aye?” He said, adjusting his coat as he stood up.

“You have a point.” She said, smirking as she got up as well.

“Are you drowning now?” He asked quietly, his eyes scanning hers.

She sighed and looked down, trying to think about all that’s upset her over the years since she’s been home.

“Not anymore.” She said, giving her brother a hug, taking him off guard at the sudden contact.

He gently placed his hands around her in a warm embrace as she kept herself there, not remembering when the last time was that she’d given one of her siblings a hug.

“Tell Polly thank you. And I guess since I still love you guys, thank you for checking in too. I accept the offer as well by the way.” She said releasing herself from him.

“Isn’t that what big brothers are for?” He asked as she walked towards the door.

“I guess.” She said chuckling as they both walked out of the Garrison.

“Aren’t you going to take care of the bastard upstairs?” She asked.

“I will once I take you back home. He’ll be gone before the morning.” He said, lighting a cigarette and driving off towards her apartment.

“I’m counting on that. Can’t have the coppers after me.” She said, looking back behind her as the Garrison shrunk in the distance.

“I’ve told you this before, you don’t have to worry about the cops. They’ll leave ya alone if they want to keep their eyes.” He said, driving as the sun set around them, the plans for the future of his business rolling around in his head the whole way there.

Tag List:

(If you’d like to be added/removed, just send in an ask/message!) :)

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee @thomashelbyswhore​

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Killing Cure (Part 26)

Little  but kind of important note; I actually haven’t gotten to Miranda’s boss battle yet. I haven’t even gotten to Heisenberg’s part of the game. I’m trying not to spoil it for myself (so far I’ve been strangely successful) so I might not have all the details/all of the right details regarding what Mother Miranda’s in-game boss fight looks like. This same in regards to Chris--which is why he hasn’t been in this fic for anyone who was wondering.

He had been set on rescuing his daughter and his daughter alone, now he has to divide his attention. He has to save his daughter and Dimitrescu. And he has to do it while the mold is rapidly consuming the village. It had been creeping slowly across the village as he trapised about carelessly in his ignorance. It is just one of many things that Alcina hadn’t bothered to mention to him--though he is beginning to imagine that she has been anxiously preoccupied with the shock of her sudden transformation and the abrupt re-emergence of her affliction. 

How could he be such a dolt? Of course she forgot to tell him about the flask--she’d only forgotten her medication several times. 

If Karl is to be believed, Rosemary may well be in once piece again now that head put all of the pieces of the flask in place. He supposes that, that is well and good. He isn’t sure that he would have been able to piece Rose together without that wretched Mother Miranda. And yet he is afraid of what Rose might come back together as--nothing in this village of mold is human. Nothing that lasts more than a few days. 

“What can I expect, Karl?” 

“A whole lotta bullshit.” The man snarls and gives the butt of his cigar a flick. “Whole lotta bullshit.” He looks off for a moment, “I know that she’ll be at the ceremony site.”

“That sounds pleasant.” Ethan grumbles. 

“But now that she has the big bitch, I don’t know what to expect.” 

He hopes beyond all hope that Alcina will be in a reasoning mood--though on a good day she is prone to dramatics and bursts of outrage. He can’t imagine that she has had a good day since he walked out of the castle. “I’m not backing down.” Not when he is so close.

“Oh.” Heisenberg chuckles, “I wasn’t expecting you to. In fact I was ready to knock the shit out of you if you tried to back down now.” 

There isn’t much to marvel at as they walk along; it is mostly craggy rock, gnarled dead trees with twisting branches, and dilapidated ruins capped with snow. It all has a precarious look about it as though it will crumble with the defeat of Mother Miranda herself. He doesn’t think that such a fated would be so bad for such a forsaken expanse of land. A biting breeze rattles the tree branches and Salvatore squeaks in discomfort. Truth be told, Ethan had forgotten that he was there. He doesn’t think that the pitiful thing will be much use this far away from water. 

“When do we reach her nest?”

“Her nest?” Karl chuckles. “This whole village is her nest. She knows what we’ve been up to.”

“Then where is she?”

“Exactly.” The man half growls. “There’s a reason that this is going so smoothly and that’s because the bird bitch wants it to go smoothly.” 

And smoothly it goes until they come to the heart of the ruins and the creature lifts its head to stare at them. It is a hideous thing, a mountain of putrid rot and thrashing tube-like appendages that wriggle from back, shoulders, and head.  The sight of it leaves Ethan feeling absolutely nauseous. 

And then the creature speaks to him and he feels sicker yet, “you dare, call me a monster!?” As elegant and announciated as ever, it is the voice of his--.his lover?--his Lady Dimitrescu but it comes from this repugnant creature. 

“I’ve never seen a thing like you that wasn’t a monster.” He spares a glance at Salvatore, “except for that.”

Salvatore flashes a crooked toothed smile. 

“He looks like a monster but he’s actually quite friendly.” 

“You’re a fool, Winters and that’s why you’ll never see Rosemary again.” The creature’s grotesque claws curl over the rock face it descends. “I’ll devour you whole and Mother Miranda will have Eva once again, as it should be.” 

He thinks that he had known it immediately in lay eyes upon the creature. Upon hearing that voice. Mostly he wanted to believe that he was mistaken that it is a cruel trick or some sort of illusion. But the creature talks like her, it moves relatively like her. And when it stoops down and level with him he can recognize those eyes. The very same eyes that he loves so much. They are burning with rage and wrath--the very same that he had seen the night he’d driven that dagger into her flesh. 

“You tried to weaken me, Winters, but Mother Miranda, she saved me.” 

Saved you, he thinks, by turning you into this? He keeps the thoughts well away from his tongue. “This doesn’t look like salvation to me.” 

“You have no idea, Winters.” She growls. “None at all!” She circles around him, tendrils swaying and writhing. “Do you know what it is like to have had power and status? And then to have it all stolen from you and traded for aches and cramps?”

He flinches. 

And flinches twice over with the thought that she is probably still in pain, a different sort of it. He can see the lesions on her body, the places where she had stretched beyond what her skin should have and the rips where tendrils have burst through. 

He can swear that he sees suffering in her eyes. Perhaps several types of it. 

“No, I don’t.” He admits. 

“Then you won’t understand why I am going to break you.”

“Can we, I don’t know, talk about this?”

Very unhelpfully, Karl chuckles in the background where he is perched against a large boulder. Ethan grits his teeth.

“There is nothing to talk about.” She swipes her claws across his stomach and he staggers back clutching at the gaping wound. God, he hasn’t even gotten to Miranda and his is already wasting the healing tonics that The Duke has armed him with. 

“I don’t think that she’s in a talking mood. You know how women are.” At this remark, Alcina gives a low growl. “Just blast her to bits and be done with it. If you can’t muster the balls, I’ll do it for you.” 

“Not yet, we’re talking--right Alcina, we’re talking?”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore!” This time he ducks under the swipe of her claws and fires a reluctant shot into them. She screeches at the hole in her mutilated hand. But instead of slinking back the maw of the dragon opens, unfolding like the petals of a rotting, razored orcid. 

He jumps out of the way just as a tongue lashes out.

“I can step in at any time.” Karl offers again. 

“This,” he huffs “is between Al--Lady Dimitresu and I.” He supposes that if she has to die, he’ll be the one to end her. “You were working with her the whole time, weren’t you?” 

“Think what you will, Winters, you’ll be a pile of ribboned chucks soon.” He dodges another flick of her tongue. 

Think what you will…

His heart drops.

He thinks that she loved him in her own way. 

He thinks that this sort of hatred can only come from betrayal and hurt. 

“I think that you stopped working with her for a while and then you went back to her because you had no other options.” He pauses. “Or did she come and get you herself?” 

The dragon pauses, maw still gaping. He chances looking away from it to the tangle of tendrils and at  woman affixed by them to the fleshy mass that makes up the dragon’s body. “You didn’t want this did you?”

.oOo.

“It is better than what you made me into.” She isn’t helpless anymore. She isn’t weak and useless. But she still isn’t right, her body still aches. It burns and sears all over. Every move stretches and pulls skin that is thick and taunt and ready to crack and split. And her mind, thoughts are disjointed and hectic. She can’t seem to cling onto one for too long. And there are urges, so many irresistible urges, a hunger that hadn’t been there--not so persistently anyhow. It is driving her mad. 

“I don’t know, I liked human Alcina.” He is wearing that ridiculous, lopsided half smile. The very same one that had strung her along and poisoned her rational. 

“You liked to see me weak.” 

“I like to see you loving.” He declares as though loving and weak aren’t one and the same. 

It brings about a wave of anger. An impulse that is almost animalistic. It certainly isn’t good mannered but she is past manners now. She is past being a lady. She is simply Dimitrescu. And Dimitrescu wants manblood. Wants to taste it on her tongue and feel warm, fresh meat in her maw. 

This time when she swipes her claws it is not to slice, but to scoop him up. She takes him in a crushing grip and holds him level with her face. 

“Can I ignite the bitch now?” Heisenberg inquires. Her rage kindles, its flames reaching a scorching point. 

“And you’d go to him, Winters. You’d lave me for him?”

“We were all going to work together.” He winces. “Remember?” 

She grips him tighter still. 

“It was going to be you, me, Karl, Salvatore, and Donna. I couldn’t get Donna on board after our fight but…”

“But of course, Donna would never betray Mother Miranda. And she would never betray me. She is one of a few…”

He cringes. “I didn’t betray you, we just had an argument.  I figured that we could talk about it when I got back to your castle…”

It is just the sort of dull short-sightedness that she expects of a man. “You foolish, simple minded creature. You really thought that you’d just be able to come back and--”

“Yes.” He interrupts. 

Her lip twitches--he dares interrupt her! She will break his bones. One by one she will snap them all. And she starts with the ribcage. He gives a good hollar when it cracks and she howls with laughter. Uncontrolled laughter. 

Somewhere deep down it sickens her.

It scares her. 

Even prior to getting stabbed by the Dagger of Death’s Flowers, she was never like this. Never this ruthlessly barbaric. 

“Come on, Alcina.” He winces. “I still want you to help me get Rose back. And then we can go back to your castle and your daughters can meet mine…” 

“Mother Miranda saved me and you’re asking me to forsake her.”

“Saved you!? She’s using you as a guard dog. She isn’t going to need you once she gets Eva back. The BSAA is going to come to this village and she isn’t going to be around when they do. She’ll leave you behind and they’ll come for you.” 

“She wouldn’t leave me, not when I’ve been so loyal.”

“She doesn’t care about your loyalty. She won’t need it anymore.” 

Her rage doubles...triples. 

It boils over because she knows that he is right. Not that he isn’t using her. She has no allies. None but her daughters and if the BSAA or any organization comes to the town what will they do to her girls? Experimentation or execution, surely.

And they are back to square one. “I will help you with Miranda as promised, but you will keep the BSAA well away from this village and my daughters. You will do it or I will…”

“Claw me apart and swallow me whole like the pathetic man thing I am. I know the drill.” He speaks as though he is still talking to a friend. “You have yourself a deal. It’s pretty much the same one that we already made but…” she gives him a silencing squeeze before dropping him to the floor to fuss with his medicines. 

She knows that Mother Miranda is going to have a fit. Quite possibly she will not let her live and she will have to coerce Winters into caring for her daughters. And maybe that will be for the best. This form isn’t much better than her human form. 

In fact, despite her angry decelerations, she rather misses her human form. At least that had been cherishable. This one is desecrated and dying--both painful and isolating. 

“You can un-dragon yourself anytime you’d like.” Ethan suggests. 

She shakes her head, “I--I don’t know how. I don’t know if I can with this new variation…”

Ethan frowns, “alright well, we’ll worry about that after we take down Mother Miranda, maybe there will be something in her research notes. Or maybe Chris will have some ideas…” He clears his throat. “Mother Miranda first, fixing you second. I mean you’re not second to me but if we don’t defeat Miranda then it’ll be harder to fix you.” 

Maybe she isn’t a lost cause, perhaps there is some glimmer of humanity left in her beast’s brain, because his stupid prattling still makes her tummy flutter. She hates it and takes comfort in it. 

[ljstlr]

LIFETIME.

genre: angst, heavy angst

words: 1911

choi minho x reader

———————————————————————————————————————

“Will you marry me?” Minho watched from the corner of the garden your soon-to-be-fiancé rented out just for this event – to propose to you. And as you answered yes, the atmosphere was filled with cheers, clapping, and even crying. Minho was about to let out a cheer when he felt an itching sensation on his throat, so he stepped out of the garden to the parking space to soothe his throat.

After what felt like an unending amount of coughing, he stood frozen in his spot. He couldn’t keep his eye off his hand. A daffodil laid gently on his hand and he would usually call the flower beautiful if it just didn’t come from his throat and had droplets of his blood on it. Minho silently cursed.

A single daffodil symbolizes an unrequited love. Minho read silently on his phone as he took his seat next to your other set of friends. As he read through the website, he couldn’t help but feel the uneasiness in his lungs and he knows exactly what was going on in his organ.

Is he scared? Fuck yes. He was just about to enter his 30s and he suddenly developed a disease that has no cure. Well, actually, it does. But he didn’t have the cure.

“Hey! Hyunjae told me you were a part of this, why didn’t you tell me?” He was disrupted from his thoughts when he heard your voice lingering on his right shoulder. He quickly shut off his phone as he flashed you a smile.

“That would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it now?” Minho chuckled as he watched you pout and playfully slap him on the arm. The two of you shared a conversation up until you had to leave because your family wanted a portrait to be taken with your fiancé.

And he just had to be the one to take the photo. He bitterly counted down as he watched the genuine smile on your face through the phone screen – why couldn’t he make you smile like that?

He bowed down to your mother as he gave her back the phone. He quickly excused himself because he felt the itching feeling again and he didn’t want to cause a scene. Minho watched the sink fill with daffodil and his blood. He sighed as he used his arms to support himself on the sink.

This wasn’t the way he imagined his death to be.

As days gone by, Minho was definitely not getting any better. His apartment was starting to fill with flowers and the floors were smeared with blood. It looked pretty much like a crime scene but he didn’t care anymore. He was bound to die anyways.

But he was taken back when he heard knocks on his apartment door. He knew it was you – you were the only one who always came unannounced. He mentally cursed as he tried to get rid of the daffodils on the floor but being the impatient person you were, you opened the door yourself with the keys he lent you.

“Minho...?” He knows you were holding back yours tears and that caused Minho to immediately soften up. He walked towards you and wrapped you in a hug which caused your tears to overflow.

You stayed like that for a while until you pulled away and looked at Minho straight in his face. He gulped and felt a sting on his throat with the action he has just done.

“Why did you keep this from me?” You asked.

“I didn’t want you to stress about me, (y/n). You’re getting married.” Minho responded with a fake smile and but he knows you didn’t know that.

“Minho, are you dying?”

“No, I’m not. I’ll get better.” A lie. A bittersweet lie just to keep you from feeling pain. He was dying, but even so, all he wanted was for you to be safe and happy.

He watched as your face slowly lit up and your frown become a smile and it was like a medicine for him. Watching that unfold right in front of his eyes made him feel better – despite the rough and uncomfortable feeling of the flowers invading his lungs and throat.

“You better not die,” Minho was about to answer but you cut him off.

“Cause my baby better meet his Uncle.” And once again, Minho felt a crack on his heart. He was feeling other things as well, but he pushed those down because he didn’t want you to worry.

“Y-you’re pregnant?” Minho forcefully spoke and you nodded with a smile.

The feeling he was trying to push down got the best of him and he started coughing violently in front of you. You panicked as you see Minho struggle to cough and wheeze as a yellow flower came out of his mouth.

A yellow carnation symbolizes disdain, rejection, or disappointment. This lingered on and on in your head as you slowly pick up the flowers on the floor and throw them in the garbage bin. You look down on your hands to see scatters of blood everywhere. You let out a sad sigh before washing it away.

You opened the door to Minho’s door to see him coughing out even more carnations into his bed.

“You told me you weren’t dying.” She spoke coldly which made Minho pause from his fits of coughing. He didn’t know which one hurted more – the expression on your face or the feeling of suffocation from all the growing flowers.

“I won’t die.” Lie.

“Let me help you, Minho. I don’t want to lose you.” He smiled through the pain.

He wiped off the tears flowing down from your eyes as you beg him to not die. He hated seeing you like this. He didn’t want to leave you in a state like this when he dies.

“Hey. Calm down, (y/n). Stress is bad for your baby.” He felt a thorn stab through his lung as he spoke, but he hid away the pain from you.

She eventually calmed down and begged Minho to talk it out with the whoever it is that’s making him go through all the pain of the disease. He listened to her go on and on about getting well even though he knows there is no longer any more hope to hold on to.

And as she bid her goodbye and walked out the apartment door, Minho prayed. He has forgotten his religion long before, but he begged God to keep him alive just for you. Just so he can take away the pain that his giving you, he’d rather see you happy.

But he knows God once again failed to listen to his prayers as he felt another thorn stab him.

Anemone. He slowly read the word that matches the new flower that came out of his mouth today.

It indicates fading hope and a feeling of having been forsaken. He wanted to let out a bitter laugh, but the flowers and thorns constrained him from doing so.

He brushed off the yellow and purple flowers off his sofa to get a hold of the invitation you just sent him. A wedding invitation.

Minho hasn’t seen you ever since the carnation flowers, but he appreciated the hourly texts he got from you asking how he’s been. He’s glad that your communication only relied through technology, because he looked like shit. He would hate it if anyone saw him like this.

He couldn’t speak. It’s been a day or two since his vocal cord got fucked up from the thorns. He couldn’t sleep. I mean, how could he? Every damn minute is like an hour episode of coughing out flowers. He’s pale and skinny. Of course, he would be, considering the amount of blood he loss and not being able to digest any sort of food for the past weeks.

It was a miracle that he made it this far.

But he knows it’s over. As another fit of coughing attacked him, he felt a stabbing pain in his trachea. He started to lose the ability to breath, but he was able to reach the letter on his coffee table and held it close to his chest. It’s a letter he has been saving solely for this day.

He took one last deep breath before he laid lifeless on his sofa floor.

Be happy for me, (y/n).

You were in disbelief. You can’t believe your standing right in front of your Minho’s grave. Tears fell from your right eye as you gripped harshly on the letter his mom gave you before they all left the cemetery. You were the only one left and you refused to leave.

You sat down beside his grave and gathered the strength you have left to unfold the letter he left you.

“Hey,

If you’re reading this, firstly, I would like to give you my sincerest apologies, (y/n). I know I told you I would survive, but I didn’t have a cure. God knows how desperate I was with all my prayers to Him on how much I wanted to stay alive for you, but even He can’t find a way for me to live anymore.

I wish you a happy life. I have known you since the day you decided to hang out with the loner in high school – which was me of course. You deserve the galaxy and all of its stars for making my short stay in this life wonderful and memorable. Anyone would agree that I short-lived this lifetime, but maybe that’s the way it was meant to be.

Cause I couldn’t bear watching the love of my life be happy with someone else. Fuck, I can’t believe that I’m that much of a coward to only confess my undying affection for you now that I’m dead. But I was never the selfish type. I didn’t want you to suffer just because you couldn’t love me back.

You were and are happy, (y/n). I couldn’t take that away from you, so I kept all the pain to myself. And I would do it again and again if it’s for you. You wanted me to find a cure, but now we both know why that’s impossible. Because the cure for me is to be loved back by you, and that will never be a case now, wouldn’t be?

Maybe, just maybe, in another lifetime, I would be the one you spend your entire life with. Get married, have kids, buy a house, a car, all of that rom-com shit. But this lifetime isn’t ours, (y/n).

In this lifetime, I’m Minho. Your high school best friend, your college roommate, your co-worker, your ‘best man’, and now your guardian angel from above.

I couldn’t be the one you love, so let me just be your angel for now.

Until the next time we meet,

Love, Minho.”

Your heart broke as you finished reading Minho’s letter. You couldn’t breathe from all of the sobs you let out as you run your fingers through the ballpen ink and scatters of blood.

You gripped the letter and held it close to your chest. As you cried, you felt an itch on your throat. You thought it was just a cough that you needed to let out from all the sobbing, but you were wrong. And so was Minho.

Cause he could’ve survived, and this lifetime could’ve been theirs.

Because you just coughed out an Anemone flower.

[amerrierworld]

Babysitter (pt 9)

Thor (Ragnarok) - fanfiction

Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 

Summary: A Loki interlude.

Characters: Hela, Loki

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: Idk, swearing?

Loki was incredibly annoyed at the current situation. 

He’d woken up on a random, clunky spaceship with a pounding head and a bruised neck. He remembered the world going blank and being quite certain that he’d been dead until, frustratingly so, his lungs gasped for the most painful breath he’d ever taken. 

A janky pirate ship had snatched him from floating in space amongst the debris, stripped him of his armour -no doubt to sell or melt down into other knick knacks- and left him in the back amongst the cargo. They’d presumed he was dead, so when he had woken up, they had a bit of a shock. 

Not a word was comprehensible, Loki couldn't understand whatever gibberish language they spoke, so he ignored them and shuffled to their food supply. That got him a whack on his back from a whip and a kick to the back of the knees. 

Trying to take back his armour also earned him a few bruises. They didn’t seem very dangerous, but quite a nuisance. 

Amongst the cargo he found familiar debris that struck an icy chord inside Loki. There were piles of Asgardian clothing- ripped and filthy, but Asgardian nonetheless. Bags with very few belongings, and metal scraps of the ship they had been on. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the remainder of the ship of refugees was probably lost. When the pirates began to beat him again for rummaging through their stuff, a rusty old pipe amongst the stolen goods helped quiet them down immensely. 

With his kidnappers knocked out, Loki scarfed down what measly rations they had and set course for Earth at light speed -well, the closest speed they got to light speed which was more like a quick paced jog. 

He tied up the crew and tossed them in the back, and lounged in the cockpit as the ship traveled on autopilot, picking scraps of food from between his teeth. 

Communications on this ship were absolute garbage, he concluded. There was barely any signal and he couldn’t figure out where the closest planet was. So, he took a nap, ate some more food, and tried not to think too much about the harrowing experience of Thanos choking him to death.

Hours later, they entered a very familiar atmosphere. Loki let the ship crash-land, grabbed a bag of few supplies and hopped out just before they hit the ground. 

He marched on through the thicket of trees where they landed. Angry shouts that were no doubt curse words echoed from the smoking ship as he left them behind and tried to gather his bearings. 

An old cabin was the first building he saw. With a rusty dagger at the ready, he inspected the home around the back, looking for a vehicle he could take, something to get him moving faster than his legs, when suddenly a high pitched shriek nearly shattered his eardrums.

A young girl, no older than six, was staring at him with big brown eyes. Rain boots covered in mud, an aged stuffy in her hands. Loki put his finger to his lips, dreading that he was going to have to kill the girl before she gave him away or screamed bloody murder. 

“Daddy! There’s an Avenger in the yard!” she sped off towards a shed, where there was a light on inside. Loki’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Whatever outcome he was expecting, this was by far the worst. 

“I’m not- fuck.”

He shoved the dagger away and out of sight and stomped towards the shed, fuming with annoyance. He was about to go off at the man for letting his daughter talk to random strangers and how he certainly was not an Avenger, but the man in question had a large saw in hand and about 200 pounds of muscle to carry, so he snapped his mouth shut. 

“Oh, hello there,” he said, his daughter bouncing about the workshop. “What brings one of you all the way out here?”

“And where exactly is out here?” Loki asked.

“Canada! What, you superheroes never been to Canada before? Always hanging around New York, eh? Are you taking a trip or something?”

“No. I, uh, crash-landed here.”

“From space?” the girl piped up, gawking.

“Yes, from space,” Loki said through gritted teeth. “Fighting angry aliens.”

“I told you, Daddy! He’s a hero!”

“I bet you’re trying to find your way to America, then? Lord knows why, there’s all kinds of weird things happening around town nowadays.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half the world’s gone! Poof! Just like that, some alien business I bet.”

“Are you going to save us from them?” his daughter asked again. Loki sighed.

“I’ll try my best. Now, can you please show me how to get to New York as fast as possible?”

The lumberjack’s husband took Loki and his daughter in his jeep and drove a merry long way to the nearest airport. On the way, the little girl asked him all sorts of questions about the Avengers, that he could only half-answer.

“Is it true Thor is super powerful?”

“Well. He's not that powerful. He just uses a hammer. Anyone with a hammer can use it as a weapon and suddenly be considered powerful.”

“I wish I had a super powerful hammer. Then my brothers would stop teasing me so much.”

“Hey,” her second father softly scolded.

“They’re mean!”

“Sibling feuds? I know the feeling,” Loki muttered.

“Do you have siblings, Mr. Avenger?”

“Sure do,” he smiled wryly. “Absolute bullies.”

“Me too!”

“Hey now, let our guest settle down a bit,” her dad said. “She gets a little excited around new people, so sorry.”

“It’s no problem.”

“The local airport’s just up here. It’ll take you to Detroit, and then you gotta get a connection flight to New York.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, genuinely.

“Why are you going to New York, Mr. Avenger?”

“To find my siblings,” Loki sighed. “At least, one of them should still be there.”

“But they’re mean to you?”

“Yeah,” Loki pondered as the car came to a stop. “But they’re family. I suppose.”

-

A few cunning lies and disguises later, Loki was suddenly landing in New York, amidst chaos. It had been a few days since he’d woken up, and apparently a few days since what they call the ‘Blip’. Humans clearly don’t like having their realities altered. 

Your home was abandoned. Alfred didn't even greet Loki at the door, and no amount of pulling and prying opened it for him. The lights were off, and he feared the worst.

It wasn’t until he was in the streets and overhead muttering about some crazy goth lady terrorizing a nearby street that Loki thought he had finally found something.  

He marched down the street until, to his surprise, he found Hela sitting hunched on the side walk, scowling and daring anyone to come close to her. She looked incredibly tired and disheveled, but her eyes were clear and angry, and recognized her idiot brother immediately. 

“What the hell brought you back here?” Hela snarled. 

“A toddler’s wisdom, if you’ll believe it,” Loki said, ignoring her glare as he sat down next to her. 

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

Hela grumbled. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Since when did you become Mother? I don't need your help.”

“Really?” Loki picked up a filthy scoop from a pile of three ice cream tubs that were fully devoured. He dangled it from his fingertips for a moment, pulling a face. “I think you do.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Glad to see you too, sister.”

Silence. Hela really did look like shit, Loki noted. Her hair was mussed, and there were rips and broken pieces in her armour, reminiscent of the time they’d met. She had to be weak not to bother fixing it with her powers, or was just too preoccupied to even think to fix it. 

“Where’s Y/N?” Loki asked. 

“Beats me.”

“Did you kill her?”

Hela’s eyes snapped to his, a sudden fire in them. “How dare you say that?”

“Well, her home is abandoned and no one answered the door, and you’re here  cowering like a criminal. One makes conclusions.”

Something changed in her expression, and she turned her body to face him. “Abandoned?”

Loki frowned, “yes. Didn't you know?”

“No- I.. I’ve been here, the last time I saw her...” 

Hela jumped to her feet, nearly kicking Loki in the process. “That bastard, he took her, didn’t he? Him and his awful, forsaken pieces of shit he calls friends.”

“Who?”

“Our darling brother,” she spat. “He came in and- and threatened me, and then took her from me.”

She paced in front of him, green fire trailing behind her heels, hot with anger. She had expected you to come find her, take her back to your home, make her feel safe. But when you never came she had assumed you had abandoned her. Now, knowing Thor had taken you instead, filled her with rage.

“Where does your little posse hang out, hm? Some supposed secret lair? A great big castle in the sky?”

Loki blinked at her, at her sudden outbursts, at the scared glances from passerbys, and didn’t know what to say.

“Fine then, I’ll get her myself,” she growled, turning away from him. 

Loki nearly let her walk away, let her walk into whatever doom she was getting  herself into, but with a groan and a mad realization, he knew she was the only one he could rely on right now.

“Wait,” he said, reluctantly, hurrying after her and grabbing her arm. “You can’t just go running off. Tell me what happened.”

Hela spat at his feet. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“You care about her, don't you? Y/N? Why else would you want to ‘rescue’ her from our brother?”

“Be silent,” she hissed.

“No, no, I’m right, aren’t I? You care for her, but you messed up, and now you have no one on your side. That’s why you left, and that’s why Thor had to take her.”

Hela yanked her arm away before Loki could see her face, but he knew what she felt; remorse, and loss. 

“Tell me.”

And so, reluctantly, knowing she had no other choice, Hela sat him down, this time on an actual park bench rather than the ground. She told him what had happened, how her mistrust had turned to affection for you, and how Thanos had destroyed everything in the end, and how the Avengers had fought her out of fear.

“I know the feeling,” Loki agreed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching an elderly lady feed a bunch of pigeons as if nothing drastic had happened to the world the past few days. 

“And now I don't know where she is, and she probably hates me, but who am I to blame her for that?”

“If I know anything about Y/N, is that she cares about everyone, but it takes a lot more to win her love. She doesn’t hate you. She’s just afraid. I mean, you did after all break her window and run off into nowhere.”

Hela stayed quiet, made an annoyed sound in her throat, and looked away.

“I’m starving, how did you get all that ice-cream? Why not an actual meal? Or were you just eating your feelings?”

“Y/N doesn’t like it when I kill people, so it was either massacre the street or steal their dairy products,” Hela bristled. 

“Fair enough.”

“Now what, hm? You come out here, seemingly from the dead, chastise me for messing up, and now judge my diet? What do you really want, Loki?”

“Not sure, to be perfectly honest,” Loki said. “I thought I was dead, and then I wasn’t. Frankly, my priorities are shifting.”

“And what is your current priority?”

“Getting you back to Y/N so you stop moping around and fix this.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

Loki grinned, standing up. His armour shimmered and regained its full glamour; horned helmet and deep green cloak. 

“Taking notes from me, are we?” Hela grumbled. Loki glared at her.

“I was wearing this look long before you got here. Now, get up, we’re going to infiltrate the Avengers and give you your romantic happily-ever-after so you stop being such a pain in everyone’s neck.”

“You think we’ll just be able to get in? You really are as mad as Father was.”

“I’ve broken into quite a few places over the years, I’ll have you know. I’m the God of Mischief after all.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Hela stood, her own armour strengthening again. 

“Shut it.”

A/N: Loki is not dead! I know he’s technically alive in an alternate universe or whatever.. but I wanted the Odin Trio to be together sooooo here we are. Let me know what you think!!

taglist: @midnight-lestrange​​ @cheerfullyvenomous​ @germansarechill​@gaylorrds @amii-nyc​ @waitingfortheendtocome​ @novakitten0901​@marvels-writings​ 

[thatsadorbsyo]

Cerise (Devil’s Advocate, 18)

You might say that all I’ve done since coming to Eorzea is burn through people, and you’d be a cunt for saying so, but that doesn’t mean you’d be wrong. They’d use me up just as quickly if I didn’t get to them first, because the world has set me up to fail and I’m not falling for it anymore. I made a fool of myself by letting my guard down and pulling my skirt up for the first man in this gods forsaken land who seemed like he was gonna look out for me. That was my first mistake. I know this sounds cold, but consider this: Leviticus was a fucking monster, the kind of man who turns up the heat on you so gradually that you don’t realize you’re dying until your skin is already sloughing off in his pot. But the people who killed him weren’t any better, they were just butchers pretending to be vigilantes and sky pirates. The man who brought his bounty to our crumbling door (along with four of his most trigger-happy friends) was an imperial too, so tell me why Leviticus is in the ground and that Nevin asshole is still walking?

Nobody can give me an answer to that question that satisfies me. What, so did that guy repent? What does that buy you? I’m not an apologist. Not for Leviticus, not for the Garleans, not for fucking anybody. He deserved what he got, but what about me? Where’s the justice for what anybody did to me? It took me a long time to face what exactly had happened to me in that cabin in the hinterlands. I couldn’t process any of that shit in prison -- Did you know that in prison, you have to let the guards watch you take a dump? Who can even begin to process any of their trauma with a woman staring you dead in the eye every time you try to move your bowels? -- And after I got out, for months it was all I could do to get by without getting gotten. I dyed my hair. I changed my name. I planned my revenge on Nevin and his murderous band of fuckwits. Then, when I finally met a man who helped me realize that Leviticus had wronged me too, who physically pried my hand off of my sniper rifle and walked me, step by doddering step, toward the epiphany that my bloody revenge fantasies were, perhaps, ill-concieved, he didn’t stick around either. Not once he’d mapped the extent of my damage and decided it was too much for him. That was my second mistake. I thought a fellow victim would give a damn about me.

I’m done with it. All of it. Fuck Leviticus. Fuck Nevin, Arendt, Hawke, Brandt, and that raen girl. Fuck Udutai. Fuck the Garleans, fuck Sharlayans, and fuck all of Eorzea too for that matter, every last one of them except for that girl who takes care of the orphans in Idyllshire. She’s the only bitch who can stay; none of the rest of it has ever done me any good. If I wanted to be this degraded and humiliated outside of the bedroom, I would have stayed in the old world and made a second pass at defending my thesis. Maybe somebody on that island is bright enough to tell me why Nevin gets to walk without answering for fucking anything. I don’t have the energy to make it my problem anymore. I’ve got a nice thing going with a guy from back home who isn’t blind to Sharlayan’s weaknesses, isn’t huffing the fumes deep enough to think that their methods are beyond reproach. But I won’t make the mistake of thinking he’ll be loyal to me. That’s fallacy I won’t repeat.

[arya-skywalker]

Pleasant Surprises (Sanders Sides Fanfic)

Secret Santa fic for the amazing @nightashes ! Hope you enjoy

Prompts used:

- Familial (brotherly) anxceit, analogical

- Fantasy, (emotional) h/c

- Hugs, firelight, new beginnings

- “I think I understand now”

- “I’m here for you” (slightly different phrasing but same idea)

Read on AO3

Summary: Virgil risks a journey home to the dark forest to reconnect with brother Janus— and invite him to a potential wedding.

~*~

“I need to tell him,” Virgil said, curled up by the fire.

“Hm?” Logan looked up from his book. “Tell who, what, exactly? I’m afraid I’m not quite following.”

Virgil grimaced. “My brother. About....” He gestured vaguely. “Us? Me not being dead?”

“Ah.” Logan closed his book. “Would you like me to come with you?”

“No.” Virgil quickly shook his head. “No. I need to go alone. Besides, it’s not safe for you there.”

Logan folded his hands on his lap. “You left for a reason. Are you quite certain you want to go back?”

“I was scared, Lo. But now... I know what to expect. I’m ready.”

“Very well. Contact me if you need assistance.” Logan stood and walked over to his desk, taking out a small handheld mirror. “Say my name into this mirror, and we will be able to communicate through it.”

Virgil looked at the mirror warily. “And if I break it?”

Logan sighed. “It will still work on a shard of the mirror, but please be careful.”

“Always am.” Virgil smiled wanly as he took the mirror, cautiously placing it in his satchel.

Logan kissed his forehead and squeezed his hand gently. “Come home soon, please.”

Virgil took his hand and stood. “That’s the goal. I’ll miss you.” He stretched and took a deep breath. “Well, see you later, I guess.”

“Farewell and good luck.”

Virgil forced a smile and waved, then quickly packed his things before heading out the door— not giving himself the chance to back out.

~*~

Virgil tugged his cloak close against the chill. This was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea. Five years. Five years apart.

Maybe Janus wouldn’t even want to see him. Hell, maybe he wasn’t even here.

No. Too late to turn back.

Eerie whispers echoed in the mists and shadows lurked behind skeletal trees, but Virgil ignored them. That was normal here. As was the eternal night. Perfectly normal.

Here lived the monsters of the realm. The forsaken. The lost and abandoned. The only advantage was that they never hurt one of their own.

Virgil stopped in front of the door built into the cliffside and knocked. Snakes, spiders, and tentacles were carved around the doorframe, but there were no windows— only narrow slats to let air and light inside. Easier to defend without having to worry about glass.

It felt like eternity before the door opened. “Well, this is unexpected,” Janus drawled, his scales gleaming in the dim light.

“Hey, Jan... umm... can I come in?” Virgil rubbed his arm, not quite meeting his brother’s gaze.

“Depends on what brought you here.”

“I just wanna talk.” Virgil bit his lip. “And... apologize?”

“Go on, then. Say what you came to say.” Janus leaned against the doorframe.

Virgil took a deep breath. “I think I understand now,” he said slowly.

Janus arched an eyebrow. “Oh do you now? What do you understand?”

“Why you did what you did. Why we lived how we did. Why we were always hiding, never leaving the forest. How the world really works— well, not as much that, but more than I knew—“

“Did someone hurt you?” Janus cut him off, taking a step closer, concern in his eyes.

Virgil winced. “No. Well, yes, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is you don’t need to do that anymore. We can help you.”

Janus’s brow knitted. “We?” he echoed.

“I... uh... met some nice people. Like, really nice. I think you’d like them, if you give them a chance.” Virgil picked at a loose thread at the edge of his cloak.

Janus gave him a look, then sighed and stepped aside. “Come in. Would you like some tea?”

Virgil sighed in relief and walked through the doorway. It was just as he had left it— fur blankets piled around cushions and chairs, rickety table, a large fireplace with snakes around the mantle. “Sure. Something herbal?”

“Chamomile?” Janus suggested, filling a pot with water and placing it over the hearth.

“Whatever, sure.” Virgil warmed himself by the fire, then grabbed a blanket and took a seat on a nearby cushion.

Janus laughed softly. “Still prefer the floor to a chair, hm?”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s convenient. And warmer,” he said.

“Mm. Indeed it is,” Janus said. “Honey in your tea, yes?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

A moment later, Janus set a cup of tea on the floor next to Virgil and sat down a few feet away. “Careful. It’s hot,” he said. Which was obvious due to the steam.

Virgil wrapped his hands around the teacup anyway, breathing in the aroma. “So... umm... what’s up with you?” He winced. “I mean, like, what have you been up to? How have you been?”

Janus chuckled softly. “More of the same. Hunting. Strengthening the wards.” He gestured vaguely.

“Right, yeah,” Virgil muttered.

“I am far more interested about you, spiderling. Care to talk about your grand adventures?” Janus arched an eyebrow.

Virgil snorted. “I wouldn’t call them that. But uh... I guess.” He took a sip of his tea once it had cooled down enough. “Well... I headed roughly northeast from here. Traveled with the spider-people for a bit. But as we approached the border, some elves attacked. When they heard me speak, they stopped and demanded I bow before the prince.“ He smiled sideways. “Did you know we even had a prince out here?”

Janus hummed thoughtfully. “A prince in this forest? No, preposterous.”

“Anyway, Princey insisted on ‘rescuing’ me and ‘breaking the curse’.” Virgil gestured to his face, where dark spiderwebs still patterned his skin. “So he whisked me away to ‘civilization’.”

“Oh the horror,” Janus said, his lips quirking into a half-smile.

Virgil blushed slightly. “It was... overwhelming. So many people in one place. All so loud! And the buildings— they make walls out of wood, can you imagine? And the top out of grass! They wouldn’t last a second out here.”

Janus hummed in agreement, but remained silent, sipping at his tea.

“And... well... I don’t think the people liked me very much,” Virgil admitted, looking into the fire. “When they saw my face, they shied away. Some threw fruit and stuff, but the prince quickly put a stop to that.”

Janus narrowed his eyes. “They hurt you?” He asked in a low voice.

Virgil bit his lip. “It’s fine. It didn’t really hurt, just made a mess. And like I said, some people were nice.”

“Hmph. People do not think kindly of our people. Hence why it is safer to remain within the forest.”

“I know, I know.” Virgil ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply. “Anyway.... a little while later I met the prince’s advisor, a half-elf mage. He’s so handsome and smart and gentle and kind and—“ He stopped, blushing slightly. “His name is Logan and he offered to let me stay with him. He helped me learn how to control my powers.”

Janus arched an eyebrow. “You like this advisor, don’t you?”

Virgil nodded slowly. “I... yeah. We understand each other,” he said quietly.

Janus was silent for a moment, then reached over and put his hand on Virgil’s arm. “If he makes you happy, then stay with him.”

“Do you want to meet him?”

Janus blinked. “Come again?“

Virgil took out the mirror. “This is an enchanted mirror. We can communicate through it. If you want to.”

Janus touched the scaled side of his face. “Are you sure he wants to see me?”

Virgil smiled sadly. “You’re my brother. Of course he wants to meet you. And he didn’t hate my markings, so you should be fine.”

“Mm.” Janus sighed, then flicked his wrist, making his cowl float over and wrap around his face, hiding as much of his scales as he could. “Very well.”

Virgil took a deep breath and held the mirror so they were both in view. “Logan? Can we talk please?”

A moment later, the surface of the mirror fogged up, then cleared to show Logan’s face. “Virgil? Is everything alright? Can you see and hear me?”

Virgil nodded, holding Janus hand. “Yeah, we’re good. This is my brother.”

Janus cleared his throat. “Yes, Virgil is my brother,” he said. A moment later, he added, “You may call me Dee.”

“Oh. Hello, then. It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Logan,” he said, blinking a few times.

Virgil shot Janus a look. “Logan is a friend. We can trust Logan,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“You may trust him. That does not mean I do,” Janus countered, then flashed a smile at the enchanted mirror. “Virgil has told me so much about you.”

“I hope he has said that which he so urgently wanted to tell you,” Logan replied.

Virgil groaned. “Don’t say it like that,” he grumbled.

Janus arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Have you said ‘that which you so urgently wanted to tell me’?”

Virgil rubbed his face. “Lo and I... we... uh.... we were thinking about... maybe... getting married?” Gods, words were hard.

“Virgil is correct. We have discussed the possibility,” Logan said.

Janus’s reptilian eye twitched. “You leave for five years, and return with a potential spouse,” he said slowly.

Virgil bit his lip and nodded. “Potential. We haven’t decided for sure, cuz weddings are expensive pageantry and shit, but...” He took a deep breath. “If we do get married, I want you to be there. I want you to lead me down the aisle.”

Janus leaned back in his chair, glancing between them both. “This is quite a lot to take in,” he said, steepling his hands like the dramatic shit he was.

“Oh for fucks sake! I’m asking for your blessing!” Virgil blurted, then groaned and flipped up the hood of his cloak.

“If it will make you happy, then by all means...” Janus said. “However, I will need to know more about this potential spouse of yours.”

“I am an open book. Ask your questions,” Logan said.

Virgil blinked. “You... you’re not mad?”

“Mm. I wouldn’t call it mad, no.” Janus sipped at his tea. “Now, Logan, tell me about yourself.”

“I am the royal advisor to Prince Roman and Prince Remus. I am skilled in the mystical arts,” Logan said.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know that. Tell me more about yourself. Your likes, dislikes, hobbies, whatever. Why should I let you marry my little brother, hm?”

Logan blinked. “Well... I enjoy learning whatever I can. I have known Virgil for just over four years now. I would never hurt him, and truly wish him the best.”

Virgil tugged his cloak closer. “I’m right here,” he muttered. “And you don’t need to interrogate him.”

Janus inclined his head. “I believe I have enough information for the time being, although of course I would love to meet you in person. Virgil, you wanted me to leave the forest, did you not?”

Virgil blushed slightly. “Uh, yeah. I can take you to them. If you’re serious about coming with me. And as long as the forest will survive without you.”

Janus waved an arm dismissively. “Of course, of course.”

“I look forward to seeing you both. Farewell and safe travels,” Logan said. The surface of the mirror shimmered and his image faded.

Virgil exhaled slowly. That wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

“Virgil?” Janus asked softly. “This will make you happy, yes?”

Virgil rubbed his face and nodded quickly. “Yeah, thanks. Really. I’m uh... bad with words, but yeah.”

“Would you like a hug? Or is this a no-touch-time?” Janus asked, spreading his arms.

Virgil half-fell into the embrace, holding on tightly. “I missed you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm. I know. I missed you, too, spiderling,” Janus murmured, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “I am glad you are safe.”

Virgil took a few deep breaths, letting himself relax. Safe. He was safe. He was home.

“And I will always be here for you. No matter how long we are apart. No matter what happens,” Janus said softly. “You didn’t really think I’d be mad at you for leaving, did you? I was simply worried.”

Virgil grimaced. “Worse case scenario shit. I’m good at that, remember?”

“Mm. But this is not a worse case scenario. Things are going well for the time being. Enjoy it.”

“While it lasts,” Virgil said with a half-smile.

Janus chuckled. “Indeed. Cherish every moment.”

[rainydaymiddleearthimagines]

Hi! I sent the earlier ask about the rules! (Yea there's no ruuules!) I was gonna ask for a female human reader x thorin or fili smut fic? Where he is like jealous or self conscious so reader has to set him straight... in bed 😏 (Also who is barrell dude?)

HA. Okay so the barrel fanfiction was literally between a man... And a beer barrel. He died with it, it was very tragic but one of my personal friends sent me a gag request to let me know she found my blogs lmao. But as requested...

"I burn for you." Thorin x human female reader

Obvious NSFW warning here (SHIELD YOUR EYES FOR THE TERRIBLE SMUT WRITINGS)

Note: I listened to Abigale Barlowe's "Burn for you" while writing this so... Haha

And yes. Due to the question about the God forsaken barrel fic I include a picture of a dwarf in a barrel.

You would think for such a commanding man, he'd have more confidence. He had a ton of faith in his leadership skills but when it came to love? The man became an absolute chicken, terrified to make a single advancement. He was MADLY in love with you but not once was the bastard the first to make a move. For the most part, you didn't mind it. Though, right now you felt this routine getting old.

He was always so afraid to even touch you. Dinner was always surrounded by his family (you had no objections to this, his family was kind anyway as well as a hearty bunch), walks would be spent in silence and bed was spent with him working in the wee hours until you were already asleep. Today you had enough. You felt as if you were spending your time in this relationship on your own. You were putting in the work, making moves he was just there.

You put on your boots, picking up your bag when the door opened. Thorin looked up from the papers he was holding. "... It's in the middle of the night, where are you off to dear?" He asked. "Leaving actually. There's a letter on your fucking desk." You said, pushing past him. Lucky for him, there was time for him to read it. You still had to collect your swords. He read it's contents, looking up, before running after you. "Y/N!" he called as you walked. You ignored it. "WAIT!" He called. Again, you ignored him before he ran in front of you. "Go back to your room Thorin." You huffed, pushing past him. "Y/n wait! Please." He said. You stopped. "Tell me why I should stay Thorin!? Why!? Because right now I feel like shit, all the time. I work for us all the fucking time and I am hitting a dead end! I met your family, I live with you, I even met that strange Hobbit friend of yours who INSISTS on having tea! Still that's not enough for you to SEE ME." You said. "Y/n..." You dropped your bag. "A person shouldn't feel invisible in a relationship Thorin. They should feel loved. You don't even touch me anymore, you barely talk to me, don't actually spend time with me and you won't. Tell. Me. Why!" You said. He swallowed, looking at you. "I.." he stuttered.

You shook your head before lifting your bag. "Goodbye Thorin, give your family my regards." You said before walking. "I burn for you." He finally said. You paused, this finally halting your step. "What?" You asked, not turning around. He shuffled, running a nervous hand over his face. "I burn for you Y/n. I can't get your touch out of my mind and quite frankly I'm worried it'd break me if I felt it again. I understand if you leave but I... I distance myself because if I didn't..." He sighed. "You what Thorin? What?" You asked, on the edge of your metaphorical seat.

"I'd absolutely ravage you." He said. You blinked. Now this... This was a side you had never seen. You looked at him. "So do it." You said. He blinked. "What?" He asked. "SO. DO. IT." You repeated, dropping your bag sticking out your arms. "I'm standing in front of you as a woman who is in love with you. I am here. So do it." You said. He looked at his door at the end of the hall, saying nothing as he picked up your bag, walking back to his room.

Great. You got one phrase out of him before he took your bag. Perfect. Just bloody perfect. You followed him and sighed, walking into the bedchambers. He stood by the door as you entered. "I'm going to need my bag back--" was the last words you got out before Thorin pulled you down to his level and kissed you. You were shocked by this notion.

Would you believe that was the first time he actually did that on his own?

He shoved off his cloak that he usually wore and looked into your eyes. "I want this. the question is do you?" He asked. You looked in his eyes. A valid question considering you planned on leaving about fifteen minutes ago, in fact your bag was next to the door. You could leave now. But instead you looked into his eyes. "I burn for you." You breathed.

With the force of a man he pushed you back, you looking in his eyes before he kissed you, kissing your collar bone making your breaths go deeper. You felt him practically tear into your shirt, which was fine. It was old and more of a battle garb anyway, being worn out. He held you close his body, you keeping your arms wrapped around him.

He pressed a kiss to your scars that you earned in battle, you untying the front of his shirt and removing it. He tugged off your pants, looking at you. "If you need more consent than earlier, I think I need to hand you guide Thor- Ah!" You felt him suddenly. It shocked you, your body freezing to his touch. He didn't move, looking at you. "Are you alright my love?" He asked in your ear, sending this form of what you could call a shiver down your spine. "Please Thorin... Move." You breathed. He nodded, moving. You let out these little breaths, tangling your fingers in his wild hair you'd often refer to as a "lion's mane".

"Let me hear my name Y/n." He said, in your ear. He found when asking you do something in this form you'd do it. Truth be told his voice in a commanding tone had a way of enticing you. "Th-Thorin" you breathed. He pushed harder. "Thorin!" You breathed. He buried his face in your shoulder still thrusting into you. "I-I am yours Thorin." You said, barely able to catch a breath. He felt himself release in you, you gasping.

You panted, looking at the man as he laid next to you. "Well shit, if you had done that a week ago that bag wouldn't be packed." You said looking at him. He chuckled, lifting your hands. They were small, gentle but still calloused and he loved them more than anything. He looked into your eyes as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "I am truly sorry I made you feel invisible... You're absolutely right, you deserve to be loved." He said. "...Does this mean this will be a regular thing between us-" "Y/n I am trying to be romantic here." He sighed. You chuckled.

"What I am trying to say is... I love you. Truly. Deeply. Love you." He said. You smiled. "I love you to you oaf." You said with a smile.