#so here's something none of you asked forrrrr

[nirikeehan]

Happy Friday dearest!! YASSS HORROR PROMPTS how about #4 (?? I’m sorry if this is not the correct number) from the Eldritch Aesthetic list: “Something pretending to be human”

Forrrrr Thalia and Dorian??? Or Thalia x Cullen uwu

Well. She mentions Cullen.

Who's pretending to be human? One of these two characters and it's not Thalia!!!!!! ahahaha

You know what the real horror is? The class struggle, that's what.

More Curse of Strahd crossover; I can't be stopped

Metrion is borrowed from Curse of Strahd: Twice Bitten, the best DND podcast you've never heard but absolutely should, it's fantastic

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 2281

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“They don’t like me. They don’t trust me.” His words are slurred, the wineskin in one hand, the long leather coat trailing off one bony shoulder. “They don’t want me here.”

Thalia surveys him, her strange, new friend in this strange, new land. He’s drunk. This has happened three nights in a row, and it’s beginning to worry her.

“It’s not that,” she says, trying not to wince. “They’re grateful you brought me back safe. You’re just a little—” Rough around the edges, she tried to say to Pravin, who laughed and told her that was a delicate term for a charlatan. What is it, Thalia, about those peasant accents that make you want to do charity work? Her chest still aches from the insult. “Look. There’s not a lot of people around here we’ve been able to trust. Their suspicion is understandable, isn’t it?”

“You didn’t mention the lot of them is nobles.” Metrion appears not to hear her, pacing between the space of two trees. They’re camping by the shore of Lake Zarovich, with intel that Vallaki is too dangerous politically and the woods too dangerous physically. The tree line is as far from camp as he is willing to wander, and he points accusingly back in the direction of the tents. “You didn’t mention you’re some big shot lady, neither.”

“They’re not all nobles,” Thalia protests. “Blackwall isn’t. Hawke barely is, he grew up poor and had to go on a whole quest to restore his family’s—” She realizes Metrion probably doesn’t want a recitation of Tales of the Champion right now. “And I’m the Inquisitor. So what? I don’t understand why any of that matters. It doesn’t matter here least of all, in a world where Strahd von Zarovich is in charge.” 

She watches him physically recoil at the sound of his name. He shakes his head and takes another pull from the wineskin. “I don’t belong here,” he mutters, looking at the ground. 

Thalia blinks. “None of us do, you said so yourself.”

“’S not what I mean. This is a proper retinue, innit? For you and your very important friends.” 

Thalia recognizes the self-loathing in his voice. She’s heard it before and it hurts just as much as all those other dark moments — in the dim light of the Val Royeaux jail when she visited Blackwall, in Cullen’s office on the bad days, in the nook of the rookery library as Dorian told her of the sins of his father. “And if I said you were a very important friend?” 

Metrion chuckles bitterly. “You don’t know me, love. Not barely.” 

“I know you could’ve left me to die to save yourself and you didn’t.” Thalia crosses her arms over her chest. “You helped me hide and disguise myself so Strahd wouldn’t recognize me again. I’ve plenty of practice with people selling themselves short in an attempt to push me away, Metrion.” She swallows hard, trying not to think of Blackwall sitting in camp, avoiding her with his steely eyes. “It’s not going to work this time.” 

Metrion sways on his feet a little. He looks at her with a helpless expression, then leans against the tree trunk and slides slowly to the ground, legs to chest, the wineskin resting on his knees. His yellow eyes are distant.  

Thalia chews her lip. The silence stretches.

She’s turning to go when she hears him ask softly, “What d’you mean, ‘this time’?” 

She looks at him again, her throat tight. “It’s a long story.”

“Yeah, well. We got all night, don’t we?” He holds up the wineskin, jiggles it at her, laughs nervously. “All our lives, supposedly.”

Thalia takes a breath. “If I tell you, will you promise to tell me why you hate nobles so much?” 

His jaw works back and forth. She catches a glimpse of his long gold incisor. “I’ll think about it.” 

Thalia snorts. “Not good enough.”

“All right, yes, fine. Story swap time. Just sit down and have a drink before I change my mind, yeah?” 

She sits. The grass is cold and damp beneath her trousers. She inches closer instinctively, for the warmth. She takes the wineskin and hesitates. 

“Does m’lady wish to have it poured into a golden goblet first?” Metrion asks, affecting the false posh accent.

“Oh, shut up.” Thalia takes a deep swallow. The wine tastes like a dry red, not as robust as some she’s tasted, but will do in a pinch. She licks her lips and hands the wineskin back. Again she sees the flash of bright pink sticking out from between his gloves and trench coat sleeve. The tunic underneath doesn’t look that vibrant, but he never takes off the coat, so it’s difficult to say. She can’t blame him for wearing several layers in this chill. “So. Where do I start?”

“Beginning’s usually a fine place.” The wineskin is already back to his lips. 

“Right.” She sighs, casts a glance over at the camp. “You met Warden Blackwall.” 

“Yeah. Thought his eyes might cut me in two.” 

“He’s like that. He, ah.” Thalia takes the wineskin back, swallows to summon the courage. The rim tastes like the makeup he’s slathered on her face, and she tries to work it off her tongue, wondering how she managed to get it there. She worries her finger at the bit of tan pigment she can see there. “He and I… well…” Her cheeks warm.

“Fucking hell.” She can feel, rather than see, Metrion’s raised eyebrows. “Him? Right old man, ain’t he?”

“It’s not like that. Well, I mean, I thought it was, or would be, at one time.” Thalia feels mortified, saying all this out loud. “I didn’t mind that he was older. He’s one of the best fighters you’ll ever see. I always felt safe with him around. And I thought he wanted me. But it never really… happened.” 

Thalia looks up, and Metrion is fixing her with one of those looks she has a difficult time parsing. Skepticism, she thinks, in the cocked brow. His eyes are narrowed, almost dangerously. And yet, he seems sad. “They always want something,” he says, almost too softly for her to hear. 

Irritation flares in her. “Now you sound like Cullen.”

“Who’s Cullen?” Metrion shoots back.

“My… I don’t know what you’d call it. Boyfriend?” 

Metrion snorts. “Hope he’s closer to you in age.”

“He is. You’re sounding awfully protective for someone who insists he’s not my friend, you know.” 

“Look, love.” Metrion takes the wineskin back and takes a purposeful swallow. “Don’t need to be a friend to tell you to be careful. With men like that, it’s always gonna be about how much power they can get over ya. But go on, tell me more about how noble and shit this Warden Blackwall is.”

“That’s the thing.” Thalia stares down at her hands. “I found out he’s not a Warden. He was lying. He was lying about everything. His name’s not even Blackwall.” 

She feels Metrion tense beside her. 

“He’s… he was…” She swallows. She can’t say the words that lodge in her throat. Criminal. Murderer. Traitor. “He was wanted for treason in Orlais. They were going to hang him.”

Metrion says nothing, taking another slow sip of wine. He looks past her, to the faint flicker of firelight in the camp. “Did he do it?” 

“Oh, yes.” Thalia blinks, and her vision blurs from the tears that come without her permission. “He definitely did.” 

Metrion watches her, then hands her back the wineskin with care. She sniffles, wipes at her eyes, smears more of the makeup, sighs. She drinks once, twice. “Sorry, I— it still hurts, you know? I saw so much good in him, I saw how he was trying to make himself better — I didn’t care about all the lies, I really didn’t — but here was everyone, everyone in positions that mattered, saying what he’d done was unforgivable. And worse, that he seemed to believe that himself.” 

Metrion is silent for a long while. When he speaks again, his voice is a raw mumble. “And this is the bloke you’re comparing me to?”

“No. Yes. I had to save him, don’t you understand? I couldn’t let him die. But he hates me for it.” 

Metrion scoffs. “Don’t think that’s true.” 

“And why not?” Thalia retorts. 

“I seen the way he looks at you.” Metrion takes the wineskin back. “Trust me, I know the difference.” 

Thalia opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She feels as though he kicked her in the chest. She grasps clumps of wet grass and yanks them from the earth with a pained tug. Metrion drinks deeply beside her, coming up for air with a near desperate gasp. 

“’S that what you want to do to me?” he asks with a sudden, venomous edge to his voice. “‘Save me’?”

“No. It didn’t work with Blackwall; why would it work with anyone else?” Thalia forces a smile. “Besides, what’s there to save you from? An alliterative stage name?” 

Metrion chuckles, but she feels no mirth from it. “Right, yeah. Metrion the Magnificent — ’s a little over the top, innit?”

Thalia is surprised by the criticism. Pravin never approached his stage persona with anything but the utmost pride. “I think it gets the point across.” 

“Sure it does.” Metrion clutches the wineskin in his lap and studies it. “You said— this Blackwall fellow, he was trying to better himself.”

Thalia blinks. “Of course. That was the whole reason he wanted to join the Grey Wardens.”

“What if I said I’m not tryin’ to do that?” He looks at her, and his eyes seem glassy, though from the wine or grief it’s hard to tell. 

“I… don’t know.” She gets the sense he’s fishing for an answer that eludes her. “Why would you need to? You’re just an actor.” 

As soon as she speaks, the doubt comes, because he’s glancing away, sniffing, rubbing at an eye. 

“Aren’t you?” Her voice is small. 

“O’ course. Yeah.” Metrion grimaces against the lip of the wineskin. “Just not the kind your friend Fidencio would approve of.” 

Thalia takes a breath. She feels off-kilter, like they’re somehow not talking about the same thing, despite their words. “Metrion, I know what I must look like to you. But I’m not a wide-eyed innocent, or a dainty lady, ignorant to the ways of the world. And because of Fidencio, I’ve met some colorful types when it comes to the stage. Nothing about you — shocks me, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“How magnanimous of you, m’lady,” he sneers, and she flinches. 

“All right, fine then.” She snatches the wineskin away from him and drinks. It’s nearly empty. “I bared my soul to you; it’s time you returned the favor. Why do you hate the aristocracy?” 

Metrion snorts, letting out a slow, drunken laugh. I shouldn’t have let him have more, she thinks fleetingly.  “You’ve got it all wrong in your pretty little head, pet. I don’t hate ‘em. I don’t think about ‘em much at all. Except for their money.” He waves his arm with an exaggerated flourish, as if to take a bow, and clenches his fist. “And how it can be mine.” 

Realization dawns. “So you’re a thief.” 

Metrion shrugs. “Don’t really like to nail myself down to one thing.” 

“A swindler, then. A huckster. A snake oil salesman.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Never tried to sell any sort of oil, nah.” 

Thalia tries to work this through her head, which the wine has made light and warm. She feels suddenly sleepy. She sighs, eyes his shoulder, and slowly leans closer, resting her cheek against it. He doesn’t resist, but doesn’t move either, instead looking straight ahead. He really is quite bony, beneath all the layers. 

“Okay,” she says, yawning.

“Okay?” 

“Okay. You’re a real knave, I guess. You run scams on people, is that it? I just told you I was in love with a man who almost got executed for treason.” She giggles. “You can still be my friend. I don’t care.”

There is a confused silence. “You’re not… afraid I’m gonna make off with the family jewels or nothing?” 

“Joke’s on you.” Thalia smirks. “I left all my jewels back at Skyhold.” 

“Well, shit.” 

They snicker in unison, and Thalia thinks things might finally be settling between them. 

“That wine isn’t bad, you know,” she ventures.

“’S the only thing gettin’ me through, love.” Metrion takes the wineskin back, drains it in one gulp, and drops it at his side opposite her. 

She worries he’s going to suggest they go back to camp and get some sleep, but he doesn’t move. Thalia has no desire to go back either, to face the others: Blackwall’s grim visage, Pravin’s disapproving looks, Hawke’s devil-may-care bravado. She can sleep right here, she thinks, as long as he doesn’t move, which he seems to have no intention of doing. She feels a strange sort of comfort from that, if not exactly affection. 

“Metrion?” 

“Mm?” He sounds half-asleep. 

Thalia wrinkles her nose and sniffs. “Why do you smell like shoe polish?” 

His eyes pop open, the yellow irises sliding toward her. He stretches his long legs out and wiggles the toe of one boot. “Gotta keep ‘em looking proper, you know.” 

“For your magic act?” She can see him on a stage, conjuring cards from thin air. Summoning rabbits. Drawing applause, passing a hat around. Enough money, maybe, for one night, or two, or ten. She feels as if she’s on the cusp of understanding something, and it makes her terribly sad. 

“Yeah,” Metrion mutters. “For my magic act.” 

[madsdefencesquad]

another kevison fanfic none of you asked for (also on ao3):

[Thread] Who's the nicest celeb you've met in real life?

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Kevin Pearson. Was an extra for one of his movies and couldn’t be any nicer. Chatted with us even though technically you weren’t supposed to. He joked around a lot and showed us pics of his family. Real top bloke.

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I met this guy once on vacation in Italy. We were at a table next to him and my newborn was screaming bloody murder, mom was in the bathroom. Couldn’t quite calm my son and I was getting real embarrassed with the loud noise. Some of the waiters came over to their table to ask if they wanted to move but Kevin shut them down immediately. Actually got a bit cross that they even suggested it. His wife suggested to rock my baby on the side to make him stop and he did! She knows a few tricks having twins and stuff. Also shared that joy/misery thing of being first time parents. Anyway, they left first (they got there earlier) and we learned after that they paid for our meals too. Couldn’t believe it.

replied: Wow. That’s the so fucking nice of them.

replied: Yeah made my wife cry haha

-

I’ve heard only good things about him too! My mom lives in Philly and his brother was running for city council a few years back and he was there and took photos with all the Korean mamas including my own and my grandma! apparently he smells really expensive :P

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Didn’t know that I was fully chatting up his wife at Starbucks until I saw a pic of them at the premiere for one of his movies. I’d be embarrassed by my god she was fantastic! 10/10 would’ve gone for it if I wasnt such a potato

replied: And wasn’t married.

replied: That too

-

My daughter was an extra on one of his movies and says he’s the nicest guy and “such a dad” lol! And her dad’s a real “dad” dad so for her to say that about a famous actor is funny

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I used to teach his kids in my kindergarten class. Daughter’s wicked smart. I can tell you all the mothers would have a fit every time he’d come by to pick them up and if it’s not his wife or them together, it’s him. Very hands on. I’d say that counts for nice.

-

Rocked out to a Lady Gaga show with him and his wife in Vegas. His wife and I are practically best friends now! We’re on first name basis ;)

replied: Sounds fun! What were they there for if you don’t mind me asking? Coz isn’t he like sober now?

replied to a reply: I think it was for a niece’s birthday or something? Couldn’t remember, was pretty wild night :P And I didn’t see any drinks.Even his wife wasn’t drinking I think? They were literally there to enjoy Gaga like the rest of us

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I love hearing stories about him like this because it always looks like he’s such a pretentious pretty boy jerk especially back in the day

replied: Getting your life sorted can change a man

replied to a reply: Yeah he’s pretty mellowed out since getting sober. He’s had that DUI and rehab stint but now he’s a real family man and seems to love his wife very much. Good for him.

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Doesn’t he remind you of George Clooney? Got married late and had boy girl twins and is loving life!

replied: True!!

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Not sure if everybody knows but his wife Madison is pretty big in the interior design space especially coz she like pretty much runs their fam construction business. I follow her on Insta and I know everyone has a crush on Kevin but I’d pick her over him any day!

replied: OMG YES SAME! She puts together these amazing DIY palettes and I’m obsessed! I’d also pick her over him any day even just to pick her brain

replied to a reply: She also recommends the best books!!!

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My mom’s in the planning side of construction and met his wife in West Chester. She did a presentation and afterwards her and my mom shared parenting tips like they’re in some mom club. Apparently she was the sweetest and her babies are adorable and also Kevin calls a lot lol

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Met him at the airport, wife’s a huge fan of the manny so sucked my gut to ask for a pic. When he found out it’s for the missus, he recorded a special vid saying his iconic line. Missus was over the moon. Real good fella

replied: MANNY SAY WHAAATTTTT

replied: That’s so nice

replied: He did for my mom as well! All the moms love him!

-

Kevin Pearson helped re-build my grandparents’ burned down convenience store. Couldn’t thank him enough even if I tried

replied: Wow, that’s real generous. How are the grandparents?

replied to a reply: Thanks! They’re over the moon. They have a house near the area but gran said he’d come by with his kids from time to time. Even if gran didn’t want to, they always insisted to pay for whatever the kids wanted.

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Delivered the cake for his uncle (grandpa’s?) wedding and he gave a seriously generous tip. Oh and his wife packed me pigs in the blanket.

replied: Pigs in the blanket?! What in the middle school

replied: Apparently it was the uncle/grandad’s favorite or something and they double ordered. But who cares free food!

replied to a reply: Did it come with ketchup?

replied to a reply: Hot, wrapped in foil and handful of ketchup packets. I felt like one of the kids

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Not him but his brother who’s like a big shot in politics right now. Real top guy and had the best laugh

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This doesn’t sound real but I’ve bumped into him literally five times over the past year he’ll probably think I’m some stalker. Rarely saw him without his family and once his kid threw a ball at me. He apologised but c’mon you either throw a ball or bounce it no big deal. Besides, that kid has David Beckham’s kids manners. Real like English folk polite it’s insane

replied: That’s always nice to hear that celebrity kids aren’t spoiled brats. We know a few good of them are

replied to a reply: Celebrity kids are different from kid celebrities though

replied to a reply: Didn’t say they were the same? Just saying that for a kid of someone so rich and famous you’d think they’d be a bit more spoiled but they weren’t at all and was beyond respectful and that’s a testament to the parents.

replied to a reply: Agree. I’ve met this particular celebrity’s kids and mind you they’re teens now but god they were just awful and pretentious. Even more than their famous parent which is saying something

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Not him but I did meet that actress that was so embarrassingly flirty around him during the press conference of hat film he did a few years back. She’s a real bitch and so fake and I’m so glad she’s been dropped from the sequel

replied: Oh god yeah I remember her. She was so obnoxious laughing at everything he said like stfu it’s not that funny!!!! The secondhand embarrassment watching her and him being all polite about it *chills*

replied: She’s the worst. No talent

replied to a reply: I was an extra for some scenes in that movie and she was WAY worse and such a diva for someone unknown. Kevin’s a real nice guy though and just let her be. He talks about his wife and kids a lot but she would not take a hint!

replied to a reply: That is just embarrassing

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Alright story time. Was working as a barista at a cafe and it was one of those really shitty days. He came in, ordered and waited and was all nice and took some pics with fans. Anyway, like I said shitty day so I mixed up his coffee order and got him two lattes instead of cappuccinos. Mind you, it was a busy asf day as well and I was the only one making coffees. He comes over and tells me and I apologise but by this time my manager’s already all up on my ass for serving Kevin Pearson incorrectly. He kept apologising to him and berating me till Kevin himself stepped in and told the manager off. But like calmly and stuff like it’s no big deal and people make mistakes whatever and I kid you fucking not he apologised to me too and said I was doing a good job. He probably won’t know how much that meant to me after an already shitty as day but it did. I made sure to make him the best fucking cappuccinos

replied: I’ve met him in irl too and he is this!

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I saw him sitting at a cafe with his daughter. Super nice. Asked him if I could get an autograph for my mom who’s a huge fan. He asked me some questions about her and wrote a really nice autograph, for her. His daughter stuck one of her stickers on there too and my mom loved that even more. I told him where she works (at a grocers) and he went out of his way to shop there the next day and made a point to look for her and chat. Great, great dude

replied: That is so fucking cool man. And your mom must’ve been so happy!

replied to a reply: She was over the moon! She loves his wife too! Apparently she was even chattier than Kevin haha

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Met him at the airport. I was an employee and he had some TSA questions. Genuinely nice and friendly, chatted for about 15min. After he was set, we shook hands, he had his kids say thank you individually with a high five. Adorable. His wife was super nice and friendly too. Very good social interaction, would participate again

[steelycunt]

oh oh ohhh these a goodd!!! and you’ll ruin me either way but because i don’t feel like feeling like particular shit i’m gonna ask forrrrr….. actually… okay im stuck between 1 and 13 so you take your pick!! this is a hostage situation btw if u make me sad i’ll… like. idk. threaten you with a nerf gun i’ve stolen from my brother or smth. i’m still trying to figure it out leave me alone!

(also also also sending u a bowl of soup with extra crackers thru the mail!! hopefully it stays warm!! and hopefully a kiss on the cheek will help you feel all better as well!! isn’t that how it goes with healing someone sick? a true love’s kiss? sending it either way! xoxo)

LIV LIV LIV!! LOML!!! i am so endlessly sorry this is so late...i am The Worst...but i wanted it to be happy after all i put you through with literally murdering remus in the last drabble....only the best and the loveliest for you!! you, the best and the loveliest!! here you go!! seeing as i did 13 before, i went with:

1. things you said at 1 am

He says: “Budge over, you.”

Remus obeys. When they started this, he might’ve asked, why or did you have a nightmare again or is everything alright. He never cared for the answer, but it used to buy him a few seconds—used to give him just enough time to swallow his own spit, just enough time to fashion a makeshift exoskeleton out of flannel pyjama bottoms and the dry skin of his elbows.

Now, he has less need of it: Sirius isn’t all that scary, really. At this time of night—Remus cuts a glance at his bedside table, 1 a.m. or thereabouts, supplies his wristwatch, dutifully—when he’s standing at the edge of Remus’ fourposter, he’s not so bright, not so blazing. A bit more fifteen-year-old boy.

“There you go.” Remus shuffles sideways, tugs his duvet away to let Sirius clamber in. “Feels like letting a stray in out of the cold,” he tells him; Sirius snorts as he burrows down into the mattress.

“Mm, well,” he murmurs, turning onto his shoulder, “I do have fleas.”

"God. Charming."

Sirius presses his chilled foot against Remus’ ankle—maybe to be spiteful, or maybe just to watch Remus snatch his leg away, only to move it back moments later (he doesn’t actually mind). “Horrible mutt,” Remus snaps, disgruntled, and Sirius cackles quietly.

Back when it was reserved for nightmares, this thing they do, there was none of this: Sirius would come hurtling, fleeing something, all torn about the mouth. He’d come rearranged, like a building turned to rubble (except for the times it was Remus, instead), and Remus would let him in and they’d sit here silently, stare into the dark like it could hurt them.

Neither of them have nightmares like they used to, but Sirius still comes—more and more, in recent months. This is the third night in a row, and sometimes Remus wonders if they’re too old for it to be alright: they barely both fit in the bed anymore, new bones jutting into sides and limbs stacked on top of each other. Like one of those old-timey carts piled with plague bodies waiting to be buried.

In the end, he decides he doesn’t care. This is when he gets Sirius: in the dark, in the quiet, when he’s soft. Stone mossing over.

“So. What are you thinking about tonight, Moons,” Sirius asks him, a ritual akin to a roll call. Remus Lupin, present. Sirius Black, present. Ten dozen nasty little thoughts jangling about in Remus Lupin’s nasty little head like pebbles in a child’s pocket, present. They do this every time—Sirius makes knowing him look so fucking easy.

Remus leans back against the headboard. His bed hangings droop at one corner; James and Sirius snagged them down during a playfight in second year. “Hm,” he begins, as he has every night, “let’s see. I’m thinking about, er…” he falters as he sifts through his options—he can’t say you, and he can’t say that strand of hair you haven’t brushed out of your eyes that’s been bugging me for the last minute and a half (you bug me, Sirius), and he can’t say last Tuesday you drew me that doodle of The Beatles being hit by a lorry at the Abbey Road crossing because I was humming Maxwell’s Silver Hammer in Charms, and I’m sort of worried that if you sit up right now you’ll see it sticking out of the textbook on my bedside table—but eventually he settles on, “I’m thinking about that Ginsberg poem. That one about seeing Walt Whitman in a supermarket, or something.”

“Why that?”

“I don’t know. I just am. There’s a—there’s a bit about peaches and watermelons,” Remus says. “Maybe I’m hungry, I don't know.”

He’s aware of Sirius looking at him, of their hips grazing through layers of ratty fabric. He’s aware, out of the corner of his eye, of the spill of fine dark hair over his own pillow. “You want to go down to the kitchens? We could go now,” Sirius suggests. “They’ll have that tea you like, probably. The disgusting one.”

“No, it’s fine. S’only what I’m thinking about, is all. You asked.” Remus smothers a yawn against the back of his hand (he likes to try and stay awake as long as possible, these nights when Sirius turns up), turns to his side so that their faces rest inches from each other. “I don’t know why you always bother to ask.”

“Ha. Wait—really?” Sirius inclines his head; Remus’ breath rattles. They're very close, and he’s newly conscious of the ugly pink scar scrawled across the bridge of his nose, and of the fact that his duvet will smell like Sirius tomorrow (loamy pine; cigarette smoke and that soap that comes in solid white bars). “You really don’t know?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Do you...why do you figure I’m here, Moons?”

Remus stares; his face flares hotly. “I don't understand. Is there a—is there supposed to be a reason?”

“Oh, my—you actually don’t, do you? Oh my god. I’ve—I’ve been here three nights in a row, Moons. I don’t exactly come because it’s—comfortable,” Sirius says, softly, punctuating his point by nudging Remus with his knee. Two beds over, Peter grunts in his sleep. “You’re so fucking daft. Just—think about it, for a moment. Or…ask me what I’m thinking about. Go on.”

Remus obeys, of course—he’s always going to—and Sirius barely has to move his head to kiss him the way he does, then, before Remus has even finished asking. It's brave, careful, half-hidden beneath the duvet: a brush of noses. Sirius' mouth is cool like peppermint and Remus feels it even after, has to resist the giddy, ridiculous urge to touch his fingers to his lips. To the place where Sirius just—kissed him.

“That’s what I'm thinking about.” Sirius watches him, blasted little dent in his brow, and says, “that’s…that’s always been what, Moons. Fucking hell, I thought you knew. I thought you knew why I was here. You lovely idiot.”

“Oh,” he mumbles. Feels a bit stupid, now. Sirius starts to smile. “That’s—er. Right. That's good. Can I—can I change my answer?”

[oceanivoxjoquainx]

i also love samquin thanks to you 🥺 i gasped when i saw danny ramirez fine self with facial hair. it was just *chef's kiss*, you know? 🤤 elevated the whole look. i want to know your headcanons about sam seeing joaquin with facial hair for the first time. maybe they're meeting up after a long time. what's his reaction? does the hair tickle him when they embrace? 😄

I am soooooo so glad you asked about this anon! I have many an idea 🤭 Also glad you love samquín now because of me! I love when other folks fall in love with them like i have!

With that everyone get ready forrrrr

Samquín Headcanons ☀️🌈: The Beard

Sam had decided that it was best for his mental health and his and his families safety if he left the military, quit the Avengers, and left the name of The Falcon behind three years ago. He did it once before when he lost Riley, and he figured it was time to do it again. He and Joaquín argued about it the last time they spoke and it ended in Sam flying away before trashing the wings. Little did he know Joaquín was following him and salvaged them.

Sam did his best to stay far away from anything avengers or super solider or world threatening and focused on supporting and helping his family down in Lousiana. He finally had the peace he always wanted and the safety he had wanted to give to his sister and nephews.

He was able to reestablish himself in the community and continue the work his father started all thos years ago. He went back to his job as a social worker and made sure everyone in his neighborhood was fed every week, slowly expanding his outreach every month until everyone knew that if you were hungry you could just go to the Wilson house and you were taken care of. It was the life he was used to and at that moment what he wanted.

Until some old enemies showed up right on his door step.

He fought until the end but there was only so much a man three years out of practice could do. He could only buy his family enough time to get far away and he determinedly got up every time he was knocked down.

He was down on the ground, about to succumb to his injuries, vision blurry through sweat, blood, and tears, until he saw a figure fly down and begin incapacitating the hostiles one by one. The person had a familiar build with a long mullet but was wearing a green and yellow suit, outfitted with a pair of what looked like bronze wings.....

Sam was in disbelief as he studied the persons fighting patterns and the wings attached to his back. The wingspan, the missiles, and even the stabilizers were all known to Sam. Those were HIS wings!

Soon enough all the fighting stopped and the only person left was the person who had Sam's wings. Sam was barely conscious as the person ran over to him and checked out his body, pressing down and studying for wounds and bruises, before picking him up bridal style and tucking his head into his own neck. The man's beard tickling his jawline was the last thing he remembered before slipping away.

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

Sam woke up to sounds of rhythmic beeping over his head. His eyes opened very slowly to focus on the white, sterile ceiling above him. His body ached in a soreness he hadn't felt in years but he still felt high enough to not feel it too much.

He looked to his left and saw a heart monitor and a IV drip hanging near his head and into his arm, confirming that he was indeed inside a hospital. Rolling his head over to his right he saw a chair next to the bed with but unexpectedly it wasn't empty.

The man reclining with his eyes closed had a massive mullet paired with the most sexiest anchor beard Sam had ever seen. His first reaction was to immediately reach out and touch it.

His feeble attempts at moving his arms seemed to stir the other man from his rest and his eyes opened, locking onto Sam's where they immediately identified themselves to him.

"Joa...Joaquin?" Sam's voice was cracked and croaky and didn't sound like him. Sam tried to cover his mouth only to find his arm still felt like putty.

Joaquín leaned forward and took Sams hand into his own and rubbed his face against it. "Yeah, it's me. Be quiet though, you're still on the mend." Joaquíns voice was breaking itself as he rubbed his face and beard in Sam's hand. At points Sam's fingers would close around a certain section and they'd stay like that for a while before Joaquín began moving again.

"Where the hell did all this come from huh?" Sam asked. He was amazed at how different Joaquín looked with some extra hair on his face. It was a good different. A sexy different. He wasn't sure if it was the drugs or the fact that the man he left behind three years ago was now sitting on at his bedside but he was definitely feeling a 'flip me over and ravage my hole' different.

"Heh thanks, I'll definitely be keeping that in mind." Joaquín answered, his face heating up and a red blush creeping up his neck and onto his face. "It's just something that happened and I liked it so I kept it."

Sam didn't mean for him to hear the last part but it didn't matter in the long run. It was like falling back into old habits.

Sam attempted to sit up in order to properly look at Joaquín before coughing and giving up. The room began spinning and he felt his eyes closing again. With a groan he closed them. He felt Joaquín return his hand to his waist and then rest his own head in his lap, his beard tickling his stomach as he fell asleep.

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

Three weeks had passed since Sam was allowed to be taken home and Joaquín stayed with him the entire time taking care of him and everything he needed.

Sam couldn't remember the last time someone had taken care of him. He was always taking care of other people. Joaquín would get water, cook meals, help him to the tub, even wash his back. It was... nice.

He still had his family in hiding while he stayed at the house to make sure no one else came for him but he made sure Joaquín let Sarah know he was alive and okay when he able to fully sit up in the hospital.

Sam usually kept the same routine each day and as it was sunset he hobbled his way onto the back patio and sat down in the porch swing. The rocking movements always soothed his troubled mind as a child and they did so again now. He and Joaquín still didn't really discuss anything about their last and first day in three years together and he wasn't sure how to bring it up.

He knew he was wrong for leaving as he did with no contact for three years, he just didn't know if he should bring it up since everything seemed okay for now. There was always a hint of tension in the air when the house was dark and quiet and Joaquín had put Sam in his bed, lingering in the door frame as if to say something before just saying Goodnight and leaving. But other than that everything seemed... okay.

As if summoned by Sam himself, the back door opened and Joaquín stepped out onto the back patio and scanned the area before noticing Sam and coming to sit next to him. He had brought a blanket out with him and threw it over the two of them before resting his head on Sam's chest. The hair from his beard piercing Sam's shirt and tickling his chest. It was a routine the two fell into some days ago, none of them moving to break it any time soon.

"Knew I'd find you out here. The sunsets down here are always so beautiful."

"Yeah that's why pops built the house facing east. Best view in all of America he'd say."

The two sat together in silence watching the sun fall ever so slowly past the horizon. Tension was slowly building up again and Sam had no clue what it was from.

He had to say something.

Anything really.

He couldn't go on without saying something.

So he did.

"Jo... Joaquín... I was an ass back then. I shouldn't had left you behind to fend for yourself and I should've called, texted, sent a dam email, something. But I was worried about myself, my sister, my nephew's, I didn't think for a second that I was leaving my other family member behind and alone. And for that I'm so sorry."

"It's... well no it's not okay. It hurt me that you didn't consider me family. We were all but married back then. You were my life. I thought I was at least an important part of yours.... but you left and then trashed your wings and dissapeared. Figured I'd never see you again." Joaquín sighed. He sat up and brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly.

Sam didn't know what to do. He had caused this. He did what was best for him and his family but completely left Joaquín behind and in the cold. He did miss him. He just thought he'd be safer without him around but turns out Joaquín was the one saving his ass anyways.

"The wings?" Sam asked.

"Oh i found em right where you left em. Picked em up, took em home, studied em, reverse engineered my own pair. Yours are still sitting in my workshop. I kept it just in case you... ya know... ever came back..." At this point his head was turned away from Sam.

Sam couldn't see the tears but he could hear Joaquín sniffling and wiping his face.

"Hey...." Sam whispered as he wrapped his arm around Joaquín's back, "From what I saw.... you were awesome, perfect even. I shouldn't have left you. You're my family too..." He began poking Joaquín's side.

"Come onnnn Jojo. Look at me. Please?"

Joaquín replied with a grunt and shuffled his head further into his arms.

"Jojooooo," Sam reached under his face and tilted his head up to face him. His eyes where shining with tears and his face was streaked with tear lines. His lips were visibly trembling and his beard had grown noticeably longer. Sam held his chin in his hands and ran them over his beard repetitively in a soothing motion that lead to Joaquín leaning back into Sam.

"I promise I'll never leave you behind again. The past three years were great but these three weeks with you were the best of my life. I hate that it took getting my ass handed to me for me to realize that but my life with you in it is infinitely better." Sam lamented.

Joaquín finally spoke again, "I've loved spending this time with you too, but it still hurt. It's gonna take time for me but I want you in life too." He rested his forehead against Sams and sighed, "I can't stay here with you for much longer. I have unfinished business to take care of but after that's done I'll come back."

"I'm coming with you." Sam replied determinedly, "Wherever you go I'm going too."

"No... no. You still need to heal and you're still needed here. I'll be okay! I took in the mantle of The Falcon and I'm doing what I have to. Can we just enjoy what we have for now until it's time?"

Sam scanned his face and saw he was serious and decided to let it go. He had no place to make demands of Joaquín and he wanted to give him as much length as he needed.

"Yeah... yeah okay..."

"Cool." Joaquín perked up and kissed Sam in his forehead, his beard ticking his face before resting his head back on Sam's face, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist, and continuing to watch the sunset.

Sam broke the silence again, "I just have to ask though..."

"Hm?"

"Where did this beard come from?" Sam asked stifling a laugh.

"Aw shut up!" Joaquín pushed at Sam's stomach and laughed which in turn caused Sam to laugh. "It just grew out while I was going through it and I liked it so I've been working with it okay!"

Sam chuckled at Joaquín's exasperation and slight embarrassment before saying, "I love it. It looks good on you. In fact its kind of sexy."

Sam felt Joaquín's body stiffen on top of him amd heard his breath hitch. There was obviously some attraction to each other and an innate closeness the two had, but they never discussed what exactly they were to each other. Not everything needed a label of course but they just never talked about it. They always glided into these situations.

"Heh. Thanks."

Sam looked down at Joaquín's head and stroked his hair and carried his hands over the other man's shoulder and down his side repetitively. He heard Joaquín sigh before hearing the rhythmic sounds of his sleep. He didn't know what was running through the other man's mind but he knew that this moment was perfect and if he could, he'd stay like this forever.

He thought his life for the past 3 years was what he wanted but turns out this was exactly what he was missing.