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crystalcow · 3 years

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𝑆𝑎𝑝𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑//𝑆𝑎𝑝𝑛𝑎𝑝 𝑝𝑡 4

Masterlist // child reader ML //

Sapnap x reader !p !child reader

Pronouns used: none specified!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, casinos

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝗼𝐤𝗼 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝗼𝐰??

Quackity was telling you all of his plans

He rambled on for hours of his ideas for casinos and how he was going to marry Karl and sapnap

It sounded great

He had his whole plan set up! He even had Sam helping him with the building

But then he left

Just like everyone else

But that was fine! You were just with sapnap

Before Karl came running over rambling on about needed to move his library

He had a library?

“[Redacted] you need to stay close, please”

You looked at him weirdly

Who the fuck was [redacted]

“Karl my names Y/n you idiot” “flame..” “sorry”

He didn’t even notice it and then you had to spend the next couple days hauling over 100 books

“Oo hey what are these! The covers look really weird”

You had found his time travel books

Woops

That man raced over and in the kindest way possible, snatched it from your hands

“Don’t touch those, they are my special books”

You just shrugged and let him be, he freaks you out enough

So you all traveled to this area in the spruce forest and built a really ugly mushroom hut

But hey it’s fine! Foolish thankfully came around later that day and made everything better

So you stuck around

Maybe you needed this, this new start

Oh but prime knows that wouldnt last long

Karl started forgetting

At first it was simple things as just forgetting where he was or little stumbles with names

But eventually he was going away longer and longer

He started calling you by these strange names, some that sound Victorian and western and others that are unlike you

One day he didn’t call you by your name at all

You were hanging around the Sakura trees and the big yin Yang pond waiting for sapnap to come back with George

Then you saw Karl exit the library, running up to him for a hug

It’s been two months since you’ve seen him

You fucking hated it but you couldn’t help but consider him another parental figure

He loved it

But he just stood there as you wrapped your arms around him

Expecting the usual “[reda]- Y/n, I’ve missed you so much my sweet flame!”

But there was nothing just a sad one sided hug

“Hello? I’m sorry but do I know you?”

You were ready to cry

“I’m sorry, I uh must’ve mistaken you for the wrong person” “No that’s fine! Hugs are nice?”

So you left and ran into the library

Scouring throughout all of the books until you found them

The same 8 books you shrugged away

You read through all of them along with Karl’s other journals

You didn’t like going through his stuff especially, a whole invasion of privacy

The more you read the worse it got

What were you gonna tell Sapnap?

Who the hell is James, and [redacted]?

And why couldn’t he stop

It’s no use anymore

You were simply just forgotten

𝐋𝗼𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐬

The closer you got to the large building, the sicker you got

Kinoko Kingdom was supposed to be your free pass

But somehow you always end up here

You called for Sam on the comms waiting for the beep

The inside looked great to say the least

“What are your past relationships with the prisoner?” “No answer.”

“Where are you currently resided?” “No answer”

“Do you believe the prisoner deserves his sentence?” “Maybe”

You put all your shit in the locker and followed him through all the safety checks

“I’m glad you didn’t bring anything with you”

You stood on the platform heart racing as the lava went down

It was like a ticking time bomb

The small squeaks and scratches of the hovering bridge

He just stared at you

That sick stupid mask was broken by tommy that day in the black stone room

So you had to look into his face

Lets just say he looks good in Orange

“Barrier up or down?” “Down”

He backed up into the corner as you stepped in

Smiling

Once the lava cascaded down your smile turned into a sick frown

“Hello” is that all he had to fucking say?

“Screw you. Fuck you. Damn you”

He just looked you a small chuckle escaping from his lips

“Those all mean the same thing.” “Well I’ve been living in cinnamon town for the past couple months, and I’m ready to fucking burn some buns”

Yeah he just laughed

“I’ve missed you Hot shot”

“You ruined our damn life!”

Someone went quiet

“If you didn’t have to have a petty little war, or criminalize children we could’ve been fine! It could’ve just been you, dad, me, and George.”

You were pissed, everyone just kept leaving you.

Tommy and Tubbo, Quackity, Karl, Dream, and hell even Wilbur

“You come and visit me, after not having seen me for months and you just yell? Not a hello or ‘how are you dream?’ ‘How’s prison dream’ ‘how can I help you get out of this damn place’ “

You just sat down ready to just walk out into the lava

“I’ve been stuck here for months! None of you even cared enough to visit me, hell even Tommy came around.”

You might have felt a little bad after leaving him

The prison was cold even tho lava was flowing right there

“Why would you leave the discs alone..” “Because I had to end it.”

What were you doing here

What were you planning on saying?

“So, what do you do in prison”

“I have a clock.”

You got up to go look at the pretty clock

Then threw it at his face

“Ow” “deal with it bitch”

The longer you stayed the worse the feeling in your stomach got

so you buzzed for Sam waving goodbye

“Wait.. Do they miss me?” “Can’t say, but I think this may be for the best.”

He wanted his best friends

But he just got the annoying teenager

Oh but that wouldn’t be the last

𝐋𝐚𝐬 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐬

You got a letter in the mail one day

Who the hell uses letters??

You were shocked to see the address and the small post card

“Come around some time”-Quackity

Ans on the back it had the cords

Oh well what did you have to loose? Sapnap was focused on Karl

and well Karl didn’t even know you

So you set off

It took you a couple hours travel by horse to get to the desert area

The large sign blaring in the red text

You gotta admit the place looked beautiful

There was a giant dick and different shops

You were shocked to see this random un human like guy

“Hello, I am Charlie a totally human guy!”

Yeah totally not slime

“I’m uh, Y/n?” He reached out for a handshake sort of thing

“Dap me up!” “Another time Charlie”

Maybe when you had hand sanitizer

“Ohh so your Y/n! Mister Quackity talks about you all the time, come on in!”

You were skeptical but followed anyways

Stopping in your tracks when you saw Fundy

“Furry?” “Fire shit?”

You went over to give him a side hug, ruffling his fur

“What the hell are you doing here ginger boy!” “Oh you know, just escaping nightmares”

You were confused then just let him be

You walked to the entry way of the place

A beautiful pond with flowers and an arch

“Did what the place where Mr. Quackity was going to propose!”

Going to?

You shrugged it off following inside

You hated to admit it, but you were excited to see him

Yeah you really needed a parental figure in your life at the moment

So when you saw him, he immediately pick you up in a hug

You didn’t fail to notice his change in appearance

That beanie stayed the same tho

Thank god

“Hey hey! Let me show you around the place, we can also go for lunch and talk.”

The casino looked great to say the least

Loud music booming from the speakers, along with the live jazz band on the side

Slot machines were going off every minute

“Have a chip, something to remember this by”

He handed you a red poker chip

It was a cool one tho, in the middle has a blocky sort of smile

Creepy and dopey.. sick!

So you put it around a spare silver chain

“So how have you been kid? ‘Ts been a while hasn’t it.” “Could be better..”

You both walked around the city in silence, offering to go in the super model shop

“No” “why not” “keep walking”

On your way to lunch you had to squint at what you were seeing

“Oh my goodness you’re still alive?!” “You’re alive!?”

You and revivebur just stared at one another

“Yeah he came back after I died!” “you what now-“

You just stared at Tommy and back to Wilbur

Oh god those shrooms were messing with your head

You should’ve gotten out of there a while ago

Quackity came over placing his hands on your shoulders

“Do I have to execute you both? Get off my damn property”

“Sorry Q. Say, Y/n wanna join Lmanburg 2.0?”

You back away holding your hands up

“I denied that offer once, and I’ll do it again. Fucking zombie freaks”

You obviously muttered the last part

Why the fuck did dream revive those two shits??

When did Tommy even die??

Your visit here has just gotten weirder and weirder

𝐌𝗼𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

Quackity got you away from the brits as quick as he could

So he brought you over to his office

“So kid, how’s your dad..”

Ah you expected this question

“How the fuck am I supposed to know. He’s living his life, Karl’s time traveling! Oh yeah did I mention he doesn’t even remember me.”

He looked at you with wide eyes

“So I’m not the only one they forgot..”

You slammed you hands on the fable dramatizing the situation

“How would you feel about moving here? I mean you could work for me in the casino!”

You thought about it for a second

You have two options

1. Live in shroom town with bubbles

2. Move to las Nevada’s with Quackity

You were sure Sapnap wouldn’t mind

I mean would he even care?

He hasn’t for the past couple months!

“You feel abandoned there, over here there are hundreds of people. You’ll have the time of your life”

You thought about it for a sec

“Alright hand me a contract”

So you signed

Making deals with the devil huh

Little did you know it would cost you your life

Devils little soul

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

and this is the finale! I will take requests for sapnaps child, and I’ll do some shit with Quackity and the casino and go in more depth if wanted!

As always request and ask anything! And ask if you want to be on a taglist (child reader or general)

For those on the taglist I don’t know if you wanted to be tagged for all child reader shit or just dreams child.. so please tell me :)

@creatorofstars @georgenctfound @samistheidiot @smolbox-png @ghostlysenses @stellarinstigator @bobaducky

#sapnaps child #sapnap x reader #sapnap #sapnap x y/n #karl jacobs x y/n #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader #quackity x you #dsmp #mcyt #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #wilbur soot #tommy innit #kinoko kingdom #dream smp prison #las navadas #child reader

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therenlover · 3 years

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In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

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Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

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

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 , @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @dazzlingseb, @avgravy , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @mossybank , @simsiddy , @xxspqcebunsxx

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader

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ghostofbambifanfiction · 3 years

Text

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

#Jily #Part 1 #Of 3?#Honestly I just wanted to give you guys a treat

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deanwasalwaysbi · 3 years

Note

I've gotta say, I find the concept of Bedlund trying to Ben-Hur Jensen absolutely hysterical. I'm just imagining Jensen getting a script and being like "Ben?? What's this? Is this gay? This seems gay????" and Ben just soothing him like a frightened horse.

Hahaha - Look it wouldn't be the first time. What is this verb we're working with? Okay. Strap in everyone. The Multi-Oscar-winning 1959 movie 'Ben Hur' had a bunch of gay subtext. The writer, the director, and the second lead actor all knew that Charlton Heston's character, Ben Hur, was gay. However, one person didn't find out until the 1990s: Charlton Heston. The consensus on set was "Don’t tell Charlton, because he’ll freak out." and when Heston found out in the ninties, freak out was exactly what he did. (x) [the movie may have gotten a reference from Misha back in season 6 (x)]

Whether this happened with Jensen on SPN depends on two things.

Was the character of Dean intentionally written as Bi and, if so, at what point did that become true?

Did anyone tell Jensen? Did he figure it out? if so, when?

I personally DO believe at this point, I really do, that Bedlund - Ben Hur'd Jensen. I think it was part of the writers room but not all of it, until it was. (Which RN I believe finally happened under Dabb.) I think Jensen wasn't in on it, until he was. So for me? I think he really was in the dark at one point. But at what point that changed? Probably only he can answer that question. and RN? He ain't talking.

In the meantime we can only look at things Jensen has said on the subject - Like this unbearably ambiguous GIF set from @nikadd. Was this tongue in cheek? Legitimate ignorance? You're killing me, Jensen. That cheeky lil smile, Jensen. Nvm - I'm going to kill you instead. It's for my own survival. No hard feelings right? You understand.

UH OH HERE COMES A CUT TO HIDE A LONG DERANGED POST...

We can look at the text for number 1 - and I do that uh - a lot - see the blog name #Dean Was Always Bi

For number 2 we can look over some points when we got clues from what Jensen thought was going on [regardless of whether they make sense based on his jacting or directorial choices I guess] and get left wondering whether at any point he felt pressured to lie for his career, for self protection, or to protect the narrative from the network:

2010 - 'We're missing the gay angel' (x) (Season 5 gag reel) (x) “Sorry man, not what the show’s about.” Jared: One of the good and bads about playing the straight [non-comedic] character on the show… Jensen: What wait? I’ve been playing him so wrong

2012 / S8 - Trenchcoat - Jensen talking about how sometimes they change the lines because they're way too gay. Calls Cas a third brother

2012 - "What's Destiel?" Ben Edlund: That’s some weird shit. Jensen: Is this something that you created, Ben? Ben: You don’t want any part of that.

“Don’t ruin it for everyone now” “I still don’t know what the question was. I’m going to pretend I don’t know what the question was.”

2013 @ JIB, re Dean’s reaction to Aaron’s flirting in the season 8 episode Everybody Hates Hitler, (x)

“And the scene wasn’t written to be that kind of - I mean - It was written to be awkward. Ben Edlund wrote the - my favorite line in that scene was ‘carry on . citizen’ that was - I almost couldn’t say that with a straight face I was laughing so hard. But it was - you know - it was comedy. It was a comedic moment in the show and fortunately Dean gets a lot of the comedic moments in the show and it was just, you know, Ben was poking fun at the fact that - you know, how can we make this very kind of manly, heterosexual guy uncomfortable - uh -you know, or or have him back on his heels and throw him off his game a little bit.”

The thing is - Bedlund and Phil Sgriccia made very clear on the commentary track that THEY saw this scene as a 'romantic comedy kind of fluster' "This potential for love in all places."

Ben Edlund calling the writer’s room a boy’s club in 2013 (x)

Misha Collins telling Destiel fans they aren’t Crazy in 2013 after some executives said they were (x).

2014 Jensen says he was glad there wasn’t much Dean and Cas in season 9 - HA Hah HAH (x)

“I think the whole Cas and Dean thing has gotten out of hand” “I don’t think there’s anything secret to their relationship even though a lot of people wish there was” REMINDER - that season we got the nightstands acknowledgement and “play him like a jilted lover” and the “he dumped me James” cut and -

I certainly know that Misha and I don’t play that. SIGH. they Ben Hur'd Jensen.

2014 - the fan fiction joke - 10.05

“I didn’t have a positive reaction, The first time in I think 200 scripts I went and sat down in the showrunners office and said, ‘What in god’s name are you doing?! Why? I need to understand why this is happening.’” “[Carver] gave very eloquent answers and did a great job of explaining why we were doing what we were doing, I guess I had been aware of this ‘fan fiction’ for a while and I felt like maybe if I ignored it, it would eventually go away. When I read it in the script that is what I do for a living and is my work—I’m very protective of these characters and the story and I think we have a right to be—I wasn’t angry. I just wanted to understand why and what was the message we were ultimately sending with this script and story. By the end of it, I felt good and it gave me all the confidence I needed. It was better than I could have ever hoped.”

But then there's Jensen in 2015 talking about all of Dean’s bromances. (x) [gifs at the top] Could go either way - starting to figure it out? or No?

What had changed if anything? the entire Crowely season 10 story line? This was July 2015 - the same day as the SDCC 2015 panel where Misha talked about Destiel (x @ 13) Carver and Dabb were there -

By this time Jensen and Misha were nominated for a teen choice award for best chemistry against various tv couples (and one ensemble cast, but the award nomination did NOT include Jared) .... Misha and Jensen would go on to WIN this award one month after the panel.

At the Panel Rob and Rich ask the question: “You two have branded yourselves as TV’s greatest team since, ... idk who.... Ernie and Bert so.” [Misha says to Jensen & Jared, half not on the microphone: “I really didn’t expect them to throw us under the bus.”] “are we going to see that continue? Is the Castiel Dean relationship still aflutter and still growing as we move into season 11?” Jeremy Carver: “Ish.” [mocking from panel ensues] “Yes. Of course. I mean Yeah. Absolutely. Yeah. There’s no doubt.”

Jensen Directs 11x03 and the choreo mimics Goodbye stranger (x)

2016 - Jensen: Dean could have a huntress, but you’d kill her.

Jan 2017 Con the infamous - no hedge - harsh - “Destiel doesn’t exist.” (x)

I would hope that if he knew he wouldn’t have been so harsh with it. So by that point either he still didn’t know - OR - to him ‘Destiel’ was specifically about internet porn/sex and not like - the potential for feelings / a relationship. It makes me think about something Misha had actually said, around 2013, “It’s called ‘Destiel’ and it’s about the romantic interludes between Dean and Castiel.” (x)

2017 - jib8 Jensen called Dean a lover of the ladies

May 2017 - After filming the end of season 12:

2018 - Misha confirms he and Jensen have talked about Destiel (x) - also 2018: The Bisexual Dean essay "? No." (Oh god was this really this recent?! I can't deal with this.)

Well. SOMETHING happened in 2019. cuz here it comes

2019 - "Dean has no taste, clearly." 2019 - 'So, tell us just a little bit about what you're most excited to tackle with your character this final season.' "Cas. Just like a full football form tackle."

Look at this face he gave Dean when Cas told him he loved him and tell me he wasn't playing into it here. You can't. (x)

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rodeoxqueen · 4 years

Text

DEVIL MAY GRIND

(I)- Can You Touch This?

Dante/ AMAB! Reader

Series Summary: From a surprise rendezvous to a male strip club on your birthday to a private dance, you end up seeing eye-to-eye rather than eye-to-groin with a cowboy stripper named Dante Sparda.

Work Summary: A shy and short homebody celebrating your birthday with friends, you end up somewhere you’d never expect: a male strip club. And what you’d also never expect is a certain red-devil/cowboy stripper to lay his special treatment on you.

Tags/Warnings:18+, AMAB! Reader, Stripper!AU, Minors Do Not Try It, Wholesome Filth

Rodeo’s Two-Pieces: And after months, Rodeo presents the male version of this soon-to-be filth. *tilts cowboy hat over eyes and leans in seat*

You were never one for large crowds, alcohol, loud music, and nudity. So what a mess you were in, your friends dragging you into a strip club.

It wasn’t your fault, they promised you were all going for a quiet dinner at your favorite restaurant. No loud noises, no crowds, and especially, you didn’t even know why you had to specify, no naked guys! That’s what happened at first. You went and blew out your candles on your cake at a nice place, but then things got weird. Your friends had got you thoughtful gifts, except one of them who promised to give it to you after another “surprise.”

They practically herded you to their car, blindfolding and ear-muffing you while giggling. After driving in some unfamiliar directions, you were pulled into a strange building.

So when you couldn’t hear your thoughts due to the overbearing bass in the room you were in, you realized you should’ve known better. The blindfold and earmuffs were taken off and you opened your eyes to a neon-lit room with the most hard-cut abs right in your face.

“A strip club?! W-why would you think I’d want to go to a strip club?”

“Okay, first of all (Y/N). It’s a male strip club. Second, come on! I know you want to touch some diamond abs!” One of your friends exclaimed as they threw bills at one very tan and very oiled-up man named Diego. The box from before landed on your lap, and you unwrapped it to find a giant stack of dollar bills.

“Now stuff them bills down some hottie’s pants!”

The orange thong-wearing male with the most defined quads you had ever glanced at winked at your friend and opted to dance on someone else. Clutching your drink, you swallowed thickly as other males who went to the gym every other hour thrust their hips proactively at you.

Your friends had called ahead and bought the lot of you a table to the stage, much to your chagrin.

Luckily, your ability to disappear in a room, with your meek personality and small stature, came in handy in these situations. The tall and buff guys your friends screamed over seemed to prefer the company of the more extroverted and thirsty. While other tables farther from the stage had easy contact with the not-themed strippers, you were all confronted with the stage floor dancers.

“My god, how many themes do these guys dress in?” You squeaked as an entertainer dressed like James Bond (minus the clothes except for the bowtie and gun holster) ground on the stage floor.

“Not enough! Now make it rain, (Y/N).” Another friend demanded as she took another shot.

You made a noise as your hand was forcibly placed onto an eight-pack. You quickly threw a wad of bills at the man and ran off to the bar.

“I gotta go!” You panicked, speed-walking to the bar in your favorite pair of dressy sneakers. Stomach quivering, you put a few bills down and asked for a stronger drink. Maybe you could pass out on the table and your friends would feel bad and take you home.

You sighed as you watched your friends have the time of their lives, although they noted your absence.

“First time?” The bartender asked, sliding your fruity drink to you. You fiddled with the napkin. A woman posed in the corner with the logo “Devil May Cry” to the side of her, all lined in neon pink.

“Oh!... Yeah, it is.” You mumbled shyly. You blushed at his blue-eyed stare. Luckily, he wore a collared white shirt so you could look at him without bleeding out of your nose. He was very handsome, with rugged features and slight facial hair. His stark white hair shined even in the dim lighting.

“Ah, could tell. Watched you get dragged in here.” He chuckled.

“I-I was tricked, first of all!” You exclaimed, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“It’s alright. Your next rounds on me if you stay a lil longer.” He winked, wiping a glass. A few other people came and went, requesting all sorts of raunchy-titled drinks. Despite that, he leaned on the table where you sat, making idle conversation.

“I’m Dante.”

“Nice to meet you, Dante. I’m (Y/N).” You impulsively stuck your hand out to shake and stilled at his strong and warm grip.

He whistled.

“Nice name for a nice man. It’s your birthday right?” You nodded.

“What did you wish for?”

“Peace and quiet.” He laughed at that, gesturing to your friends who screamed and clapped at a dark-skinned stripper who ripped off his pants.

“With those friends?” He chuckled.

“They’re a lot more restrained. This is an exception.” You whined.

The conversation grew longer. You learned that Dante worked here with his twin brother Vergil. He loved pizza and strawberry ice cream, along with nice motorcycles. A total manly man, if you asked yourself.

You found a safe space talking to him since you didn’t have to look at nude guys with your back turned.

You were hoping to talk the night away until a similarly white-haired male with a serious glare rounded the corner.

Swiping back a few stray hairs, the esteemed brother Vergil knocked the smile off his twin’s face.

“You fool! Your shift has been over for some time now.” He snapped. Dante rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, this is old douchebag.” You giggled at his comment, quickly stopping when meeting eyes with the frigid twin.

“Have you been speaking ill of me? I will-” Dante threw a towel at his brother’s face before leaving the bartending station. By leaving, he jumped over the counter.

“Hey, (Y/N), nice talking to you. I’ll see you later.” The white-haired man left to the employee’s room.

“Alright-” You muttered. You’d sit, but Vergil’s cold glare prompted you to leave and rejoin your friends.

“Where were you? Chatting up the bartender?”

“Look at you. Being social in a strip club.” They teased.

After a few more dancers, you couldn’t help but miss the blue-eyed bartender with his quips and casual flirtiness.

Suddenly, the music and lights went off. The crowd stirred. Your friend grabbed your arm.

“Oh boy, they’re gonna need a mop after this.”

“Ew!” You cried out. Your friends sang that one horribly sexual song from the radio. Something about parking a truck in a garage and about wet-

A shirtless DJ grabbed the mic.

“And now, for our next entertainer, we have the Legendary Lady Killer. Hold onto your panties and your wedding rings, you’re all in for the ride of your life.”

The lights were turned back on from back to front. On stage, stood a muscular man with a cowboy hat and shawl. His legs were perfectly framed by black leather chaps and boots. You turned as red as his shawl as you could see his formidable bulge from yards across.

His spurs clinked on the floor as people began to cheer at his physique. Your jaw dropped in shock.

White hair.

“Ladies and gents, I got some questions for y’all.” He drawled, lowering his hat.

“Yes! I’m single!” Someone yelled from the back. He chuckled as others screamed with agreement.

“That’s nice ma’am. But really, I got three questions.” He made his way down the stage, his shadow covering your table.

He palmed his chest and abs, showing white chest hairs and slicked-down muscles.

“Can you touch this?” Everyone screamed for yes. He tutted.

“No, no, no.” He waggled his finger. He spun and exposed his lush tush. He was packing it front and back and you blushed while putting your face in your hands.

His hands groped his butt. Even with his giant hands, he still had more ass to spare.

“Can you touch this?” The screams grew louder. He waggled his finger again, wiggling his butt.

“No, no, no.” The crowd awed. He turned back around, a cocky grin on his face.

“Now,” He pointed to the crowd.

His palms groped the leather that concealed his huge package.

“Can you touch this?” Your friend threw a wad of cash at him, hitting him in the nipple. He stood unflinching.

“No, no, no.” He drew out each word.

“These are my laws.” Putting his hands on his hips, he rocked left to right, clicking his spurs.

“But I see a hell of a lot of lawbreakers here tonight.”

He shifted to walk around the chair placed behind him. He sat on it backward, legs spread to place his groin in the spotlight.

“And I don’t see a cop in sight.” He pointed at the DJ.

“Hit it!” Music blaring, he did his number. And boy, was the DJ right to warn you. Dante practically made sweet love to the chair, flipping his head back.

Hips circling and then pistoning the air, sweat trailed down his pecs.

You ended up throwing a few bills, hoping to avoid eye contact. It failed as he slid to his knees to the edge of the stage and crawled off the ledge onto your table. Like a preying tiger, he made his way over to you.

Thank god you had health insurance, your blood pressure was going off the charts.

Your friends lost their heads, throwing bills and screaming like banshees. But he wasn’t interested in them. His eyes preyed after your own, baby blues on an absolute beast.

“Wanna save a horse and ride a cowboy, handsome?” He purred as he traced your jaw. Your skin jumped as you internally imploded. This was was too sensual and people were watching, for goodness sake!

“(Y/N), if you don’t agree I will cancel your Barnes and Noble membership.” Your friend threatened.

“Come on, spare this outlaw some sugar?” You didn’t have a moment to think. Dante threw his hat on your head and carried you onto the table and to the stage.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” You shrieked.

He ran hot. So hot. Your skin burned at contact with him, pressed up against his chest as he stood you in front of the chair he practically humped.

“Take a seat, sir.” You blushed at his sensual persona, not sure where the kind bartender and the suave cowboy started and ended.

Obediently, you turned the chair around and sat with your ankles crossed. Dante tutted in disapproval.

His hands lingered by your legs.

“May I?” He asked. You shook your head slowly, feeling his callused hands on your thighs. He firmly spread your legs and stood over you on the chair.

As if that wasn’t enough, his arm muscles bulged and twitched as he ripped off his leather chaps. He ripped the chaps. There were no zippers or velcro straps. That was all him!

Your face a hair’s width from his abs, he gently took your hands and traced his pecs with them. He growled and winked at you.

Despite the one-in-a-million situation you were in, you shrank at the many peering eyes of the other women and bar patrons. Your anxiety was seen by Dante, who tilted your head up.

“Hey, it’s alright. Just focus on me. If you’re nervous, just give me a purple nurple or something, alright?” You laughed at his idea of a safe word and nodded.

“Okay, Dante.”

And like that, it was like you pulled a trigger. Dante grinded on your form and explored his peak-conditioned skin with your own hands.

You gasped as he led your hands down his front to his leather shorts. You couldn’t stop looking with widened eyes at his crotch. You had read erotica before, describing the male member in the throes of passion, yet this was the first time you had been this close to anything like those erotic novels.

It was obscene! Why did it seem to get larger? How was he allowed to carry that thing around without a license?!

“Hey, eyes up here.” He teased as you snapped your head up.

“O-oh! Sorry.” You whispered. Your blood had rushed to your head and you had grown deaf to your friends’ yells of validation.

“Grab him by the buns!” One of your friends yelled. Dante turned around to make eye contact with her.

With a grin, he slid your hands to the back. What he didn’t expect was you to squeeze.

“Whoa now, kitty.” He purred. You gave a watery smile.

Suddenly, a water bottle was thrown at his head. With lightning reflexes, he caught it after it bounced off of him.

“Hey! Stage times’ over, you fucking show pony.” A short-haired woman with mismatching eyes called out. Dante scoffed.

“Just givin’ a nice gentleman some lovin’.” He argued.

“No, get off the stage, Dante.”

“Five more minutes?”

“NOW.” He sighed. Getting off of your lap, he kissed your hand that was resting on his thigh. Lord, if you died right now, that’d be fine.

“Glad to have this dance.” He flirted.

“Y-you too.” Taking your hand, he took you for another surprise and swept you off your feet. You squeaked as he handed you to another dancer on the ground. The club-goers cheered as dancers arrived, dressed like businessmen with briefcases.

You were promptly seated, head dizzy from everything that just happened. You watched as he took his leave as if he didn’t just cause you to get feverish from how hot he was. Your friend hugged you.

“Nice work! You were so lucky!” Another friend plucked the hat off your head.

“Ah! He left his hat!” You exclaimed as you took it from her hands.

“A souvenir.”

For the rest of the night, you held onto the hat and traced the red stitching. You never saw Dante for the rest of the night, his brother in charge of the bar service.

Finally, before the last round of dancers, you were tapped on the shoulder. You found yourself staring into much harsher blue eyes.

One of your friends threw money at him, which he growled at.

“I am not an entertainer. Well, not right now.” He explained. He handed you a drink with a napkin on the bottom.

“My buffoon of a brother said to keep the hat. Although, I’m not sure why you would.”

“I-”

“The drink is on the house. Good evening with you all.”

He walked off, and you took your drink. You realized it was the same one you ordered when you got to the bar.

“Hey dude, take a look.” A well-manicured nail pointed to the napkin. You saw in red pen an arrow pointed to the folded corner.

You shakily opened it to reveal a series of numbers and words, along with a card that flitted onto the table.

Tonight was fun, wanna do it again? The card’s for a private dance, just call and ask for Dante Sparda. No crowds, only you and me. No Lady barking up my tree for appreciating beauty either - DS

A little heart with an arrow through its center was scrawled in a corner. You picked up the laminated card and saw it was for a free private dance. Your heart beat out of your chest.

Your friends laughed as you immediately stuck it in your pocket, along with the note. The club closed and you were all ushered out. The night was pitch black when you emerged from the debauchery that was the Devil May Cry strip club.

As your other wasted companions were stuffed into the car, you sat shotgun to the sober and designated driver.

You were silent the car ride home, laying your head against the window. You thought about that white-haired flirt’s remarks and how gentle he was to you.

Waving and embracing your wonderful friends, you left for your apartment with all your gifts. However, the little slips of paper in your pocket weighed the heaviest on your mind.

With your keys in your hand, you climbed up the stairs home.

After closing the door, you slid down the wall and let out a pleased sigh.

“Best birthday ever!” You said to no one in particular.

#amab reader #dante x reader #dante x male reader #devil may grind #devil may cry

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mostlymovieswithmax · 3 years

Text

Movies I watched in September

I skipped a month again. But not to worry. This is a wrap-up of all the movies I watched in the month of September (2021). I think I maintained a steady ratio throughout but perhaps there’s not as much on the list this time because I wanted to get on with other things, be that work-wise or just trying to get out to the beach as much as possible and make the most of the last dregs of summertime. I went swimming in the sea a lot! But I also got to catch the new James Wan movie, Malignant (twice!) as well as the new James Bond, No Time To Die. Not to mention a couple of classics! My hope again with this list is to introduce people to new movies that they may otherwise not have seen or perhaps have never have heard of. These short reviews are my own subjective opinions on each individual movie. I’m thinking maybe a more informal approach to movie criticism can help include others who are just passing through. So here is every film I watched from the 1st to the 30th of September.

Fanny and Alexander (1982) - 8/10

Coming from Ingmar Bergman, I was surprised to see just how warm this was. I’m a big fan of the Swedish director and while this isn’t my favourite from him (perhaps due to it needing a second watch, or the fact I watched it in three chunks because it’s about three hours long and I overestimated how much time I had in the day) it’s still an interesting departure from what I’ve come to expect from him. Fanny and Alexander is a dreamy Christmassy movie that presents an overarching theme of love, spending a large portion of its runtime just hanging out with this big family on Christmas and showing how close they are. I would love to watch this again at some point in December and see how my opinion shifts but for now, while it could meandre in places, I can’t deny how unique a movie it is.

Another Round (2021) - 10/10

I had seen Thomas Vinterberg’s latest film before this point but this was the first time I got to see it in a cinema. Luckily for me my local independent cinema was showing it one night and while they had a few technical hiccups with setting everything up, the movie itself was still fantastic. Following a handful of school teachers who experiment with whether they can maintain a certain level of blood alcohol throughout the day, Another Round demonstrates a sense of unease and sadness throughout an otherwise comedic tone. These emotions are balanced perfectly, boosting an already intriguing concept that examines our relationship with alcohol from every angle.

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021) - 4/10

Straight after Another Round, I made my way to the chain cinema to meet up with friends to see the new Marvel movie. At this point, having had my second dose of the Covid vaccine that morning, I was starting to feel the effects and I was not doing well. But I watched the movie anyway, all the while wanting to be in bed. Shang-Chi was massively underwhelming and I’d go as far as to say it was even incompetent. Truth be told, I like the Marvel Cinematic Universe but from the get-go I already wasn’t hyped for this movie and I was expecting it to be about mediocre but what I got was something a lot worse. I won’t rehash what I’ve already said on this film so if you want to hear me rant about it a bit then I would recommend checking out episode 47 of my podcast, The Sunday Movie Marathon.

Your Name. (2016) - 6/10

Ultimately this was a fun little romance movie but I can’t say I understand why people adore it, nor do I understand why it needed to be animated. For what it’s worth, I found it cute and entertaining but nothing much jumped out to me.

Phil Wang: Philly Philly Wang Wang (2021) - 7/10

I’m always stumped on what to say about stand-up shows. It was good! I enjoyed Phil Wang talking about different things in a funny way and it got some laughs out of me. Admittedly I’m writing this a couple of weeks after watching it but it’s certainly a decent way to spend an hour if you’re looking for something light and fun.

The Lego Batman Movie (2017) - 6/10

I remember seeing this in the cinema with two of my friends and the theatre wasn’t exactly packed but those that were there were either children or parents. But I like The Lego Batman Movie! Clearly this was made by fans of the character as it’s packed with a lot of details and references from old comic runs but as someone who has never read the comics or seen those older movies, it still managed to be entertaining and while I won’t say it’s quite as good as The Lego Movie, the animation is still top notch and the voice actors are certainly giving it their all, especially Will Arnett as the titular character. It’s just a bit of fun!

Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) - 10/10

A friend of mine told me to go to the screening of Terminator 2 at my local because they themselves weren’t able to attend. The first Terminator movie is a real gem and one of the most 80’s-type movies I’ve ever seen. I was excited to watch T2, remembering next to nothing about what I watched of it when I was a child. So it was just me in this screening, with one person in a row in front of me, and one other person behind me. If I had it my way, I would have been the only person there because this is honestly one of the best movies I’ve ever seen and it was very hard not to yell out every time something incredible happened, especially when it’s so action-packed and basically goes all out at every opportunity to deliver some of the most jaw-dropping effects or choreography. Truly there is never a dull moment and I was grinning like a lunatic the entire time. This film rocks!

Mirror (1975) - 7/10

Andrei Tarkovsky is one of my favourite directors and the new Criterion release of his film, Mirror, had been on my shelf for a while. My friend and fellow podcast co-host, Chris, was also interested in watching this movie so we decided we’d give it a watch and review it on the podcast. But this is such a weirdly structured film that the entire way through, neither of us knew what on earth was happening. What we got from the experience is reflected in the episode we made and I would love to watch this again at some point, hopefully with more context and a better understanding of what I’m in for. But in the meantime, you can hear the discussion on episode 46 of the podcast.

The Night House (2021) - 6/10

The Night House is David Bruckner’s follow-up to his previous movie, The Ritual and while I’ll say I prefer The Ritual, this is still a decent watch, just don’t go in expecting horror. More of my thoughts can be found in episode 46 of the podcast.

The Ritual (2017) - 7/10

After watching The Night House, I decided to go back to the director’s previous film, The Ritual and I got a lot more out of it this time around. Themes of guilt and grief permeate the movie and the result is this weird and unnerving film about a group of guys who go hiking in Sweden after the death of one of their friends and encounter dark forces beyond their comprehension. It can be drawn out at times and probably could have been boosted with a better script but there are so many interesting and strange ideas presented that culminate in a haunting third act that it’s worth watching just to see what on earth they’re being hunted by.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) - 10/10

Straight after recording an episode about our favourite movies on the podcast, I returned to one of my all-time favourites. Holy Grail is such a fantastically funny movie with so many memorable lines and moments that it’s become a staple in the comedy genre. Setting it in Arthurian England is a surefire way to make sure it stands the test of time, making use of the budget in a way that heightens the comedy, for example: not being able to get horses and so resorting to having a man banging two coconut halves together as they skip through the grassy terrain. It’s the writing that really takes centre stage here; the guys from Monty Python were/are geniuses. A couple more points were made on my podcast so please do listen to that to hear more: Episode 46 of The Sunday Movie Marathon

Malignant (2021) - 7/10

The new James Wan movie was bonkers! I saw this one twice in quick succession without hesitation. To find out why I love it so much, listen to episode 47 of the podcast.

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) - 8/10

We got a marathon of the first three Nightmare on Elm Street movies on the podcast so we watched them in quick succession within a day. This first movie is a true masterpiece of its time. For more insight, listen to episode 47 of the podcast.

A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2: Freddy’s Revenge (1985) - 2/10

Quite an embarrassing departure from the genius and fun of the original. Elm Street 2 is not only technically unfulfilling but a wholly unentertaining movie to boot. More thoughts in episode 47 of the podcast.

A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors (1987) - 3/10

While only a few hairs better than its predecessor, Elm Street 3 is still a mere shadow of the original. All in all, these second and third instalments in the franchise have put me off watching any of the others. More thoughts in episode 47 of the podcast.

Her (2013) - 10/10

Her is at once a beautiful love story between a man and an AI, and a scarily accurate look at how technology is expanding and moving forward. It uses warm colours and smooth camera work to create something that feels homely and safe, juxtaposing the often cold and dark feeling of science-fiction films to tell an intrinsically human story. What would it be like to go through this and what are the hurdles that need to be overcome? Her is a masterpiece of filmmaking and it left me emotionally exhausted in all the right ways.

Alien (1979) - 10/10

First time I’ve seen Alien in the cinema (as I was too busy not being born yet to see it on an initial release) and it was amazing! This is cosmic horror at its best. With all the eerie sound design, slow and deliberate camera movement, and outstanding effects, there’s no wonder as to why this is considered one of the greats and seeing it on the big screen was enthralling.

Aliens (1986) - 8/10

I had never seen Aliens before so the opportunity to see it for the first time in a cinema was one I could not pass up, especially since I was able to see it straight after the first. This is more of an action movie than the first one and as that, it was really something to see. While I don’t think it quite measures up to the original, James Cameron does bring a style to it that makes it something completely different while still feeling in line with its predecessor. A problem I’ve found as time goes on is that I don’t find myself thinking much about Aliens whatsoever and that’s probably down to its characters who generally I found quite weak. I’m already not big on standard action flicks and this is a clear cut above those but it does still fall victim to the trappings. That being said, I would in no way call this bad or even mediocre because it was a lot fun and being able to see it in the cinema is an experience I’m very grateful for.

Gunpowder Milkshake (2021) - 6/10

Gunpowder Milkshake is trying very hard to be John Wick and although it never really manages it, there is still fun to be had with its action (because really that’s all this movie has to offer). There’s a very creative scene in which Karen Gillan has to fight some goons in a hospital with a gun taped to one hand and a scalpel taped to the other, with the caveat being that her arms don’t work. Despite that and a good enough performance from Gillan, the rest is very goofy, with a villain about as intriguing as an advert for life insurance and a story that to say the least, leaves much to be desired.

I Lost My Body (2019) - 10/10

Another one for the podcast, I Lost My Body is a glorious cerebral animated piece that hits every nerve in my body. Listen to episode 48 for more.

Alice In Wonderland (1951) - 10/10

Perhaps the best early Disney movie in my humble opinion. Alice In Wonderland is complete insanity, doing things simply for the sake of it in a beguiling dreamlike take on Lewis Carroll’s classic book. Listen to episode 48 of The Sunday Movie Marathon for more.

WALL-E (2008) - 9/10

WALL-E is one of Pixar’s best. It is a cautionary tale of where the world is headed wrapped in a sweet story about going to the ends of the solar system in order to help those you love. I do however have one big problem with this movie and you can find out more in episode 48 of the podcast.

Killing Them Softly (2012) - 6/10

A lot about America’s economy at the time, Killing Them Softly goes about showing the lengths people will go to for money and yes it is generally solid with a fantastic speech by Brad Pitt to cap it off, but it cannot avoid meandering scenes of listless dialogue that neither engage me nor make me care about the characters it presents.

The Dirties (2013) - 6/10

Funny! The Dirties is a mockumentary about two guys making a movie about bullies in their school. While often it was generally chugging along and making me laugh, it tended to err on the side of plain as regards its presentation. A lot of scenes happen for the sake of it and in a movie that’s around an hour and twenty, it’s amazing I still managed to dip out in the latter half. More thoughts in episode 49 of the podcast.

Telstar: The Joe Meek Story (2009) - 3/10

Ah, I really hated this. I don’t even want to talk about it anymore. Just listen to episode 49 of the podcast to hear what I had to say.

Blade Runner 2049 (2017) - 10/10

This is my favourite movie! I got to talk about it on my podcast! Listen to episode 49 of The Sunday Movie Marathon to hear what I have to say!

No Time To Die (2021) - 8/10

Best Bond movie? Perhaps. I’ve not seen every Bond movie but of the ones I have seen (which does include all of Daniel Craig’s run), this is as good as it gets. Despite a near three hour runtime, No Time To Die felt as though it wasted very little. I’ve always complained that I could never follow the plot to these movies because often I simply didn’t care about it; for me it’s more about the action and seeing Daniel Craig be James Bond. No Time To Die does not escape some of the general tropes that often don’t leave me thinking I’ve watched something masterful but what I will say in its favour is that it’s fucking fun! Don’t expect to love it if you already dislike these movies because generally it stays in the same vein as the others before it, but for Bond fans it’s something totally enjoyable. Captivating cinematography, biting fight choreography and action set-pieces, a core struggle for James who actually goes through relatable hardships his time round, coping with being part of a family and trying to keep them safe.

I was happy to see a bit more attention paid to female characters this go round; in a franchise that often glamorizes Bond’s sexual promiscuity and ability to woo any woman he likes, it was much more refreshing to see that he often did need help from a lot of badass, well written female characters.

No Time To Die has been waiting to be released for a long time now and now it’s actually out, I’m pleased it’s not hot garbage. In fact, quite the opposite is true. The final swan song for Craig’s fifteen-year tenure as one of cinema’s most recognisable heroes outdoes all that came before it. Bravo.

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purplebass · 4 years

Text

Dark Light Ch. 3 //Blackdale

Couple/Characters: Blackdale, Lucie Herondale and Jesse Blackthorn Rating: T

✨ You can also find it on AO3 ✨

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

Trying to hide somebody was difficult, and Lucie hoped she would never have to do it again.

Jesse came to the Institute three days prior, looking for a place to hide. Lucie knew that she would have brought him there if he had been complacent after he opened his eyes to life again, but she hadn’t planned much after then. It had been silly of her not to think about the situation better, but after all of the tests gone wrong, she truly believed she would never be able to pull this off.

Jesse had slept on the armchair in her room. She had never shared a room with anybody, not even her brother James. They had always slept in separate chambers, and only spent time together on her bed when they told each other stories when they were kids.

Jesse wasn’t her brother, nor was he a cousin or a closer friend. Lucie had known him for a few months, and his present self was slightly different from the person she had met. And, if she were to be honest with herself, she liked Jesse too much to put him in the “family” group. He was someone she would love to become her family, a husband, perhaps. Which made everything more complicated.

For this reason, Lucie never changed into her nightclothes in front of him. She was still a respectable young girl, even if she was momentarily sharing a room with a boy. If someone were to find that Jesse had been sleeping there... People were quick to make judgements. She had seen it with Cordelia and James.

Besides that, of course, Lucie’s main source of worry was that the Clave would find out what she did. What would they say? It was a challenge to hide him, let alone explain how he, who had been dead for seven years, was alive and well.

Speaking of which, she had to take one last trip to Chiswick. She still had the Black Volume of the Dead, and if someone would discover it under her bed, there would be hell to pay.

She wasn’t sure the Clave could connect Jesse being alive with her. Did necromancy… smell? Could the Clave trace back to whoever had used dark magic? She didn’t know, and she wished she would never have to know.

“When do you think my mother will find out?” Jesse asked from the window on the fourth day after his return from the dead.

He was eating scones and sipping tea, and watching as the sky grew darker outside. Lucie had brought those things to her room a few minutes earlier. They would be his dinner, or sort of. She hated that she could only give him these scraps, but it would be suspicious if she asked for an extra dish. She rarely ate more than what was served during meals.

Lucie took her eyes off the book she was reading. The question he asked concerned one of the things that were bothering her. “Perhaps she already has,” she said, her tone resigned. “And she’s preparing her revenge.”

Jesse chuckled. “This seems unreal,” he commented.

“What is the last thing you remember?”

He frowned, and Lucie wondered if he remembered anything at all. He could have forgotten about most of his life. “I remember we had dinner, right before the Silent Brothers came to give me my first mark.”

“And then?”

“I recall that I felt sick when they left,” he said, sipping his tea. “And when I woke up, I met you.”

“I see,” Lucie said. “I was doing research about that, by the way.”

“About why I can’t remember?”

“Yes,” she nodded, glancing back on the page she was skimming. “I still can’t find anything. There are no precedents.”

He had come off the window, and approached the desk, putting himself behind her. Lucie bit her lip. The temptation to raise her head and look up at him was strong.

“That’s too bad,” he commented. “Want me to help you?”

“Actually, yes,” she nodded. “Because I have an engagement soon, and I am afraid I must focus on that.”

“More time alone,” he chuckled.

She frowned, and finally met his eyes. He was smirking, and teasing her. “My parabatai ceremony is in a few days,” she explained. “We had to delay it several times, me and Cordelia.”

“There’s no need to explain,” Jesse answered placidly, placing his hands on the side of the desk. “Besides, we both know I can’t go out for the time being.”

“But you will,” Lucie remarked confidently. She put her hand over his. “Soon. I’m sure we’ll come up with something.”

He glanced down, where Lucie’s hand had covered his. She hadn’t realized what she had done. It had been an instinctive gesture to do it. She opened her mouth, embarrassed, and retreated her hand slowly. Jesse smiled, but didn’t say anything.

Lucie continued with her reading, and he helped her. When the clock struck eleven, she stood from her chair, and grabbed her cloak.

“Where are you going?” Jesse wondered, frowning from his book.

“I need to take this book back to your house,” she adjusted the coat around her shoulders. It was freezing cold. “If your mother finds that it’s gone, and I have it,” she sighed, not finishing the sentence. She put the volume in a dark blanket.

“You can’t go there alone,” he warned her. “I must come with you.”

“And risk being discovered?”

“Who said we’ll get caught?” he shrugged. “It’s better if we’re in two. We can watch each other’s backs. And I am acquainted with the property.”

“Alright, you can come. I’m going to grab a coat for you,” she said. “Don’t leave without me” she warned.

…

At least, Jesse didn’t desert her. She feared he would sneak out of the Institute while she was trying to find him a coat that would fit him (in the end she stole one of James’) and go somewhere. She literally ran back to her room, imagining it empty and with the Black Volume already gone. She was grateful that Jesse kept his promise and stayed.

“Do you think she’s home?” Lucie wondered, glancing at Jesse for a moment. They were perched on the driver seat of her family carriage. It would have been less suspecting if they had taken the horses, but Jesse said he didn’t know how to ride.

“She’s rarely not home,” he confirmed. “And when she told us she had to go out, she used to lock us inside of our rooms until she came back.”

Lucie frowned. It wasn’t out of character for Tatiana, but it still chilled her to the bone. Her parents would never do that. She didn’t know how to comment and wasn’t sure if she had to. She remained silent. He didn’t seem to want to be pitied, either, but he probably didn’t even realize the magnitude of his mother’s actions, since that was the only life he knew. He could have grown up by thinking that being locked inside of your room without the possibility of roaming around your property was the norm.

They talked about superficial things during the trip. This Jesse was also an avid reader, and they discussed plot holes and writing styles of Victorian classics. It was easy to talk to him. But then, she had spent the last four months getting to know him. The only difference was that now he was there in the flesh, with seven years wiped off his memory.

“We should go to the back entrance,” Jesse said after they had left the carriage behind. “She never uses it.”

“Is there a back entrance?”

Jesse smirked. “There is always a back entrance, Lucie. Come,” he prodded, and led the way.

“Jesse, wait,” she said, and he stopped instantly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Shouldn’t you get some runes first?”

He frowned. “Is this what you usually do before you sneak in someone’s house?”

“Yes,” she nodded, and took her stele out. “We draw runes that could help us. I thought that maybe you’d want some?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

“I don’t know anything about runes, and I wouldn’t be able to draw any on you.”

“That’s fine, I already got mine before we left,” she smiled, trying to be as calm as possible. “I’m drawing your runes.”

He thought about it for a moment. “If you think they may help,” he began, “then why not.”

“Give me your hand,” she said. He didn’t hesitate, and extended his arm. It was covered by the coat, and he pulled the material above his forearm. She realized how his arm was leaner compared to James’. There was enough space to fit two arms. Jesse helped her, and she remembered that she didn’t ask if she could do it herself. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“Go ahead, Lucie,” he said with a placid smile. “It’s just an arm.”

It wasn’t just an arm for Lucie. She was about to draw his first rune. The moment was monumental for any shadowhunter. Having never been a proper shadowhunter, to Jesse it was ordinary. She wondered if he would remember it.

She proceeded to draw a stealth rune. She wondered what he was feeling, but didn’t dare to ask. “This will help us not to make any noise,” she explained. “While this is to sharpen your sight,” she added, and drew a night vision rune to see better in the dark.

He looked at her work with satisfaction, but also surprise. He had probably never seen runes aside from the faded voyance rune on his hand. Lucie wondered if Tatiana had books about shadowhunters in her father’s library. If she did, she didn’t think that she would have let Jesse or Grace see them, let alone read them.

“Can I cover my arm now?”

“Oh, yes. They’re temporary, but it’s not like it’s ink or something,” she laughed nervously. She couldn’t believe she had just given Jesse his first two marks. She would never forget it.

After the brief rune moment, they continued with their quest. Jesse took her behind the main building. She had never been there, not even when she went to Chiswick with Cordelia or by herself. The door was partially hidden by vines, and that was the reason Lucie had never seen it.

“This is the exit the servants used,” Jesse murmured. The door opened instantly, it was unlocked. Weird. “When my uncles lived here, I believe. We never had any servants. The room where my sister found that book is my grandfather’s private study. I remember that once, my mother lamented that one of my uncles needed his diaries, but she didn’t want to give them to him. And said that your father was wretched because he convinced her. How, I have no idea.”

“He gave her money,” Lucie said as they moved through the corridors and up a spiral staircase. “That’s what he told us, at least.”

The stair wasn’t lighted, but she could sense his smile in the dark. “Your father never keeps anything from you, does he?”

“Never,” she replied firmly. I’m the one who keeps things from him. I’ve kept you from everyone, she wanted to add, but kept silent.

They reached what Lucie remembered was the first floor. There weren’t any witchlights nor mundane lights on. The corridor was bathed in the light of the moon. Lucie was grateful for the night vision rune.

Jesse walked in front of her, and she followed, occasionally casting glances towards the doors in case someone was there. She could hear no sounds, but this didn’t mean that the house was empty. After wandering around statues and broken windows, they finally reached a door in the middle of the floor.

Jesse tried to open it, but to no avail. Lucie drew an open rune, and it unlocked without further pressure. They looked around before entering, and closed the door behind them.

“I don’t know where this book was, exactly,” Lucie whispered. “It was Grace who gave it to me.”

“How did Grace know?”

“I have no idea,” she said, unveiling the Black Volume. She found an empty space on one of the shelves. “I’ll just put it here and we’ll go,” she announced with anticipation.

Jesse signaled her to stay silent. She didn’t know why, since there wasn’t anyone around, until she heard the footsteps and understood. She exchanged a glance with him. He didn’t know what to do either. The door opened, and Lucie started to panic. What would they do?

Jesse pulled her down to the floor, behind the desk, leaving her no time to think about another solution. She held her breath.

“I thought I locked this door,” a voice said, and the steps grew closer to their hiding place. The light from the window outside had turned the pavement grey. The same color Lucie’s face must have been out of fear.

#tsc #blackdale #tlh #lucie herondale #jesse blackthorn #the last hours #tsc theories #tsc fanfiction #chain of gold #chain of iron #chain of thorns #tweety.writes

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radiojamming · 5 years

Note

This a weird prompt but would you write jonmichael? Asking solely because I want to read Elias and the archives staff dealing with that

good-ish AU where sasha’s still sasha and everyone’s cool with stuff, i guess? :DDD

- - -

The door-that-wasn’t-there-a-minute-ago slams open against the wall, shaking the shelves and knocking one cheap vase to the floor in a small explosion of sad porcelain shards and accumulated dust. Martin lets out a high-pitched, “Jesus Christ!” in surprise as much as raw shock when Jon Sims himself staggers out the door like a teenager doing the walk of shame. Granted, he’s bleeding from his hairline and one sleeve of his sweater appears to just be missing, but he looks more sheepish than injured.

Just as he makes the last step over the threshold-that-shouldn’t-be, Martin sees a vague person-ish shape wobble in the mysterious beyond. And it is, in fact, wobbling, like a bobblehead or one of those playground toys shaped like horses that waver on oversized springs until they fling some unfortunate child headfirst into sand. Extended metaphor it may be, but the wobbly thing gives a high, wavering giggle before cooing, “Don’t forget this, love!” in a voice tiered in multiple pitches like an eldritch wedding cake. Jon turns just in time for an arm-that-shouldn’t-be-that-long-oh-my-god-what-the-fuck to come shooting out of the door, an iPhone clutched pinched between its enormous fingers. Martin might be hallucinating, but he thinks the razor-sharp fingernails are lacquered in sparkly purple nail varnish.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before Jon gingerly takes the phone with a mumbled, “Thanks,” and the hand recedes back into the hellish landscape beyond the door.

“Of course!” garbles the wobbly thing. Then, with a range of voices topped off with an impressive soprano flourish as light as meringue, it yodels, “Call me!”

As abruptly and shockingly as the door appeared, it disappears with a sharp crack, causing the shelves to slam back into place with a small cataract of old books falling into the pile of broken ceramic.

Jon and Martin stand in the stuffy office, each caught in the awkward position of how the hell do you talk about that?

Finally, Jon gives Martin the most soul-deep, weary look before quietly beseeching, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

All Martin can do is nod before Jon shuffles out to the hallway

- - -

Sasha sees him at the flower stall again.

Through the warped windowpane, she watches him scoop up a great, garish bouquet representing nearly every spectrum in the visible rainbow, and some colours that might not exist save for the eyes of the mantis shrimp. When she gets to ground level and sees him semi-properly, he’s just a blond man in a beanie, carefully regarding a sorry bunch of daffodils held together by what looks like clingfilm cinched shut with twine. Rather than being all spooky and mysterious, Sasha thinks he’s actually deliberating. There’s a pinch in his brow as he lowers the daffodils in favor of prodding the drooping lower lid of a sorry little orchid suffering in London’s less-than-tropical climes.

Sasha kind of feels… sorry for him?

Granted, he’s a monster with terrifying monster hands and monster tendencies and apparently a taste for caffeine, but he really looks caught on what to get. That in mind, she does remember that he bought lilies the last time he was around. Maybe that was less of a coincidence and this Michael creature really does like flowers; or he may have some fellow monster friend that he deems worthy of buying flowers for. Honestly, Sasha doesn’t want to think of what kind of friends Michael keeps.

Against her better judgement and sense of self-preservation, Sasha walks across the street to where Michael forlornly weighs his options. He looks up at her approach, and the first impression she gets is that his eyes are more like spinning tops prone to rotate anti-clockwise. She blinks and sees stationary blue eyes regarding her with confusion, and then… relief?

Huh.

“Sah-shah Jaaayymeeesss!” he almost sings, lifting up the dying daffodils like a salute. “What a pleasure to see your radiant face again!”

“Michael,” she replies, a little colder than she intends. Last time they met, there were far more meaty hands and worms involved, and she’d rather get to work unscathed.

If he thinks the reply is chilly, he makes no sign of it. Instead, he flops the tortured flowers around in his terrible hands. “Actually, I was hoping to see one of you lovely little Institute-dwellers around. I think I gave Martin a bit of a fright laaaaast time!”

Sasha frowns, but can definitely picture Martin having to be peeled off the ceiling after a Michael encounter. “Oh,” is all she says.

Michael goes on, gleefully undaunted. “You see, you and I have a mutual acquaintance! And I think he’s in need of a little—” He gives the daffodils a vigorous shake. “—cheering up these days! But I just don’t know what he’d like! Silly me for not being obseeeeervant!”

“I… A mutual acquaintance?”

“Yeeeessss! Your lovely boss!”

“Elias?”

Michael laughs. Well, more like he laughs in a way that sounds like he laughed ten minutes ago and ten minutes into the future, and then layered the sounds over one another like phyllo dough in a hellish baklava. It’s impossible, but Sasha hears it all the same. “Noooo!” he giggles. “Not in a million endless cycles of time or those dimensions yet unperceiveeeeeed!”

Sasha won’t even start on that statement, except that it isn’t Elias, which means it has to be—

Oh. Jesus.

Grubby, curmudgeonly, insomniac Jesus.

“Jon?” she gasps.

Michael laughs again, louder and higher so that a glass breaks somewhere in the distance. “Yeeeesssss! Poor Jonathan, always working so hard in that dismal cave you call an archive. I offered him office space that would appeal more to a sense of aestheticism, but he… Oh, what did he say? He thought it was a little heavy on the—” And here he speaks in an exact mimic of Jon’s dry voice when he says: “Impossible, improbable, and honest to God, Michael, my brain would shatter into a thousand pieces if I looked at that painting for another minute.” Michael dissolves into a fit of giggles before saying, “It’s just a lost Hieronymus Bosch painting, honestly.”

So Michael McMeatyhands is buying flowers for Jonathan Sims. Sasha’s having a hell of a time wrapping her head around that particular fact.

The infernal giggling stops and Michael seems to circle (spiral?) back to his previous predicament. Dying daffodils or suffering orchids?

For a lack of anything more to say, Sasha wordlessly points to a bouquet of slightly more enthusiastic-looking daisies, bobbing peacefully in a tin pail of water. “Those,” is all she can manage to say.

Michael looks thrilled. He actually hums some impossible tune (in full SATB with orchestral arrangement, all localised in his throat) as he puts the daffodils back, scoops up the daisies, and drops four quid into the stall owner’s hands with a wet, meaty thwap that the owner doesn’t seem to hear. Then, Michael swivels back toward Sasha and grins with the corners of his lips somehow curling up near his eyes like a particularly twisty Cheshire Cat.

“Thank you, Miss James!” he says. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“You’re… welcome? I think?”

But Michael’s already walking away, taking steps in a gait that doesn’t seem to match the rhythm of the rest of his body, like two halves of entirely different people drunkenly attempting synchronicity. Sasha half-expects his legs to walk away from his torso.

Toward Jon.

She sighs and rubs a hand over her face before heading in the direction of the Underground station.

- - -

The boss is dating someone. This, Tim is absolutely sure of. He’s watched Jon like a hawk for a week now, carefully comparing his moods in the morning with how early he left work the night before. Long work nights equal really bad mood. Long not work nights equal better mood with less shouting and calling people morons under his breath. This is good.

This is very good.

Tim is pleased with his enviable knowledge. Whoever somehow won the heart of the boss must be a pretty special person, or at least someone with an endless well of patience. Or maybe they’re Jon’s opposite? Either way, Tim’s got a hankering to send them a box of chocolate as a thank you for chilling the boss out and making him more tolerable to work with.

He tries to picture who this mystery person is, as Jon’s definitely not the type of person to take his personal life to work with him, inasmuch as he likes to take work home. Tim pictures someone easygoing, like a Margaritaville type. They balance Jon’s stick-up-assery out, maybe giving him massages over the back of the couch while Jon watches dry documentaries about the actual speed of drying paint. In his mind’s eye, Tim gives this person a hideously neon Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, but a winning smile that melts Jon’s ice-locked heart and makes it so he can’t help but smile back.

Tim likes them, whoever they are.

And when he gives Jon a little wink after dropping off a follow-up report, says, “Had a good night?” in a way more than a tiny bit suggestive, he only relishes a teensy bit in how dark Jon’s cheek become and how he ducks his head down. He mumbles something before actually thanking Tim for the report.

Yeah, this is awesome. Tim owes Jon’s mystery partner a thank you card and maybe a cake.

- - -

“Eliaaaaas.”

“Michael.”

Staring. Lots of staring. Cold, unflinching irises to a set of psychedelic, rotating disco balls set in a grinning face. Behind Michael, blue and purple streaks like the top of a wildberry Pop-Tart flash about and dance madly as Michael gives him the strangest of staredowns. Occasionally, his head appears to flip upside-down a few times on his swirly straw of a neck, and half of his teeth try to glitch through his lips in a way that Elias thinks of as an attempt at a sneer.

Finally, Elias sighs and calmly folds his hands on the top of his desk, ignoring the waves of tangible static pouring out onto the floor and possibly leaving a stain on the carpet. That’s going to be difficult to explain to the janitorial staff. “We may have to set some ground rules,” he says.

“I’ll bring him home by eleven,” Michael cackles in reply.

Elias narrows his eyes just as he feels Beholding roll its great omnipresent gaze in irritation.

“I mean to say that you’re not to interfere in Institute business any further than you are right now,” Elias retorts. “I should completely ban all Spiral-related statements on grounds of personal involvement.”

Michael grins. His smile rises up to his forehead like a crescent moon before rolling down the side of his face and hooking back up into the empty space where a normal mouth should be. “I can make this weirder. I can spiral any statement in this place. Every little word can bend in and around on itself like a pipe cleaner.”

Elias glares. “You won’t.”

“You can’t stop me!” Michael sings. “But I’ll keep courting your Archivist nice and proper as long as I’d like, or he’d like.”

“If this is an attempt to draw him into the Spiral’s influence—”

When Michael laughs this time, it seems to be drawn from every laugh that was ever laughed in the history of the muscular and diaphragmatic spasms that caused them. It’s so charged, so loud and explosive that Elias nearly winces at it. And when it’s over, there’s a vacuum of sound in its wake, so it takes a full minute for Elias to hear anything properly again.

Then, Michael taps his horrible fingers on Elias’ desk, eliciting a sharp tak-tak-tak-tak-tak that repeats in on itself fifty times over. “Not everything is about influence,” Michael hisses through too many teeth. “Not every attempt on a person is to draw them in and mark them, unlike what you do. Maybe sometimes, one of us can authentically like one of them. Is that too hard for you to understand, Man-of-the-Eye?”

Beholding tries to truly See Michael, but something about the Spiral’s nature twists the image.

“No,” Michael goes on, followed by another round of tak-tak-tak-tak-tak. “I rather like the Archivist. And he likes me. Aaaand if you try to get in the way of us, I will peeeeerrrrsonallyyyyy claw your precious little eyes out of your sockets. Understand?”

Elias doesn’t have time to make a reply. Michael is gone in a gunpowder-bright flash of light and a shock of sound. If there was a door, it’s gone. So he sits alone in his office, staring at the space where the Spiral was, and he feels something terribly empty and terribly familiar.

- - -

Jon picks their next date and opts for something as normal as the last one was strange. He chooses a walk at St James Park, eating ice cream and admiring the pelicans while Michael regales him with some bizarre story that sounds more like a backwards recitation of the Jabberwocky poem. He pauses in between stanzas to eat more of his pistachio ice cream with a delighted gusto before he presses on in gibberish.

Something about it makes Jon feel oddly warm and content, even as the early spring wind chills him.

Their last date was to Annwn, which Jon had originally suspected was in Wales. He was half-right; it was Wales as much as it was also the traditional world of the afterlife in ancient Welsh rites. It was rather lovely and Jon thinks very highly of their honey cakes, although he suspects he probably wasn’t supposed to eat them.

But Michael looks just as pleased to be in this park as he was to be in ancient Welsh paradise. His Jabberwockish story comes to an end and he finishes the rest of his cone before throwing the little paper ring into a nearby litter bin. Then, he stretches his arms out to the side and sighs in contentment. “Just bonny, as they say!” he cheers before reaching down and taking Jon’s free hand in his. It’s got a mind-boggling weight and an odd texture, while appearing to be a normal hand. At first, it gave Jon such an acute sense of discomfort that he found himself involuntarily withdrawing. Now, it’s just another aspect of Michael that he’s learned to like.

Love, maybe. He hasn’t thought on that overmuch.

Yet here they are, holding hands like all the other couples in the park. It’s so simple, so normal. Jon’s life has been so ridiculous lately that the fact he’s holding a Spiral avatar’s nigh-impossible hand on a date in a park is just… maybe the most normal thing that’s happened so far. Michael’s not trying to kill him or throttle his mind to the point of madness.

They’re happy.

Jon’s happy.

He smiles, and so does Michael. Yes, Michael’s smile is making an attempt to summit his head like Everest before flickering back into place like he remembers where he is, but he does smile and it’s perfectly authentic.

It could be weirder, and for once, that thought delights Jon.

#prompt fill #tma #the magnus archives #jonmichael #THIS WAS RLY FUN ;w;#tried to fix the wonky mobile formatting!

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softboywriting · 5 years

Text

Fate | Shawn Mendes

Summary: After having your heartbroken and getting rejected by the only guy who has ever asked you out, a good friend like Shawn may be just what you need to turn your horrible day around. [general au] [fluff] [’cowboy’/farm boy au] [friends to lovers]

Word Count: 4.3k

|Masterlist In Bio|

The last thing you hear as you leave your house is the screen door clattering against the old wood door frame. You need to get away, to clear your head of the fucked up mess you just experienced.

Your date, your first ever real date, lied, stood you up, and went on a date with another girl. It's literally the worst thing you can possibly imagine happening to you on your first date. Other than someone dying, but honestly this kind of feels worse.

Ten minutes before Josh; your date, is supposed to pick you up, he texted you. He said he couldn't make it, that his grandma had just been taken to the hospital. It was believable enough, things like that happen. You were disappointed of course but sent back well wishes and said you were open to reschedule. He didn't reply back. That was fine, he was probably with his family.

Not half an hour after Josh texted you, your friend Tia sent you a photo. It was two people, a guy and a girl sitting at a table in the food court at the mall in the city.

Tia: isn't that Josh?

You: no? He's at the hospital with his grandma.

Tia: no he ain't

Another picture downloaded and you could see very clearly that it was in fact Josh sitting there with a girl who is definitely not you. Your stomach lurched. He lied. He lied and went out with another girl. What the fuck? You got up and dropped your phone on the bed. The past few weeks... everything that's happened...all the flirting, the jokes, studying together. All of it meant nothing. Josh was a player and you were just part of his game.

That's how you find yourself about half a mile from your house on a gravel road that leads to the Mendes Ranch. The Mendes family are your neighbors and your family is good friends with them. They have a son, your age, named Shawn and a daughter a few years younger named Aaliyah. You look at the red barn and think maybe you'll go there and just chill for a while, hang out with the horses. Surely they won't mind.

You hear a vehicle approaching and you glance back to see the old truck that you know is Shawn's. Shawn, an actual walking talking gentleman of a "cowboy" who makes all the ladies swoon. He's like the James Dean of farm boys and you're so fucked for him but you're pretty sure you're just good friends according to him.

You step down off the road to avoid getting hit or ending up with gravel kicked at you from the tires.

"Hey Sweetheart!" The truck rolls to a stop beside you and your heart lurches into your throat. "You okay?"

Of course he has to stop and check on you. He's too nice, too good.

"Yeah I'm fine." You cross your arms for a moment before you wipe your nose with your sleeve, all while still avoiding eye contact. "I'm just going for a walk."

"But you're cryin'? Can I give you a ride back home?"

"I'm not going home right now."

"Well I am not leavin' you to cry on the side of the road. Come on, get in and I'll take you up to the ranch with me for a bit."

You sigh and wipe your face. Just what you want to do, get in Shawn's truck while crying. How is he going to see you now? Like the sad girl who lives down the road? Ugh. Great. You crawl up into the passenger seat and stare out the window as Shawn starts driving.

"So, why are you cryin'?"

"Stupid reasons," you mumble.

"Stupid reasons like what?"

You glance over and he looks genuinely concerned. "It's just a guy that wasn't who I thought."

"Oh." He goes quiet.

"Yeah. Stupid."

"It's not stupid to have your feelings hurt." He pulls the truck around the side of the big red barn where you were headed anyway. He would have caught up with you one way or another. "It's okay to feel let down or heart broken. You're a human being. We're supposed to feel things like that."

"Y-yeah I guess."

"Wanna help me?" He drops his keys on the seat between the two of you and slides out of the drivers side.

"With what?"

"Feed for the horses." He thumbs to the back of the truck and you look through the window into the bed. Sure enough there are probably a dozen twenty or so pound bags of feed in there.

"Sure, why not." You get out and Shawn jumps up into the back of the truck. He flips his maple leafs ball cap around and rolls up the sleeves of his dark red flannel shirt. "Should I catch them?"

"Can you catch'em, Sweetheart?"

"They're like twenty pounds right?"

"Thirty five." He grabs the corners of the end of one and hauls it up like it's nothing. "How bout I have you hand'em down to me?" He tosses the bag in his arms onto the ground and reaches out for your hand. You take it and he lifts you up into the truck bed with ease. "Alright, just drag or push 'em to the tailgate and I'll take 'em from there."

For the next few minutes you struggle to shove bags of feed down the truck bed and Shawn lifts them out, carrying them to the barn and dropping them off. By the eighth one you're pretty exhausted.

You drop down onto the cold metal bed and lean back on the last few bags propped against the cab. Shawn appears at the tailgate and chuckles, leaning forward, resting on his forearms. He doesn't even look winded.

"Gettin' tired?"

"Yeah. I don't know how you do it."

"Well, I've lived on the ranch my whole life. It's just part of what I gotta do." He jumps up in the back and leans against the bags with you, stretching his legs out beside yours. He's so much bigger, his legs are like a mile long compared to yours.

"I'm impressed."

He chuckles. "Yeah? You like a guy who can haul some feed?"

You flush and elbow him. He laughs loudly.

"I'm teasing. But hey, you're not cryin' over some guy anymore right?"

"Yeah, I guess not. I'm still pretty hurt though."

"What happened?"

You raise your eyebrows and he looks over, head back against the window of the truck. "You wanna know?"

"Yeah. How bad did this guy fuck up?"

"Well, he stood me up for my first date ever. Lied about his grandma being sick as the reason why he couldn't make the date. Then my friend saw him on a date with another girl literally half an hour after he said he couldn't make it."

Shawn's jaw drops. "What the hell? What kind of fucked up dick head does that? You don't treat ladies like that, hell, you don't treat anyone like that. Damn."

"Yeah. So you understand why I'm not in the best mood."

"I definitely get it, that's pretty harsh. Maybe I can help though?"

"Help?"

"Yeah, make it up to you." He stands up and grabs one of the feed bags.

"Okay?"

Shawn grins and hauls the bag over his shoulder. "We could hang out, just have a good night."

"You're asking me out?"

"No?" He jumps down off the tailgate and turns to face you with a smile. "I just wanna make your night not suck and get your mind off that jerk. What do you say?"

"I guess I'm not doing anything else." You push yourself up and drag the feed toward the end of the truck. "But it's not a date right?"

"Nope," he grunts as he throws the bag you've pushed to him over his shoulder. "Not unless you want it to be."

You watch him carry the bag to the barn and just stare. Was he asking you out? He said he wasn't but still...it seemed like he was. No, that's completely unlikely. Someone like Shawn could have any girl he wanted why would he want the girl down the road who used to catch frogs with him by the pond behind the barn and blow up corn cobs on independence day in his backyard? He isn't asking you out. He's just being nice because he's your friend and he feels bad for you since you got stood up.

"You gonna make me come up there and get those feed bags myself?"

You snap out of your thoughts and Shawn leans on the tailgate. "I've got them."

Shawn pulls his hat off and plops it on your head. "Get your head in the game sweetheart. Come on, lemme see you move those bags."

You push the brim up and he grins at you, all white pearly teeth and tanned skin with freckles across his cheeks and nose. Fuck he's so cute. You turn back and grab another bag, dragging it down the length of the bed. "Why are these so heavy?"

"They're feed." Shawn laughs. "It's full of vitamins and fiber and other good things horses need to stay alive. They're heavy with love."

"You're weird."

He grins and flicks the brim of the hat before he carries the bag away. Your heart skips a beat and you adjust the hat back down on your head. You can't help but wonder what he has in mind for a good time.

_____________________

"Open your eyes."

You open your eyes slowly, Shawn had you ride the whole way with them closed, and you're sitting in the truck in one of the fields by the edge of the woods not far from the house. You look around as if expecting something to happen. "So...what?"

"So, this is a good time." Shawn grins and shuts off the engine. "I've got stuff in the back."

"What...I don't understand."

"Come on, just get out."

You climb out of the truck and peek over into the bed to see a bunch of blankets and pillows piled in it. There's a bottle of something you think might be Jack Daniels and a blue cooler, a lantern and a grocery sack full of something.

"We're gonna watch the stars come out." Shawn says, dropping the tailgate and climbing up inside to arrange the pillows and blankets. "I got drinks, marshmallows and s'more fixin's as well as hot dogs and buns. We're just going to hang out, talk about life and forget about everything else for a while."

You crawl up into the bed of the truck and sit down on some pillows. "This is your idea of a good time?"

"Yep." He grins and flops down on the pillows next to you. "It's not complicated and it's fun."

You smile softly and he brushes your hand as he moves to get up. Your heart goes wild. If he only knew how he made you crazy.

"Wanna help me get firewood?"

You follow him down the truck bed and he jumps out, reaching out to grab your waist to help you down. "We're building a fire?"

"Yes?" He lifts you down and you flush at the closeness. "How else are we going to roast marshmallows and hot dogs?"

"I dunno. I didn't think about that I guess."

He looks down at you, eyes soft. His hands come up to your shoulders and he gives you a little massage. "Loosen up. You're too caught up in your head about Josh."

"You're right." You sigh and try to let go of the tension from Josh, but it's not just that. It's the fact you're out here alone with Shawn, on a date. Well, not real date. But nonetheless, he's the guy you've had it bad for since you were like twelve. The guy who has been a gentleman to you every day of his life. The guy who is easily one of your best friends and probably knows more about you than any of your other friends. This is really happening but you're not even there for it mentally. "I'm sorry. Maybe I should just go home."

"Hey, it's alright."

"No, I'm not being good company. I'm being mopey and lame."

Shawn chuckles. "Are you overthinking it? Because we're just hanging out. We've done this before. Just friends chilling and talking, no strings attached."

"Yeah, you're right. I dunno why I'm making this so complicated."

"Let's go get firewood. We can talk about it while we collect sticks and stuff."

______________________

"So why'd you wanna go out with Josh?"

"He was cute." You toss a couple of sticks in the tote Shawn brought with you to carry everything back. "He was nice, funny, y'know guy stuff."

"I mean, no I don't know 'cause I'm not into guys."

"Shawn!" You laugh and he chuckles. "You know what I mean. I'm sure you can relate from a guys point of view toward a girl who wasn't all you thought they were."

"Well, kinda. I haven't been with a lot of girls."

"Really? You seem like the type who could have anyone they want."

He chuckles. "Why's that?"

"Because you're so sweet and you're attractive, hard working, kind, gentle...you're you."

"Sounds like you like me."

You bite your lip and squat down to grab some more sticks and brush for tinder. You were not about to confess that you've been head over heels for years. Nope. No way. No h-

Shawn crunches some sticks in front of you and you look up, eyes traveling up his body until they meet his.

"You're standing on my sticks."

"I'll move if you tell me if you like me"

"Of course I like you. You're my friend."

"Oh come on, I know you have a crush on me." He steps back and leans against the nearest tree. "Aaliyah told me ages ago."

"What?!" You stand up and drop all the sticks under your arm. "She swore she'd never tell you!"

"So it's true?"

"N-no!"

"Okay, okay." He raises his hands in surrender and wanders away. "Just gather a few more logs and we'll be good to go back."

"Alright," you mumble, gathering up your dropped sticks and dumping them in the tote. Overhead thunder rumbles, distant but still very audible. You've got a few more hours before a storm rolls in. Or so you think.

______________________

You make it through roasting hot dogs and marshmallows with enough casual banter to keep things sort of normal. But you're hurting. Not only was the whole situation with Josh still weighing on you, but now Shawn knows you have a crush on him and he doesn't even like you back. He was supposed to be helping you right now, not making things worse.

Thunder rumbles and you sit up from your place among the pillows in the bed of the truck. Shawn is cleaning up the makeshift fire pit and you decide you don't really want to stay any longer. You just want to go home.

You slide off the end of the truck and grab your sweatshirt from the side of it. "I'm gonna head home."

"What?" Shawn dumps his water bottle over the smouldering embers of the fire. "Why?"

"I just want to be alone."

"Well, I can drive you back."

You shake your head. "Walking will help clear my head."

Shawn throws the rest of the supplies sitting on the ground into the bed of the truck and closes the tailgate. "Did I do somethin' wrong?"

"No...It's fine, I'm fine." You wrap your sweater around your waist and start walking across the field toward the road that leads to the house.

Shawn jogs after you. "Sweetheart, I can't let you walk home like this. A storm is gonna hit any minute. Please come back to the truck."

"I'll be fine. I won't melt, I'm not made of-"

Rain drops start falling rapidly, and to your left you can actually see the rain as it gets heavier, like a wave heading right for you as the clouds overhead start blowing in fast.

Shawn wraps his arms around you and hurries you back to the truck. He helps you in the passenger side quickly. By the time he's in the driver's seat, the rain is coming down heavy enough that you can't see but a few feet in front of the truck. "See? You would have been stuck in this."

"Yeah, yeah you were right. Take me home please."

Shawn gives you a concerned look before he starts the truck and heads for the road but you shrug it off. He doesn't get far before the truck lurches, jarring both of you in your seats. He revs the engine and the tires spin, mud splattering the back wheels. "Fuck," he mutters, opening his door to look out. "I knew it."

"What happened?" You lean forward to try and see out of his door but to no avail. "We're stuck?"

"Yup. We hit one of the tractor ruts in the field." He smacks the steering wheel and sighs angrily. "I knew I should have gone the other way. We're going to have to make a run for the house."

"But, can't we just wait until the storm passes?"

Shawn shakes his head. "No. You wanna sit in a hunk of metal during a storm? Doesn't seem like a great idea sweetheart."

Thunder shakes the truck and a crack of lightning streaks across the sky. He's right, but running in this storm doesn't seem much safer.

Shawn opens his door and slides out. You see him round the front of the truck and fall on his face in the mud.

"Shawn!" You open your door and get out onto a squelchy patch of field. In seconds you're soaked.

Shawn stands up and meets you beside the truck. He's got mud running down his face and his maple leafs hat is long gone, probably down in the rut somewhere.

You let out a sharp laugh. "Nice going, mud puppy."

"Mud puppy?" He scoops a glob of mud off his jeans and tosses it at you, causing it to splatter up your chest. "Look who's talkin'."

"Shawn!" You shout angrily. The rain has washed most of the mud off your face as you go to wipe it off. "You're a jerk!"

"You know that's a goddamn lie."

"Yes you are! It's your fault we're even out here!" You stomp off toward his house, feet sloshing in your tennis shoes, clothes clinging to every inch of your body. The rain is ridiculously cold and you're miserable. "This is all your fault!"

"My fault?!" He yells from behind you and you don't look back. "Mind tellin' me how any of this is my fault?!"

"If you would have just left me on the side of the road to mope I wouldn't be here right now!"

His footsteps approach rapidly and you feel a hand on your shoulder just as you approach the back lawn of the house. "I'm so sorry I tried to be a good friend!" Thunder cracks over head. "I'm sorry I wasn't gonna stand by and watch my friend get heartbroken over some douchebag who doesn't deserve her!"

"Oh what do you know about who deserves me?!" You shove his hand off your shoulder and head for the house once more.

"I know you deserve a man who's gonna treat you right and love you every day of your goddamn life!"

"Yeah?! Well when you find one of them let me know!"

"I'm right here!" He yells your name, but you keep going. "Damn it, look at me!"

You turn and look back at him standing in the middle of the backyard with his arms out. Was he seriously admitting that he wants you? He walks across the yard and stops before you.

"I'm right here," he says, breathless. "And I'm always gonna be here."

"Shawn, you can't be serious."

"What?" He shakes his head and slicks back his hair. "I can't feel the same way about you as you do about me?"

"But...you..."

"But what? You didn't really let me talk about it earlier and I wasn't going to push it after you got upset that I said I knew you had a crush on me."

"You're lying."

"The fuck I am." He grabs your face in his big hands and forces you to look at him. "I've been in love with you since I was twelve years old. You're my best friend and the only woman I have ever wanted to spend my life with. I'm sorry it has to come out like this, but I can't go another day without tellin' you the truth."

You grab his arms and let out a little laugh of disbelief. Here you are standing in the middle of a storm confessing your love for each other. Could this be any more like a movie? Seriously, romance like this didn't happen in real life and it surely didn't happen to you.

"Say you swear." You bring your pinky up and he drops one hand from your face, hooking his pinky with yours. "Do it, say it if you're not lying."

He laughs. "I swear. I swear on everything living and dead that I am not lying to you right now and I won't ever lie to you in the future."

You stare at his dark eyes, trying to find any fault in his words. There is nothing but pleading, heartfelt eyes staring back at you and you know he isn't lying. "Kiss me? If you're serious, kiss me."

"I thought you'd never ask." He drops your pinky and leans down, bringing your face up to his and kissing you lovingly. His lips are wet from the rain but they're warm and soft. You can feel every ounce of love he has flowing through him as he kisses you like it's the last time he ever will. He pulls back, staring down at you. "As much as I'd love to keep doing this, I think we're going to catch a cold if we stay out here any longer."

____________________

"Put that end over the porch light." Shawn instructs and you lift the corner of the sheets he pinned together up and over the light fixture.

The two of you had gone in and got changed out of your wet clothes, kissing some more in his room before Shawn said he wouldn't have the night end just yet. He brought out a bunch of sheets and had you grab all the blankets from the linen closet to set out on the porch. It was then that you realized he was making a fort to watch the storm like you did as kids sometimes.

"I'll get the pillows," you say as you duck under his arm to get in the back door for the couch pillows.

"Grab some drinks! There's whiskey in the cupboard over the fridge!"

You laugh and throw the pillows out onto the porch before going to the kitchen. You open the fridge and there is a bunch of water and juice. Not so great with whiskey. Then you spot them, the red cans at the back of the crisper drawer. Two ice cold cokes. Perfect.

You set the cans on the counter and look up to the cupboard Shawn claimed there was alcohol in. It's way out of your reach. Great. You look around for a step stool or really anything to stand on that won't collapse. There is an empty wood crate by the side door and you drag it over.

"Sweetheart what're you doin'?"

You turn and look back to see Shawn standing beside the island counter with his arms crossed. "I'm getting the whiskey?"

"You're gonna fall." He puts his hands on your waist and lifts you off the crate. "Don't want you gettin' hurt," he says with a kiss to the back of your head. "I'll get the liquor, you go set up the fort."

Shawn joins you a few minutes later and he has two glasses full of whiskey and coke as well as a bag of popcorn and some chips.

"Planning on being out here a while?"

"All night." He says as he sits down behind you. He pulls you back between his legs and you lean against his chest.

The storm rages on, winds whipping the rain against the outer eaves of the porch. The air is cool but heavy with the rich earthy green smell that comes with storms. It's refreshing, like everything is starting anew, and in a way it is.

Shawn's hand cards through your hair, short nails massaging gently into your scalp. His other hand comes around and you take it, threading your fingers between his as he rests it against your chest.

"Why did we wait so long?"

"Who knows? I like to believe everything happens for a reason." Shawn says, rubbing his socked foot against yours. "Maybe this was the plan for us all along."

"I didn't know you believed in that sort of thing. You think fate brought us together?"

He kisses the side of your head and lays his hand over your heart. "Honey, I think fate brought us together a long time ago. We just had to take the right steps to get to where we are now."

You lay your hand over his on your chest. "I'm glad I didn't go home, and I got in the truck with you this afternoon. I almost didn't." You chuckle airily. "To think that one little decision could have changed everything."

"Mmmhmm." He leans back into the pillows more and you adjust yourself against his chest. "We're here now, and I don't plan on ever lettin' you go."

"Good." You close your eyes and smile, relaxing into the steady rise and fall of his chest. "Because I don't plan on going anywhere."

End

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Everyone has been amazing lately, thank you for all your support! -A

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magnoliawhetstone · 4 years

Photo

Introducing The Whetstones || 10.31.2020

“Why you wanna marry me anyhow?

So I can kiss you anytime I want.”

Wedding Song || Vows

“People always used to laugh at me when I said I believed in soulmates--as if they were silly myth that didn’t exist. They’d appease me for a moment and then do their best to remind me how the real world works. But I couldn’t understand why they didn’t believe in them--wasn’t it obvious? Now I realize that the reason it was so obvious to me was because I had found my soulmate at seven years old with the little boy living next door to me who would invite me over to play and ride horses and bake with his momma--who made a place for me in his life when others wouldn’t. Soulmates are rare, yes--but they aren’t a myth. And I think our love story proves that. I Happy wedding day, baby. Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with my soulmate.”

Jack feels like it’s a dream when he rolls over and finds a head of blonde hair next to him. Of course, he quickly realizes it’s not when he inhales a mouthful of hair and tries not to gag on it. “Hey,” his voice is soft as it comes out, his hand dragging up the soft skin of Lia’s arm until he can twist his fingers into hers, “Mags- hey, you should wake up. Don’t you and Moira have a costume shopping thing happening in like… an hour?” Jack’s eyes flicker to the clock that sits on the bedside table closest to Magnolia’s head and it’s already 10:30- this is the first time he’s slept in in years and there’s nothing he wants more than to stay curled up around Magnolia forever. Jack cuddles in closer and slides his leg between hers, his cold toes pressing against her ankle, “It’s not like you to sleep in like this. Come on, Mags- don’t make me tickle you.” His hand brushes over her side, “I’ll do it. I will.”

“Mmmmhh,” She mumbles incoherently as she feels Jack’s fingers intertwine with hers. “Shopping can wait till later. I am not moving.” She presses herself closer to him to emphasize the point. In truth, Jack was right--Magnolia didn’t sleep in hardly ever but that was before she’d fallen asleep in Jack’s bed with him beside her. Now the idea of never leaving was a thousand times more compelling and she was planning to do just that. She jumped softly as the shock of cold on her ankles but still made no move to get up. Sleeping next to Jack was by far the most comfortable position she’d ever been in and waking up next to him was something she could do forever, if given the option. She yawns lazily, shifting slight to adjust to fall back asleep when she hears his threat. “You wouldn’t,” Lia’s eyes open just a slight bit more, sending him a glare. “Don’t you dare tickle me mister, I can’t be held responsible for what happens if you do!”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” his fingers dance over her side and he gives it a squeeze in hopes that she’ll jump. Jack leans forward and over her, a smile pulling wide across his face as he does, “You know she’ll kill you if you’re late. Or she’ll kill me. Regardless of who she kills, one of us will be suffering, so you really should get up.” Jack lays down on top of Magnolia while laughing - it may not be his entire body weight but they break out in giggles, “Do you have any ideas on what you’re thinking of getting for a costume? I have no desire in the slightest to go get a costume so I was thinking like… James Bond or something. Slick back hair- suit, you know… the usual.” It’s not that Jack hated Halloween- he really didn’t, in fact- he loved getting to dress up, but this year had been weird and he was just ready for the month to be over.

“Jack!” She gasps slightly, laughter escaping from her as she looks at him more clearly. She watches as a few stray curls fall in front of his eyes and her heart jumps in the same way her body did when he squeezed her side. She thought herself a pretty focused person, all things considered--until you threw Jack Whetstone in the mix. Just a look at him and her whole train of thought just fly out the window. Lia’s lips slipped into a sly smirk, her free hand maneuvering up to brush the curls from his eyes before she leaned forward to kiss him gently. “First of all, I’m a princess to her--so that grants me royal immunity,” She teased, another giggle bubbling from within her. She didn’t believe Moira when she called her a princess, but she was also pretty convinced the woman would let her being a teensy-bit late slide, all things considered. “And secondly, I can probably use that immunity on you too--but if you are really that tired of me hogging your bed…” A quick peck on the nose and she thought on his question. “Well I don’t know--I haven’t dressed up for Halloween in years. Usually I’m working.” Most holidays she’s working, but that wasn’t the question. “The usual? So, you think you’re usually 007, huh? I mean, I suppose you’re handsome enough for it,” She laughed again, her arms snaking to wrap loosely around his neck. “Well the obvious choice is some sort of princess or--like a mouse? But I don’t know, I kind of think it’d be fun to do something not obvious for once, y’know? Throw everyone off their groove?”

“You’re a princess to everyone, Mags. It’ll always amaze me how you don’t see how people lay down and roll over like lovesick puppies for you,” He pressed his lips to her shoulder and kissed across it- they’d hardly done anything more than kissing and cuddling, but this was enough for Jack for once. This felt right. “I’m pretty damn sure I’m James Bond at all times,” he rolled his eyes at the expected jar comment that he knew would follow- at this rate, he was pretty sure he could afford to buy an engagement ring with the amount of money he owed Magnolia. “What if we did like… a couple’s costume? I know that’s cliche and I know we arent a couple…” his words hung in the air for a moment. What even were they anyways? Basically a couple, right? Just one that never spoke about how they felt, “I’d offer to be someone from Pride and Prejudice but honestly… I don’t think I can pull off the look.” Jack let his hands hang off of Magnolia’s arms, his thumb brushing against her soft skin, “Well… if you’re looking for something not obvious, I think playing it safe is not the way to go.”

“Lovesick puppies?” A soft giggle escaped her lips as she felt him kiss her shoulders. “Oh please, they don’t do that. I just ask nicely and usually they are nice enough to help out--or my bag of baked goods helps. I’m like Mary Poppins but with cookies!” Nothing about this scenario felt wrong or weird to her--like it was just normal to wake up in the bed of your crush without anything having happened the night before and the idea that it felt just right made her smile wide. “Jack--” She looked around the room they were in and let out a sigh. “Dang it, the jar doesn’t count in the bedroom.” Lia sent him a wink and she laughed a little, swiftly moving on to his next suggestion--a couples costume. Or, rather, a not-officially-a-couple couples costume. That name didn’t roll off the tongue half as well--but nevermind that. “First of all, you could pull off anything you wanted to--but even so, Pride and Prejudice might still be too obvious. Oh--wait, you said James Bond, don’t those movies always have a,” She furrowed her brows as she tried to think of the name, it resting on the top of her tongue. “A Bond Girl!” A Bond Girl--you forgot the name of Bond Girl. “What about that? I mean, to be fair I’ve never seen a James Bond movie--am I totally off base?”

If Jack had been drinking water, he would’ve choked, “Doesn’t count in the…” he let out a nervous laugh, “There you go surprising me again, as usual.” He buried his head into Lia’s neck as she rattled out ideas of a bond girl while he tried to think through his own. Austin Powers came to mind- and while that’d be fun, he didn’t think it’d quite hit the mark like he wanted it to. The thing was… Jack was tired of them playing this game- he was tired of them dancing around the idea of a relationship or of dating. They’d been metaphorically dating for most of their lives at this point, and maybe that’s why he’d been so reluctant to truly put effort into sealing the deal because he knew it took so much to start when really… he was ready to have the white picket fence ending with Magnolia tomorrow, if he could. Jack pulled Magnolia closer to him, “Maybe not James Bond… what about… I mean, like… assassins are kinda cool, aren’t they? Or spies? We don’t necessarily need to be characters, right?” It was in that moment that he had an epiphany-, “Wait! Have you ever seen Mr. and Mrs. Smith?” Jack pulled back, a wild grin on his face, “That would be so badass.”

“I have all sorts of tricks up my sleeve,” She grinned and kissed the top of his head as he buried his face in her shoulder. “Haven’t figured me out yet y’know.” Lia teased, her fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair as she listened to his follow up--though her mind was caught up in the idea of a couples costume--whatever they were, it was still enough to dress up in a costume that matched. But they had always done that, in some way--perhaps that was the first sign that there was clearly something more between them. Well, not the first sign--their inability to stay separate from each other was clearly number one. There would have been no shuffling in the tilt-a-whirl line if that wasn’t the case. But it wasn’t like she wanted to stay away either--as cheesy as it sounded, her world never felt more upright and normal than when she was with Jack and it made her heart skip when she thought about it. “Assassins? Oh wait--that’s the movie with Brad and Angelina, right?” Part of her was shocked that she had even seen the movie, but it had been years ago and didn’t remember much of it, except the fact they were married and….were trying to kill eachother. But they could leave that part out. Her face lit up. “No, that’s perfect. Like it’s a fantastic mix of James Bond and Bond Girl but with a twist.” She paused for a moment. “Wait--can we do that scene where they’re dancing in their fancy clothes but she also has a weapon on her thigh?” Lia had always thought that was the coolest part. “I love this idea.”

Jack couldn’t hold back a laugh, “Oh, so you’re telling me sweet little miss Magnolia Barnes wants to walk around with a gun strapped to her thigh and a cut in her dress up to her waist?” He bit his lip to bite back a bigger smile and squeezed her side, “I mean- it’s an easy costume, right?” Mr. and Mrs. Smith. He could do that- it was classy enough for a ball, but fun enough for a couple’s costume. Jack thought about the little paper ring in his bedside dresser- he’d been playing around with origami for a while and he’d made it on a whim- hoping to give it to Magnolia as a fun, whimsical gift when she needed a pick-me-up. It took a moment- a moment of Lia fumbling around with her words and Jack staring at her lips moving for him to comprehend the thoughts racing through his head. Lia. Ring. Mr. & Mrs. Smith. Couple. Costume. Ring. Lia. Ring. Mr. & Mrs. Jack sucked in a breath of air- the thought… the idea was crazy. It was… Jack knew it was possibly maybe even the dumbest thing he’d ever do or even suggest- but they’d waited so long. It was gonna happen someday, anyways, wasn’t it? “Hey… Magnolia?” Jack waited until he’d caught her eye, “You remember when our parents sat us down and told us that one day we’d be required to marry?” He remembered that day- it’d been the best day of his life- getting to marry the girl he’d been in love with for years sounded like heaven. “I know I acted like I was upset- like I didn’t want it,” Jack sucked in a deep breath. Was this going to be the conversation they’d been avoiding for months? Now? In his bed, a mess of tangled curls and twisted bedsheets? “But since then, I haven’t really thought about anything but getting to marry you. I haven’t seriously dated anyone since then- not without that thought of getting to be at the end of an aisle you get to walk down to me.” He pulled himself away from Magnolia and dug around in his bedside drawer and when he rolled back over, he held the little paper ring up between the two of them, “I guess I’m just trying to…” he paused, sucked in a deep breath, and asked, “Why don’t we just go as Mr. & Mrs. Whetstone instead? Would you marry me and give me the honor of making you my forever partner? Even more so than you already are.”

“Maybe I’m not so sweet after all. It’s not fair if only Nic gets to have all the fun” She nudged him lightly, jumping with a laugh at his squeeze. “I mean, that’s proof enough that its definitely not something people would think I’d wear.” Lia nodded a few times--Mr. and Mrs. Smith, that was perfect. After all, she already had dresses like that...well, not exactly like that, but she could find one easily. Plus, getting to see Jack in a suit was not her idea of a bad night, that’s for sure. It was a masquerade ball too! So they’d fit right in--wow, there really couldn’t have been a better costume idea. Her mind wandered around the idea again, trying to figure out just where she was going to get a thigh holster in Chicago--and also how to put one on. Maybe she’d get Moira to help her...Blinking a few times, she heard Jack use her name and her eyes locked with his. Something was different in the way he looked at her and she chewed her lip lightly, suddenly slightly nervous. Slowly nodding as she sat up, she listened, suddenly she was immediately back in that chair, all the way in South Carolina, looking at her momma as if she was crazy--when in reality she believed this might have been the only good thing she’d ever done. Marrying Jack was the one part of her future she had never wanted to change--and finding him again reignited a slight bit of hope that maybe it wouldn’t have to. She knew it was a long time coming if that were the case, right? Right? There was...was no way--was there? Magnolia heard the words he was saying--the words that echoed exactly what she felt but it wasn’t until a small, crafted paper ring appeared between them that Lia felt herself gasp loudly. Her hand flew to her mouth as she looked at him, the ring, and him again. No, this had to be a dream--there was no way he was proposing to her--and yet… “Jack--” Her mind spun, trying to find words to complete her though, the moment rendering her speechless in the best way. “Yes!” She finally managed to say, in between laughs and sniffles. It didn’t matter to her that they hadn’t ever said they were a couple--or been on a date. Magnolia Barnes had always known what her answer would have been if he had asked her to marry him--that was a choice she had made on her own years ago and one that had not changed. “Of course--of course. I can think of no better way I’d ever want to spend the rest of my life, Jack Whetstone. No better way.” Without thinking, she pulled him into a kiss--perhaps with slightly more force than she had anticipated. “Oops,” She giggled slightly, “Sorry.”

Jack felt his heart throb in his chest- the moment of silence that lingered between the two of them as he got his words out and just before she answered felt like a million years and less than a second all in one moment. Her ‘yes!’ had him laughing, tears maybe brimming his eyes (not that he’d admit that) and he eagerly leaned into the kiss, not at all minding the way their teeth clashed together as he went. Jack pulled back after a few more kisses and hopped out of bed- he followed the movement with half a happy dance and half a pace across the room, “Okay- we gotta call Momma, I’ll call the private jet company- Vegas sounds good, right? Not that either of us would normally get married there, but that makes sense, right? We’ll find a photographer and get married tomorrow morning. Halloween. Fly back just in time for the gala and then… surprise everyone?” Jack bit his lip- while he may not have been a planner like his fiance, he still liked to have things in order. “We’ll get you a dress in Vegas. Maybe get Elvis to marry us, too?” Jack was certain that his Momma would never let him get away with only an elopement, so the idea of having fun with the first ceremony- one for just the two of them (plus his momma), was his ideal perfect day. Jack jumped back on the bed and pulled Magnolia into another kiss, “Come on’, future Mrs. Whetstone- we got a lot to do and you still gotta go see Moira.”

A wash of utter joy spread over Magnolia’s entire being as she watched him react to her acceptance and she couldn’t help but laugh along with him--with her fiance. She wasn’t sure she could smile much wider than she currently was--but it was impossible for her not to try at that thought. Fiance. Future Husband. How long has she thought about that far off idea--and now it was here. Like really really here. “Wait--today?” Lia looked over at him pacing, blinking a few times as she caught up with what he was saying. “You mean like...like actually get married today?” The idea was--well, he was right. It wasn’t like either of them to do this and yet...it also made complete sense. Lia had just said she wanted to do something unexpected--and getting married out of the blue was pretty much the epitome of that. Though, as big of a risk as it was, it also felt like...common sense. Of course they’d get married today--how long had they already waited, in a relationship or not? For once in her life, the blonde had no reservations about this idea. Another laugh erupted from her chest and she nodded quickly. “For someone who doesn’t like to plan ahead, you sure are impressive in the moment. But yes--that sounds absolutely perfect. And honestly very easy--who said planning a wedding was hard?” She teased, kissing him back with a grin and doing her best to not get caught up in the moment again--not an easy feat. “Mmm, I’m up, I’m up--you’re little plan to get me out of bed worked a little too well. But go call your Momma, Mr. Whetstone, before her superpower figures it out and you’re in hot water.” Lia giggled, tugging gently on his curl as she skipped to the bathroom--there sure was a lot to do, no time to waste.

#[[its that elm shade red road clay you grew up on; jack]]#SCREAMS IN SURPRISE!!!#[[homecoming queen?; headcannons]]

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ericsonclan · 3 years

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Braided Joy

Summary: Jesse spends time with Savannah and lets her braid his hair before they go on a walk in the courtyard together.

Word Count: 1572

Read on AO3:

Jesse took a deep breath as he wandered towards his desk. A worn-out, tattered book about horses lay on the surface of it. A soft smile appeared on his lips at the memory of Ruby and Aasim gifting that to him on his birthday.

“Uncle Jesse! You gotta sit down in front of me!” Savannah’s bright voice called out. Jesse glanced over at the redheaded child who sat on his and James’ bed. Her feet dangled high above the floor and were kicking around impatiently.

“Just give me one minute, I have to find the hairbands,” Jesse’s words made a small frown appear on Savannah’s lips that dissipated in an instant when she got excited once more at the idea of braiding his hair. Jesse smiled and turned his attention back to the desk. Pulling open a drawer, he saw his secret stash of hairbands. Quickly putting them on his wrist, he shut the drawer and turned to walk back to Savannah.

The young redhead moved around excitedly on the bed causing her little pigtails to bounce with the movement. “Yay, hair braiding time! Hair braiding time!” Savannah exclaimed ecstatically as Jesse chuckled and sat down in front of her. Savannah reached over and grabbed the brush to brush out Jesse’s long black hair. Jesse sat in peaceful silence and glanced around his and James’ room. His eyes wandered up to the mint plant that sat proudly on their dresser. It was a gift that Prisha had given to James and Jesse; she’d told them that the smell of mint was said to have calming effects. His eyes then traveled around the room, noticing the camping supplies on the other set of bunk beds for whenever he or James wanted to sleep outside. Glancing to the right far corner of the room, he noticed the few books on their bookshelf along with the walker mask James had made and gifted to him a few years back. James’ mask lay right beside it. Jesse stared at it for a moment until he heard soft humming from behind him. He looked back to see Savannah gently brushing through his hair as she hummed a happy tune.

The redhead seemed to notice Jesse looking at her and she gave a bright smile. “Mama always hums whenever she brushes through my hair,” Savannah explained then began to hum again. The hairbrush brushed through Jesse’s hair smoothly.

“It’s nice,” Jesse looked back in front of him, his eyes focused on the few pieces of paper that covered the wall. Four drawings stood there, drawings James had made with the different kids. Drawings of James standing beside Lee Kenny and Zachariah at Ericson covered the right side of the wall while more heroic, wild adventures with Savannah and Maisy stood on the left side of the wall.

“Your hair is so soft and pretty,” Savannah’s small hands ran through Jesse’s hair and she laughed softly. The sensation of his hair tickled her hands.

“Thanks,” Jesse felt Savannah begin to slowly braid his hair. Her singing had stopped now that her concentration was completely focused on getting the braid right. Jesse sat in the serene silence for a moment before a warm, quiet tune escaped his lips. Savannah stopped for a minute and stared at him with wide eyes. Jesse never sung in public; hearing him was a rare treat. Her eyes locked with Jesse’s for a moment before she began to braid his hair again.

The room was filled with the gentle warmth of Jesse’s voice as Savannah continued to work. After a few minutes Jesse raised up his wrist and Savannah took one of the hairbands. The redhead mumbled to herself as she tried her best to tie the end of the braid tightly. After a few attempts she had successfully done it and she let out a small cheer. “I did it!”

“Good job,” Jesse pulled the braid forward and looked at it. It was a bit loose and sloppy but with how frequently Savannah wanted to braid his hair he knew that she would master the skill in no time.

Savannah quickly took back the braid. “Now for the surprise,”

Savannah’s words made Jesse raise an eyebrow. “You’re not going to put weird shit in my hair, right?”

Jesse’s words made Savannah giggle. “No, only good stuff,” The redhead reached in her pockets and pulled out some yellow flowers. Slowly she began to place flower after flower into Jesse’s hair. It only took a few seconds before Savannah spoke up again. “Okay, all done!”

Jesse pulled back his braid and his eyes grew large before softening at the sight.

“Pretty, right?” Savannah’s pigtails swayed as she leaned forward.

“Yeah,” Jesse stared at the flowers and felt his heart grow warm. Slowly he got up to his feet. “Alright, how about we go for a walk around the courtyard?” Jesse offered with a small, soft smile.

His words made Savannah smile excitedly. “Yeah! Carry?” She held up her arms out to Jesse.

“Okay,” Jesse gently picked up Savannah and walked forward with her. Balancing her on his hip, he opened the door and walked out before closing it. Strolling down the hallway, Jesse continued to carry Savannah in silence. His braided hair swayed softly with the movement and the sunlight shone brightly on the yellow flowers.

His footsteps gently echoed in the hallway as he made his way with Savannah to the courtyard. When they reached the door, Savannah leaned forward and struggled to open it with her hand. She was finally successful after a few seconds and gave a small grunt as she pushed it open.

“Thanks,” Jesse strolled forward and pulled the door closed behind him before he looked out into the courtyard. AJ was happily playing tag with his little sister Maisy while Louis was sitting with Juliet and James, the three of them happily coloring together. James laughed softly at something Juliet said before he looked up and caught sight of Jesse. His eyes immediately filled with warmth and love and he gave a happy wave. Jesse returned it then continued to walk with Savannah. “Want to join Uncle Louis and James and color for a bit?”

Savannah shook her head. “I wanna keep walking with you,”

“Okay," Jesse continued the walk, taking his time and enjoying the warm day and the cool breeze. His eyes took in the beautiful color of the leaves and the vines that grew on the school’s gates.

“Uncle Jesse, you know who you look like right now?" Savannah’s voice made Jesse return his attention to her.

“Who?”

“Aunt Prisha!” Savannah smiled at her own words and Jesse blinked for a second. He guessed he did look a bit like her right now with the braid. Just as that thought crossed his mind he caught sight of Prisha who was talking with Violet. The couple spoke for a moment before Violet leaned over and kissed Prisha’s cheek then took the small bouquet of purple flowers and walked off towards the graveyard. There, Allison was waiting and standing in front of Tenn’s grave with a bouquet of her own.

Suddenly Lee Kenny scampered on over towards Prisha and skidded to a halt in front of her. He had a shy smile on his face as he reached out his arms. “Auntie Prisha, up?” Lee Kenny’s big eyes looked up at Prisha.

“Alright,” Prisha smiled warmly down at Lee Kenny and knelt down to easily pick him up with her working arm. Rising up to her normal height, Prisha readjusted Lee Kenny and carried him on her hip.

“See, matching!” Savannah smiled up at Jesse who returned the expression and strolled forward.

“Hey, Prisha,” Jesse’s voice made her glance up from her small conversation with Lee Kenny.

“Jesse, I see you’re going on a walk around the courtyard too,” Prisha smiled warmly.

“That’s right. Wanna join us?” Jesse’s question made Lee Kenny’s eyes grow big. He was clearly excited about walking with both Prisha and Jesse and he got to hang out with Savannah too.

“I’d love to,” Prisha began to walk alongside Jesse for a while. The two of them talked about this and that: which inventions Prisha was working one with Willy, the plans Jesse and James had discussed with Clementine about a herd that may be passing through the area. Suddenly Savannah squirmed around in Jesse’s arm.

“You okay, Savannah?” Jesse looked over with concern. The redhead was trying to reach in her pockets again. After a second she pulled out some purple flowers.

“For Aunt Prisha! Lee Kenny, you can put them in her braid!” Savannah’s statement made Lee Kenny’s eyes widen in awe and he immediately grabbed the flowers. “Is it okay, Auntie Prisha?” Lee Kenny looked up into Prisha’s eyes.

“Sure, I think it's a wonderful idea,” Prisha smiled and Lee Kenny began to work on putting the flowers in her hair. He was careful to place them securely and soon the task was done.

“Now you and Uncle Jesse match!” Savannah exclaimed happily.

“Yes, we do,” Prisha shared a smile with Jesse. The pair continued to walk while Lee Kenny and Savannah began to start up their own conversation. The two kids quickly incorporated Prisha and Jesse into the conversation as they continued to stroll around the courtyard, all four of them enjoying the happy, peaceful moment that life had granted them.

#twdg #twdg jesse #twdg james #twdg savannah #twdg prisha #twdg lee kenny #twdg louis #twdg violet #twdg privet #twdg messe #fanfic

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persephonesfill · 4 years

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miss you on my lips

a/n: okay I literally have no idea what this is. i started it in january of 20 fucking 19, and i’m finishing it 15 months later. shit happened. this is super self-indulgent and nsfk so if you’re under 18 please do not click on this fic.

summary: When Steve leaves Stark Tower on a solo mission, Bucky and Tony find a way to pass the time until their Captain comes home.

ship(s): steve rogers/tony stark, steve rogers/james bucky barnes, james bucky barnes/tony stark, steve rogers/james bucky barnes/tony stark

rating: explicit

warning(s): light angst, heavy smut

word count: 7,488

—————

Bucky seldom slept on the nights Steve was missing from their bed. Both he and Tony had their ways of coping. Tony, ever the mother hen, would spend every waking moment in his workshop. He either worked on gear for himself or whoever was missing from their weird haphazard family.

"I can't help it, Buck," he had said, eyeing Bucky with those ridiculous doe eyes of his when Bucky had tried to convince him to get some sleep. "Keeping them safe keeps me going."

It had taken all of Bucky's strength not to sigh and bury his face in his hands. How he of all people had ended up with not one but two reckless boyfriends was beyond him.

Keeping the sigh but omitting the facepalm, Bucky had just pulled the smaller man into a hug and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, tucking it under his chin. "But who's keeping you all safe and healthy, huh? As much as I love DUM-E, he nearly gives you food poisoning once a week."

The aforementioned robot let out an affronted whir.

"DUM-E, language! What would Steve say?"

DUM-E had whirred again, this one long and low. It seemed like Bucky and Tony weren't the only ones missing Steve.

"Steve would say eat something and go to bed, Bambi," Bucky mumbled into his dark curling hair. This close, Bucky could smell motor oil and metal. It shouldn't have been so appealing, but it was so Tony. The strands of hair tickled his nose. Tony would need a haircut soon, although Bucky liked it like this; all warm brown waves and softness. He preferred this look over the gelled swoop he would don when he had to put on what Bucky and Steve had dubbed Tony's Media Mask™️.

"Seeing as Steve doesn't call me ‘Bambi’, I have a hard time believing you, Buckaroo."

Bucky huffed out a laugh. "Yes, he does. We both do. Those eyes of yours are dangerous, Bambi. All wide and innocent."

Tony twisted around from where Bucky had cornered him against his work-station, turned said dangerous eyes on him, and Bucky had melted. He had it bad, didn't he? One look and Tony had him wrapped around his finger.

Rolling his eyes, although Bucky could see him holding back a smile, Tony had just pecked Bucky on the lips. Tony had sent him on his merry way out of his workshop with a cheeky, "I'm anything but innocent, Barnes."

And that's how Bucky found himself pulling a Steve by demolishing punching bag after punching bag in the communal gym. He let the tension and worry from the previous week flow out of his body and into the rough canvas of the punching bag. Sometimes he did feel a bit silly. It wasn't like Steve was missing or on the run or God-forbid, dead. He was just on a solo mission, something they all had gone on too many times to count, and they had all returned home fine.

Bucky remembered mid-punch that this was Steve he was worried about, who always seemed to pick a fight with someone twice as big as him in the 40s. Decades in the ice hadn't changed that about him. Bucky frowned. He wasn't sure whether to be worried or proud. Super soldier serum or not, Bucky had the right to worry about his boyfriend.

Bucky ended up going through three punching bags by the time he was done.

Someone let out a long low whistle that echoed in the near-empty gym.

"Tony's going to have his hands full," Natalia, no Natasha, said, emerging from the sidelines into the light of the gymnasium. He hated himself for still calling her by the wrong name. Natalia was a reminder of both their bloody pasts. Pasts they'd both been trying their hardest to atone for. He understood her need for a new name, a new identity. During field missions, Bucky himself refused to be called "Winter Soldier." He found he was a fan of "White Wolf" these days.

Bucky looked her over. She was dressed in casual attire that she had lifted off the rest of them. The AC/DC shirt was clearly Tony's and judging by the way the grey hoodie she wore flooded her torso, that had to be Steve's. It looked like he and Tony weren't the only ones who missed him. Bucky wasn't surprised. Natasha wasn't vocal about it, but she cared about the team as much as they cared about her.

"Something plaguing your mind, Barnes?" she said, leaning against the wall looking to be without a care in the world. "Missing a certain super soldier?"

Bucky rolled his eyes and began to unwind the wrist wraps from his hands. "Tony will be fine. It'll give him something to do. You know he likes to keep busy," he said, ignoring her questions.

Bucky tossed the wraps into a trash can on his way out of the gym, Natasha not far behind him. "Any reason why you're keen on being my shadow?" he asked.

"Oh, no reason," she said, sidling up to him, "just waiting for you to thank me."

Arching a brow, he said, "For what? As far as I know, you haven't done anything for me recently."

"Except bring Steve home early."

Bucky froze. "What?"

"I may or may not have cashed in a few favors with Fury and got him to send someone to take over Steve's mission. You're welcome, by the way."

He blinked. "Why would you—"

Rolling her eyes, Natasha said, "Your and Tony's pining was affecting the morale."

"We weren't pining—"

"You were pining. Full-on longing sighs and gazing off into the distance, the works," Natasha's eyes glittered with mischief that would have been out of place had he not known her as well as he did. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Barnes."

"...Thanks, Nat."

"No problem," Natasha said.

The two of them settled into a comfortable silence while heading towards the elevator at the end of the hall. At the press of a button, the elevator appeared with a soft ding, announcing its arrival. They boarded the elevator, and it wasn't long before Natasha was exiting the elevator on her own personal floor.

"Hey, Barnes, keep it down when you tell Tony, will you? Some of us actually want to get some sleep tonight," she said. Her lips curled upward in a subtle grin.

Fighting back a flush, Bucky said pointedly, "Good night, Nat." They weren't that loud.

Her lilting laugh followed him all the way up to the penthouse.

Bucky sighed as he took in the vacant penthouse suite. Tony was probably still tinkering in his workshop.

"FRIDAY?" He called as he headed into the kitchenette for a much-needed glass of water. "Is Tony still in his workshop?"

"Boss is currently arguing with DUM-E in his workshop, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky chuckled. "What did DUM-E do?"

"DUM-E got worried when the boss fell asleep at his workbench and figured the best way to wake him up would be to spray him with the fire extinguisher." Bucky could have sworn he had detected some amusement in FRIDAY's voice. He filled a glass with tap water and took a long, grateful swallow, sating his thirst.

"Well, you're a sight for sore eyes."

Bucky's eyes darted to the staircase from which Tony had emerged. Not that he had doubted FRIDAY's words when she said DUM-E had tried to wake Tony up, but the sight that stood before him nearly made him spit out his water. Bucky could barely see his boyfriend's face beneath the mountain of foam that cloaked his body.

Two brown eyes blinked at him through the foam. "What?" Tony said. "Is there something on my face?"

At that, Bucky had to laugh. A full-bellied laugh that had him doubling over. "Aw, Bambi, what happened?" he said between fits of laughter.

Stomping his foot, Tony said, "I told you not to call me that! I'm not a deer." A dollop of foam slid from his shoulder. It landed on the ground with an audible splat that sent Bucky into another bout of laughter.

"Oh, yuck it up. The next time you come home looking ridiculous, I have full permission to laugh my ass off at you."

Tony placed his hands on his hips in what was no doubt supposed to be an authoritative gesture. Seeing as his boyfriend stood at 5'9" and currently looked like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, Bucky had a hard time keeping a straight face. "Duly noted," Bucky grinned.

Tony pointed a finger at him. "I'm holding you to that!"

"You have my word. Scout's honor."

Tony rolled his eyes. "I'm going to shower, and when I get back, I expect you to be groveling on your knees."

Bucky licked his lips. "Oh, sweetheart, I will gladly get on my knees for you." Despite his well-earned reputation as a playboy, Bucky just knew the genius was cherry red underneath all that foam. Good.

"You, my friend," Tony began, once again pointing an accusing finger at him, "are a dangerous man who's gonna drive me to an early grave. I'm going to shower," he repeated.

"I—"

"Alone!"

Despite Tony's claims later on, he did not pout, he glowered. "You don't even know what I was gonna say."

"I know you, honey. That's all I needed," and with that Tony, as dignified as he could, anyway, strutted to their bedroom. Their door locked with a distinct click.

Bucky smirked. It would take much more than a locked door to keep him out, but he'd figure he'd let his boyfriend have his free time.

As soon as Tony stepped out of the shower, he would do what he had promised and gladly get on his knees. Or maybe Tony would surprise him. For now, Bucky would have to entertain himself some other way.

—————

Bucky sat on the couch, in a clean plain white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, having ditched the sweat-soaked pair earlier. With his hair pulled up into a messy bun, and his feet propped up on their coffee table, he was the epitome of comfort. One arm draped over the sofa, the other holding the tv remote, Bucky flipped through the channels, looking for nothing in particular. His mind was elsewhere. Mainly occupied with thoughts of Tony, naked, in the shower, his body lathered in soapy bubbles and hot water sluicing down his firm back—

His phone buzzed in his pocket, jerking him out of his fantasy. A bit miffed that his fantasy had been interrupted, Bucky answered the call, practically growling out a "What?" These days he wasn't too concerned with propriety, and anyone who had this number was someone he trusted completely and wouldn't be bothered by the occasional curt greeting.

"Hello to you too, jerk."

It was unbelievable how quickly Bucky perked up when he heard that familiar voice. "Stevie?"

"The one and only."

"Are you on your way back already?"

Steve's voice grew sulky. "Aw, who told you?"

"Nat let it slip today while I was...training."

"You mean she ambushed you while you were destroying punching bags in the gym."

"How did—"

"You get aggressive when you're over-protective."

"I wouldn't be over-protective if you actually had a sense of self-preservation," Bucky retorted, his face going red. So he may have had a few mother hen tendencies. To be fair, Steve had the self-preservation skills of a sloth.

"You jump from a plane without a parachute once, and suddenly everyone thinks you don't care about your life."

Before Bucky could call bullshit on Steve—he had seen Steve leap from a plane without a parachute countless times both during the war and in the present—the words died in his mouth.

Tony, fucking Tony, had re-appeared fresh and clean from the shower, dressed in a tight black tank top that showed off the understated strength of his arms and dark grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. His hair, still wet from the shower, fell in messy waves as if he had recently run his hands through it.

"Buck? You still there?"

Tony put a finger to his lips as if to shush him.

Bucky wasn't sure what he was playing at, but judging by the smirk gracing Tony's features, he'd get a nice reward if he played along. Game on, then.

Bucky swallowed before saying, "Yeah, I'm here. Got distracted by the tv."

Tony's smirk turned into a full-blown grin, and the asshole strutted to where Bucky sat on the couch. How was it possible for someone to look that attractive in a tank top and sweatpants?

"Am I boring you, Barnes?" Steve asked with a teasing note in his voice.

"Of course not, Rogers," he replied. At the same time, his eyes greedily took in the sight of Tony's approaching form and found himself with a lapful of a tempting genius (not that Bucky was complaining). "What time do you think you'll make it back?"

"Hold on." There was a brief pause. "Around 2 am."

And of course, Tony decided that would be the perfect time to grind his hips down against Bucky. A small hiss escaped Bucky's mouth at the sudden but fleeting pleasure of friction against his groin.

"You okay, Buck?" Steve said, the playfulness from earlier leaving his tone only to be replaced with worry.

Tony grinned wickedly and repeated the action, his lean arms winding around Bucky's neck.

"Yeah, Stevie, I'm fine. Just stubbed my toe," he said, the lie coming quickly to him.

"It didn't sound like you stubbed your toe."

"Really," Bucky replied. "I'm fine. Just missing you," he said, his voice growing quieter at the end.

"Miss you, too, Buck," Steve replied, sounding forlorn even through the phone. "How's Bambi?"

At the mention of the moniker, Tony narrowed his eyes.

"Being a brat. Like usual."

"I'm not a brat," Tony muttered and leaned in to nuzzle at Bucky's neck.

Bucky closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He savored the feeling of Tony's mouth, soft and burning against his own skin.

"Is he there with you?"

Bucky had a hard time responding as Tony had decided that was the perfect time for his hands to wander. The genius' talented, nimble hands crept under Bucky's shirt, tracing lines along the muscled planes of his stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Tony pulled back from Bucky's neck and shook his head, his dark eyes wide and pleading.

"No," Bucky responded, playing along. His free hand settled on Tony's hip and squeezed. He smelled like Steve's body wash; pine and ocean brine. "He's shut up in his workshop."

Bucky could hear the fond exasperation in Steve's voice when he replied. "Of course, he is. Has he been sleeping? Eating?"

"Oh, I'm about to eat something," Tony said, earning a pinch on his ass from Bucky. The little yelp that escaped from Tony's mouth made Bucky grin.

Fear (and if he was being honest, a little bit of excitement) lanced through him, leaving him on edge; he had annoyed Tony, and Tony was going to retaliate. Bucky loved when Tony retaliated. Unbidden, his mind flashed to when he had been offered a scouting mission in Ukraine while in the middle of giving Tony a blowjob. Bucky had been ecstatic at the time, with it being one of the first missions SHIELD had cleared him for after his lengthy recovery post-HYDRA. In his excitement, though, he had left Tony in the dust. Luckily, he had a sweet and understanding boyfriend who had cuffed him to the bed when he got back and sucked Bucky off to his heart's content. That had been a good day.

"If you count motor-oil smoothies as food, then yes, he's been eating," Bucky said, eyeing Tony with a heated gaze as he slid off from his lap with all the grace of a panther and onto his knees.

The mere sight of Tony on his knees, looking up at Bucky from beneath his long, dark lashes, set his blood alight. The only way it could have been better was if Steve were right beside him.

Steve's sigh echoed in Bucky's ear. "As soon as I get home, I'm handcuffing him to the bed."

Had he been a more conscientious man, Bucky would have been ashamed at how much the thought of Tony tied up excited him. Instead, he was just horny; his cock had gone from semi-hard to full hardness in a matter of seconds, and his sweatpants erred on the side of just too tight. That familiar hot coil of arousal pooled in his groin.

As if he had read his mind, Tony's hands reached up and tugged at the waistband of Bucky's sweatpants.

"Something tells me that he'd like that, Stevie," Bucky said, his voice sounding a bit breathless to his own ears. He lifted his hips up just enough so Tony could work his pants down past his hips and to his thighs. Bucky damn near sighed in relief as his cock escaped the confines of his pants. "No boxers?" Tony mouthed, raising a brow.

Bucky shrugged. He liked to be comfortable, sue him.

"I didn't mean it like that, Buck," Steve said, although Bucky could hear the hint of interest in his voice.

"But Tony'd look so nice," Bucky replied, looking down at Tony. "All spread out like a centerfold." Tony's eyes were black as pitch as one of his hands encircled Bucky's cock. His grip was on the edge of too loose, making Bucky pulse with need in Tony's hands. "Oh fuck," he groaned. Pre-come beaded at the slit of his cock.

"Bucky…" Steve said, his voice a pitch or two lower. "Where's Tony right now? For real?"

Tony didn't turn his puppy dog eyes onto him like Bucky thought he would. Whatever game Steve wanted to play intrigued Tony more than the one they were already playing. He just stared at him, the picture of sweet innocence, his eyes wide and shining.

"On his knees," Bucky said. His eyes fluttered shut as Tony slowly, almost lazily, began to stroke his cock. "Bein' a fuckin' tease," he said, a bit of Brooklyn slipping into his words. His accent always made an appearance when he was horny. It drove Tony wild.

Bucky heard Steve's breath hitch and a rustling movement. "...Put me on speaker," Steve said, his voice louder than before.

Bucky's fingers fumbled with his phone in his excitement, but he managed. "Okay," he said. "You're on speaker."

"Tony? Baby, can you hear me?"

Tony visibly perked up at the sound of Steve's voice. "Loud and clear, Captain."

Steve sucked in a breath, and Bucky had to stifle a chuckle. He knew just how much Steve liked it when one of them pulled rank on him in the bedroom. Not that Bucky was any better. One "sarge" from Tony or Steve had him dropping his pants then and there. "Good," Steve said. Something dark and delightfully dangerous drifted down Bucky's spine at the commanding tone in his voice; he loved when Steve used his Cap voice in bed. Or on the helicarrier. Or in the kitchen. Or—

"I want you to do me a favor," Steve continued, startling Bucky out of his revelry.

"Hmm," Tony said, his thumb swiping over the head of Bucky's cock, collecting some of the pre-come that had gathered there. A trill of pleasure ran down Bucky's spine. "Depends on what it is. I'm a little preoccupied."

"Preoccupied?"

"Building robots, giving blowjobs, the usual."

Steve chuckled. "Then, lucky for you, our interests align."

"Color me intrigued," Tony replied. "What have you got in mind, Captain?"

"You're playin' with Bucky, aren't you, baby?" Some of Brooklyn had slipped back into Steve as well.

"Yes," Tony said, his voice savoring the word. "He was being mean. So I decided to be mean back."

"Wasn't bein' mean," Bucky grumbled, but there was no heat in his words. "Just thought you looked cute is all. You shoulda seen him, Stevie. Head to toe covered in foam."

"DUM-E?"

"DUM-E," Bucky said in affirmation.

"It wasn't cute," Tony said, huffing. "I looked like I had a severe case of rabies."

"So, Bucky was bein' mean," Steve said.

"Don't take his side," Bucky interjected.

"I think I will, Buck."

Bucky couldn't decide whether or not he liked the dark note Steve's voice had taken on.

"Tell me what you've already done to Bucky, sweetheart," Steve said. "And I'll go from there."

"I ground on his lap," Tony said, his voice going low. "Got him all hot and hard the way he likes. Then I slid his pants down, Captain."

"No underwear, right?"

"None," Tony said.

"Fuckin' naughty, Buck."

"Don't pretend like you don't love it," Bucky drawled, unashamed. "Easy access, ain't it?"

"Keep goin', Tony."

"You should see him, Steve," Tony said. "He's so hard and ready for me, he's practically leaking."

Maybe Bucky should have been embarrassed, but he found it hard to be bashful when it was the truth. His boyfriends were hot; of course his body was going to react the way it did. And something...something about the wet, slick sound of Tony's hand pumping his cock just wound him up even more.

"Sounds like you got a head start. Here's what I want you to do for me. Are you listenin', baby?"

"Yes, sir."

It was the sir that got Bucky, his flesh hand wrapping around Tony's and forcing him to speed up his pace. A steady tangle of lust had built up inside of him, and fuck, he was ready to let it go.

"I want you to get FRIDAY to stream this to my phone."

Oh, fuck yes. Phone sex was always fun, but Steve watching them and ordering them around from the helicarrier where anyone could hear or see? It turned him on more than it probably should have.

Clint had always called the three of them exhibitionists after one too many unfortunate (for him anyway) times he had walked in on them macking on each other in public.

"Done," Tony said. "FRIDAY, if you please?"

"Already on it, boss," FRIDAY replied, and was that...was that embarrassment in her voice? Could she even feel embarrassment?

"Perfect," Steve said, bringing Bucky's mind away from the complications of the emotions of AI, and back to the present. "You two look fuckin' gorgeous."

"We'd look better with you here," Bucky said.

"Soon," Steve said. "Now, Tony, I want you to let go of Bucky's cock."

Bucky nearly let out a whine. "Stevie, I—"

"Aw, Buck, you look good when you're frustrated. Your cock's so fuckin' red."

"Because I need to fuckin' come."

"You'll come when I let you."

Tony, listening to Steve's orders (for once), let go of Bucky's cock although he looked wroth to do it.

Tony's eyes had glazed over, Steve's commands washing over him and sinking him into that special place that only Steve and Bucky could send him to.

"Kiss him," Steve said. His tone left no room for argument. "Shut him up, Tony."

Tony rose gracefully from his knees and reclaimed his proper place on Bucky's lap.

"You heard the man." Bucky swallowed, throat tight all of a sudden. "You gonna shut me up, doll?"

A wicked smile crossed Tony's face. "If you're quiet by the time I'm done with you, I'm obviously doing something wrong."

And with that, Tony leaned in. Bucky met him halfway, dropping his phone in the process, not that it mattered. Thanks to FRIDAY, Steve had a crystal clear view of them.

Bucky loved kissing Tony. It was one of his favorite things to do, right up there with bugging Sam, sparring with Natasha, and kissing Steve.

Tony kissed like he did everything else; without a care in the world. As if it came as naturally to him as breathing or blinking. He knew exactly when to spur on the kiss, pressing his lips incessantly against Bucky's, his hands reaching up to tug Bucky's hair from its bun. The tips of his hair brushed against his shoulders. He was in desperate need of a haircut, but he wasn't quite ready to let go of the way Tony's fingers carded through the silky strands.

Bucky broke the kiss briefly just to tug insistently at Tony's tank top. Tony complied, lifting his arms up. As soon as the tank was over his head and off, Bucky threw it behind him, not caring where it landed. They'd find it later.

Bucky's cock was harder than ever, all hot and slick with pre-come where it rested in between him and Tony's abs.

He wanted Tony to suck him down. He wanted to turn Tony over onto his knees and eat him out until he begged for mercy. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted.

Bucky slipped his tongue into Tony's mouth and sought out Tony's. They met with a hot slide of flesh against flesh. Tony tasted clean and minty, from his time in the shower. There was something behind the toothpaste as well, something that reminded him uniquely of Tony. Moaning into his mouth, Tony's clever fingers tugged at Bucky's hair until he growled and nipped Tony's lip in response. His hands slid up Tony's thighs, riding up until he was cupping Tony's ass in his hands. He squeezed and kneaded at Tony's ass exactly the way the genius liked it, rough, yet teasing, until Tony was practically whining.

"Enough playin' around," Steve's voice came from overhead. FRIDAY had probably wired it over once she had realized that there was no chance Bucky was going to pick his phone back up again. "Sweetheart, you know what to do."

Tony pulled away from Bucky's lips, a thin string of saliva connecting them. Bucky wanted to close the gap between them and kiss Tony until he was breathless some more, but Steve apparently had other plans. Other plans that Tony was aware of.

Tony kissed Bucky's nose, the corner of his mouth, working his way down until he was at Bucky's neck. Usually, Bucky and Steve were the ones to mark up Tony's neck, but he wasn't opposed to a little bit of role reversal. Especially when Tony would nip at his neck and soothe the mark by running his tongue over it. His heart drummed in his chest so loud, Bucky swore he could hear it, as Tony made his way down, down, down, until he was leaving marks at Bucky's collarbones.

"It's a shame these are going to be gone by morning," Tony murmured, his hands leaving Bucky's hair to pull at the edges of his tank top. Following his lead, Bucky let go of Tony's ass and lifted his arms above his head, his tank top quickly following.

"You'll just have to leave some more in the mornin'," Bucky said, his voice hoarse. Tony kissed his way down Bucky's chest, pausing to take one of his nipples into his mouth.

Tony was talented with his tongue, there was no doubt about that, as he worked Bucky over just as well as any machine down in his workshop. While his mouth worshipped one nipple, Tony lavished the other with attention with his (fucking wonderful) hands; he pinched and rolled Bucky's nipple, sending unfamiliar, yet welcome, sparks of pleasure down his chest and straight to his groin.

Tony made his way to the crux in between Bucky's thighs. The sight of the great, indomitable Tony Stark on his knees, lips red and kiss-swollen, pupils blown wide, and his dark, curling hair, made even more of a mess, did something to Bucky inside. Only he and Steve got to see Tony like this. Tony had chosen them, had granted them the gift of seeing him in such a vulnerable state. Equal parts love and lust swelled inside of him to the point of bursting. He hoped that this would be a sight that he would see until the end of his days. If there was an afterlife, for people like the likes of them, he wanted it to be exactly like this.

Bucky watched with bated breath as Tony pressed kisses to the muscles of his thighs until his mouth was hovering over his cock. Given the look of determination and longing in Tony's eyes, he half-expected him to give up their little game and take Bucky down to the base of his cock, but that wasn't the case. His genius was waiting for something. "Go ahead, sweetheart. Take him into your mouth," Steve said.

"Please, Tony," Bucky said, not even trying to hide the whine in his voice. Dignity was overrated when you were so close to coming.

A light pink tongue darted out and licked at the head of Bucky's cock, slowly, as if Tony were savoring the taste.

"All the way," Steve said, his voice a low growl at this point. He sounded just as wound up as Bucky.

Tony chuckled, his warm breath ghosting over Bucky's cock. Bucky shivered. His cock was flushed to the extreme, and damn near twitching. A steady stream of pre-come leaked from his slit, a droplet tracing a phantom trail all the way down to his balls.

"Since you asked so nicely," Tony teased and took the head of Bucky's cock into his mouth.

A groan escaped the lips of both Bucky and Steve, and Bucky just knew that the other man was probably stroking his own cock in some alcove on the helicarrier. Tony licked at the trail of pre-come, massaging Bucky's cock with his tongue from the head all the way to the base.

"That's it, Tony," Steve said. "Fuck, you look so good with a cock in that smart mouth of yours. Why don't you go ahead and touch yourself for us, hm?"

Tony reached down and worked his sweatpants down with one hand, the other too busy gripping Bucky's thigh as he bobbed his head. Bucky threw his head back against the couch, basking in the pleasure. His senses were under assault; Steve's wrecked voice, the tight, hot, wetness of Tony's mouth, the smell of sex and sweat, and Steve's body wash, all had him ready to burst in record time.

Tony moaned when his hand had settled into a nice rhythm, the vibrations traveling straight to Bucky's groin. His flesh hand settled on the base of Tony's neck and pushed him down until his nose was flush with Bucky's stomach.

"Fuck, yes," he hissed, his fingers knotting into Tony's hair.

"Go ahead and fuck his mouth, Buck," Steve said, all quick and breathless. "He can take it."

Tony moaned once more, and with that Bucky let go, bucking his hips upward into Tony's mouth. He nearly came apart when he hit Tony's throat because instead of gagging, Tony took him in stride and swallowed around him. So Bucky did it again. And again. And again. Because Tony took it so fucking well as if his purpose in life was to suck Bucky's cock like his life depended on it.

Bucky decided to chance it and look down at Tony. Tony was stroking his own dick slowly, intent on savoring the moment; he didn't have an out of this world libido like the likes of Bucky and Steve, who were good for three rounds at least in one night. God, Tony was...Tony was a fucking wreck; his pink lips stretched around the base of Bucky's dick, as spit dribbled from his mouth. His eyes shone like the pavement after a storm, all wet with unshed tears. It was the look of utter bliss in his black eyes that had Bucky coming with a curse on the tip of his tongue. Tony's lips stayed wrapped around him, swallowing his load with the kind of ease that only came with practice. Bucky pulled out of Tony's mouth, spent but still hard enough to cut diamonds. That first orgasm was enough to sate the burn of arousal in his mind. Now...now he was ready for the main course.

In one quick motion, Bucky leaned forward and seized Tony's face, pulling him into a searing kiss. Tony's gasp of surprise morphed into a moan once Bucky's tongue invaded his mouth. Fuck, he could taste himself on Tony's tongue. It shouldn't have turned him on as much as it did.

"Pants. Off. Now," he growled once the need for air won out against his arousal. "Or I'm rippin' 'em off."

"You sound a little worked up," Steve said. The amusement in his voice was audible.

"Oh, trust me, Rogers, as soon as you get back, you're gettin' the same treatment."

"Shakin' in my boots, Buck."

"Fuck you."

"When I get back," Steve shot back."Why don't you and Tony show me what I'm missin'? You heard him, sweetheart. Pants off."

"You've been all sorts of bossy today, Captain," Tony said but made quick work of his sweatpants, pushing them down the remainder of his legs and kicking them off.

"I don't hear you complainin'," Steve said. "As a matter of fact, I think you love it, Tones."

"What can I say?" Tony said, stalking closer to Bucky, limbs all loose and languid despite having been kneeling for a considerable amount of time. Sometimes Bucky was amazed at just how much Tony could take. "I'm a simple man with simple tastes."

Tony seated himself on Bucky's lap for what had to be the umpteenth time that night. Tony's skin burned against his. His hands seized Tony like he was going to vanish into thin air if he didn't have a hold on him. "I see a handsome super soldier, I take him for a ride." Tony ground down against Bucky's lap, their cocks bumping together, making both of them gasp.

The friction was dizzying, addictive, as Tony did it again and again until both of their cocks were smeared with pre-come. The slickness made it all the better. Bucky could have come just like that, spilling all over Tony's thighs. The only thing that stopped him was the thought of coming inside Tony instead.

"Lube," Bucky breathed before his need to rut against Tony distracted him.

"No need," Tony said.

His confusion must have shown because Tony took his hand and guided it down, down, down to the cleft of Tony's ass. When his fingers brushed over something hard, it left both him and Steve swearing; Tony had worked a plug into himself.

Growling, Bucky pressed on the plug, working it deeper into Tony until he cried out, his hands flying up to clutch at Bucky like his life depended on it.

"You fuckin' minx," he said. "I mean it, one of these days I'm gonna cuff you to the bed, doll, and I'm going to show you just how bossy Stevie and I can be."

"Later," Tony said, throwing him an earnest look that showed Bucky he meant it. "Right now, I just want you to fuck me. Come on, handsome, let's put on a good show for Steve."

"Come on, Buck," Steve jumped in. "I'm so close."

Saying nothing, Bucky instead worked the plug out of Tony, only to replace it with two of his fingers. Tony yelped at the sudden intrusion.

Bucky cursed; Tony was so already so hot and wet around his fingers. He didn't think he'd be able to last that long in Tony's ass. All the more reason to have a round two. He worked his fingers into Tony's entrance, withdrawing every time he came close to Tony's prostate. He savored every little whimper, every whine that fluttered forth from Tony's lips like it was the sweetest song he had ever heard.

"Not so fun on your end, is it?" he smirked.

"B-bastard!" Right at that moment, Bucky drove his fingers into Tony's hole and curled them into a come-hither motion that had Tony squealing.

"What was that, doll? Couldn't hear it over your whinin'."

"Bucky, please."

"What was that you said to Stevie earlier?" Bucky said, ignoring Tony's pleas. "I was bein' mean?"

"You're such an asshole," Tony said without any heat.

"Am I still bein' mean, Bambi?" Bucky said, stilling his fingers.

"Yes! Just fuck me already!"

Tired of teasing (for now at least), Bucky pulled his fingers out of Tony and wasted no time sinking his cock into the depths of Tony, condom be damned. It's not like they truly needed one in the first place with the serum eradicating any and all diseases for him and Steve. Tony had been strictly monogamous, ever since his relationship with Pepper. Gone were the days of the billionaire playboy version of Tony Stark. He could still fuck like one, though.

Tony was still tight around Bucky despite having the plug and Bucky's fingers up his ass. Bucky went slow for his sake, easing into him, inch by inch.

"Fucking hell," Tony said. "You're so fucking big, Sarge, I can hardly take it."

"You can," Bucky growled. "That hasn't stopped you before, baby." It took all of Bucky's willpower not to come the second he had entered Tony. He knew he wouldn't last long, given how long it had been since the last time they had fucked paired with the thorough teasing and blowjob he had received from Tony earlier. "Fuck, I missed seeing you like this. Tell me you got a good angle, Stevie."

"A fuckin' superb angle," Steve said, sounding as wild as Bucky felt. "You're splittin' him open, Buck. Now go ahead and fuck him. You know he can take it."

Bucky didn't mind following orders as long as Steve was the one giving them. Tony lifted his hips in compliance until just the tip of Bucky's cock was still inside of him. When Tony sunk back down, throwing his hips back, Bucky rocked into him, aiming for his prostate.

Tony's moan sounded like it was punched out of him by the force of Bucky's thrust.

"Again," Steve ordered.

"Fuck, Steve," Tony whimpered. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

"Not tryin' to kill you, sweetheart," Steve said. "I'm tryin' to make you feel alive. And Bucky's helpin' me, aren't you, Buck?"

"Damn right," Bucky said. He bucked his hips into Tony's at the end of his sentence. "Tryin' to light a fire inside you, doll."

"Is that so?" Tony's breath was warm against Bucky's ear, making the hairs on his neck stand up.

It was as if every nerve in Bucky's body had been set aflame. He was so hot. Sweat clung to his temples, slicking his skin.

Bucky's hands sought out Tony's ass as he began to thrust into him, keeping a steady pace. "Yes," he hissed when Tony started to rock his hips in time with Bucky. "You always make us feel good. Wanna make you feel good, too."

They had slipped into a steady rhythm, Bucky's hips working in tandem with Tony's like they were made for it. Bucky savored the little gasps and moans he could fuck out of Tony with each thrust of his hips. He even made it a little game for himself, switching the angle of his thrusts, slowing down or speeding up his pace, and seeing what other sounds he could get him to make. He especially loved the sound Tony made when Bucky's palm connected with the flesh of Tony's ass with a loud, satisfying smack. Tony dropped his head into the crook of Bucky's neck, his mouth pressing hot, wet kisses along the length of Bucky's throat. He refreshed the previous hickeys he had left earlier, and no doubt added a few new ones.

Bucky did it again, this time on Tony's thigh, the slap sounding loud and perfect to Bucky's ears.

"I'm gonna come," Steve ground out. "Fuck, I'm gonna come all over my fuckin' hands."

"Wish I was there," Tony keened, looking up from Bucky's neck. "I'd lick it off your fingers one by one."

"I know you would. You'd do fuckin' anything for me, sweetheart." The way Steve said it, Bucky knew it wasn't a question. Tony would do anything for Steve. And Steve would do anything for him.

"God, Cap, I want to come with you," Tony said, riding Bucky in earnest now. Bucky tilted his hips ever so slightly, and he was sliding deeper into Tony than he had ever been. Tony was full-on shouting now as his ass slapped against Bucky's thighs with each thrust. If the rest of the tower didn't know what they were doing before, they sure as hell knew now.

One hand leaving Tony's hips, he steered Tony's mouth toward his, slotting their mouths together in a sloppy, bruising kiss, if one could even call it that. With his other hand, he took Tony's leaking cock into his hands, jerking him with practiced ease, greedily swallowing each of Tony's moans. Tony came with a muffled shout, spilling wetly over Bucky's hands and thighs. Amid his ecstasy, Tony pulled at Bucky's hair, and that was it for him. He thrust upwards into Tony, relishing in the tight clenching heat of him, as electricity zipped through his veins. He spilled into Tony, nearly whimpering at the vice-like grip on his spent cock. His blood, his very soul, had been set alight.

Tony was the one who broke their feverish kiss; instead, he settled for light, loving pecks all over Bucky's face. A wave of exhaustion slammed into Bucky like a battering ram. His body was all loose and languid; he knew if he were to try to stand, he'd risk crumpling to his knees like a puppet. He held onto Tony and tried to catch his breath. His hair clung to the nape of his neck, damp with sweat.

"I love you," Bucky said. He pressed a sloppy kiss to Tony's temple.

"Can't talk," Tony mumbled. "I'm dead. You and Steve killed me." He hummed in content when Bucky started to card his fingers through his hair.

"I'm only 50 percent responsible," Steve chimed in. "I'm not even there."

"I know," Tony pouted. Bucky wanted to kiss it away. He wanted Steve to help him. "I wish I could just teleport you here. Actually—" Tony began to stir.

Bucky pulled the genius close to his chest, ignoring the mess of come and sweat that was swiftly starting to dry on their skin. They would just have to shower later, and Bucky never turned down a chance at a joint shower with one of his favorite men. "Oh no, you don't, boy wonder."

"I'm with Buck," Steve said. "I'll get there the old fashioned way."

"The old-fashioned way is boring. And slow. I need you here, yesterday, Cap. I need both my boys with me."

Something in Steve's voice softened. "I'll see if they can speed up the flight a bit."

"Thank you, Stevie," Bucky said. "It's been hell without you. Even just hearin' your voice has us going crazy."

"I've been thinkin', Bucky," Steve said. "We deserve a vacation. All three of us."

Tony hummed. "A vacation sounds nice. Somewhere warm. With a beach."

"Somewhere with a lot of culture, too," Bucky added. "Art galleries for Steve."

"And good food for you, Buck," Steve finished.

"I hear Barcelona is nice this time of year," Tony said.

"We can hash out the details when I get home," Steve said. "...And I missed you both, too. Why is it always so hard?"

"That's what she said," Tony said under his breath. Bucky flicked him on his ear, earning himself a patented Tony Stark Death Stare™.

"Quit being a dork," Bucky chided.

"Make me, Sarge."

"Stevie, I don't care if you fuckin' break the sound barrier speeding home. Hurry up and come home before I tie Tony up for real."

Steve's answering chuckle washed over him like a wave. "I'll try and make it for round two," he said.

"We'll be waiting," Tony said, and with that, the call was over all too soon. Immediately, Bucky was overcome with longing.

"I miss him, too," Tony said.

"At least he's comin' home early. That's all we can ask for, right?"

Tony shrugged. "If you had let me look into teleportation like I wanted to—"

"Absolutely not."

"You guys are no fun," Tony replied. "Leave it to me to fall in love with two crotchety old men."

"Crotchety, eh?" Bucky asked, rolling his hips, with fluid ease. Round two was looking more and more appealing.

Tony's breath hitched. "Okay. Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna shower—"

"Together?"

"Of course," Tony said, not missing a beat. "Get each other all soapy and wet, and hopefully by the time we get out, Steve will be here. Then both of you can show me how young and virile you are."

"Then we plan our vacation?"

"Nap then, vacation planning."

"You're on, doll."

#stuckony #steve rogers #tony stark #james bucky barnes #nsfk #lemons #marvel #mcu #smut #imperialstark fic #imperialstark writing #my writing #my fic #stuckony fic #stuckony fanfic #stuckony fanfiction #stony #stucky #winteriron

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rodeoxqueen · 4 years

Note

Ever since I got this idea I haven't been able to stop thinking about Dante being a stripper cowboy 😳😳 Maybe smol shy S/O was dragged by her friends into a strip club when she caught the attention the attention of a certain red devil? 👀🌹 I have a mighty need for some Dante erotica, I'm sorry 😅

Howdy Howdy,

Partner, there’s no need to apologize. If anything, I’m sorry this request was sitting in my inbox for more than a week. I was watching as many male stripper movies as I could find to make this accurate. Here’s a fully written work to make up for the wait.

Part II is in the making, I couldn’t fit all that raunchiness into one chapter. For my male and gender-neutral readers, I’ll do my best to write inclusive installments that make you feel sexy and well-loved by this stripper cowboy. All readers deserve a lap dance.

Yours,

Rodeo

Can You Touch This?-Cowboy!Stripper! Dante/Reader-(PART I)(AFAB! READER)

Tags/Warnings: 18+, AFAB! Reader, Stripper!AU, Magic Mike!Au, Erotica, Minors Do Not Try It.

Read It On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256070/chapters/69242487

You were never one for large crowds, alcohol, loud music, and nudity. So what a mess you were in, your friends dragging you into a strip club.

They practically herded you to their car, blindfolding and ear-muffing you while giggling. After driving in some unfamiliar directions, you were pulled into a strange building.

So when you couldn’t hear your own thoughts due to the overbearing bass in the room you were in, you realized you should’ve known better. The blindfold and earmuffs were taken off and you opened your eyes to a neon-lit room with the most hard-cut abs right in your face.

“A strip club?! W-why would you think I’d want to go to a strip club?”

“Okay, first of all (Y/N). It’s a male strip club. Second, come on! I know you want to touch some diamond abs!” One of your friends exclaimed as they threw bills at one very tan and very oiled up man named Diego. The box from before landed on your lap, and you unwrapped it to find a giant stack of dollar bills.

“Now stuff them bills down some hottie’s pants!”

The orange thong-wearing male with the most defined quads you had ever glanced at winked at your friend and opted to dance on someone else. Clutching your drink, you swallowed thickly as other males who clearly went to the gym every other hour thrust their hips proactively at you.

Your friends had called ahead and bought the lot of you a table to the stage, much to your chagrin.

“My god, how many themes do these guys dress in?” You squeaked as an entertainer dressed like James Bond (minus the clothes except for the bowtie and gun holster) ground on the stage floor.

“Not enough! Now make it rain, (Y/N).” Another friend demanded as she took another shot.

You made a noise as your hand was forcibly placed onto an eight-pack. You quickly threw a wad of bills at the man and ran off to the bar.

“I gotta go!” You panicked, speed-walking to the bar in your heels. Stomach quivering, you put a few bills down and asked for a stronger drink. Maybe you could pass out on the table and your friends would feel bad and take you home.

You sighed as you watched your friends have the time of their lives, although they noted your absence.

“Ah, could tell. Watched you get dragged in here.” He chuckled.

“I-I was tricked, first of all!” You exclaimed, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“I’m Dante.”

“Nice to meet you, Dante. I’m (Y/N).” You impulsively stuck your hand out to shake and stilled at his strong and warm grip.

He whistled.

“Nice name for a nice lady. It’s your birthday right?” You nodded.